Sophie's Daughters Trilogy

by Mary Connealy

  Luther charged forward, still pale, his shirt soaked with blood from his head wound. “The mother lode is Sidney. We’ve got to get to Mandy’s house fast.”

  “You stay with Logan and Buff,” Sally ordered Wise Sister as she limped for the trail above and the cave where their horses were sheltered, hoping neither of the animals had been wounded.

  “No!” Logan surged to his feet. “We’re all going. You’re not facing those two men alone with a broken leg.”

  Buff stumbled forward, too, pants blood-soaked but well in place, limping but moving. Wise Sister was the only one of them that was at full strength. Sally was second, but a poor second.

  “We won’t be alone. We’ll have Mandy.” Sally didn’t think Logan understood, but she’d rather have Mandy fighting at her side than an army.

  Sally kept moving toward the cliff and scrambled up, using the meager handholds and sparing her battered cast as much as possible. It wasn’t an easy climb, but she managed it, even in her doeskin skirt.

  As she rolled over the lip of the cliff onto the trail, she looked back and saw Wise Sister right behind her. Logan, Buff, and Luther had vanished.

  “They go for the other horses and come hard behind us. We tied the horses not far back that way. But there’s no cliff. Logan and Buff get dizzy climbing this cliff, maybe Luther, too.”

  “Who decided that?” Sally would have preferred Luther at her side. She stood, testing her leg. Still no pain. She hoped that meant it was fully healed because the cast was a wreck. Her gaze went down to the dead man with Wise Sister’s arrow in his throat. Sally centered her rifle across her back and decided having Wise Sister to back her was for the best.

  “I lead.” Wise Sister was issuing commands now. “I watch for coyotes. I know the woods.”

  “But do you know the way to Mandy’s?” Sally hobbled into the cave, dingier now than ever with the sun gone. She snagged her crutch off the ground and hustled to the horses, which were back drinking at the pool. They looked no worse for being in a shooting gallery, though Sally saw a bullet lodged in her mustang’s saddle.

  “Buff and I talked as we came after you. He told me where your sister’s cabin is. I know enough to set out. He’ll be with us before the trail branches out.”

  “Are you sure Logan and Buff are up to a long ride?” Sally caught her mustang’s reins and led him out of the cave.

  Wise Sister was right behind her. “Better they keep moving.”

  It ate at Sally, the worry over Logan, the strange, almost pulsating pressure she felt to get to Mandy. Almost as if God Himself was telling her to hurry. She got her horse outside, limped to the saddle, and, using her broken leg for support, got her good foot into the stirrup and climbed clumsily aboard.

  “If those men head straight for Mandy’s house, they may beat us there. And it’s close to Mandy’s time to have a baby.”

  “Then we hurry.” Wise Sister pointed up the trail, the same direction Cooter had gone, and without asking, kicked her horse forward and passed Sally, taking the lead. Which also meant Wise Sister would draw the first bullet.

  Swallowing hard, Sally let Wise Sister go. She knew the way, she knew the mountains, but Sally hated it.

  As they rode fast up the ever-climbing, twisting mountain path in the ever-deepening darkness, another thought occurred to Sally. “You ever deliver a baby?”

  Wise Sister shook her head. Then Sally heard a sound she’d never thought Wise Sister would make. Laughter. “All six of my own.”

  “Alone? You had all six of your own alone?”

  “Oldest girl helped later. But the first four? Yes, alone. And I’ve helped with a few hundred others.”

  “Let’s ride faster.”

  Twenty – seven

  Anyone else feel like a weakling?” Logan looked at Luther and his blood-soaked shirt, Buff and his bleeding leg, then touched the rough bandage tied around his own head. “You know Sally’s got a broken leg.”

  It seemed necessary to point out that the women weren’t completely unscratched. Wise Sister was, but that woman defied all attempts to stop her from anything she set out to do.

  “Still carryin’ that painting?” Luther rode alongside Logan. They set a fast pace, despite the pain they were all in.

  “Painting?” Logan knew only one painter around here. He looked at Luther, who was looking back at Buff bringing up the rear.

  Buff’s saddlebag was tied shut funny, as if whatever was in there didn’t fit, and the flap that closed over it was stretched.

  “What painting?”

  “One you did of Wise Sister. Babineau got mostly burned off, but Wise Sister is still there. Buff knew her back a long time ago.”

  “You knew Wise Sister when she was younger?” A branch slapped Logan in the face and he turned, bent lower, and kept moving. They weren’t closing the distance with the women at all. Sally and Wise Sister were moving fast and had a good head start. Which meant if they got where they were going, they might run right into gunfire.

  “Yep. And Pierre.” Buff didn’t add to that, and Logan got the impression Buff was a man of few words.

  “How far to Sally’s sister’s house?”

  “Not far. If we ride hard.” Luther leaned down over his horse’s neck to duck under a branch.

  “Not far” was about the most useless bit of information Logan had ever heard. The trail could barely be called such. Tracks were clearly going this way.

  “You’re sure we’re following Sally and Wise Sister, not those two outlaws?” Logan shouldn’t have asked, but it goaded him that, yes, he could see two sets of hoof prints. But what if the outlaws had met up? What if—A particularly unfriendly aspen slapped Logan in the face and cut off his worries.

  “Don’t matter. This is the way to Mandy’s and we need to get there. Sally and Wise Sister know that. Quit yapping and ride.” Luther pulled ahead of Logan as the poor excuse for a trail got even more worthless. The three of them strung out in a fast-moving line.

  Logan wanted to ask a lot more questions. But it stung to be accused of yapping so he fell silent and rode.

  They reached a particularly treacherous stretch of the trail. The horses scrambled to find footholds. Faint tracks showed in the occasional bit of dirt blown onto what was mostly stone. They were on the right trail.

  They crested the rise and found a trail clinging to the side of the mountain they were scaling. Luther kept climbing. Logan urged his horse forward. No small task because this easier trail let them move faster, and Luther was pushing his horse hard.

  “Do they live clear on the top of this mountain?” Logan wondered if they had a pretty view and opened his mouth to ask.

  “Yep. Mandy’s husband is an idiot.”

  Logan closed his mouth. They reached a civilized stretch of the trail and the horses broke into a canter.

  “So, what are your intentions toward my girl?”

  Logan looked up to see Luther glaring over his shoulder. Cold eyes burned into Logan’s hide.

  “Your girl?” Logan considered dropping back. Luther hadn’t shown much interest in talking, but this question he clearly thought was worth the effort.

  “I have treated Sally with nothing but respect since she’s come to stay with me.” Logan thought if he got that out quick he might dodge Luther’s fist.

  Luther grunted and fell back by Logan’s side. “Not what I asked.”

  Buff suddenly pulled up so Logan was between them. Logan felt trapped, with one mountain man on each side. He seriously suspected that was exactly what Buff and Luther wanted him to feel.

  “I asked Sally to marry me. She’s said yes. She has to get to Mandy first and make sure her sister is all right, but after that, we’re riding to find a preacher.”

  “And live up here and paint pictures the rest of your life.” Luther sounded like he was spitting when he said “paint pictures.”

  “Sally respects my work. Knowing she does is an honor. She said she’d be willing to stay with
me, work beside me.”

  “You mean she’s willing to break her back keeping your house and feeding you while you sit around and look at the scenery?”

  “No, that’s not what I mean,” Logan retorted, embarrassed into anger because that sounded like what he expected Wise Sister to do.

  “I’m used to people not understanding my work. I expect nothing else from most. But Sally understands.” Logan hoped.

  And he hoped that the feelings Sally had for him right now, when their life and death struggle heightened everything, survived during the mundane years ahead when he neglected her to chase the elk or the spewing geyser or the crimson sunset.

  He loved her and knew he always would. Right now, at this moment, she loved him. But how could that love survive disillusionment and hardship?

  Giving her up would be the honorable thing to do. Send her away. Leave her while she still cared rather than binding her to him and watching her grow to hate him.

  Logan looked at Luther. “I hate justifying myself to people. I live with contempt from almost everyone. But I can see you love Sally, and she loves you. It would mean a lot to me if you’d approve of us.” But how could Luther approve when Logan didn’t really approve?

  “I might approve,” Luther said, “if you followed her back to Texas, got to know her family, gave her parents a chance to know you.”

  And how could Logan go to Texas when he needed these soaring mountains to live? And all his time away from them was saved to see his own beloved family. And he needed New York City as a market for his paintings. The people who would open a museum or buy a sculpture were few and far between in the West.

  “You’ll drag Sally away from her family and ranch life, then hope she still loves you as the years pass.” Luther urged his horse around a curve in the mountainside.

  Logan saw that they had another hard climb in front of them. He silently thanked God that this conversation would have to end.

  Just as Luther pulled ahead to the trail that narrowed until they couldn’t ride abreast, he glanced over. “That’s what Mandy did when she married Sidney. When you meet Sidney, you’ll see why it’s a bad idea to marry for love.”

  “Nothin’ wrong with love,” Buff interrupted.

  Startled, Logan turned to the taciturn man. Could Buff possibly be on Logan’s side in this?

  “There is if your lives don’t match.” Luther scowled at Buff.

  “Love’s enough. Real love.” Buff eased his horse back so he fell in behind Logan.

  Looking back at his friend, Luther had an expression on his face Logan couldn’t quite define. Annoyance, amusement, a bit of worry. Mainly surprise.

  “Maybe love’s enough.” Luther glared at Logan. “Real love. But who’s to say what’s real?” Then Luther turned back to the trail and took the lead as they passed into a wooded stretch clinging to a steep mountainside.

  From that point on they concentrated on not falling off the mountain.

  Mandy lost track of everything but the waves of pain and the man just outside, who seemed like an anchor holding her to this world while her body tried to hurl her into the next.

  This contraction seemed endless and the next and the next. No break in between to relax and prepare to face another assault.

  Then as if it was too much for the mind to deal with, Mandy felt an almost detached clarity. She realized in that moment something amazing about having a baby. God made her body to work. He created birth and women and babies out of His great love and endless wisdom. And He knew what He was doing.

  This baby was going to come on out and join the world no matter if she had a doctor, a husband, a passing horse salesman, or two crying little girls. There was freedom in feeling that, even utterly alone, her baby would be fine. God created a beautiful world, and His world worked.

  Her child, forcing its way into her life. There was no stopping it. No point in much planning ahead really, despite all her worrying. Her child would come in a way as natural as all newborn creatures. It would emerge to join the family on a wave of mother’s tears. Mandy was only distantly conscious of crying out and giving an occasional shout she didn’t plan and couldn’t control.

  As her time came closer, an almost audible snap in her mind erased her fear, leaving her with an almost insane serenity. A sense of power had her think fleetingly of Sidney’s mountain and his mansion. That sense of independence and arrogance and victory and power. The power of it. Of surviving alone.

  She’d decided to never twist herself around in Sidney’s presence again to suit some notion he had of proper womanhood. She’d stood up to him a couple of times, but there hadn’t been many chances. Now that confidence, pride maybe, though she knew that for a sin, exploded on a crest of pain.

  She would never, never again back down from anyone. She had the strength to make her own life. And if Sidney or anyone got in her way, she’d trample him to the ground beneath a stampeding herd of longhorns.

  Tom’s voice intruded distantly on her heady fury. His words didn’t make sense in the midst of her travail. She didn’t need him. Didn’t need anyone. And as soon as she was done having this baby, she’d prove that to the whole world.

  Suddenly there was a massive surge of her body and another and another. It went on and on until Mandy knew she could survive it no longer.

  Time stood still. It could have been moments or hours or days because to Mandy that moment was the stuff of eternity.

  “This is taking an eternity!” Sally wondered why the menfolk didn’t catch up. It wasn’t like they were waiting for them, but still, they should have been here by now. Never a man around when you needed one.

  Of course, Sally probably didn’t need one, but it still would have been nice.

  “God, have mercy, what is this?” Sally rode up closer to Wise Sister, who led the way. A trail blasted out of the heart of the mountain. Still narrow, so deep, but passable. Better than what they’d been following.

  “We’re close now. This is as Buff described. Sidney used blasting powder to widen the trail to his home.” Wise Sister slowed her horse but continued forward on the steep uphill slope.

  “Widen? This is widened? A wagon can barely pass.” Sally entered the odd stretch of trail. The walls of the mountain rose over her head fifty feet. Someone above her on that trail could rain deadly fire down on anyone who passed. If Mandy’s husband controlled the high ground, then his home was an impregnable fortress. But if someone else somehow gained that, no one could pass through this trail and expect to survive.

  “Move faster.” Sally thought of the two outlaws who had ridden off with their talk of the mother lode, Luther’s certainty that they were talking about Mandy.

  The really strange part was that no one seemed to be up there keeping a watch on this trail. That meant Sidney felt safe enough to neglect this single outpost. Sidney hired that vermin, proving he had poor judgment indeed.

  Wise Sister didn’t respond but she picked up the pace.

  They rode on in silence until they’d passed through the gap.

  Sally drew in a shaky breath as they found a mountain valley, still rugged but thick with grass and water. A small cabin stood at the far side of the clearing.

  Mandy’s house. They’d made it! In her excitement, her eyes followed the rising mountain and— “Good grief, look at that!”

  A mansion. A huge structure was visible, half built, on up the mountain to the right near the peak.

  Wise Sister grunted but didn’t respond. She kicked her horse into a ground-eating gallop, and they drew near the house in time to hear a heart-tearing scream of agony.

  Sally raced for the house and leapt off her horse as a stranger, a tall blond man, rounded the side of the cabin. They both froze for a second. Sally blinked. Who was this?

  “Mandy’s giving birth. She needs help.” The man reached for the door, then froze and stepped back. “Uh … you go.”

  Sally didn’t have time to consider who he was or how he knew something s
o personal about her sister. The only thing she was sure of was, though she hadn’t seen Mandy’s husband for years, this wasn’t him.

  Another scream spurred her into the house, Wise Sister on her heels. They ran inside in time to hear the high-pitched cry of a baby.

  Twenty – eight

  New life. An eternal soul entering the world.

  Mandy tried to force her body to respond. To reach for her wailing child, but she couldn’t, not yet. But she’d manage it soon. Now she knew God had created her to be capable of doing what was needed, completely alone.

  The door slammed open and Mandy clawed at the blankets she’d thrown off to shield her body.

  “Mandy!”

  “Sally?”

  An elderly woman pushed past Sally, swinging the door closed. Mandy caught the smallest glimpse of Tom, just his form. He’d been coming in.

  Thank You, God, that he didn’t. It would have been a terrible sin to let him see her.

  The Indian woman reached Mandy’s side and smiled with a wisdom as solid as the mountain. She took a quick look to make sure the door was closed, then brushed the blanket aside and lifted the baby into her arms.

  Sally came to Mandy’s side and they looked at each other and both burst into tears. “Pa would have our hides for crying.” Sally leaned down and pulled Mandy into her arms.

  “It’s a boy.” The elderly woman looked down and a smile creased her wrinkled face.

  “This is Wise Sister.” Sally pulled away from Mandy, though Mandy didn’t want to ever let go.

  Mandy looked at the older woman holding her squalling, wriggling child. “A son.” Mandy smiled through her tears.

  Then new voices were added to the racket her little boy made. Two crying youngsters. No doubt disturbed by all the commotion.

  Tom’s heavy boots thudded as he went in to the girls. His deep voice began soothing them.

  Mandy looked from Sally to her baby, too exhausted and confused to know what she should do next.

  Wise Sister took the child and began bathing him in the water Mandy had prepared.