by Denise Eagan
“Of course,” Del had told her over the rattle of the wagon, “we didn’t really need Jane’s information, since we already knew about the farm from Keller’s investigation.”
“Keller?” Star asked.
“Yes, the private investigator that Nick hired.”
“A private investigator? When?” Star glanced at Nicholas, who drove the wagon from the seat plank in the front, while she sat with Del, his head and twice-wounded shoulder pillowed in her lap.
“After the trunk incident,” Del said, “which you ought to have told me about, sugar, but,” he said, gritting his teeth at a sudden twinge of pain. He took another deep swallow from his jug. “We’ll let that pass, shall we? Keller tracked down Price’s father and got a wealth of information out of him, including the fact that after Price’s grandmother, that Farnsworth woman, you know, brought him to Boston, he tried, surreptitiously and unsuccessfully, to sabotage your women’s movement there. He soon discovered that many of your compatriots, male and female alike, sympathized with it. By and by he found more fertile ground in New York, where he also met Bella.”
“And murdered her,” Star said, closing her eyes briefly as memory assailed her.
Del patted her leg gently. “We speculated as such,” he said. “Did Price confirm it, then?”
“Confirm it? He gloated over it. . .” She told them everything she had learned from Simon, followed by a quick recap of her days in captivity.
“Then,” Nicholas had said, when she fell silent. His voice was unusually tight. “Price never touched you.”
“No. . . Not in that way,” she replied.
He exhaled slowly. “Good. Not dismissing his hitting you,” he added hastily, “just that the other, well that’s a whole ’nother bag of nails.”
“A man who’d hit a woman,” Del growled, “has no right to call himself a man.”
Nicholas, his face schooled to blankness, glanced back at Del. “Anyhow, Keller learned about the trunk, too,” Nicholas said. He proceeded to relate the story of how Simon’s father had put his son in touch with a friend working the Boston railroad line, who had snuck Simon into the baggage car. The elder Price insisted that they’d misunderstood the incident; it was merely a prank against an old college chum gone wrong. The trunks had been mixed up. All of it was a misunderstanding. Simon meant Star no harm. . .
After Nicholas had finished, they’d fallen silent until they reached Chicago. Once there, while the doctor attended Del in his hotel room—hospitals being a hot bed of disease, he asserted, and Jane staying in it besides—Star visited Jane. Her near-death experience had done her character little good. Her conversation jumped between weakness, hysteria, and borderline violence over the injustice done to her. It stretched Star’s already frayed nerves to the limit and after only an hour, she’d left for the hotel room that Nicholas and Del had procured for her. There she’d meant to take a short nap, but had instead slept through dinner and breakfast. Upon waking, she’d dressed and come to Del’s room.
“You cannot pay me to stay here,” Del answered Star, now. “Jane’s sisters will arrive tomorrow. I’ve less use for them than for Jane. I doubt Chicago has enough peace officers to keep us all from killing each other.”
“She’s still your wife,” Star pointed out gently.
“And I mean to avoid the scandal of murdering said wife. Will you purchase me passage, Star, or must I do it myself?”
She sighed. “I’ll do it. For myself and Nicholas as well.”
“No, ma’am,” Nicholas said. “I’ve already got mine. I’m pullin’ stakes this evening for the Bar M.”
“The Bar M?” Star asked jerking her head up. But . . . but he’d come for her! He couldn’t mean to leave her now.
“I’m more than halfway home. I figure you and Del can get back East by yourselves.”
Del frowned. “I don’t know. . . .”
She’d thought Nicholas’s detachment on the drive back from the farm had been due to anxiety over Del’s precarious health. She’d assumed they’d talk later, perhaps find common ground again. He’d traveled halfway across the continent to rescue her. That must mean he’d developed a lasting attachment to her, mustn’t it?
“I thought,” she said, “that you were going to stay with us until the fall roundup.”
Shrugging, he regarded her with hooded eyes. “Jim needs me and I reckon I’ve seen all I wanted to back East. Said goodbye to your parents before I left.”
Then it wasn’t a sudden idea. He’d planned it. Oh but she must change his mind! She couldn’t lose him this way. What to do? Beg, plead? Apologize. . . .
“Perhaps you might reevaluate that decision, Nick, given the circumstances,” Del said. “I’m not quite mended. I could use your assistance on the train.”
A tiny smile settled on Nicholas’s face. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Reckon you’ll do just fine. Star’s plenty strong enough to help you, and what she can’t do, you’ll pay the porter for. Fact is, I’m here right now to say goodbye. Gonna finish packing, and then board the six o’clock for Cheyenne.”
Del heaved a disgusted sigh. He held out his hand as Nicholas rose, and Star’s heart, only beginning to mend, started to tear at the cracks. “Well, it’s been a pleasure, Nick. I confess, I never thought I’d have much use for a cowboy. Not my sort of thing at all, but you, sir, have proven me wrong. Your company is, shall we say, enlightening?”
Nick chuckled. “Yes sir, I’ll same the same about you. Ever get out my way, you come stay with us awhile, you hear? Maybe I can help straighten out that shot o’ yours.”
Del grinned. “If I travel that way I most certainly shall visit, but I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you. Star’s told me of that rabid cougar. I’ve no desire to repeat her experience.”
Nick nodded. His chest ached as he focused on Star. She rose. “I’ll accompany you to the door, shall I?”
He wished she wouldn’t. This was hard enough as it was.
He nodded and walked to the door, every nerve in his body in tune to her movements. He opened the door, and she brushed past him to step into the corridor. So that was how this was going to be. Them alone, even worse. Didn’t she see how much easier it’d be if they parted without words?
He closed the door and looked into her eyes, brown in the dimness of the corridor. For all his resolve to end this fast and easy, he wished he could see them gold again, one last time. In gaslight or candle light or sunlight. Sparkling and alive with mirth.
“If this is about us,” she said in a tight voice, “I wish you would reconsider. It is not fair to you or my parents for me, for that, to come between you.”
He drew in a breath. “No, ma’am, it’s not. Just time for me to head home is all.”
She bit her lip. “Would it help if I apologized?” He could see her eyes starting to water, damn it. “For all that I said—”
As his throat closed up, he held up his hand to stop her. When she appeared determined to go on, he pressed a finger against her lips. Soft as rose petals. . . . “You don’t have anything to apologize for. I was the one who said all the bad things. Accused you of selfishness and all. I was wrong, Star. You aren’t selfish. Look how you risked your life to save Jane. You don’t even like Jane.”
She blinked several times. “Why, then return with us. We can—”
“No,” he stopped her again. What was the use? Even now, she spoke no words of love, no confession to a companionship beyond the fire under the sheets. Because she didn’t feel it, not enough, anyhow. “It’s time for me to go home. We had fun, but it’s gotta end sometime, right?” A question . . . one last chance.
She swallowed again. “We live two thousand miles apart.”
“Sure. So we’ll end it here.” And quick-like too, because much longer and he’d prove to her that he wasn’t near the man she thought him to be. His eyes were burning. He hadn’t wept in a long time, not since Dickie’d been born and Jim put him in Nick’s arms and called him uncle.<
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He missed home. Missed it so much it hurt almost as much as losing Star.
He leaned forward to give her a quick kiss on the forehead. “Good bye, Star.” He turned on his heel and walked down the hall. When she called out his name in a rough, tear-laced voice, he didn’t turn around.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
. . .love on. I will requite thee,
Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand.
If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee
To bind our loves up in a holy band.
For others say thou dost deserve, and I
Believe it better than reportingly
Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing
“And so, Del,” Star said, after she and Del had sat in silence on the train for two hours. She’d purchased the tickets as Del had demanded the day before, had transported him to the depot against all medical advice and helped him board the train. He now slumped against the train wall, feigning morphine-induced delirium. Her exhausted brain and broken heart, however, had taken as much mournful contemplation as they could stand and demand distraction. “Is this it between you and Jane?”
Del opened his eyes. “Did you say something? I was sleeping.”
“You were not, and I’m tired of pretending that you are.”
Sighing, Del straightened up. He winced. “All right. Jane . . . yes, I suppose it is.” He took a breath. “Truthfully, Star, I cannot bear another fight. We could forgive each other the rest of the infidelities, but she was in love with Price.” He paused. “She’ll blame me for Price. You know she will.”
“Blame you? With what reasoning? You did nothing wrong.”
“Reason doesn’t matter to Jane.”
No, Star thought, it never had. “Will you divorce her?
“Divorce.” He grimaced. “I don’t know . . . probably. Divorce cannot possibly be more scandalous than what we’ve already done.” He shook his head as a deep sadness settled around him, writing lines into the corners of his eyes and bracketing his mouth. “I’ve ruined her, haven’t I? I knew she was too young when I married her, but I threw both caution and conscience to the wind.”
“Many women have married as young and no disaster come of it. The fault for this affair rests with her and Simon, not you, Del.”
“Price was merely the tool. We are the ones who employed it.”
“Jane did, not you.”
He shrugged, unconvinced. They were quiet for a time listening to the clickety-clack of the train and the murmur of passengers. “What about you, sugar?” Del presently ventured. “What’s next for you?”
“Next? Why I’m returning home, obviously.”
“Without your cowboy.”
Her heart twisted and she tried to force lightness into her voice. “He’s not my cowboy, and he’s returned to his own home in Colorado.”
“Yes, I know that,” Del said, impatiently. “What I don’t understand, Star, is why the devil you didn’t go with him.”
Her eyes burned as she looked out the window, trying not to squirm under his gaze. She’d no wish to sort through the pieces of her broken heart with Del. “I don’t belong in Colorado.”
“Don’t belong―Star, you’re in love with the man!”
Her stomach flipped and then contracted into a light cramping ache. “Yes,” she said gruffly, “and you love Jane. See how well that turned out?”
“Just because our marriage ended in catastrophe, doesn’t mean yours must follow the same path.”
“I’m not following your path. In point of fact, I am avoiding it like the plague.”
“Star,” he started softly. She turned from her view of passing cornfields, to see Del’s face creased in suffering. He pinched the bridge of his nose, as if it would prevent his thoughts from traveling to his heart. “Loving Jane was never the mistake. The mistake was letting her go. Again and again.”
Star sucked in her breath. “You couldn’t help it, Del, if she wished to leave.”
“Perhaps she wouldn’t have left if I’d given her the attention she so badly craved,” he said tightly. “Perhaps if I’d gone after her . . . but I allowed my pride to overrule my heart, and I lost her. I lost my marriage and, in the end, that self-same pride.” He sighed and lifted his head to focus on her. His eyes were red, the shadows under them darker. “I wouldn’t have you make the same mistake for all the world. I don’t know what’s come between you and McGraw, but it is supremely ill-advised to allow pride to stand in the way of love.”
“It won’t work, Del,” she said, tears in her eyes. “I cannot be subservient to a man. You know I cannot.”
“Subservient? To McGraw? When were you ever? Star I was there in the barn. I saw how you worked together to—eliminate—Price.” He frowned. “That investigator, Keller,” he said slowly. “He and his wife share equally in his business. That’s how you and Nick operate, as partners.”
Partners? She frowned, recollecting a comparison she’d once made between her connection to Nicholas and the Blackwell’s marriage. But Nicholas was not Henry Blackwell. He’d wish for a marriage like her parents’. As much as she adored them and appreciated the love between them, everybody knew that Father ruled the roost. She could not abide by that. “Nicholas doesn’t subscribe to the movement.”
Del frowned. “Agreement on everything is not necessary for a good marriage. Nor is it necessary for a good partnership. All you need is to work well together and to compromise, of which you and your cowboy have proven quite capable.”
As lovers, they certainly had. Moreover, she thought, they had actually handled Saratoga Springs fairly well, too, along with the many, many different competitions they had engaged in, from chess, to tennis, to verbal sparring. She’d never held his wins against him, not for long at any rate, and he’d respected hers. So much so, that he admitted he’d vote for her if such a thing could ever occur. For a moment her despondency lifted. Then fell back with a thud, for a vote was not marriage. Respect was not love. “It doesn’t matter. He never asked me.” She meant it to come out casually. Instead, her voice sounded pinched and worn.
“No doubt,” Del said with sardonic amusement, “because you never afforded him the opportunity. You’re as prickly as a rosebush sometimes, Star. Even with McGraw, whom you sincerely love, you spent half your time ranting about what snakes men are and how we’re all determined to keep women under our thumbs. How he bore it is beyond comprehension. Regardless, you must own that ‘tis a daunting scenario under which to propose.”
She’d ranted, she thought mulishly, because she valued Nicholas’s opinions. She didn’t behave that way in bed. “My home is in Boston and his is in Colorado.”
Del sighed disgustedly. “I’ve thought many unkind things about you, sugar, but I never thought you a fool.”
“I’m not a fool! I’m pragmatic!”
“You’re a fool. We have railroads and telegraphs. If you cannot agree on where to live permanently, you may spend part of the year in each location and communicate via telegram and letters between times. You both have more than enough money to do that.”
“Part of a year? What kind of marriage is that?”
“The kind that will suit you. You are twenty-seven, Star. You’re never going to find another man like McGraw. This is the only time I’ve ever seen you in love. What in bloody hell are you waiting for?”
Could it work, she wondered, as her heart started pounding hopefully in her chest. Would Nicholas agree to that? What about children?
Her chest tightened when she recalled their discussion about children. “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t love me.”
Del turned in his seat, his eyes wide, his brow wrinkled in disbelief. “Doesn’t love you? The man travelled half way across the country, braving Society, to be with you. When you were in peril, he chased you another thousand miles! What more proof do you want?”
She batted away the tears forming in her eyes. “He would have done that for any woman.”
&n
bsp; “I was with him on the train to Chicago. McGraw has always been, since I met him, cooler than a cucumber. Nothing any of us did stirred him, and Lord knows we tried. But on that train, he was just about mad trying to get to you, Star, pacing and snarling at the porter when he thought the train was moving too slowly. He barely controlled his emotions. I’ll wager that he’s never been in that position in his life.”
She blinked. She’d seen Nicholas “stirred” many times, but only when they were alone. “Then why did he never say it?”
“Probably,” he said acerbically, “for the same reason you never did.”
Because what use was such a declaration if heartache was inevitable? She’d not considered that, for her fiancés all knew her prohibition on marriage, yet still declared their undying love. She’d assumed that Nicholas would do that same if he cared for her. Nicholas, however, was no fool.
“It is something to contemplate. Now you might rest some again, Del. You’re looking pale.”
He scowled at her and leaned back. For a half hour, Star stared out the window, blind to the passing scenery, as her brain turned over the last months and the many, many ways in which Nicholas had acted like a man in love, without ever having said it.
It’s gotta end sometime, right?
What if she’d answered no? What if she’d told him she loved him, told him she wanted to stay with him, together, as partners, as equals. Marriage did not sound so daunting when put that way. In fact, it sounded rather cozy. Comforting. Safe, like when Nicholas had stood at the back of the room at the rally and scanned the crowd for Romeo.
“South Bend in ten minutes,” the porter called out. “Gather your items.”
“Sir!” she yelled, jumping up before her thoughts were finished.