Eternal Deception

by Jane Steen

  “Just one sip, to revive you. Nell, please. Don’t faint again. I need you—I need you to live.”

  I sipped. Then coughed violently as the alcohol stung my throat. I jerked myself upright in Martin’s arms and opened my eyes.

  “That’s better,” I heard Martin say.

  It was Martin. Either that or an extremely convincing hallucination. Would a hallucination have unshaven cheeks and smell quite so richly of horse and sweat? And the other face, the one that was grinning at me like a lunatic—

  “Reiner?”

  “At your service.”

  Reiner Lehmann gave a small mock bow. He was thinner than I remembered him, especially in the face, and his hair was somehow different, sparser perhaps under his broad hat. But it was undoubtedly the young man whom I had last seen on the day he had been taken away from the seminary, accused of murdering Professor Wale.

  “How do you and Martin—no, never mind. Martin, Tess and Sarah are all alone in a wagon, in a gully full of trees that starts near the trail. We have to go back—now—and get them.”

  At least, that was the essence of what I tried to say. In fact, I had begun shivering so hard that my entire body was vibrating, my teeth were making a sound like marbles clacking, and I could barely string the words together.

  “We have to get you warm,” Martin said and moved me round so I sat up against what felt like bare boards. “Lehmann, let’s get all the wood we can.”

  “No!” I tried to shout. “Tess and Sarah—“

  “I’ll get them,” Reiner said soothingly. “But you can’t travel. You should see yourself. And what did you do to your face?”

  He moved to the—yes, it was a door, where on earth were we?—and looked out.

  “Snow’s slackened off,” he said. “I should be able to ride in this. Rutherford, we should bring your horse inside. It won’t like it much, but if you’re going to stay with her, it won’t do to leave your mount in the open. I’d take it with me, but that’ll slow me down. Besides, when I find them, it’ll be easy enough to carry both of them in front of me.”

  I saw Martin’s nod by the way his shadow moved. We were in a cabin, I realized, a solidly built structure of evenly cut logs with a fireplace at one end. There were some pieces of furniture—two chairs, a table, even a bedstead carved with the letters H.E.—E.E. But the place had no windows and looked abandoned.

  Martin moved purposefully around the cabin, grabbing at the debris on the dirt floor and piling it into the fireplace. A noise like the tumbling of ninepins indicated he had broken up one of the chairs and dropped the resulting pieces of wood to one side of the fire.

  “But if I don’t g-g-go with you h-h-h-h-how c-c-can you find the p-p-p-place?” I managed to ask.

  “A gully’s not that hard to miss. Land sakes, Nell, what were you thinking? Why didn’t you just stay with the wagon? I’ll swear you consarned females are more trouble than you’re worth—sometimes.”

  Reiner ducked out of the cabin, and a moment later led in a sturdy gelding, its shaggy winter coat liberally dusted with snow. He unsaddled the horse while the animal and I looked at one another. When Martin struck a match and coaxed a fire into being on the hearth, the horse shifted uneasily and pressed itself into the logs on the other end of the cabin. Reiner produced a handful of something to eat. After a while, the horse stood calmly munching as the fire flared and crackled, plainly soothed by the fact that the humans showed no fear of the leaping flames.

  Martin dropped to one knee and slid an arm around my shoulders, another under my legs.

  “I can walk,” I protested.

  Martin’s only answer was to press a swift kiss on my lips, and I felt my face flame. But Reiner was preparing to leave—

  “Food,” I called out to him. “They’ve had no food all day. Do you have any?”

  “Plenty of pemmican,” Reiner answered cheerfully. “Don’t worry, Nell.”

  He watched as Martin deposited me on the bare dirt by the hearth, folded his lanky body into a sitting position with his back against the wall, and hoisted me into his lap.

  “Improper, but practical. Mr. Rutherford, sir, let me just say I put my trust in you as a gentleman.”

  “Go boil your head,” said Martin laconically, wrapping the buffalo hide around me and using his free arm to poke the fire with a stick. “As long as this chimney doesn’t catch fire, we’ll be waiting for you. Get back here as soon as you can.”

  He watched as Reiner disappeared and then pulled off my mittens, turning my fingers toward the light.

  “It’ll be a miracle if you don’t have frostbite,” he murmured. “Can you feel your fingers?”

  I was shaking so hard I could barely speak, but I managed a nod. I was beginning to feel the heat of the small fire. To be surrounded by the buffalo hide and the warmth of Martin’s body was an indescribable pleasure after the freezing wind of the prairie, but my body still felt strangely cold, as if my bones were frozen. And yet I could feel all of my limbs, every digit, almost every joint.

  My light-headedness and exhaustion didn’t hide a muted buzzing sensation caused by Martin’s nearness, his physical presence both comforting and disconcerting me. When he reached around me to tug at the wet laces of my boots, I let out a squeak of protest.

  “I can do it.” And indeed my fingers were now working, albeit clumsily.

  “And your stockings too,” Martin said and laughed as I stiffened, his breath hot on my cheek. “As Lehmann suggested, practicality is more important than propriety. The circumstances are hardly conducive to lovemaking in any case.”

  “Does he know—?“

  “That I love you? Yes. That I’m married? Yes. We have discussed—many things. That young man is shaping up to be a pretty good attorney, Nell.”

  “Hmph. Turn your face away.”

  Even with Martin’s gaze decently averted, it gave me a strange feeling to reach up under my skirts in his presence and roll stockings and garters down my legs. I handed my sodden boots and the damp woolen stockings to him. He set the former on the hearth and draped the latter over a broken chair leg, which he held as close to the fire as he could without scorching the stockings.

  I curled my bare legs up under my skirts and leaned my head against Martin’s shoulder, feeling immensely tired and—oh yes, very hungry. My stomach growled.

  I felt Martin’s chest move as he laughed. He fished in the pocket of the heavy coat he wore and dropped a rawhide package in my lap.

  “What’s that?” I asked, sitting up.

  “Pemmican.” But Martin’s smile faded as he watched me pull at the thick rawhide thongs. He touched the bruise on my face, and his mouth tightened.

  “That’s a prizefighter bruise. You didn’t just fall over in the snow, did you?”

  I shook my head gingerly. I was still shivering, but it was coming in fits now, leaving me feeling more normal in between.

  “Judah hit me. To be fair, I hit him first.”

  “Why?” Martin’s voice was soft, but one look at his face showed me he was far from calm inside.

  “He was trying to—he put his hand—I don’t know what happened to me, Martin. I went berserk—I don’t think he really would have forced me, but there was something—that made me think of Jack.”

  I concentrated fiercely on the package I was opening. I knew that my cheeks—or at least the unbruised one—had flushed deep red.

  “Nell.” Martin put his hand over mine and waited until I looked him in the eyes. “You wouldn’t tell me before—did Jack Venton force you?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know.” Perhaps it was hunger that made the tears rise so easily to my eyes. “I wanted what we were doing—the kissing—and him touching me—so how could he have forced me? I just didn’t know—what would happen next. Nobody ever told me.” I hung my head, ashamed of my ignorance, then and now. “This time—with Judah—I was afraid.”

  Martin drew me against him, and I felt his chin rest on the top of my head. “P
oor Nellie,” he sighed. “And here I am, bullying you to give me an answer that will satisfy my own selfish jealousy while you’re faint with hunger. But let me tell you something. Jack Venton should not have gotten an innocent girl—who didn’t know what would happen next—alone and done what he did. He set himself up as quite the gentleman, your cousin. But a gentleman does not—not unless he is quite sure the woman is willing. Even then, I have my doubts as to whether he can bed a woman who’s not his wife and still call himself a gentleman. I’m not sure about it in my own case. I was a fool, Nell, and I’ll pay for it for the rest of my life.”

  He picked up the package I had let fall into my lap and finished untying the thongs, not looking at me. He unfolded the square of rawhide and held it out.

  “Eat,” he said. “You’re hurt and frightened. It’s unconscionable of me to talk of things you can’t change and hurt and frighten you even more.”

  “I’m not a child, Martin,” I said but picked up one of the lumpy brown patties and sniffed at it. Finding it didn’t smell as bad as it looked, I bit into it. The taste was peculiar, and it was greasy, but I was ravenous, and I managed several mouthfuls without balking, trying not to chew on the injured side of my face.

  Martin picked up another of the patties and took several bites in quick succession before handing me his canteen of water, waiting till I had drunk my fill before sipping from it himself. Then he drew me back against him, and I settled my head into his shoulder, my skin tickled by the fur collar of his coat.

  “Thank you for coming to get me, Martin.”

  “I’m angry at myself for not arriving sooner,” was his reply. “For taking the time to look up Lehmann when I arrived in Saint Louis—although I must say he’s been uncommonly useful. I don’t think I could have gotten us equipped for the plains as quickly as he did.”

  “How did you even know him?” I asked, my voice muffled by the fur.

  “I made a point of acquainting myself with him on the way back to Chicago after we left the seminary. I asked a lot of questions at the seminary, you know—particularly of the servants. I knew from what they told me that he had good reason to dislike and distrust Poulton, and I needed an ally. The thought of you with Poulton simply terrified me, Nell.”

  His arms tightened around the buffalo hide that covered me. “I didn’t care what you thought of me—I was determined to get you away from him. I just knew he was wrong in some way. And then I got your letter, and every one of my fears seemed to be coming true. I expect I have some white hairs by now.”

  I laughed at that, relaxing into Martin’s embrace. “How could you tell?” I wriggled a hand free of the buffalo hide and smoothed back a lock of white-blond hair that had fallen over Martin’s forehead.

  I was quite warm by now, and sleepy. Propriety dictated I should move off Martin’s lap now that the aim of warming me up had been fulfilled, but surely five more minutes wouldn’t hurt. I was safe with Martin; on that I could stake my trust.

  “What was in the letter about Judah?” I asked, yawning on the last word so that it came out as “Judaaaaaaah.”

  “In short, the man is a liar, a cheat, a seducer, and probably a murderer,” Martin replied. “I’ll tell you the whole story when you’re a little more awake. Do you realize you fell asleep for a moment just now?”

  “Don’t be silly.” I hooked my arm more securely around Martin’s neck, wondering how it had gotten there. “I’m not in the least bit sleepy.” I blinked, realizing Martin’s face was bent over mine, his beaky nose outlined by the glow of the lamp. “Tell me the story about Judah.”

  “Go to sleep, Nell.”

  “Good night, Martin.”

  Perhaps it was a dream that I raised my face to Martin’s and kissed him on the lips. Perhaps it was a dream that he kissed me back, long and hungrily, before unwrapping the buffalo hide and laying it on the dirt floor. I felt myself go boneless as he lowered me onto the thick fur and covered me with his heavy coat. The last thing I saw was a brief glimpse of Martin’s profile, lit by the firelight, his hair aglow with orange and red light and a strange, bleak expression on his face.

  46

  Repentant

  I sat bolt upright as the crack of a rifle shot split the air. It was far from the cabin, but it was unmistakably a shot.

  As sleep released me, I became aware of several things. Martin was gone and so was his horse. Its odors lingered, and I was still covered in a heavy coat that smelt pleasantly of Martin and the outdoors. The fire was a small pile of glowing ashes, both chairs now gone. The lamp was flickering, about to expire. My stockings were back on my legs, quite dry—had Martin put them there? My hair dragged at my scalp, causing me considerable discomfort.

  I pushed the heavy coat away and began pulling pins out of my hair, sighing with relief as the pulling sensation ceased and the heavy curls tumbled down over my shoulders. I shoved the pins into my pocket and pushed my feet into my boots, which were damp but not intolerably so.

  The rest of the pemmican and Martin’s canteen lay by the hearth. I gulped a few mouthfuls of water and took half-a-dozen bites of pemmican, swallowing without chewing.

  Thus prepared, I stepped outside the cabin. It was not yet day, but a faint light glowed in the east, and the sky was clear. The snow gathered and reflected the light. I could see well enough to spot the two horsemen galloping toward me on the trail, one in pursuit of the other. The pursuer’s rifle cracked again, and I shrank back into the cabin’s doorway. Where was Martin?

  The answer to my question scared me half to death. As the two riders came closer, there was a sudden movement to my left, a massive body speeding past me so fast I felt the wind of it stir my hair. Snow and dirt flew into my face from the horse’s heels, and then Martin was on the trail, riding at an angle to the first horseman and cutting off his escape.

  The massive Percheron dug in its forelegs and skidded to an inelegant stop in the snow, causing Judah to lurch forward. He didn’t fall, and for a second I marveled at both the speed he had gotten out of the huge carthorse and his skill in staying on its broad, bare back.

  He pulled its head around to escape from Martin, but Martin’s gelding was far more agile than the Percheron. A burst of speed brought it close enough for Martin to aim a punch that caught Judah in the side and pitched him off his horse in a whirl of arms and legs.

  Martin’s momentum caused him to fall off too. For a sickening moment, I saw his boot catch in the stirrup, but he twisted it and worked it loose as his animal shied away, unwilling to step on its rider.

  The snow softened both men’s fall, and they were up in a moment. Judah headed for Martin’s horse with one eye on Reiner, the second horseman, who had caught up with the group and was raising his rifle to his shoulder. Before Judah could reach the animal, Martin drove a fist into his middle, causing him to fold up with a sound like a bellows and drop to his knees.

  Reiner reined in his horse and slid to the ground, but Martin needed no further help. He dragged Judah into a standing position and aimed a blow at his face that made me wince with remembered pain. Blood from Judah’s nose and mouth spattered the snow, spreading into a pinkish stain.

  “No!” I realized I had shouted as Martin hit Judah again, a vicious blow to the ribs, and raised his fist to aim once more at his face.

  “Martin, no!” Martin’s face was a mask, practically as white as the snow, his gray eyes almost black with rage. He would kill Judah if I didn’t stop him.

  “He’s not worth it.” I flung an arm around Martin, putting myself between him and Judah, who was once more on his knees. Reiner stood by watching, his hand curled loosely around the stock of the rifle.

  “Unless—“ The hair rose on the back of my neck, and I whirled to face Reiner. “He didn’t hurt Tess or Sarah, did he? Because if he did, I’ll kill him myself.” Thinking of Tess and Sarah made my arms and legs weak, and the pemmican rose in a greasy mass into my gorge. I made a huge effort to stay on my feet and not vomit, bracing
myself against Reiner’s reply.

  The young man’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “They’re all right,” he said. “I found him talking to Tess—who stood in the front of the wagon with her gun at the ready like Davy Crockett himself. I do believe she would have taken a shot at him if he’d come any closer. I could hear Sarah hollering that he was a bad man and he’d better not have hurt her Momma. The fire was out, but they’d obviously survived the night in one piece.”

  “I need to go to them.” The irrational part of me wanted to leap immediately onto the nearest horse and head back along the trail. Instead, I turned to Martin, who had let his hands drop to his sides and was watching Judah with a stunned look on his face. “What are you going to do with him?”

  Judah raised his head and looked at us. His upper lip was split and swelling, his nose a bloody mess. His slanted blue eyes were mocking as he looked first at Reiner, then at Martin and me.

  “Yes, Rutherford, what are you going to do with me? Now that our darling Nell has saved my life. You can accuse me of nothing worse than hitting a woman. Although ungentlemanly, that’s hardly an uncommon occurrence out here on the frontier. If she hadn’t stopped you, you’d have been a murderer. You need to watch that temper of yours.”

  He rose to his feet stiffly and painfully, probing his middle section with care. “I think you’ve broken a rib or two,” he said. “Wherever you take me, I’ll be sure to raise that point.” He looked at Reiner. “And it’s a good thing you’re such a bad shot, Lehmann.”

  “I wasn’t shooting at you, you flannel-mouthed swindler,” Reiner replied, a sneer on his lips. “I was making sure Rutherford knew we were coming.” He looked at Martin. “I’d say best thing would be to get him back to Springwood once we’ve made sure the ladies reach the mission. That letter of yours should ensure they run him out of town good and for all.”

  The stunned expression was leaving Martin’s face, and his eyes sharpened. “Your uncle should have the copy I sent him by now too. You’re right, Lehmann—if we can’t accuse him of anything direct, we can at least make sure everyone knows his true colors. And it’s possible that when Cam Calderwood knows about his disgrace, he might be a bit more forthcoming on certain points if he wants to save his own neck.”