Sophie's Daughters Trilogy

by Mary Connealy

  “They’re deep and there are dozens of them.” The colonel nodded his head. “It’s not even mentioned in the report that you were wounded, not a single word about the shrapnel.”

  “If he hadn’t stumbled off and kept going, he’d have been in the care of a doctor rather than being a doctor. I doubt he’d have been able to treat anyone.” Beth’s strong, gentle fingers brushed over his hair just above his nape. “If you’ll look closer, there are a half dozen more scars on his scalp.”

  “No, I’ll take your word for it, ma’am.” Colonel McGarritt leaned back in his chair, rubbing one hand over his clean-shaven chin. “Give me a minute to sort this out.”

  Alex donned his shirt and did his best to tuck it in and return himself to a tidy state. He sat, holding Beth’s hand, feeling as if the Sword of Damocles was dangling over his head by a single, slender horsehair. He watched the perplexed colonel and wondered exactly what his back did look like.

  At last the colonel lifted his head, his expression grim. “I think that to let you walk away from this would not be justice, Dr. Buchanan.”

  Beth exhaled sharply. “Colonel, please—”

  The colonel lifted one hand sharply to cut her off. “Let me finish. I can see the weight of the guilt on you, doctor. I think to let you walk away would leave you bearing this guilt. I am going to insist that you spend the next year—”

  Alex stiffened his spine as his heart plunged. A year in prison. He could do that. He’d willingly pay the price for his cowardice. But the shame he’d bring on Beth and her family was terrible. He could never ask her to wait. He could—

  “—serving as the doctor on this base.”

  Alex’s hopes soared. “Yes, I’d serve you well, sir.” Then Alex grimaced. “There … uh … there are no more wars looming, are there?”

  The colonel’s stern face lifted into a smile. “No, things have gotten purely peaceful around Fort Union these days. Unless my wife doesn’t get the ingredients that she needs to do her baking. Then there’s shooting trouble.”

  Alex smiled. Then he laughed. “Well, I’ll be glad to make runs with the supply wagon to prevent that from happening.”

  They all laughed, more from relief than from the quality of Alex’s joke.

  A loud rap on the door brought the laughter to an end.

  “Come in,” the colonel called out.

  “I’ve got a telegraph, sir.” A young soldier entered, saluting smartly. “It has to do with this case, so I brought it in.”

  “Let me see it.” McGarritt extended his hand.

  The private rushed forward and handed the slip of paper to the fort commander.

  Reading quietly for a few seconds, McGarritt raised his eyes and studied first Alex then Clay. At last, focused on Clay, he said, “Well, whom exactly did you send that wire to, Major McClellen?”

  “I sent several wires, including—well, I served for a time with Colonel Miles in the Civil War. He’s the man who gave me the battlefield promotion to major. I’ve kept in touch with him over the years.”

  “And Colonel Miles has kept in touch with many other people. Including the president—the man I was just back East to visit. This is sent directly from President Arthur. Captain Buchanan has been given a full pardon.”

  Beth gasped and flung her arms around Alex’s neck. He couldn’t take his eyes off the colonel, waiting for the man to overrule the president.

  “It says here that President Buchanan was a distant relative of yours, too, young man. I see no notice of that on your military record.”

  Alex looked from the colonel to Clay. “I never talk about that. I didn’t know him. And I was too young to vote for him. But I know for a fact that my dad didn’t vote for my great-uncle James. Father always said it was his uncle’s fault we fought the Civil War.”

  “Your father, who owned a railroad?” The colonel lifted the papers from his desk and waved then at Alex.

  Beth jerked in surprise and turned to glare at him. “Your pa owned a railroad? You’ve never mentioned that.”

  Alex shrugged. “I defied him to become a doctor. He wanted me in the family business. He made it so hard for me, with all his connections, I couldn’t find work. So I joined the army and headed west.”

  “Well, your family is looking for you, and there’s a part of his company waiting for you back East.”

  “I don’t want it, and I don’t want to trade on my father’s wealth or my great-uncle’s political connections or even my wounds to avoid taking responsibility for what I’ve done. President Buchanan was something of a family embarrassment anyway. My father always called him a muttonhead.”

  The colonel gasped and Alex winced.

  Why had he said that? What if the colonel was friends with Uncle James? What if—

  “I was in the military when President Buchanan was in office, young man.” The colonel’s eyes flashed and Alex’s stomach sank. Then the flash turned to a twinkle. “He was a muttonhead.”

  “I asked a few questions in my telegraphs,” Clay said. “I found the truth and I didn’t see any harm in mentioning that your family had served this country honorably for generations. And that includes you, son.”

  “I’ll take whatever punishment you think is fair, colonel.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go back and claim your share of the railroad, Alex?”

  Alex smiled at Beth and lifted her fingers to his lips. “I don’t want to run a railroad.”

  “Why not?” Beth looked from his eyes to where his kiss brushed her hand.

  “Because I’m a doctor.”

  Thirty – four

  Luther swung the ax and the cord of wood snapped in half from that single blow.

  Mandy watched out her front door and resisted the urge to take the ax, apologize again for her husband, and chop the wood herself.

  Sidney had tried over the winter. Never with a very good attitude, but he’d managed his share of bleeding blisters. He still wasn’t easy about the job like Luther and Buff, but for a while Mandy had thought he was coming along.

  Then spring had arrived and Sidney had gone back to mining.

  Too often he wasn’t here. He didn’t ride into Helena anymore, but he’d taken to leaving for days at a time. Mandy had never seen the hole her husband was digging. Sidney was secretive and hostile if Luther or Buff offered to come along.

  Mandy was fed up with his meager efforts to be a homesteader. The life didn’t suit him, and it was time he admitted that and admitted there was no gold.

  It was time because—Mandy rested her hand on her still-flat belly—because if they left now, they could be back in Texas before she got so big it was uncomfortable to travel.

  She looked into the woods, wondering how long he’d be gone this time. It was already nearly a week.

  When he returned, she’d tell him about the baby and then she’d tell him she wanted her ma. The spring had brought several letters including news of Beth’s marriage and that Beth was living at a fort with her doctor husband.

  Mandy wanted to hear the whole story. And she wanted her sister to deliver her baby.

  The little colt, now six months old, galloped around the corral, so black he gleamed, so big and graceful it made Mandy’s breath catch to watch him. It made her think of the colt’s sire. She could see a perfect copy of that magnificent stallion in the little guy. Except this little one was a friendly cuss. Mandy had gentled him and coaxed him into good behavior.

  And it made her think about the stallion’s owner. Tom Linscott. He wouldn’t come for the baby. Belle Harden would. But the fact that Mandy occasionally caught herself longing for Tom to come, and swamped with guilt at the very idea, was a powerful reason to get far away from this country.

  Belle would be here soon to take her baby home. Mandy would wait for Belle, and then she and Sidney would head for Texas. If only Sidney would agree.

  Mandy knew that Sidney didn’t want to go back. Mainly because he was afraid of Pa. But eventually Si
dney would come around. And maybe the baby would be the thing that would finally persuade him. After all, nothing held them here.

  Fretting to think of the job she had ahead of her to coax Sidney back toward Texas, Mandy looked away from Luther so he wouldn’t see her scowl.

  And that’s when she saw Sidney racing out of the woods on horseback, a huge grin splitting his face. Sidney swung down from his horse and ran toward Mandy, jumping and yelling while he ran. He looked as happy as a man who’d just found—

  “Gold!”

  Mandy heaved a sigh of relief, glad to see that beautiful smile on Sidney’s face. “Yes, I know you enjoy hunting for gold, but—”

  “I found gold, Mandy.” Sidney kept sprinting and grabbed her around the waist, hoisted her into the air, and spun her around.

  In her whirling vision, Mandy saw Luther watching. Luther knew how badly she dreamed of going back to Texas. Luther wasn’t all that fond of the brutal cold either. He’d promised to drop hints to Sidney about Texas. In fact, he’d promised to take Mandy if Sidney wouldn’t.

  “Y–you’re saying you found a gold mine?”

  “We’re rich, Mandy.” Sidney’s smile faded and he glanced over his shoulder as if he suspected Luther of overhearing. “I’m not going to take anyone with me. I’ll ride out and do the mining on the sly until I’ve—I’ve … uh … dug every ounce of gold out of that mine. Then I’ll make one fast trip with it. I’ll find a secure bank. Somewhere settled.”

  Sidney’s eyes shifted left and right. He reminded Mandy of a rat she’d cornered in the barn one cold morning. “I don’t want to tell anyone until the gold is safe, or others will come for it. Steal my gold.”

  Swallowing hard, Sidney suddenly looked straight at Mandy. “I probably shouldn’t have even told you.” His arms dropped from around her waist and he stepped back. “I should have handled the whole thing, gotten the gold somewhere safe, and then told you about it.”

  “Sidney, I won’t tell anyone. Who would I tell?” Mandy thought of Belle Harden. Quite possibly the only person Mandy would see all year. She hadn’t even ridden into Helena since the day they’d ridden out here with the Hardens.

  “Yeah, yeah sure. And you’re my wife. You can’t steal my gold. A wife belongs to her husband. So whatever you have is mine anyway.”

  “So, once you get the gold mined and take it to wherever you decide, I think—” Mandy knew he wasn’t going to like this. “I think we should go back to Texas, Sidney. I–I’m going to have a ba—”

  “Texas?” Sidney shook his head and sneered. “No. This is my state. I can be a powerful man in this state. I can own this state if I want.”

  “You mean like buy a ranch? We could buy a ranch back in Texas. I’d like to see my folks. And if you get all the gold, then there’s nothing left here for us. Texas—”

  “I said no.” Sidney glared at her.

  “Maybe I could go alone then.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “But you’re not here anyway, Sidney. You could come when you’re ready. You could join me.”

  “You’ll do as you’re told.” Sidney grabbed her forearm and jerked her against him. “You’ll be a decent wife. You’ll make me proud for once in your life. Get some clothes that don’t shame me.”

  He’d always been petulant. Even childish. And she saw that expression, one she hated. But there was more now. Arrogance she’d never seen before. Greed. A feverish gleam in his eye.

  He’d been so happy when he’d ridden in here. She felt as if his anger now was her fault. But it wasn’t. That suspicious look, the greed, those had come over him before she’d said a word. This wasn’t her fault.

  “This is our place.” He jabbed a finger toward the ground that separated them.

  Suddenly, to Mandy, it was a chasm.

  “This is our land.” He spread his arms wide, his eyes hungry as he looked around, as if he wanted to own it all. “We’re staying.” One slash of his hands ended the conversation.

  He wheeled around and headed for his horse. As he swung up, the horse sidestepped and Sidney clung to the saddle horn, still not comfortable in the saddle. “I’m the head of this house, Mandy. I expect some obedience from you. Some respect. A little gratitude. I’ll be back, and you’d better be here, wife.”

  Mandy caught herself rubbing the little callus on her finger. She had her rifle on her back as always. The coldness that came over her in times of trouble, or when she was on the hunt, sleeted through her veins. She hated the cold. Truth was, she was terrified of that cold.

  Someday it might freeze solid and never thaw.

  “We’re rich!” Sidney laughed and spurred his horse in the direction of Helena.

  Mandy had no idea where he was going. And only in the most dutiful way did she even care.

  Mandy hugged the cold tight to her soul, fearing it and also glad, because she was sure the instant the cold left her, the ice in her chest would melt and she’d be left with a broken, bleeding heart.

  Thirty – five

  Mosqueros, Texas, 1880

  The driver shouted over the thundering hooves of his four horses. He’d been shouting at the poor horses for days.

  Beth was tempted to swing out the door, clamber onto the top of the stage, and beat the man to within an inch of his life for the way he pushed his horses. And it didn’t pass unnoticed that Beth was contemplating violence against every man within her reach.

  It had been a long trip home.

  She glared at Alex, out like a light on the seat across from her. They were alone in the stagecoach, which was a mercy. The man hadn’t bathed in days. Neither had she in all honesty. And they both reeked.

  They’d planned to take the train all the way to Mosqueros, but there’d been a derailment, and the train was stopped for a time. Riding home on the stage had seemed like a wonderful idea, fresh air, sunshine, horses,

  She realized with a sudden start that the stage was picking up speed on the downward slope. Not a good sign. She also realized she hadn’t heard that loudmouthed driver holler at the poor horses for a full minute. That was a first for this ill-advised trip.

  She looked at her sleeping husband and shook her head. The man was at the end of his rope, and that was a fact. He’d hardly slept for the last month as he’d dealt with all his father’s business in Boston and done a fair job of reacquainting himself with his ridiculously large family.

  Beth had loved every minute of it. But even more, she loved getting to come home to Texas.

  She’d given serious consideration to postponing her arrival in Mosqueros by a long time, with a side trip to see Mandy. Beth had heard that Mandy’s baby girl would be all the way grown up by the time Beth got to see her. And Mandy had built a nice new house. Beth didn’t know much more than that, but there was an undercurrent of unhappiness in Mandy’s letters. They were well disguised, but Beth could read between the lines of the cheerful letters. Mandy was lonely for family. Alex had forbidden the trip and Beth had gone along, being a practical, intelligent woman. She was in no condition to ride all the way around the country.

  The stage picked up more speed and there was only silence from the brute of a driver. There must be trouble.

  Deciding to let Alex sleep, since she was better equipped to help in the event of stagecoach-related trouble of any kind, she fought with the latches on the stagecoach window and poked her head out the door … to see the lax arm of the driver, hanging over the side.

  The man was obviously incapacitated. Which meant, on this long downhill run, along a narrow twisting trail with cliffs at nearly every turn, no one was driving this stage.

  She didn’t give it a second thought. She slipped out the window, grabbed the roof of the stage, and swung herself up. She landed with a thud on the top, annoyed at how graceless she’d gotten with the passing months. Well, that couldn’t be helped.

  She scooted to the front and, with a scowl at the unconscious driver who lay sprawled across the seat,
grabbed him by the neck of his sweat-stained broadcloth shirt and hauled him onto the roof. She slid into the driver’s seat, caught the reins, which had mercifully not fallen to the ground, and shouted, “Whoa!”

  The horses tried to oblige, but the stage was rolling along at a fast clip.

  Beth threw on the brake, putting all her strength into leaning on the long wooden handle. Shouting, calling to the horses to fight the weight of the coach.

  They began to make progress slowing the fast, downward motion.

  Dead ahead, Beth saw a hairpin turn skirting the bluff, falling away to a sheer cliff on the right while it rose up straight on the left. They’d never make the turn on this narrow road at this speed.

  Beth shouted louder at the poor horses. Maybe they were so used to being shouted at they didn’t respond to anything else. But she liked to think she had the most soothing shout of anyone in horse-dom.

  She twisted the reins around her wrist to take up the length and put her now considerable weight into braking the stage. They weren’t going to make it. The trail narrowed. Their chance to throw themselves out before the stage went over the cliff was going to be past. She sucked in a breath to yell at Alex, when suddenly she had the strength of ten.

  Alex’s arms came around her as he dropped onto the seat from behind her.

  “Which one, the brake or the reins?”

  She knew exactly what he meant. “The brake.”

  He took over and had a lot more brute strength to donate to the cause. The stage immediately lost some of its forward momentum.

  Beth was able to work the reins better, urging the horses to cooperate until they were nearly sitting back on their heels, fighting the heavy stagecoach.

  The stage slowed … then slowed again. The curve ahead came nearer and nearer. They were still going too fast.

  One of the horses neighed in panic as the sheer cliff had the horse looking straight out over space. The horses and Beth, Alex on the brake, took the corner. They could make it, if only the coach didn’t tip.

  Beth sawed at the reins, and all four horses, their heads up, took the curve, staying so close to the left side the stage door scraped against the wall of the bluff.