Rebel with a Cause

by Carol Arens

  "You know how to sweep a girl right out of her chair, Desmond Thornton." Suzie kissed his lips thoroughly then laughed. "Oh, the lovely stir that would cause! But mother is set on a big social bash of a wedding, I'm sure."

  "Mother," Mother announced, rushing over and kneeling to hug both Suzie and Desmond, "is set on no such thing, although I have been set on you, young man, for the longest time."

  "Ladies will be fainting in the street when the folks back home get word that our Suzie has snatched Desmond right off the market...so to speak, and without a social hoopla," Missy declared.

  "Those ladies faint when a black cat crosses in front of them." Mother stood, she straightened her spine and took a fortifying breath. "They could all use a trip to the Wild West to give them some starch in their backbones."

  Both of her siblings, married! Missy wanted to cry a bucketful of self-pity. Her smile actually hurt.

  * * *

  Hours later Missy stepped outside of Maybelle's front door and stood under the porch roof. She watched the persistent rain patter the boardwalk two feet beyond the ruffle of her hem. The smile that she had secured in place for so long slipped.

  Inside, wedding plans had everyone in high spirits. The ceremony was to take place in the parlor. Mother, Maybelle and the ladies bustled about, making things sparkle, adding a bit of lace to this and an extra candle to that.

  The spirit of the butterfly moon bound everyone in dreams of a joyful future, but Zane had not at anytime seen, or expected to see, the butterfly moon. She tried to fight the image, but it became too easy to visualize her bright future fading.

  Missy covered her face with her hands, ready to weep her despair, but the door opened behind her and she snatched back her hands and her tears. She turned with a forced smile and met Edwin's frown.

  "You know we've got to talk," he said.

  "Edwin, you think you know what's best for me. I get that, but I can't go home, I won't."

  "There is something that you don't know."

  Edwin leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. He stared at the tips of his boots for the longest time before looking at her.

  "I told you that we came because Emily sent a wire, and that was true. I've already paid her the reward. But, sis, she wasn't the only one to have claimed the money."

  He reached in his pocket and pulled out two sheets of paper that were clearly telegrams. He gave one to her.

  Blustery wind tugged at her skirt and raced up her legs. She curled the telegram in her fist, crushing it without looking at it.

  "You can't crush the truth. He told us where to find you in Dewton."

  She loosened her fist and felt the paper nibble her palm. Still, she would not look at it. "Maybe he did do that, but that was before. I'm sure he regretted it later."

  "Look, sis, I don't doubt that the man cares for you, only a fool wouldn't, but where is he? There's been time and more for him to get back, whether he found Muff or not."

  "The rivers are swollen. He probably can't get across."

  "He could have sent word."

  "What's to say the telegraph wires haven't washed away?"

  "There's this." Edwin held out the other sheet of paper. "Reverend Gilroy received this one."

  She folded her arms across her chest and shook her head.

  "You're stronger than that. Read it," Edwin said.

  "How long have you had this?"

  "Too long." Edwin stared out at the rain and uttered a curse. Her brother never cursed within her hearing.

  "I waited...I hoped I wouldn't have to...well, it's past time to go home."

  "Not for me it isn't." She snatched the paper from his fist and crushed it. "I'm going to wait right here until Zane comes to get me."

  "Just like Hortense, sis? Sitting on that porch and becoming bitter?"

  "Go inside, Edwin."

  He kissed her cheek. The wood door banged closed behind him. Wind blew the water falling from the overhang sideways at her. She opened the telegram sent to the reverend, blinking moisture off her lashes.

  The words had blurred with water and repeated folding. Most of them of them were illegible.

  She read a faint forgive me, a bolder leaving a burden, a smudged and dirty sin. The message was short but the word mistake might have been printed only a moment ago.

  Forgive, burden, sin and mistake did not sound like the words of a man pledging his undying love. Not a single mention of the blow to her head, he never asked if she had even survived. His missive was one of remorse, his words a lifetime away from her dream of happily ever after.

  She tossed the telegrams into the mud beyond the porch.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ballico Street was little more than a mud puddle, but with sunshine glittering off the standing water, it seemed to Zane like nothing less than the gold-paved streets of Heaven.

  He was home. A journey that should have taken a couple of days had turned into an odyssey of mud and frustration. At times it seemed that he had fallen into a nightmare where, try as he might, he could not return to the woman who depended upon him, maybe for her very life.

  Had she recovered? Riding the prairie in ankle-deep muck had given him too much time to reflect and worry.

  Nothing but death would keep her away from him again. He prayed hourly that they were not already separated.

  The bundle under his jacket stretched, squirmed then resettled, warm and dry under his coat.

  He patted the bulge. "Don't you worry, little one, only another block to go."

  At last, only one block more to Maybelle's where he could stash his traveling companions for a while. He glanced back at Daisy and Number Nine. All of them, he and Ace included, wore mud up to their knees.

  The front door of Maybelle's opened and Maybelle stepped out. She walked beyond the overhang, spreading her arms and stretching like a lazy cat in the sunshine. Other than Missy, there was not a soul on earth he was happier to see.

  "You look like home and heaven all in one," he said to her.

  He had expected to be greeted with a hug, or at least a smile. The scowl made him more than uneasy.

  "You took your sweet time getting here, young man, I ought to--"

  Whatever scolding he was about to get was cut short by Muff peeking his head out of the saddle pack. He whined and wiggled, trying to get out.

  "I've brought you something," he said.

  "Well now, you did bring back little Muff. I did say you would all along." Now she smiled. "No wonder it took you forever to get here, with the menagerie you've brought along."

  She reached for Muff. "You better get inside and set some things straight."

  Some things would have to wait. "Not now, I've got to get to Reverend Gilroy's place. Can you take care of this for me until I get back?"

  "No need to go all the way out... Oh, my word... Where on earth!" she exclaimed when he opened his coat and handed her the sleeping toddler.

  "This is Little Blue."

  Maybelle hugged Little Blue to her bosom and twined a loop of his fine blond hair about her finger, all the while muttering, "Oh, my word."

  "When he wakes up you'll see the bluest eyes in God's creation."

  "Where on earth did you get him?"

  "I won him."

  "You what!" Maybelle hugged the two-year-old closer.

  "I'll explain it all later. Muff and I have got to get to the reverend's. With any luck, this is my wedding day."

  "Oh, dear, you might well need some luck with that."

  Her words hit him like a physical blow. It felt as if a fist had grabbed his throat, choking his voice.

  "Missy isn't at the reverend's, she's here," Maybelle said, not taking her gaze off Little Blue.

  Missy wasn't dead. His heart kicked to life again.

  "In Luminary?" Alive, and only moments from him!

  "For the moment, dear, she's just inside but--"

  He leaped from Ace's back and swept Muff from the saddle pack in
one move. Maybelle's voice followed him, no more than a buzz in his head. He ran into the parlor, not caring that Maybelle would scold him for not cleaning boots that bore more mud than leather.

  And there she was, the answer to his prayers, the substance of his dreams, healthy and whole. Sitting on the couch on the lap of a stranger.

  Kissing him, laughing, her face declared her joy.

  Black clouds gathering in his mind suffocated reason. Anger and grief nearly took out his knees. The brim of his Stetson seemed to press tighter about his head.

  "Darlin', get off that man's lap," he gritted between clenched teeth.

  She noticed him for the first time. Her big blue eyes grew round in an expression he knew too well. She all but shimmered in delight.

  Who was this woman? Apparently, one with no shame. Only days ago she'd vowed her love and he'd vowed his. He set Muff on the floor.

  "Zane Coldridge! I thought you wouldn't get here in time."

  "Looks like I didn't."

  Since she made no move to get up, he scooped her out of the stranger's arms. What kind of man grinned at having his woman plucked away? He must be a fool.

  Zane kissed her hard. He kissed her long. He would wipe the taste of the grinning greenhorn off her lips or die trying.

  Something was wrong with the kiss. He was looking for the missing spark when he felt a finger tapping his shoulder.

  "Mr. Coldridge, I'll take my wife back, if you don't mind."

  What the hell! He minded, all right. He curled his fist, ready to let it fly when Maybelle bustled up with Little Blue, awake and reaching for him.

  "Zane, this is Mrs. Desmond Thornton...Suzie Thornton."

  "It's a pleasure to meet you, Zane. Truly...a pleasure!" Suzie Thornton shot him a wicked grin and reached for her husband.

  Zane couldn't hand her back quickly enough.

  "Suzie...Devlin...Thornton?" He looked between Suzie and her husband. "If you want to call me out I won't even draw my weapon."

  "No offense taken, by me at least... Humph... Clearly not by my bride, either. You've got to know, this kind of thing happens all the time with the Devlin sisters. Well, not precisely this, but a man gets used to the pair of them after a while."

  "Papa," the little boy whined and reached for Zane.

  "Papa?" Suzie's mouth fell open. Her brave husband pushed it closed with one finger. "I've read so much about you, but not..." She reached over and cupped Little Blue's cheek.

  "He's recently come by," Maybelle said. "Won in a poker game, I expect, but Zane will tell us all about it later."

  "Missy's out back by the stable," Desmond said. "But you'd better be quick if you have something to set straight."

  For the first time, Zane noticed the bags and valises in the parlor. More than one person was taking a trip today.

  * * *

  Missy dangled her journal over the horse trough near Maybelle's stable. It trembled in her fingers. She had vowed that nothing could make her go home. Even without Zane, she had been certain that nothing could make her give up the adventure, the personal freedom, of living in the Wild West.

  But she had been wrong. Something could make her go home. Her courses were late. Only a day, but a very big day.

  Glory, but how would she support a child by pushing a broom or playing piano in some tawdry saloon? It's not as though she could deposit an infant in a basket like she had Muff.

  In the space of a heartbeat, a new path had been set before her. All she had to do now was dump her old, impossible dreams into the horse trough. Just a slight opening of her fingers would see it done.

  "Darlin', I hope that's not me you're giving to the livestock."

  Her fingers did open, but in surprise. Zane caught the journal before it hit the water. She spun about, angry with herself for wanting to launch into his arms in a clinging, pathetic hug.

  "Where's my dog?" she demanded instead.

  Before Zane could answer, a ragged ball raced across the yard. His barking scattered a family of sparrows from a bush but he didn't pause to consider them in his race toward her skirt.

  She scooped him up, knowing that Suzie wouldn't care a whit about the dirty paw prints marking her lacy pink gown.

  Zane moved forward, his arms coming at her with an apparent embrace in mind.

  "Hold it right there, Mr. Coldridge." She braced her open palm on his chest. "You're too late."

  "You're alive, I'm here and Raymond Gilroy is a short ride away. Timing's just right, darlin'."

  Drat! Why did he have to call her darlin'? As if his smoky brown eyes weren't enough to weaken her will all by themselves.

  "It's too late to collect your reward. Edwin's already paid the whole thing to Emily."

  He shot back three steps, as though her hand on his chest had been a pistol instead of fingers that longed for nothing more than to linger over the rapid thud of his heart.

  "It's a disappointment, I'm sure," she announced.

  He turned away from her then paced heavy-footed from the trough to an arbor that divided the yard from the stable. His coat flared open with his bold strides. He took off his hat and threw it on the grass. Hair that glinted true black in the sunshine whispered against his shirt. He kicked a rock. She forced an extra shiver of ice to her voice.

  If it hadn't been for the second telegram, the one Zane sent to Raymond Gilroy, she might have relented at the devastated look he shot her.

  But really, who wouldn't be dashed over losing that big fat reward?

  A horse whinnied. Because she couldn't stand to see the regret in Zane's expression, she turned to look at the animal being led into the stable by Moe.

  "Number Nine!" She set Muff on the grass. He trotted to a bush and lifted his leg. Heavens if her pup hadn't become a dog during the very long time it had taken Zane to bring him back.

  "There's another one, too, Miss Missy," Moe called, leading Daisy into view.

  Now, that shook her. Hopefully, Zane didn't see the moisture gathering in her eyes. He must have looked a regular Noah, leading his little zoo across the flooded plains.

  Truly, it might have taken a lesser man a month or more to get here. She could almost believe his distress was because of her. Almost, but his own cursed words forgive me, burden, sin and mistake, kept her from running to him.

  "Well, then." She prayed that her voice did not give away the quiver tightening her throat. "Since you've returned everything that Wesley Wage took from me, you must have captured him. I'll take my percentage of the reward...partner."

  Zane reached her in three long strides; he gripped her upper arms. Drawing her to within a foot of him, he gazed down. She couldn't look away from the anguish on his face. It was dashed impossible to appear aloof with a tear rolling down her cheek.

  "I didn't capture Wage. I could have, maybe I should have, but there were complications that delayed me as it was. Lord, Missy, I was wild to get back to you. The extra time it would have taken to turn him in wasn't worth it."

  "Complications? What could be more simple, or important, than coming back?" Her composure broke. Another tear rolled off her nose. Oh, curse it, still another pooled in the corner of her mouth. By some mercy she didn't sob out loud. "You didn't know if I was dead or alive, I didn't know if you were!"

  "There were things that couldn't be helped. I wired Reverend Gilroy about it."

  "Yes, so you did." That very telegram kept her from blubbering out her love for him right now.

  She shook herself free of his grip, but didn't back away.

  "Maybe you'd care to explain those complications."

  "Maybe I would!" The visage of grief, so plain on his face a moment ago, vanished. His eyes narrowed and his lips set in a determined line.

  He caught her hand and hustled her toward the house. Before they stepped through the back door, he paused.

  "Just to make it clear, I love you. That wire about the reward, I sent it before I knew that." He swooped in, quick as a flash and kissed her. "I trie
d to tell you but I was scared."

  She shook off his kiss and snatched her hand free. "Scared of an honest explanation? Really, Zane, was I that intimidating to a rough-and-tumble bounty hunter?"

  "My future was in your response, darlin'. Still is."

  Swiping the tears from her face, she straightened her spine and presented him with her back. She strode down the long hall toward the parlor. Muff scrambled past, bursting into the room with a happy yip.

  Her family, growing as fast as Cupid could aim his arrow, gathered about Maybelle. Each and every one of them cooed and gurgled over something that she held in her arms. The tight knot of admirers prevented Missy from seeing what it was.

  "That was the complication," Zane whispered in her ear, coming up from behind and standing way too close.

  Heads turned, everyone was smiling, for mercy sake. Her life was crumbling about her and her family looked like a group of grinning buffoons.

  As one, they stepped back to reveal a little boy, still round with baby fat.

  "That's my son. Yours, too, if you'll have him."

  The man was insane. He'd betrayed her, broken her heart and now wanted her to raise his...son? She ought to be ranting, she ought to be raving. Endless days spent together, talking of this, discussing that, nearly married for mercy sakes, and he'd never mentioned a child.

  She ought to be behaving like a braying lunatic, but instead, she approached the boy. She yearned to hold him, as though he had been the answer to her lifelong prayers.

  His cherub face looked irresistible, his fair hair would feel like an angel's kiss. But it was his eyes, so sunny and sweet, that compelled her to reach out and touch his cheek.

  "You never mentioned a son, all this time and you never said a word. Were you afraid of me then, too?"

  The boy squirmed in Maybelle's arms, said, "Down, play Muff!" Maybelle set him on the floor and he scrambled after the dog. Emily followed them down the hall.

  The back screen screeched open and slammed closed.

  "Oh, no, dear." Maybelle took Missy's hands in hers and looked earnestly into her face. "He is come by recently. Zane's about to tell us all how he won the boy."