by Tracey Cross
Franklin shook his head. “Then that makes you a pathetic creature, doesn’t it?”
“What were you doing?” Trent’s control was beginning to lessen, and Franklin could see he had to tread lightly to prevent himself from getting a bullet in his head.
“I was hunting. One of my men told me they saw a herd of deer. I tracked them too far on your land.”
When Trent’s eyes narrowed, it was obvious he was trying to decide if Franklin were telling the truth.
“Don’t believe him, Boss,” Craig said. “He wasn’t tracking. He was waiting. I watched him for a good ten minutes.”
“Okay, we’ll give you a minute on that one. Where’s Danny?”
“The boy ran away from you. Why would you think I know where he is?”
“I’ll tell you a secret about women. When their children are missing, they become frantic. Unless they already know where those children are. Or that child, in this case.”
There would be no fooling Trent. Even if Franklin kept up the pretense, Bedlow was right. Jane would have been beside herself every minute of every day. She would have been inconsolable.
He shook his head. “The boy stays. It’s what his mother wants.”
Bedlow sneered. “What his mother wants? His mother will do as she is told.”
A short laugh erupted from Franklin’s swollen lips. “Then you clearly don’t know Jane.”
Trent’s fist came down hard, and Franklin heard his nose snap. Blood gushed.
“I want my son back,” Trent roared.
“Danny isn’t your son. But if you want him, you’ll have to come get him.”
Big George stepped in and said something low in Trent’s ear.
Trent looked at his watch and nodded. “Excuse me. My bride is waiting for me. Time to become a married man.” He chuckled. “Keep him here, Big George. Craig, come with me if you want to earn your way back into my good graces.”
The door closed behind Trent and Craig, and Franklin slumped, surrounded by darkness.
“You surely is beautiful, Miz Jane.”
Jane looked at Mam through the vanity mirror. Sadness engulfed her, and the tears she had been fighting all day began to win the battle.
“Shh,” Mam said, pulling her into a warm embrace. Jane rested her head against Mam’s small, comforting chest. “The Lawd might change all this yet.”
“Yes, He might.” But at this late time, Jane couldn’t imagine how He would. She wondered what Franklin must think of her after she left him alone in the woods. She hoped that somehow he knew she had been detained.
They heard a light tap at the door, and Mam and Jane exchanged glances. Mam went to the door. “Mr. Bedlow would like to see Jane. He has a surprise for her.”
Mam snorted. “You tell him any surprise he has can wait. He ain’t seein’ his bride before the weddin’. It’s bad luck.”
“I’m sorry, Mam. There’s no choice. Mr. Bedlow’s orders.”
“It’s all right, Mam.” Jane stood and walked to the door. Surprise flooded through her as she saw Craig standing at the door. She frowned.
He chuckled. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?” His fingers bit into her arm, and he pulled her so fast she had to take two steps to every one of his. “This is my wedding day. Why would Trent ask me to leave the house?” She waved at all the wedding decorations as he pulled her down the steps she was supposed to use as an aisle, past the flowers and decorations in the foyer and dining room, to the door.
The autumn-cool air slid across her bare shoulders. As he helped her into the waiting buggy and climbed in beside her, she said, “You must have blackmailed Trent, or he would never have let you back on the ranch. And after I saved your hide too.”
“Thank you for that, by the way. I thought I was as good as dead.”
“What is this all about?”
He breathed out hard and turned to her. “Listen, I am trying to get back in good graces with Bedlow. The only reason he sent me to get you is that he knows I’m not going to take a chance on disappointing him again.”
“At least tell me where we’re going.”
“The saloon.”
“But whatever for?”
The wagon rolled over a deep rut in the road, and she swayed toward Craig, then righted herself just as quickly. “You’ll just have to wait and find out.”
She knew there was no point in pushing any further. Silently she turned her gaze to the horizon. What appeared to be black smoke billowed up from Deadwood. “Craig, what is that?”
He adjusted his gaze to where she pointed. “I don’t know.” He flicked the reins, and the horses quickened their steps.
As they drew closer, they could see that there was much more than just an isolated spot or two of smoke. Flames licked up from several buildings.
“Is the saloon on fire?” Jane asked.
“It doesn’t look like the fire has reached that part of town yet.”
Craig’s words proved true as they pulled the buggy to a stop in front of the saloon. Not even the smell of smoke had reached them yet, but Jane could see it was only a matter of time.
“What is this all about?” she asked as Craig offered his hand. He was being extra respectful, so she had a feeling part of getting back into Trent’s good graces meant he’d better not step out of line with her.
“You’ll find out soon. Bedlow’s waiting for you inside.”
She pushed through the saloon door, her white silk gown, full and flowing, dragging along the dusty saloon floor. Molly’s was the first familiar face she saw. She started to greet her, but Molly’s eyes bore into her. “Where’s Trent?” she asked Molly.
“He’s over there, Jane,” she said, softly nodding toward a table in the back. “Be careful. Something’s not right.”
“Thank you.” She squeezed Molly’s cold hand.
The saloon atmosphere seemed to come to a stop as she moved with slow, deliberate steps through the room. As the crowd parted, she saw Trent, sitting straight and strong, as though holding court. Vera was draped across him, her arms wrapped around his neck as she sat on his lap, whispering into his ear, nibbling his neck. The sight sickened Jane.
She continued her walk. “If it isn’t my lovely bride, walking the aisle to meet her bridegroom.”
“What is this, Trent?” Thankfully, her voice remained steady. No one would have guessed that beneath the yards and yards of billowing silk her shaky legs barely kept her upright.
As though her world weren’t turning upside down before her eyes, someone burst into the saloon. “Fire! The town’s on fire! Get your buckets. We’re starting a line.”
The saloon emptied of nearly every customer in a couple of minutes.
“Well, that’s convenient,” Trent said. His eyes traveled over her, stopping at her bare shoulders. “You’re lovely.”
“Thank you.”
Vera remained planted on his lap. “Lovely.” She gave a short laugh and downed a shot of whiskey from the table.
Trent shoved her off his lap and she crashed to the floor, flinging a curse at him.
Jane glared at Trent and reached a hand down to the woman whose body had clearly not recovered fully from the beating she’d received.
Vera slapped her hand away and cursed her as well. She labored to her feet, stumbling drunk, and swayed as she headed for the stairs.
Outside the saloon, the shouts were getting louder. “Someone check on that ruckus,” Trent ordered.
His chair scraped the floor as he got up. He reached for her. “This way, my dear. There’s something I want you to see.”
She knew not to press, not to demand, not to do anything but follow instructions. There was a time to fight back, but this wasn’t that time.
He tapped on the door to the storeroom where she’d kept her cot the first weeks in Deadwood. She fought the strong urge to run.
Trent stepped aside. “After you, my darling.” His voice was eerie, icy.
She stepped int
o the room and gave a cry. “Franklin!”
Hands and feet tied to a chair, he was barely recognizable. His face was battered and bloody. She rushed forward, mindless of Trent or Big George in the room. Kneeling in front of him, she took his head in her hands. “Franklin, it’s Jane.”
Anger boiled as she spun around to Big George. “Shame on you for allowing this to happen!”
The black man’s eyebrows shot up. “But Miz Jane—”
“No. Don’t even ‘but Miss Jane’ me. You’re twice the size of any man in this place. You know this is wrong, and you have the power to do something about it.”
Trent clapped George on the shoulder, chuckling. “Don’t fret, George. You know women. They have to blame someone.”
Franklin opened his eyes. “Jane?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Danny’s fine. He’s with me.”
“I know. Don’t try to talk.”
“By all means, say everything you have to say now,” Trent said. “This is the last time you’ll see Jane.”
Someone tapped on the door. Trent motioned to George, and he opened the door.
Craig Shewmate stood there. “Mr. Bedlow, I thought I’d better tell you. The fire is spreading pretty fast. And it’s coming this way.”
“What about the bucket line?” Trent asked.
Craig shook his head. “They can’t keep up with the fire. The Gem’s been destroyed.”
“The Gem Theatre is gone?” For the first time, Trent seemed to be caught by the seriousness of the fire.
“Yes, sir. They’re saying it started in the Bakery. There ain’t much hope for this place neither. The roof already caught.”
The room was beginning to fill with smoke, burning her nose.
Jane found her voice. “Trent, we have to get out of here.” She reached for the ropes, but the knots were tied too tightly to free Franklin.
Trent yanked her up by her arm. “Let’s go.”
“What about Franklin? You can’t just leave him here to die.”
Trent steadied a gaze at George and nodded.
As Jane began to realize what he meant to do, she began to thrash and fight for all she was worth. “No! Trent! No! This is your chance to try goodness. To be merciful. Please. Please, Trent. Don’t do this.” He pulled her through the saloon, yanking her each time she pulled away from him. She didn’t care that the rafters were blazing. Or that somewhere in the back of the place the wood gave way. The saloon was burning down around them, and she didn’t care.
A gun blast shook the place, coming from the storeroom. Jane stopped short, in shock.
“It’s over,” Trent said. He turned her to face him and held his mouth inches from her, so that puffs of breath blew at her tendrils of hair. The heat of the fire was growing close, and smoke had filled her lungs. “Don’t ever try to leave me again.”
Without waiting for an answer, he rushed them outside to the waiting buggy. Big George ran out the door just as the place toppled.
“Murderer!” Jane called as Big George grabbed the reins of his horse and rode away. “You’re nothing but a murderer.”
“Stop it, Jane,” Trent ordered. “It’s over now. Instead of crying over a dead man, you might consider your own status.”
“I couldn’t care less. If you think I would marry you now, you’re insane.”
“Oh, I believe you will.” He leaned close. “My men are retrieving Jenny and Danny as we speak, and we’ll take the baby and head to Sidney for now. Once Deadwood is rebuilt, and believe me, it will be, we’ll return and raise our family here.”
“You truly are insane.”
“Turn around, dear. And watch Deadwood go up in flames. Remember this is the day you learned your place.”
“Riders up ahead, Mr. Bedlow.”
Jane sucked in a cool breath as a group of riders galloped toward them. She had a moment of hope that perhaps she would be rescued until she recognized Andy Armor in the bunch.
She sat back and looked down. Her hands were caked with dried blood from Franklin’s face. She began softly weeping.
The twenty or so men pulled up their horses, and Craig pulled the wagon to a halt. “What’s going on, Andy?” Craig asked. “You’re a turncoat?”
Jane looked up. One of the other men seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place where she had seen him before. He gave her a bold wink. She averted her gaze.
Trent stared at the riders. “If you’re looking for someone to rob, you’ve chosen the wrong day. Everything I own just burned to the ground.”
The man who looked familiar cantered forward. “Bedlow, I presume?”
“That’s right.” Trent peered closer, and his face blanched. “Coop Lloyd.”
“We are going to relieve you of your passenger now,” Coop said. Then he turned toward her. “Jane, honey,” he said as though they’d known each other their whole lives, “get down and come climb up behind me.” He peered harder, staring at the bloodstains on her gown. “You all right?”
She nodded. “It’s not my blood.” She couldn’t tell him whose blood it was. Not yet. She stood.
Trent grabbed her and yanked her back until she landed hard in the seat beside him. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Let her go, Bedlow.” Andy aimed his six-shooter at Trent’s head.
Slowly Trent loosened his grip. Jane climbed down, tugging her skirts over the wheels.
Trent shook his head and sneered at Andy. “So you’re the traitor. I almost had George pegged. But he proved himself pretty loyal by putting a bullet in Frank’s head.”
“No sir.”
Jane could almost feel Bedlow’s shock as Big George rode into the clearing. Her heart swelled as she realized Franklin was slumped behind him. “Franklin!”
Coop raised his gaze to George. “How bad is he?”
“He got beat up pretty good, but nothing a few days in bed won’t fix.”
“Jane, you’ve forgotten something. My men went to Frank’s place to bring Danny back. And the baby is with Mam.”
Coop clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth a couple of times. “Your men never got close to the house. Danny and Jenny are having an enormous lunch cooked by the famous Shen Cheng as we speak. And as far as the baby—Andy, you want to take this one?”
“Mam and the baby got out right after you left this morning via the bakery wagon.”
Coop smiled at Jane. “Everything is fine now.”
Trent glared at Big George. “I can’t believe you’d be so ungrateful. You would be nothing without me.”
George nodded. “Maybe. But I’m goin’ home to Texas and bringin’ Sienna back to Mistah Frank’s place in Nebraska. I’m gonna work for him. And Mam’s comin’ with to take care of Miz Jane’s babies until I get some of my own.”
Shock splashed over Trent’s face like ice water. “You’re taking Mam?” He laughed. “She would never leave me.”
“She already did.”
Trent’s face was ashen as the buggy rolled through the two lines of horses. He would be alone now. But Jane had no doubt that he would find more people to buy.
Jane moved to get off the horse, but Coop stayed her. “Wait until we get back to his ranch. The sooner we get him in bed, the better.”
She nodded.
“I’m Coop, by the way. Your future brother-in-law.”
Franklin woke slowly with sunlight streaming across his face. He could barely remember anything that had happened except for Jane. She had come and held his bloody face in her hands.
Almost before he could get his bearing, the door burst open.
“Hey! You’re awake.” Before Danny could jump on the bed, Jane entered. “Danny, stop!”
The boy skidded to a halt just inches before leaping. “He’s awake, Ma.”
“I see that.” Her beautiful smile lit his heart.
Jenny came in behind Jane. She carried the baby and beamed when she saw him. “I’m glad you’re better,” she said, ducking
her head.
“Thank you, Jenny. I see you’re quite the helper.”
She nodded.
Jane slipped an arm about her shoulders. “She’s more than that. She’s Little Frank’s big sister.”
The impact of the baby’s name went straight to his head, and he laughed with delight. “Well, that’s convenient. Getting married and having two sons and a daughter all in the same day. And one of them is already my namesake.” Danny leaned against the bed, and Frank slid his arm around the lad’s body.
“You’re gonna be my pa now?”
“Well, I haven’t exactly asked your ma yet. But if she agrees, it’s what I’d like to do.”
“Oh, her. She’ll agree. Right, Ma?”
Jane laughed. “Right.”
Frank reached out his hand to Jane, and she came to him. A shy smile tipped her lips. She sat in the chair next to his bed and took his proffered hand.
“Tell me everything that happened that day.”
She gave him the shortened version of everything that transpired. “The town is gone for the most part, including your mercantile.”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He glanced around at the children and Jane, and his heart filled so with love he thought it might burst from his chest. “Everything that matters is right here in this room.”
Franklin laced his fingers with Jane’s and pulled her close. “I suppose I should ask you officially. Will you marry me, Jane Albright?”
She caught her breath, and tears sprang to her beautiful blue eyes. “I would be honored.” She leaned close and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I suppose I’ll have to waive the rent on the land, though, as a wedding gift.”
“I take it that means we are going back to the homestead to live.”
She laid her head against his shoulder. “The sooner we start our lives there, the better.”
Reaching up, he caressed her hair. “I couldn’t agree more.”
About the Author
Tracey Cross, also published as Tracey Bateman, is an award-winning author with nearly one million books in print. Since publishing her first novel in 2000, Tracey has written more than thirty books including Thirsty, the Westward Hearts series, the Kansas Home series, the Drama Queens series, the Claire Everett series, and the Penbrook Diaries series. Tracey is an active member of the American Fiction Christian Writers and has served as the organization’s president. She lives in Missouri with her husband and four children.