by Jenna Kernan
“Lucie, go inside,” said Sarah.
Thomas wanted nothing more than to escape, like some wounded animal.
“Don’t bother,” he said. “I’m leaving.”
He was leaving. Just as soon as he could make arrangements, for he could not bear to stay.
He turned tail and retreated, ignoring the wave of dizziness. He recognized the sensation for this was the second time Sarah had broken his heart.
He swallowed back the lump in his throat. There was no question now that she did not want him or any part of the future he had dreamed they would share.
He had lost Sarah again, and with her, went his daughter—this stranger of his flesh.
He gripped his hands across his middle as if afraid his guts might spill out on the street.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Somehow Thomas made it to the barracks that had been his home for several months.
A terrible, devastating wave of grief flooded him. Lucie calling him uncle and Sarah waving him off as if he was some beggar in the street. The look of venom she gave him told him everything he needed to know about how she felt.
She didn’t love him, didn’t want him to have any part of their daughter. He knew he’d made mistakes, but he thought he had mended some of the fences in their quest to find Lucie.
How had he ever thought to earn redemption? He couldn’t, not now or ever. He sat hunched on his bunk, curling around the pain. She knew what he wanted and was hell bent on not giving it to him.
Someone nearby cleared his throat.
Thomas glanced in the direction of the sound. Corporal Abby stood before him, pinning him with a concerned gaze.
“Get you anything, sir?”
Thomas knew what must be done. Sarah didn’t want him, but Lucie was still his responsibility.
“You got an attorney in this fort?”
“We have the former professor.”
Thomas pushed up onto one elbow. “Fetch him and tell the stable master to ready my horse.”
“Going somewhere, sir?”
He nodded.
Abby did not move from the spot and Thomas glared.
“Your pardon, Mr. West. But it ain’t safe to head out alone. The Sioux will pick you off like a stray buffalo calf.”
Thomas said nothing.
Abby rubbed his chapped knuckles over one of his bushy sideburns. “There’s a mule skinner heading out Friday, at first light with full guard. Only two days, and you’d have an escort. If you don’t mind me saying, sir.”
“I’ll bear it in mind.”
Abby waited another moment as if weighing the option of more discussion. He gave up and headed out the door.
Thomas spent his time stuffing his belongings into his saddlebags and gathering his bedroll. He’d see about grub at the store.
He wondered if she would miss him. Likely she’d be well rid of him. He’d thought from the beginning that some fences couldn’t be mended. But for a time there, he’d forgotten and cultivated hope.
He forgave her and she said she forgave him. He guessed that was all he could expect. But his love for her had not died. He had carried it with him everywhere he went, like a thorn embedded deep in his flesh.
He wondered if this was how Samuel had felt all those years, loving a woman who did not love him back.
He bowed his head and prayed to God to care for his older brother. Tell him I don’t hold it against him, Lord. Any man alive would fight to keep Sarah.
The door clicked open and he lifted his head. Thomas stared at John Corbit. The man was thin to the point of emaciation, and his captain’s coat hung off him. Beneath his arm he clutched a portable writer’s desk.
“Mr. West? Corporal Abby said you sent for me.”
Thomas shook his hand, recognizing the man whose room adjoined Sarah’s.
“I understand you seek an attorney. I’m the closest you’ll find here in the wilderness. I’m the requisitions officer, but I took some law at Brown University prior to enlisting.”
“I need papers drawn up. Can you do that?”
“Should not be difficult. What exactly do you require?”
Thomas explained his needs and the man set the desk on his lap and unfastened the latch. In a moment he had the ink open and his nib poised over a blank page. Together, they worked out the details.
When he had finished, Thomas offered to pay him, but Corbit refused.
“I’ll see these delivered in the morning,” said Corbit.
“I’m obliged.”
Thomas hoisted his saddlebags and bedroll, walking with Corbit as far as the fort store.
“Well, West, Godspeed. I hope you reach North Platte Station.”
“Thanks again, Captain.”
“I’ll see to these.” He patted the breast pocket.
The men shook hands and Thomas headed into the store. He quickly bought the supplies he needed for the journey.
Back on the road, he could not keep from glancing toward Sarah’s room. The light of a lantern glowed from within and smoke rose from the chimney. He sighed in despair and turned away.
Thomas reached the stable to find Buck dozing as he rested a hind foot.
“He’s had a double helping of grain and I packed a pound of oats for your ride.”
Thomas tossed the stable master a coin.
“Brennan know you’re heading out alone?” asked the man.
Thomas swung up into the saddle.
“I’m not in the army, yet.”
He gripped the reins and ducked under the entrance, making for the gate.
The sentries gave him a quizzical look. “Only party out is firewood—off to the left by the river.”
Thomas nodded as he rode from the safety of the walls. He hoped that for just once in his life he’d done the right thing by giving Sarah what she wanted. But damn, he had never felt so low.
“Sarah.”
It was out of his mouth before he could stop it. He clamped his lips together, resisting the urge to ride back to her.
He set his jaw.
If she had no use for him, perhaps the Union Army could set him a task. He planned to enlist as soon as he got east and see just what it was that drew nearly every able-bodied man from the Western frontier.
Sarah watched her girl, now reading the Bible by lantern light. Remorse crept over her. Thomas had a right to claim his daughter. She couldn’t keep him from doing so, nor did she want to. But his timing had been bad, with Lucie weeping and begging to go home.
All Sarah’s efforts to open a dialog with her daughter had failed. Lucie seemed determined to pretend that the months of her absence had never happened.
But they had. One needed only to look at her to see.
Ignoring this wall of silence seemed wrong. Sarah drew in a long breath and prepared to try again.
She was about to ask Lucie to put down the book when her daughter pressed her hands together, making the leaves thud as they collided.
“Mama, what is between you and my uncle? What did he want you to tell me?”
Sarah felt herself swallow before answering. How would Lucie feel about her mother after she learned what kind of a woman she really was? Sarah stared down from the pedestal upon which Lucie had placed her and found herself dizzy from the height.
“I don’t know where to start.”
Lucie set the Bible aside. “You held his hand in the yard.”
“He is family.”
“But the way you looked at him.”
A prickling unease crept like a centipede up her spine. Her daughter was too perceptive.
“How?”
“As if you adore him.” Lucie rubbed her nose. “I wouldn’t fault you.”
“Wouldn’t you?” Sarah steadied herself. Lucie had opened the subject. The time had come. Perhaps if she shared her secrets, Lucie might feel inclined to do the same.
Her daughter leaned forward in her chair as if afraid to miss a word.
“I hardly know where to
begin.” Sarah gave a halfhearted smile. “I fell in love with Thomas before you were born.”
Lucie’s eyes rounded.
“Did Papa know?”
She nodded. “Thomas went to California for gold. I wanted to go, too, but he wouldn’t take me. He said it was too dangerous.”
Lucie nodded her approval at this. She looked so much like Thomas that Sarah had to smile.
“I see you agree. I did not. I tried to stop him from leaving me.”
“How?”
Sarah gave her daughter a long look, wishing she knew how her Lucie would respond to this next bit of information.
“I seduced him.”
Lucie gave a little gasp that sounded like a hiccup as she plastered both hands over her mouth.
“It didn’t work. He left anyway.”
“Did you marry Father out of spite?”
“No. I married Samuel after a false report that Thomas had died and because I was pregnant.”
Lucie’s brow wrinkled. She did not understand. Even with the evidence of her own face, which so closely resembled his, she did not see.
“I was pregnant with you.”
Lucie paled. “But—but,” she stammered, “he’s my uncle.”
Sarah shook her head. “No. Samuel was your uncle.”
Tears sprang to Lucie’s eyes. Sarah felt as though a knife was twisting in her heart. “I’m sorry I never told you. I was trying to protect you.”
“Does he know?”
“Yes.”
Lucie sat still and silent for several moments, while Sarah waited for her daughter to abandon her, too. But she did not.
“Do you still love him?”
“Very much.”
“Does he love you?”
“I don’t know, but I know he loves you.”
Her daughter shook her head. “He doesn’t even know me. He doesn’t know what I’ve done, what has happened.”
“It doesn’t matter to either of us. We love you no matter what you have done, no matter what has been done to you.”
Lucie sprang to her feet and ran to her mother, who swept her into her arms. Hugging and rocking, the two embraced.
“I thought if you knew, if you knew…” Lucie wept.
“Shhh. We love you, Lucie. You are our little girl.”
For a time Sarah just held her child tight as tears rolled down their cheeks. Finally Lucie drew back.
“I’ve been so afraid.”
“But you’re safe now.”
Lucie sniffed and Sarah withdrew a handkerchief from her sleeve, offering it to her. Lucie wiped her red nose.
“I know I embarrass you, now. I’m so sorry. I tried to fight them, but they held me and then I tried to wash it off, but it—it…”
Sarah grasped her daughter’s chin and lifted her face so she could see it. “What on earth would make you think you embarrass me?”
“You don’t want me out of the room. You don’t want me to talk to the officers’ wives.”
Sarah gasped. Is that what she thought? Good heavens, it had never occurred to her that Lucie would think she was ashamed of her. “I was trying to protect you.”
Her eyes rounded in confusion. “From what?”
“From those nasty biddies and their wicked tongues and those awful soldiers with their cruel jokes.”
Lucie’s mouth rounded in a little O. “I thought I humiliated you.”
“Oh, my sweet Lord.” Sarah grasped her daughter’s hands and stared into her beautiful eyes. “Never. I just didn’t want you hurt any more. Do you understand?”
Lucie nodded. “But Mama, the warrior who married me, he—he had his way with me.”
“I feared as much. Are you carrying his child?”
Lucie dropped her gaze. “No.”
“I’m so sorry for what you have endured.”
Her daughter looked up with a quizzical expression and waited a moment as if for Sarah to continue when she didn’t, Lucie said, “That’s all? I was afraid that when you heard what he did to me you wouldn’t want me anymore.”
Sarah’s heart broke all over again. She drew her down beside her on the bed. They sat side by side upon the memory quilt with Lucie tucked beneath her mother’s arm.
“You listen to me, Lucie Marie West. None of that was your fault and nothing you could do will ever, ever change how much I love you.”
Lucie smiled.
“I have a confession to make,” said Sarah.
Lucie drew back, her brow etched with concern.
“I have been afraid of what you would think of me once you learned the truth.”
“What?” The shocked expression suddenly made her fears seem foolish. “But that’s ridiculous.”
“Still, I was afraid you would despise me for deceiving you.”
Lucie straightened and a familiar stubborn expression blanketed her expression. “Never.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the awkwardness and uncertainty now replaced with understanding.
“I’m so glad you told me,” said Lucie. “You always seemed so confident, so perfect. I used to try to be just like you, but now…” She sighed. “I can’t be like you, not after what happened. Knowing you had failings, well, it gives me hope.”
Sarah didn’t know what to say. She’d never felt perfect—far, far from it. But she had tried to keep up a front. Now she saw that this façade had made her daughter feel lacking. Without even intending to, she had caused Lucie grief.
“Mama? I’d like to see Thomas, I mean, my father.”
Sarah recalled their last encounter and she sprang to her feet.
Her daughter now looked concerned.
“What is it?”
“Thomas. I’ve made a dreadful mistake. I—I have to go.”
“But it’s late.”
Sarah snatched her coat. “I don’t care. I must find him.”
She ran out into the night, heading straight for the barracks. There she found several soldiers, but no Thomas. A corporal said he had not seen him.
Next she tried the mess hall, but found it locked for the night. The catwalk?
She hesitated before the ladder. The sentry descended before her.
“I’m looking for Mr. West.”
“He ain’t up there.”
“Do you know where I might find him?”
The man gave her a confused look. “Ma’am?”
What was wrong with the man?
“Have you seen him?”
“He’s gone.”
She stared hard at the soldier’s astonished face, her voice sharp with fear. “Gone where?”
“He left when I came on watch. Headed out alone with night falling. Damn foolish, considering the current situation. Maybe the Sioux are all sitting in their winter camp, but there’s always raiders, aren’t there?” He glanced back toward the gate, now firmly bolted against the night. “Hope he makes it. The cause needs more men like him.”
Sarah stood gaping. “The cause?”
“Didn’t you hear? He’s gone to join the Union Army.”
Chapter Thirty
Sarah ran to the stables, certain the man was mistaken. How could he go without a word? Sarah’s heart pounded within her chest as she reached the barn’s interior. Like an arrow, she flew to the stall where he stabled his buckskin gelding and found it empty.
She fell hard on outstretched hands, her palms scraping against the rough-hewn planks of the stall’s gate as she struggled to control the rising storm of panic swirling within her.
“No. He can’t be gone.”
She recalled the look of utter dejection upon his face as he had tried to tell Lucie the truth and she’d waved him off as if he were a fly in her pudding.
“But I love him.”
That hadn’t stopped him from leaving the last time.
Sarah sank down, coming to rest on an upturned grain bucket. She pressed her hands over her eyes as her world turned black.
She’d lost him again.
Why had she denied him? He had the right to tell Lucie. She had been so caught up in what was best for Lucie, and with her own petty fears, that she had not considered Thomas’s needs.
She had waited to tell him of her love and now it was too late.
Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs. Someone tried to rouse her, but she pushed them off. Running footsteps signaled their retreat. She wrapped her arms about herself and rocked, bathed in misery.
“Mama?”
She lifted her gaze to find Lucie standing before her.
“Thomas has gone. He left us.”
Sarah sprang to her feet and hurried to her horse. “I have to go after him. I have to tell him.”
Lucie grabbed her mother’s arm in a vice-like grip. “Mama. You can’t go now. It’s dark.”
Sarah reached for her bridle and Lucie tugged it away.
“Mama! Do you even know where he’s going?”
Sarah lowered her head and held the cry in her throat, where it burned like fire. Lucie’s arm went about her mother’s shoulders.
“In the morning, we’ll all go. We’ll get an escort.” Expertly, she relieved Sarah of the bridle. Then she steered her toward the door. “We’ll go see the commanding officer. Perhaps they know where he was bound. They can use the telegraph and send a message ahead.”
The telegraph, yes, they could do that. Lucie took her elbow and led her along.
Sarah glanced back at her horse, which regarded her over the top of the planking. Urgency tugged as she walked in the wrong direction.
“We need supplies,” said Lucie.
Sarah tore her gaze from her mount as Lucie’s words sank in. Yes, supplies, they needed those.
She became aware again out in the yard at the door to Brennan’s office. What was she playing at? She could not go off willy-nilly. But what about Thomas?
Oh, dear God, it hurt in her heart. She pressed a hand to her chest as if to stanch the invisible wound there.
Lucie guided her into the commander’s office. But instead of Brennan, a tall captain entered. He had obtained such height that he had to turn his head slightly to one side in order to pass through the door frame. She recognized John Corbit.
“Mrs. West, I’m currently in possession of articles that belong to your daughter.”
Sarah’s brow wrinkled. “My daughter?”