The Blue Cloak

by Shannon McNear

  “Colonel Young accomplished what he intended, I suppose,” Bledsoe was explaining to his wife, “in that it looks as if we’ve clean swept all the outlaws from that quarter of the state.” He smiled thinly at her. “But you know I’m ever skeptical.”

  Kate lowered the coffeepot she held to the tabletop, all humor fled from her face. “Well then,” she said slowly, “we stay on guard, rifles to hand.”

  Bledsoe grinned. “That’s my girl.”

  She glowed under his praise but remained somber. “Honestly, though, Thomas. From what I’ve been hearing, might be that nothing prevails against these two but old-fashioned prayer—and maybe fasting.”

  Bledsoe chewed for a moment, appearing to be thinking, then gave a firm nod. “You might be right, at that. But a canny group of men scouring the countryside can’t hurt neither.”

  Though the Bledsoes were kind enough, Ben took his leave very early the next morning. He made Stanford shortly after noon, even at an easy pace—but it helped that Ivy was well conditioned from weeks on the trail.

  He stayed the night with Stephen and his family, catching up on news and receiving a packet from Uncle Ben, cash money for the intent of providing for his needs while out on the chase for the Harpes, and a letter asking whether they’d done any good yet.

  Nothing from Rachel, however. Not remarkable in and of itself but … it troubled him.

  He left again the next morning, set Ivy at a brisk pace, and arrived at Taylor’s post about midafternoon. Although unsure as to why he felt it the right choice to do so, he tied Ivy out front rather than stable her in back.

  It was Anne, baby on her hip, who stood behind the counter and greeted him. Something passed across her face but disappeared with a smile. “Ben! So good to see you.”

  Dan emerged from the back room with more warmth, but when Ben glanced around, looking for Rachel, they both anticipated his question, and the cloud returned to Anne’s expression. “She’s gone home to Knox County, Ben. I think the strain and worry over it all were too much, and she said she felt a need to see Mama and Pa again.”

  An unaccountably unsettled sensation fluttered in his middle. “I can certainly understand that.”

  But Anne frowned more deeply at him. “Did the two of you have a falling out, by any chance?”

  His heart dropped completely. The memory of their parting washed over him, sweet and sharp. “I—no. Not that I know of.”

  “Well.” Her expression cleared somewhat at that. “Maybe she’s just feeling—overwhelmed.” She peered more closely at him again then glanced at Dan, who stood listening and watching.

  “Just what are your intentions regarding my sister, anyhow?” Dan said.

  The tone remained mild, and his face nearly impassive, but Ben’s throat suddenly dried to dust. “Honorable ones, I assure you.”

  The corner of Dan’s mouth twitched, and the brown eyes sparkled. “Mm-hmm.”

  “I—we’ve not known each other for very long—and the circumstances—” Ben had never found himself at such a loss for words before.

  Dan folded his arms. “Life is uncertain out here on the frontier. Folk tend to move fast.”

  Ben held the other man’s gaze.

  “… if you decide you would be amenable to more than me merely ‘calling upon you’ …”

  Well, she’d yet to decide, that was certain. But Dan had asked only about Ben’s intentions.

  “I intend to court your sister properly, with the hope that she might indeed become my wife at some point.” He cleared his throat. Blast the nervousness that made him need to do so. “Sooner rather than later, I’d prefer, but I’ll not press her.”

  Dan sucked his teeth for a moment. “Fair enough.” He swung toward Anne. “Can you bear putting this fellow up for the night? Or,” and he turned back to Ben, “would you rather get a head start on your way down to Tennessee?”

  Ben stayed, glad enough for the meal and company and the opportunity to speak with the two of them honestly—as well as give Ivy a bit of a rest. The only moment of hesitation came when Anne led him to the room that had been Rachel’s and said he might as well sleep in a real bed as on the floor.

  That too he would be grateful for, even if he fancied as he fell asleep that Rachel’s scent still lingered there—and it was too easy to imagine her soft weight in his arms.

  He must remember that she was most definitely not his wife—not yet. They’d not even any formal understanding between them.

  May came to a close and June began with thundershowers that cooled the air but left everything damp and sticky. It hadn’t been much different up at Dan and Anne’s, so Rachel couldn’t complain, but the grayness of the day cast a bit of a pall over everything.

  There had been no more word of the Harpes, or anything really, since the papers feted Colonel Young’s brave expedition to chase all the outlaws from Kentucky. But banishing the Harpes solved nothing, and only put Sally and her little one even further out of reach.

  Rachel tied on her apron and crossed from their family’s cabin to their trading post. The station had grown larger and busier in the months she was gone, and as she walked, she let her gaze skim the forested hilltops rimming the bustle of wagon, horse, and foot traffic out on the road. Daddy had been here for half an hour already, but she’d gotten delayed at the house. Busy as it was, though, he’d be champing at the bit for her to come help.

  She slipped in the back, through a storage room very like Dan and Anne’s, and weaved through the tall shelving to the counter. Daddy’s voice echoed from near the front, and she rounded a corner to see him deep in discussion with two other men, next to a display of Pennsylvania rifles.

  Stepping behind the counter, she glanced again. One of those men was Hugh White. The other had his back to her, clad in hunting frock and black hat, one side cocked with a turkey feather, and the end of a golden-brown tail curling a little below the hat brim, at the man’s nape.

  Hugh turned and flashed an uncharacteristically wide grin as Daddy kept explaining something to the other man. Rachel hesitated then came out from behind the counter again.

  Why was he all the way over here on this side of Knox County?

  But it was the vague familiarity of the other man that tugged at her—

  He turned, and Rachel’s breath seized. “Ben?”

  He took off his hat and stray wisps fell around his face as a hesitant smile tugged at his bearded mouth. “Rachel.”

  The way he said her name sank into her heart like butter into bread fresh from the oven. Her feet dragged to a stop. “What—how—when did you get here?”

  The smile wavered again, though his gaze remained steady. “I stayed with Hugh and his family last night.”

  Hugh—who still looked unbelievably smug. Half a dozen different responses sprang to mind, and she could speak none of them.

  She glanced at Daddy. He also appeared entirely too pleased with himself.

  A sigh escaped her. Things had seemed so much simpler—a world apart from here—at Dan and Anne’s.

  But here was Ben, in the flesh, looking at her with an expression that bordered now on desperation.

  “You look well,” she murmured.

  His head dipped. “I am. And yourself?”

  “Well enough.” She hesitated, included the others in her attention this time. “Daddy, I suppose I need not introduce you …?”

  He hooked his thumbs into his waistband. “I know only that this is the young man responsible for providing you with that fine horse.”

  Rachel felt herself turning crimson. “Aye.” She refocused on Ben. “Any success?” she asked, softly.

  He shook his head the tiniest bit, gravely. “None that I’m happy with. I rode with Colonel Young—you might have heard about that?”

  “Aye. Hailed all up and down Kentucky and Tennessee as a great hero, but—” She let the sentence hang, unfinished.

  “My thoughts precisely.” Ben’s mouth thinned. “The Harpes remain at large
, so—Sally has disappeared.”

  “So what now?” She’d lost count of the times she’d said those words to him, and he was likely sick of hearing it.

  He huffed. “Wait until, oh, they come out of hiding, as some of us feel is bound to happen. Then go after them again.” He tilted his head toward Daddy. “I’m taking the time to arm myself a bit better than before. And”—a shy smile made its reappearance, as he tucked his head for a moment—“visit you. That is … if you don’t mind.”

  The tightness in her breast finally began to ease. “Not at all. I’m … glad to see you.”

  Hugh was grinning ear to ear, the meddlesome man, and Daddy wore his own smirk.

  Suddenly all she wanted was to speak with Ben, alone. “Would you—perhaps—want to come on a short walk with me? Daddy, could you spare me for a bit?”

  His grin matched Hugh’s for a moment. “Don’t go far,” he rumbled.

  “If you could set aside that rifle for me, sir?” Ben said.

  “Be glad to.” Daddy nodded at Rachel. “Away with you then.”

  She kept her hands knotted in her apron as she led him out through the rear entrance. “We’ll stay within sight of the house,” she explained, feeling foolish about the entire thing. “Still the threat of—well, the Harpes, essentially. There’s a lot of folk I don’t know round the station these days, and we all trust one another less than we once did.”

  Replacing his hat, Ben nodded, gaze narrowed as he surveyed their surroundings. “Perfectly understandable.”

  The cadence of his speech was comfortingly familiar, though she sensed a new hardness about him. “How are you, truly?”

  The smile flashed, briefly. “Well enough, as you said. A little weary of it all, however, I confess.”

  They set off at an angle, so to pass the house and walk among the trees beyond.

  “I’ve missed you,” she found herself murmuring.

  “And I”—he heaved a great sigh—“have missed you. Tremendously.” He stopped and swung toward her. “Rachel—”

  “A little farther, please.” She could feel the flush starting back up her cheeks. “My younger siblings have uncanny sharp hearing.”

  He grinned and fell into step beside her again.

  They’d gone but a little farther when he said, “I must first ask, have I done anything to offend you?”

  “What—offend? Nay!” She did stop then, beneath a spreading oak, turning to face him. “Why would you think so?”

  He only searched her face, gravely, until she blushed again and dropped her head. “Your sister-in-law was—concerned,” he said, finally.

  “Oh.” She grimaced and muttered, “Meddling sisters.”

  “Your brother asked, as well, what my intentions were. I assured him they were honorable, but—I wish to know, Rachel. You told me you’d welcome my calling on you, but if you’ve changed your mind—”

  “I haven’t,” she said, then, “It’s only that … oh, I don’t know how to say it.”

  She felt his gaze upon her still. “I’ve all day. Longer if need be,” he said.

  Why, oh why, did he have to be so wonderfully patient? This was not helping her resolve….

  He went on, “Your brother said people out here often make quick decisions on things such as marriage because life on the frontier is so uncertain. I’ve come to better understand that, truth be told, but—”

  “Sally decided quickly, and look what happened,” Rachel said softly.

  “Ahh.” Ben released a heavy sigh, and at the edge of her vision, his feet shifted. “I hope you know—” He sighed again, cleared his throat. “I—understand.”

  She angled a look at him then, found him peering at his feet.

  With a sudden jolt, she realized—he was wearing moccasins. And leggings. Last she’d seen him, he had on very proper breeches and cavalry boots, even with his hunting frock. But now—she let her gaze travel upward, noting the checked shirt over the buckskin covering his thighs, the open neck showing a gleam of sweat, that gold-glinted beard and the lengthening hair.

  He looked almost a complete frontiersman, lacking only a few accoutrements, where just months ago he was the very picture of an eastern dandy.

  His glance flicked upward, the blue eyes meeting hers—and holding.

  “Ben.” It was all she could manage. In this moment, she wanted nothing more than to fling herself into his arms and discover whether his kiss was as strangely wondrous as it had been at Dan and Anne’s.

  But was it worth the risk?

  He’d ridden all the way to Knoxville for her, one voice in her head argued.

  He was a good friend of Hugh’s, and might have only come to visit him anyway, another countered.

  But he’d brought her the news—which was no news, but still—of the hunt for the Harpes, which included concern for Sally’s welfare.

  “I know we’ve been drawn together through awful circumstances,” he said.

  “Circumstances that still have no resolution,” she murmured. “And I’m already so indebted to you.”

  “I am as vested in this pursuit as you,” he retorted, but quietly. “And, Rachel, I swear—” His chest rose and fell. “After being apart from you for the past six weeks, and seeing you again, I’m certain there’s no other woman I could ever want.”

  A lump rose in her throat, and her vision blurred. “Ben Langford,” she whispered. Which is likely what Wiley told Sally. But ‘twould be unfair to say that aloud.

  He stepped closer. “When we kissed before, well, I thought—it seemed as though—you were also certain. What changed?”

  Her breath caught, but she still couldn’t reply.

  Taking her hand, he brushed his thumb across her knuckles and reached up to trace the back of his other hand against her cheek. His eyes, clear and vivid as the sky above them, begged her attention. “Are you afraid, sweet Rachel?”

  She nodded sharply.

  “Of what?” he breathed.

  She swallowed hard. “Of—of you. Of—losing you, if not to the Harpes, then—at some other time.” It sounded foolish even as she said it, and further words failed her.

  He blew out another long breath, and shifted back a little. “I told your brother I’d not press you. If you simply need time—”

  “Aye,” she said, too quickly. But time was—good.

  “Very well.” His hands and gaze fell away, eyes narrowing upon something in the distance. She almost whimpered with the sudden loss of his touch. “I’ll be at Hugh’s for a few more days at least, unless word comes of something happening.” His eyes flickered back to hers. “How do Sally’s parents fare with it all?”

  “They are—holding up as well as could be expected, I suppose.” She hesitated. “This has well-nigh devastated them. The church seems to have rallied around them, though, as they should.”

  He nodded, glancing aside again. “Shall I walk you back to the post?”

  “I believe I can find my way,” she said dryly, but it drew no answering smile from him, only a single nod.

  He stared at the ground for a moment then looked up briefly. “Be well, Rachel,” he murmured, and turning, walked away.

  She folded both arms around her middle. It took everything she had to stay put and not run after him to apologize.

  If she needed time, he’d give it to her. Perhaps not willingly, but he’d given his word, hang it all.

  A burn rose from his gut into his chest and throat, nearly choking him, strangling breath and rational thoughts. How unwise was it, anyway, to consider courting a woman he knew only because of criminal proceedings—worse, because of his own cousin’s murder and her association with the guilty parties?

  Ridiculous for him to even contemplate it.

  Except that it was far beyond any of that, and utterly useless to tell his heart to disengage.

  He strode back to the trading post, where Mr. Taylor and Hugh still stood talking. Their conversation fell silent, however, when he walked in, and bo
th men gaped, no doubt at seeing him alone.

  “Where’s Rachel?” Mr. Taylor asked, straightening, alarm tightening his features.

  “She’ll be along directly.” He realized suddenly how it must look, him returning without her. “She’s—not terribly wishful of my company at this moment.”

  The man came to his feet without a word, his dark eyes so hard it sent a chill down Ben’s spine. Even Hugh looked at him askance, one brow raised.

  “I—she’s well, I assure you. She simply declined to walk back with me. Perhaps I presumed too much feeling on her part from our friendship these past months, but—I’ve done nothing dishonorable, I swear.”

  “I’ll let my daughter’s explanation be the judge of that,” Mr. Taylor said.

  “Good Lord, Ben,” Hugh exclaimed, “what did you do?”

  For a minute, all he could do was stand there, his own jaw slack.

  “I’ll go find Rachel,” Hugh said, and whisked out the door.

  Ben dragged a breath into his aching lungs. In this moment, he thought he’d rather be facing the Harpes.

  “Mr. Taylor, I—I love Rachel. It must seem sudden, I realize, but it’s the truth.”

  The older man leaned back against the counter, arms folded across his chest. “Good to know I hadn’t misread the intent of your interest. So you’re telling me Rachel doesn’t feel the same?”

  “She assured me weeks ago that she welcomed my suit. But now—well, she said she needs time. That—Sally married so quickly, and because that turned to such disaster—” Ben shook his head. He was faring no better at explaining than Rachel had.

  “Hmm.” Mr. Taylor rubbed his bearded jaw. “Do you know how many young bucks my girl’s had to fend off over the years?”

  Ben gave a short laugh. “I can imagine, sir. But I’d no thought at first of pursuing her in that way. I was merely extending friendship. Trying simply to make the best of a wretched situation, between my cousin’s murder and her distress over Sally’s situation.” He lifted a hand and let it drop in a gesture of frustration. “Perhaps she was only flattered by my attentions when I spoke of more, but …”