As they sat surrounded by comfort, provided by others, all Sidney could talk about was his gold pan.
Mandy nearly squirmed with her own shame for comparing her beloved husband to another man. She needed to bridge the gap she felt between them. “Tell me about your childhood, Sidney. Did you have brothers and sisters?”
Sidney straightened a bit. He’d been slumped in his seat, looking exhausted. “Not much to tell really. I was an only child. My father died in the Civil War when I was a youngster. Don’t even remember him.”
“Really?” Mandy found this glimpse of her husband’s young life fascinating, which made her realize how little Sidney talked about himself. “My pa was in the War, too. Where’d your pa fight?”
Shaking his head, Sidney said, “We didn’t ever hear many stories about Father. He died a hero, my mother used to say. Died in the Battle of Shiloh.”
Mandy gasped. “My pa fought in the Battle of Shiloh. What’s your father’s name? Maybe they knew each other.”
“It’s … uh … J–John Gray.” Sidney’s eyes flickered to Mandy’s and away. “Mother and I ended up living over a—a store. She took in … washing and such. I left—that is, I didn’t leave school although I wanted to. I wanted to help support us, but Mother always lamented her lack of a good education. She believed things would have been easier for us after Father died if she could have been a schoolteacher. So, she pushed me to stay in, and I worked as best I could after school to help out. She died the year I started studying at Yale Law School in Boston.”
“I’m so sorry you lost your parents so young. My pa, the one you know, isn’t my real father. Ma was married to my pa’s twin brother and she was widowed. So, I know how sad it is to lose a father. And you lost your mother, too …” Mandy shook her head. No wonder he didn’t talk about himself much. “So much sadness.”
“Really?” Sidney asked. “You’ve never said that before. I figured Clay McClellen was your real pa.”
“He is. I mean he’s real. He’s a wonderful father. And all my little brothers came after Ma married him. It’s too bad your ma didn’t remarry. Times were real hard for us after Ma’s first husband died. Having a father makes such a difference, and I’d think for a boy it would be even more so.”
“She knew a man or two.” Something dark passed across Sidney’s expression that Mandy found frightening. She’d never seen even a glimpse of the cruelty his expression clearly said he was capable of. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and when he opened them, he was her Sidney again. “I was always glad to see them go.”
“You said your parents were gone, but you never talk about them.” Mandy wished she could say the right thing to make up for all Sidney’s losses.
Then she remembered something else. “Beth lived in the East for a few years and she wrote home often. She spoke of Yale. Isn’t it in Connecticut?” Mandy had never gone to college. She’d finished high school and gone home to the ranch and lived with her family and helped run the household. But that didn’t make her stupid.
“Oh, sorry.” Sidney gave her a sheepish smile. Charming, sweet. “I meant Connecticut. Slip of the tongue. New Haven, Connecticut. Harvard is in Boston and I considered going there, almost chose it. Well”—Sidney stood quickly and his chair slid back hard and almost fell over—“it’s been a long day. I’ll turn in now.”
It had been a long day for her, too, and it wasn’t over yet. “So tomorrow you’ll try panning for gold then?”
“Yes, I’m hopeful that the spring might show some color.” Sidney suddenly looked very young and nervous.
Mandy’s heart turned over to think how far this life was from the big cities back East. He’d have been rich and comfortable if he’d stayed in Connecticut to be a lawyer. But he’d chosen Texas. He’d never really explained why. And now he’d come to yet another wilderness. It had been his idea to come, but he hadn’t really known what he was getting into.
She lifted the plates off the table and carried them to the sink. A door shut and she turned to see that Sidney had gone on to bed. Mandy finished clearing the table then decided to go see how Sidney liked the new bedstead.
She swung the door open and decided he must like it. He was already asleep. Then she stared at his back and decided maybe he was just a bit too still. She doubted he could have lain down more than two minutes ago, so how could he be asleep?
She thought of Tom Linscott chopping her wood and sealing her cabin. She should have mentioned the visit. No reason not to. She could say something even now. Then she decided if Sidney wanted to play possum, she’d embarrass him by speaking, acknowledging he was faking it. It suited her not to tell him about her day anyway. Maybe tomorrow she’d bring it up. Or maybe he’d notice all the work and that would start them in talking.
She slipped back out to finish cleaning the kitchen.
Alone.
Twenty – eight
What had looked like a long hard trek over rugged dry ground was easy with Pa’s horses.
Beth didn’t mind that it wasn’t hard, but she wished desperately it was still long. “I think it’s time to camp for the night.” Beth lifted her hand to her head, feigning weakness. The act was completely beneath her—playing dainty, fragile woman. But at this rate, they’d make the fort by nightfall.
“You’re fine.” Alex arched his brows and refused to take her seriously.
She should have taken some class in the theater when she was back East. She had minimal skills as an actress. She was fine. She’d whined around until they’d stretched their time out resting from their wounds for about three days too long. She’d healed so thoroughly, her stitches were nearly ready to come out for heaven’s sake.
She’d have stayed longer if they hadn’t gotten weary of that whining pig, Cletus Slaughter. Of course they couldn’t let him go, but it wasn’t in Ma’s makeup to just shoot him like a rabid skunk, so they were hauling him along back to the fort, too, draped over his saddle for the most part, since he was given to escape attempts.
That had gotten old by the middle of the second day. Now they just put him on his horse and hauled him along like he was part of their supplies.
Pa had picked up sign and led them to the Santa Fe Trail and they were making good time. Too good.
Alex had fallen silent for more than a day now. Beth couldn’t get him to say more than a rare word. He looked ashen but determined. He was riding to face a firing squad. And he was doing it to protect her.
The trail grew wider and more obviously well traveled. Fort Union couldn’t be far ahead.
Beth and Alex rode side-by-side in the lead. Pa and Ma brought up the rear, with Cletus draped over his saddle on a horse being led by Pa and a pack animal tied to Cletus’s horse.
The sun was low in the sky, but there was plenty of daylight left. It was way too early to camp and Beth knew it. She guided her horse so she was within whispering distance of Alex. “There must be another way.”
Turning as if his neck was rusty, Alex looked her in the eye and was silent for a long time. “God bless you, Beth honey, for wanting to save me and protect me. But it’s settled. I’m going to do the right thing.”
“Even if it kills you?”
“Especially if it kills me.” Alex’s voice rose. “I got myself messed up in a killing business by being a coward. Slaughter proved that to be a plain fact.” Alex jerked his thumb in the direction of the bounty hunter dangling over Pa’s saddle. “If I have to die to save your life, then I’ll do it willingly.”
“I’ll still collect the reward on you, Buchanan.” Cletus had been riding with a kerchief tied over his mouth, but he must have slipped it off. “You’re hauling me in as a captive, but I’m on the side of the law.”
“Shooting at my wife and daughter puts you on the wrong side, Slaughter.” Pa spoke in a voice that would have made Beth quake in her boots if it’d been aimed at her. “I’ll make sure they understand that when you try and collect your bounty.”
; Slaughter wasn’t so smart. “That’s my money. You’re all thieves. You’re all as bad as the man you protect. I’ll see to it the lot of you gets locked up—”
A dull thud ended his tirade. Beth looked back and saw Cletus now hanging limp. Ma spun her pistol in her hand, having obviously just used the butt end of it on Slaughter’s hard head.
She looked a little embarrassed. “Sorry. I should have just put the gag back in his mouth, but I am worn clear beyond my last bit of patience with this fool.” She holstered her gun with a quiet shush of iron on leather.
Pa grunted and it sounded like satisfaction. Beth wouldn’t have minded using the butt end of a pistol on Slaughter herself, so she knew how her parents felt.
Beth wanted to continue pleading with Alex but instead turned to face forward. She let her eyes fall shut, trusting her horse to carry her along with the others. She couldn’t bear to think of what lay ahead.
A rider coming fast from behind caught up. It was a cavalry officer.
“How far to the fort?” Pa asked as the man slowed up alongside.
“I’m hoping to make it in time for supper. But unless you push it, it’ll be full dark when you get there.” The officer jerked his head at their prisoner. “He dead?”
“Nope,” Pa said, “we’re bringing him in for shooting me and my daughter.” Pa lifted his arm to draw attention to the sling Alex had fashioned to make the trip more comfortable. “We bested him and now need a place to lock him up.”
“You want me to take him on in? He’ll be uncomfortable moving at a gallop, but I’ll do it.”
“Nope, go along. We’ll make the fort when we make it.” Pa touched the brim of his Stetson, and the officer nodded, clearly delighted not to have the man on his hands, and rode off.
Pa maneuvered his horse until he’d ridden up between Alex and Beth. He turned to Alex. “If you want out of this mess, we’ll help you. You can ride off, start over somewhere.”
Alex and Pa exchanged a long look. “There’s more to that offer, isn’t there, Clay?” Alex’s words were husky and raw, as if Pa hurt him somehow.
Beth wasn’t sure how. She held her breath hoping Alex would say yes and she and her husband could cut off from this trail and make a run for California.
“You know there is. I’ll help you, but I won’t let Beth go along. Not while there are varmints like Slaughter gunning for you.”
“Pa!” Beth grabbed his arm. “My place is with my husband.” The fear Beth felt was yet a new kind of worry. Fear of being separated from Alex. Because she loved him. She had already figured out that she cared about Alex. She was committed to him and respected him and even loved him, but not until this moment did she realize how deep it went. She had fallen completely and deeply and forever in love with Alex Buchanan.
Pa didn’t answer Beth. Instead he kept his attention on Alex.
Beth was terrified Alex would ride off into the sunset, leaving her behind.
“You know I can’t do that, Clay. I can’t ride away from this. I’ve tried that before and it’s only brought harm to the people around me.” Alex gave Pa’s arm a significant look then studied the bandage on Beth’s head.
“I’ll go with you, Alex. We can head anywhere you want. Maybe we could go north and find Mandy and her husband. Leave this behind.” A firing squad, that’s what Beth had pictured, though maybe they’d hang him instead. Beth wondered if the condemned got to choose.
“You did bring this trouble on us, Alex. But you saved Sally. Nothing about your past brought on those bee stings. Pure and simple, if you hadn’t been there, one of my daughters would be dead. You cared for Beth when she was so badly hurt. You bandaged me up when I got shot. All those things put me in your debt and I pay my debts. I’ll tell ’em you made a break for it, got away clean. You’re a good man and a gifted doctor. The War broke a lot of men, and broken men don’t deserve to die.”
Beth looked from Pa to Alex, knowing that if Alex rode off, she’d go with him. Pa could grab her and hold her back, but he couldn’t hold on to her forever. She was tempted to shout that right out loud, but if she did, Alex wouldn’t go. Protecting her was more important to him than living. She felt the same way.
“I appreciate that, Clay. I sincerely do. But I won’t let you dishonor yourself, nor Sophie and Beth, to protect me. And letting a guilty man go free isn’t honorable. If I die at the end of this, knowing I did some good for your family and the others I doctored in Mosqueros will make it easier to bear. I’ll always be grateful for the time I spent being part of your family.”
That was the end of it, and the only reason Beth didn’t scream and cry and punch Alex in the face to make him go was because she knew it wouldn’t work.
They rode on as the dusk settled on the land. Her folks dropped back to ride side-by-side again. They were silent, increasingly grim. All of them knew full well what they rode toward.
In the waning light, Beth caught her first look at the American flag waving proudly over the fort, still at a distance but closing fast. Her time with her husband was nearly up.
Pa and Ma rode up so they were four abreast on the well-worn trail as the sun dropped over the horizon.
Only a lifetime of discipline kept Beth from using her own gun butt on Alex’s mulish head, throwing him over his saddle, and running off with him.
“I was a major in the army during the War Between the States, Alex. I still know a few people from those days. When we get there, I’ll send a wire or two, insist that you be given a fair hearing.”
Alex shook his head. “I want to face this, sir. I want to take my due punishment.”
“You will.” Pa kicked his horse so he moved ahead and Ma went along.
Just as the stars came out, they rode through the gates of Fort Union.
“Luther!” Mandy lost every bit of decorum she’d ever possessed, and being raised in a wild land, she’d never had all that much. Laughing, she threw her arms wide and ran down her steps toward her old friend as he dismounted. She flung herself into Luther’s waiting arms.
He lifted her clean off her feet with a familiar chuckle. “Good to see you, girl. Good to see you’re doing well.” Luther nearly hugged the stuffing out of her.
“Buff, you came, too.” Mandy welcomed Buff just as enthusiastically.
Buff’s cheeks turned pink behind his full beard and he had a mile-wide smile and a sturdy hug, but he didn’t say a word. Buff wasn’t one for much chitchat.
“Come on inside and I’ll get you some coffee.”
Luther and Buff followed Mandy into the house.
She wondered if she could get ten words out of the two of them.
“Where’s Sidney?” Luther asked.
Mandy was struck by the strangeness of the question. Luther wasn’t one for small talk, so why would he say such a thing? Luther’s way was to look around, see that someone wasn’t there, and figure it all out for himself.
“Panning for gold.” Mandy wasn’t sure why that made her feel warm, like maybe she was blushing.
As Luther and Buff sat down, Mandy nearly laughed aloud with delight that there was a chair for each of them. Thanks to the split wood and only needing to touch up the cabin with a bit of clay, she’d had the time to contrive two more chairs. She’d also tanned both deer hides, hunted up another buck and smoked that meat, and gone a long way to gentling the foal. There’d been a light snow in the night after Tom’s visit, and she felt the winter pressing on her harder every day.
“So, tell me why you’re here, Luther. You’re not leaving Pa’s ranch for good, are you?” Mandy noticed she’d twisted her fingers together until it maybe looked just the least little bit like she was begging Luther to say he’d moved up here and planned to stay. Near her. The bitter homesickness was such a weakness Mandy felt shame.
Luther didn’t answer. He’d hung his fur hat up and now he seemed fixated on smoothing his hair. Not likely since he didn’t have much. But his hands ran over the top of his head and the silence st
retched.
“Best to just out with it,” Buff said.
That was a lot of talking for Buff. And it didn’t miss Mandy’s notice that the talking was to make someone else do the talking.
Luther nodded then leaned back a bit in his chair to straighten his leg and extract a battered-looking, overly fat letter from his pocket. He extended it to Mandy.
She reached eagerly for it. “A letter from home? From Ma?” She felt like singing. When she grabbed the bulging envelope, Luther didn’t let go. Mandy looked up smiling, thinking he meant to tease her. She saw something in Luther’s eyes she’d never seen before—a look of fear and regret and maybe even pity. The smile melted off Mandy’s face and she braced herself for bad news.
“There’s such in that letter that’s gonna upset you, Mandy girl. It’s from your pa and it explains everything. There’s even proof. I’m sorry for it.”
Mandy tugged, less eagerly but more deliberately.
Still, Luther held the letter.
“Is someone sick?” Mandy felt her heart beat faster. She nearly choked on the only question she could think of. “Is it Beth? Was she hurt on the trip—”
“Nope, she wasn’t hurt. No one of your kin is hurt. But—but there was an accident all right. A stagecoach overturned. Beth came upon the wreck and—and—”
“And she had to go to doctoring. That’s why she missed my wedding.” Mandy well knew her little sister’s healing ways and compassionate heart. She could never walk away from someone in need.
“It’s gotta be said.” Luther sat up, squared his shoulders, and faced her head-on. “I’m sorry to be the one saying it.”
“What, Luther? Tell me.”
“There was a young woman about your age on that stagecoach. Name’a Gray. Celeste Gray.”
Mandy frowned, and her hand on the envelope turned white at the knuckles from fear. “Some family of Sidney’s? A sister? No, that can’t be. Sidney said he doesn’t have any sisters, or brothers either. He’s never mentioned any family. Maybe a cousin coming to the wed—”
Sophie's Daughters Trilogy Page 24