Wings of a Dove (45 page)

    The truth was that "love" was a flexible emotion, shaped to
 
    fit circumstance. Seeing Allie in James's arms was proof of that truth.

    Delaney spurred his horse forward in an attempt to escape the relentless image so clear in his mind's eyes. He needed to face the fact that Allie had given herself to James as she had given herself to him. He had seen her offer her lips to James willingly, her arms clinging to his neck. He did not want to remember that those same arms had held him close as Allie had lain in his embrace. He did not want to recall the magic of her sweet flesh pressed against his, of her moist warmth enclosing him, holding him fast within her. He did not want to believe that he would forever be denied the supreme elation of knowing Allie was his.

    Suddenly furious with his thoughts, Delaney took a deep, hard breath. He would not torment himself. He had relearned a very hard lesson. It was one he would not forget again. He didn't need love. He didn't need anyone, least of all a slender, fragile child-woman who had been more cruel than all the rest because she had made him believe.

    The screech of a train whistle sounded in the distance, and Delaney stiffened in the saddle. It was the maintenance train returning to Chicago. It would pause for a few minutes around the next curve to take on water.

    Making an abrupt decision, Delaney spurred his horse sharply forward. He leaned low over the saddle as the animal broke into a gallop, pressing him to the fullest.

    He reined up beside the train a short time later, just as it prepared to depart. He dismounted and caught the hand rails as the car lurched into motion. He took the few steps up to the platform between the two cars as the foreman of the work gang inside the car started toward him. Delaney withdrew a roll of bills from his pocket.

    Not bothering to assess the foreman's slow smile as he pressed the bills into his hand or the fellow's silent return to his men, Delaney watched as Sandy grew smaller in the distance. The horse had already turned toward the road to town. Within an hour he would be back in Rourke's livery stable where he had been raised. Delaney supposed the animal needed the security of a home, just as Allie had chosen a secure life with James over the uncertainty of a new life with him.

    Allie had shaped her "love" to fit the circumstances.

    He guessed he couldn't really blame her. But he did.

    Mosley Rourke lifted his battered hat and scratched his balding pate as James Case drove his wagon up the main street of town at a casual pace. Rourke was still watching when James reined up in front of
Bosley's
general store and started up the few steps toward the door.

    Walking through that same doorway a few minutes later, Rourke strolled up to the counter. He nodded at Elmer Winthrop behind the counter and smiled as James turned in his direction.

    "Well, now, James, I haven't seen you in a dog's age. How're you don'? And how's the missus?"

    James's narrow face creased in a smile. "Real well, Mosley, on both counts."

    "That's real fine." Rourke's puzzlement grew as he assessed James's pleased expression. Everybody knew James doted on his bride. It seemed nothin' had changed between them. He tried another tack. "I was kind of disappointed to see you comin' in alone today. It ain't often enough that we see your little bride in town these days."

    A sound at the doorway made James turn around. His smile broadened and Rourke turned to see Allie Case enter the store. James stepped forward and took her hand as she approached.

    "That was fast," James said. "Mosley was just asking about you. Wasn't the drugstore open?"

    "No. The out-to-lunch sign is up."

    Rourke smiled and tipped his hat. It was no wonder that James was so wrapped up in this little girl. Hell, she was prettier and more dainty looking every time he saw her, in spite of her expanding middle. And there was no doubting the warmth between these two. His puzzlement grew.

    "How's your pa doin', James?"

    James's smile dimmed. "Not as well as we'd like. The doctor prescribed a tonic. That's why I dropped Allie off at the drugstore on the way in. We're hoping it'll get him back to feeling his old self."

    Rourke nodded. He liked the Case family. They'd been mighty kind to him, especially Margaret, when his Mary was doin' poorly some years back. He'd never forget their thoughtfulness.

    "I hope so, too. Tell him I was askin' about him, James." Rourke turned to smile at Allie Case. "Pleased to see you again, ma'am."

    Rourke turned at the young woman's nod and walked toward the door. He was heading back to the livery a few minutes later, his wiry brows in a tight frown. He couldn't figure the whole thing out. Delaney Marsh hadn't said where he was going yesterday, but he had taken the back road out of town so there was no other place he could have gone but to the Case farm.

    Old Sandy had come walking up the back alley all by himself a few hours later and put himself back in his stall just as nice as could be, but Rourke hadn't seen hide nor hair of Marsh.

    The strangest part was that nobody else had mentioned seeing Marsh come to town or leave. The strangeness of it all had made Rourke feel a need for caution that overcame his usual tendency to gossip. He knew there was bad blood between James and Marsh, and he had seen the look on Marsh's face when he mentioned that James had taken Allie as his bride.

    Rourke had expected there to be some trouble at the Case farm. He had been waiting for somebody to say something but nobody had.

    Now, seeing James and his bride together, looking just as happy as could be, it seemed as if Marsh had never stepped foot back in town!

    Shaking his head as he entered the stable, Rourke stared for a moment in the direction of Sandy's stall.

    Damned if he knew what had happened to Marsh!

    Still puzzling, Rourke began tossing hay into the nearest stall. Well, it didn't matter much to him anyway. He had never liked Marsh. The fella was a troublemaker from the start, and if he had met up with some kind of foul play, well, he had only gotten what he had coming.

    Nodding as he came to a firm decision, Rourke tossed another forkful of hay into the stall.

    Nobody seemed to know Marsh had been back in town, and if James didn't want anybody to know, well, they'd never hear if from his lips. As far as he was concerned, Delaney Marsh had never returned to Cass County.

    Hell, nobody had missed him, anyway.

Chapter Sixteen

    Another pain gripped her, and Allie strained to remain calm. She tried to take a deeper breath to relieve the contractions that were all but tearing her apart, but the simple effort was beyond her. It was as if she had lost control over her muscles and reflexes had assumed control of her body.

    Allie was tempted to laugh. That was exactly what was happening, wasn't it?

    The pain was fading, rounding the curve of the circle that would bring it back in all too short a time. During the few moments' rest in between, Allie attempted to empty her mind and breathe deeply as she fixed her eye on the green fields visible through the bedroom window.

    Summer had worked its magic on the land that had been frozen and white through most of the long winter months. Now the fields were brimming with life and the trees, which had been stark and bare, were verdant and heavily laden. It was going to be a bountiful harvest this year, and Allie was glad. James had worked so hard.

    The pains had started in the dark hours of the morning, but they were so light that she had been uncertain if her time had indeed come. James had been certain, though. She had told him not to go for Dr. Peters so soon, but he had set out for town at daybreak.

    He had returned a short time later, Dr. Peters riding behind. James had stayed at her side up until an hour ago when Dr. Peters forced him from the room because the pains had become more intense. She had not protested, because the lines of strain on James's face had revealed only too clearly the stress he suffered.

    Pain again. Determined not to cry out, she nodded at the sound of Dr.
Peters's
voice.

    "It won't be much longer, Allie."

    She attempted a smile that proved no more than a grimace as Dr. Peters wiped the perspiration from her brow. It was so hot. Her white shift was soaked with perspiration that was as much a result of the midsummer heat as of impending birth. It stuck to her skin, outlining the swollen contours of her body as she went through the final stages of birthing. She raised a hand to her hair in a tentative attempt to lift the damp, heavy strands from her scalp, but the effort was useless. She knew she looked terrible. She had looked terrible for more months than she cared to remember, but James still loved her.

    He had taught her much about love.

    The door to the room opened and James entered. He walked immediately to her side. His face was pale under his sunburn, and the freckles, which had come in abundance with the summer, stood out darkly on his cheekbones. His blond hair was bleached a lighter color still, and the lines at the corners of his eyes had deepened from his perpetual squint against the brightness of the long days. He was thinner than he had been during the winter, for all his sinewy strength. He looked healthy, virile, and very worried, and Allie felt a love for him that was warm and deep within her.

    "James, I asked you to wait outside," the doctor said. "You have no place in this room right now. Allie will be very busy soon, and I don't want you in the way."

    James cast a glance toward Dr. Peters’ impatient frown, then turned back toward Allie. "Do you want me to leave, Allie? If you'll be more comfortable without me here, I will."

    "No, James. I don't want you to leave."

    Dr. Peters snorted with exasperation. "James, you did your part in this whole affair nine months ago. Allie doesn't need your help now."

    Allie flushed, but James gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. She was glad Dr. Peters did not suspect the child was not James's, even though he did realize the baby was conceived before they were married. But the thought gave her little consolation. The fact was, this child was
not
James's. It was Delaney's, and she was now more intensely aware than ever that it should be Delaney who was with her now, holding her hand.

    Sarah had given birth to a baby boy only two days before, a son who would not bear Delaney's name, just as Allie's own child would not bear the name of its true father.

    Another deep, shattering pain made Allie gasp. But this pain was different, without end, and a sudden panic assailed her. Her baby was near to being born! What kind of mother would she be, married to one man while her mind and heart strayed to another? How would she teach this child to love when she was no longer certain what love really was? How could she guide this child to a full and happy life when she had made such a terrible mess of her own?

    Fear, pain, and anguish deluged Allie, threatening to overwhelm her troubled mind. Her heart began a rapid, uneven pounding and her panic swelled. Her body tensed, fighting the spasms that drew her closer to the moment of birth, resisting the birth with all her strength.

    "Allie, what's wrong?" Dr. Peters’ low voice was laced with concern, and Allie felt James's hand tighten on hers. But all consolation had fled from her mind with the realization that her moment had come, and with the realization that despite the concern and love surrounding her, she was alone in her heart.

    "Allie…"

    She turned to face James's tense gaze, but she was powerless to speak.

    "Allie, breathe deeply." Dr. Peters’ voice held an edge of concern. "Don't panic, dear. It'll all be over soon."

    The doctor's low words of assurance had little effect on Allie as a peculiar breathlessness assailed her. Familiar, almost translucent eyes returned to haunt her, and Allie fought their silent appeal. She could not allow the memory of Delaney's love to   console her now. Nor could she allow James's love to carry her through the birth of another man's child. She was alone. Suddenly overwhelmed by her insecurity and torment, Allie was uncertain she had the will to endure.

    The pain intensified and Allie's body became more rigid.

    "Allie, stop this! You're hurting yourself!" Dr. Peters demanded.

    But she was powerless against the emotions that ruled her mind, powerless against a vision of a long life in which she and her child would have no true place. Far better to succumb to the pain, far better to yield to the darkness hovering over her, far better to sink into the dark abyss where anguish could never find her again.

    Her world of despair was so complete that Allie was not aware of the moment when James slipped away from her side. She did not see him walk to the dresser and open the drawer. She did not witness his distress as he withdrew the silver medal and returned to her side.

    Her breathing shallow, her consciousness fading, Allie heard a low whisper in her ear, but she could not make out the words above the voices screaming in her mind and the endless pain holding her immobile in its throes. She did not realize James had pried open her tight fist and placed something in her hand until she felt the familiar shape of the medal against her palm.