by Janet Dailey
"Are you warm enough?"
At first she didn't understand why Jed should ask that. The day was mild and the sun was warm. Then she saw him glance at her hand and realized that he had mistaken her faint tremors of anger for shivers. "I am quite comfortable," she assured him and slipped her hand inside the fur muff on her lap.
Seeking to avoid further questions, Cecilia looked away, pretending to be interested in the approach of a horse and buggy. A pair of small, gloved hands pulled back on the reins, slowing the horse to a stop next to the wagon. As the driver leaned forward, emerging from the shadows of the buggy's hood, Cecilia saw that it was a woman—that woman.
Raw with jealousy, Cecilia was stunned that she had remembered her so clearly after all this time. The sultry fullness of her lips, the devil-black of her hair and eyes, the hint of the exotic in those classically beautiful features. How had she known Jed was here? Had he written her he was coming?
"Excuse me. I was wondering if you could help me. I am—"
"Temple." Jed sounded surprised. Was it an act?
"Jed? Is that you?" Unassisted, the woman climbed out of the buggy, a look of amazement on her face as he walked swiftly around the wagon to greet her. "What are you doing here?"
He stopped in front of her, catching up both her hands, gazing at her with a look of undisguised adoration. "I've been assigned to the company of dragoons here at Fort Gibson. I have to report for duty tomorrow." Then his glance swung guiltily to her, and Cecilia knew this meeting was accidental. Somehow, it made it worse. "I would like you to meet my wife—"
"Mrs. Stuart and I are already acquainted, Jed," Cecilia inserted, painfully aware that her husband had yet to release the woman's hands. "We met several years ago at a rally in Boston, before you and I were married."
The woman frowned slightly, then smiled. "We did. I remember now. So much has happened since then." Her expression sobered briefly before brightening again—falsely, Cecilia thought. "But, please, let me offer you my best wishes, Mrs. Parmelee. And for you, too," she said, turning back to Jed.
"How have you been?"
"Very well."
But Cecilia noticed, with a degree of malicious satisfaction, that the woman wasn't dressed as well as she had been in Boston. Her cloak was made from coarse wool, and the cloth of her skirt appeared to be homespun.
"A year ago at this time, we had crossed the Mississippi and were heading out across Missouri," Jed recalled, then regret flickered in his expression. "I never had a chance to tell you good-bye before I left."
"I know." Temple self-consciously withdrew her hands from his grasp.
"You haven't explained what you're doing here at the fort."
"I was told . .. my husband had taken refuge here. We have had some .. . trouble. Perhaps you heard."
"About the murders of the Ridges and Boudinot? Yes, I heard." Jed nodded.
"Hopefully, all this trouble will soon be behind us." But would it? In her heart, Temple doubted it. The bitterness and desire for revenge on both sides went too deep for it ever to be buried completely. There would never be peace. Temple knew that. But she hoped a truce could be established, however uneasy it might be. "Our new house at Grand View has been completed. You and your wife must come for a visit sometime soon."
"I—we'd like that. However, I'm afraid we'll have to wait until early summer. You see, Cecilia is ... in a family way."
"How wonderful for both of you." Temple turned to include Cecilia.
But Cecilia could care less what the woman thought. She was too upset and too angry. It took every ounce of her strength to hold her tongue and not start screaming at Jed. When Jed helped Temple back into the buggy, Cecilia could hardly wait for her to drive off.
The very instant the buggy was out of earshot, she hissed angrily at Jed, "You weren't serious about visiting her house next summer, were you? This may be the frontier, but I am not going to socialize with Indians, Jed Parmelee. Is that clear?"
His West Point shoulders stiffened. He opened his mouth as if to argue, then nodded. "Very clear."
Temple went to the sutler's store, the common gathering place for visitors to the fort. Outside it she found Deu and sent him to fetch The Blade. A half dozen men lounged under the store's wide overhang. She tried to ignore their curious stares, just as she tried to ignore the nervous flutterings in the pit of her stomach.
A moment later, The Blade stepped out of the store and paused beneath the wide overhang. Tall and lean, like a mountain cat in winter, he fixed a narrowed gaze on her yet remained alert to every movement around him. Three months ago, Temple had heard he had been knifed during a scuffle with one of Ross's men at a trading post near Webber's Falls. He had managed to escape out a back door. She had never learned whether or not the wound had been serious.
His gaze flickered to the buggy—his father's buggy—and her anger instantly vanished. "Deu said you wanted to see me."
"I think we should talk. Privately," she added, reminding him of the men outside the store.
He hesitated briefly. "We can walk down by the river."
But he made no move to help her. His arms remained at his sides when she climbed out of the buggy. His avoidance of any contact made Temple all the more aware of the rift between them. Once, they both would have eagerly sought any excuse to touch. Now there was an awkwardness, an unnatural reserve crackling like an invisible barrier between them. Could it be eliminated with mere words?
She started walking toward the river, conscious that he followed, lagging half a step behind. Where would she start? She had rehearsed it so many times, yet now her mind was blank.
"How is Lije?" he asked, shattering the silence that sounded louder than the wind.
She glanced at him gratefully. "He's fine. We moved into the new house in October."
"I heard."
"We still need furniture to fill all those empty rooms." And you, she thought, to fill the emptiness of the bed. "I gave my father a contract to build two more storage sheds for the plantation. Our crops were bountiful this year, and the price I obtained for them far exceeded even Mr. Jacobs's expectations."
"I heard."
"I have plans being drawn to expand the sawmill operation. With all the building going on, we already have more orders for lumber than we can currently fill. You have only to look at the accounts to see that the profits already made show the worth of expanding to accommodate the area growth." She was talking all around the things she truly wanted to say, but she couldn't seem to stop. "And I have a new half sister. Eliza had a baby girl in December. They have named her Susannah."
"I heard."
"I didn't come here to speak to you about any of this." Temple stared at the winter-bleak landscape, so barren of life . . . like their marriage. No, it was only dormant. She had to believe that. "I wanted to talk to you about your father's death. I... I truly didn't know it was going to happen. I know what I said about Kipp. He had come by the day before and insisted that I go see my father the next morning. At the time I thought it odd that he was so determined I visit them on that particular day. He never said why it was so important. But he was concerned about me. Kipp knew what was going to happen and he didn't want me there to see it." Temple paused, feeling again the misery of hindsight. "I planned to go. The carriage was in front of the cabin, waiting to take us. Then one of the kitchen girls was scalded by boiling water, and Lije got all muddy while I was treating her burns, and I didn't go. When they attacked the buggy, only then did I realize ... everything."
"You just stood by."
"No!" When she turned on him, she saw the pain behind the accusing look and quelled her temper. "No. Lije was there. All I could think of... I couldn't let him see his grandfather die like that. I couldn't. It would have hurt your father too much."
"You never attempted to warn him of the ambush."
"I didn't know of it until I saw the men," she insisted again. "I called out to Shawano, but it was too late. They were already on him."
But she didn't ask whether or not he believed her. Studying the proud and faintly defiant tilt of her head, The Blade realized she never would. She had told him her story and he either accepted it as true or he didn't.
She looked pale and tense, waiting for some response from him. He had been through hell these last months, thinking about her, wondering, questioning her loyalty and her love. There was satisfaction in knowing she had suffered, too. Dammit, he loved her, and it was like being possessed by a thousand furies constantly tormenting him.
"If you had known, if Kipp had told you, what would you have done, Temple? Would you have warned my father?"
Her shoulders sagged beneath the cloak. "I don't know," she admitted with a troubled shake of her head. "I have thought about it often. If Kipp had told me, I think I would have questioned him. I don't like the secrecy .. . the trial in the dark of the night. Shawano had a right to know why he was to die. He deserved that."
"Yes." For the first time, a measure of ease slowly filtered through him. Like him, Temple objected to the indignity of his father's death. That they would die for their actions, both had known. But The Blade would never forgive the murderers for the manner of his father's death.
"A council meeting was held at our new capital of Tahlequah a few days ago," Temple began, her gaze now on his face, neither pleading nor begging, yet earnest. "They rescinded the outlaw decree against the treaty signers. Come home ... when you can."
She lowered her head and started to turn away. The control that had held him so still throughout their meeting broke. The agony of being apart these last months, of being close to her now, of watching those lips tell him the truth, he could endure no more.
"Temple." He caught her arm. The sensation of her firm flesh beneath his fingers rippled through him. He drew her back to him, seizing her other arm as well while he gazed at her upturned face, seeing the shimmer of tears in those deep black eyes. "I could not stay away if I tried." His voice vibrated huskily. "I am coming home."
The sunlight glinted off the waters of the Grand River as they embraced in a kiss that burned the doubts and bridged the differences that would always exist. They were together. And neither chose to question for how long.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1994 by Janet Dailey
Cover design by Open Road Integrated Media
ISBN 978-1-4976-1198-6
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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