“Come here,” he said when she stood before him in only her drawers and a chemise, nipples erect against the thin fabric.
“What are you trying to prove?” she asked, a quiver in her voice.
“I want you to be naked before me and swear that body will always be mine, no matter what happens.”
“You know what? I’m not going to do this, and I’ll tell you why. There are things no woman will put up with. Look at Lizza, upstairs hiding like a pursued animal because a man chooses to beat her. That could happen, the way you drink and the things that you go through. In that case, I am gone, not because I no longer love you, but because you have stopped respecting and loving me.”
“I would never hurt you.”
“You already have.”
“No, I have never touched you in anger. And I never would. You know that.”
“Anger isn’t the only way you can hurt me. Turning away from me hurts, too. I need you to stop doing that.” Once again she dropped to her knees beside the chair. “And I need you to begin respecting yourself. You are a brave, gentle, wonderful man, and I have loved you since you came to St. Ann’s and stood in that rose garden, the sunlight washing your face. I will never stop loving you.”
He bent forward and cupped her face between his hands. “Rowena—good God, woman, but I do love you. I’m simply not sure what to do about it.”
“You were sure. You married me.” Tears streamed down her face when he kissed her.
Later, after he was put to bed, she slipped into a robe and joined her sister for a visit, not sure just how long they would have together. Blair was home, and she was with him, and he loved her. Hope filled her soul.
Wilda sat across from Rowena in the kitchen, each with a cup of tea, a plate of biscuits between them.
Her sister leaned toward her. “Tell me, what did you do to him? He’s not the man he was when I lived here. Was it just me?”
Rowena picked up her cup, blew across the steaming surface, and took a sip before replying. “No, it was not you. It’s more complicated than that. I am not sure I will ever understand it all, but I do know that what happened to him in that dreadful war did something to him. His parents throwing him out of their lives did not help, either. As a result, he doesn’t know what to do but drink to dull the memories and the things that come in the night to haunt him. When that does not work, and it rarely does, he turns into a man who fears love in all its forms. When he is himself, he is wonderful to be around.”
“And you can put up with that? What he does?”
Rowena shrugged, met her sister’s gaze. “I love him. Tell me, do you not put up with some things you do not like about Calder?”
Wilda sighed, then chuckled. “Oh, believe me I do. But he’s kind, thoughtful, strong, and…” She leaned closer and whispered, “He’s a marvelous lover.” Her face turned as red as her hair.
Rowena laughed. “Oh, sister, all the same goes for Blair.”
Wilda studied her thoughtfully, reached for one of the sweet cookies. “I’m surprised that you… I mean, considering what you went through, that you even allow a man to touch you.”
“I didn’t, not for a long while. You know, I never blamed Jimmy for what the nuns did to me. Never. I have nothing but sweet memories of that gentle boy. Funny, in my mind, though I have aged nearly ten years, he is still that young Irish lad. But the possibility that I will face punishment if I give myself to another man has always been a lurking promise. Yet the first time I saw Blair—You remember that day he came and talked to us in the garden at St. Ann’s?—my heart went out to him. He seemed so lonely, so haunted. I did not understand it for a long while. After I came to know him better, I realized it was that soulful look in his eyes. One that matched the way I felt down deep inside. I wanted to hold him, soothe him, tell him I understood. And I did. I did.” A tear leaked from her eye and she wiped it away angrily. “But he chose you, and it broke my heart.”
Wilda rose and came around the table to hug her. “I’m so sorry.”
Rowena patted her hands. “I know. I know you are. And it’s all worked out, hasn’t it?” She took a deep breath. “Are you happy? Truly happy?”
“Yes, I am truly happy. The ranch is beautiful, we work together all day and come in exhausted. He holds me and tells me one day we’ll have everything we’ve ever wanted. And we…”
Rowena laughed at her hesitation. “You must enjoy each other in bed, since you are with child.”
“Yes, we do.” Wilda laughed too. And after a while of embracing each other, she asked, “Is he going to recover? Be able to walk again?”
“I pray he will. The doctor says he doesn’t know yet.”
“Perhaps you should take him to Wichita or Kansas City, maybe St. Louis, where there are people who know more about this kind of injury than Doctor Weatherby.”
“I’ve suggested that, but the doctor is sure it will not make a difference. Still, I think you’re right. As soon as he can travel, I’m going to suggest we do just that.”
“You can make arrangements to take him onboard a Pullman car on a stretcher, if necessary.”
Rowena was silent for a while. “Oh, he would never let anyone see him so helpless, even people he does not know. No doubt he will probably insist on walking before he goes out in public.”
“Well, if that happens, he might not need another doctor.”
A pounding came on the front door. Simmons moved past the kitchen door on his way to answer, and Rowena called out to him. He must not have heard, for he continued on, his footsteps fading. She made it to the hallway, Wilda on her heels, before a great hullabaloo echoed through the house.
“Where is my wife?” A strident male voice demanded.
“Oh, goodness,” Rowena whispered. “It’s Barton Crouch, Lizza’s husband. He’s returned.”
She grabbed Wilda’s arm. “Go out the back door and to the barn and fetch Grady and Calder. Tell them to bring guns.”
Wilda nodded. “Crouch? This is the man they searched all over town for this afternoon. Couldn’t find him.” She raced off, disappearing into the shadows behind Rowena.
“You’ll tell me or I’ll kill you,” the intruder shouted.
By the time Rowena reached the foyer, the man was forcing open doors, shouting Lizza’s name, then slamming one to go on to the next. Simmons kept lamps burning in all the ground floor rooms. They cast a dim glow but left shadows in all the corners, so it was easy to see where someone might be hiding.
At the study Crouch tried the knob and found it locked. “Who’s in there? Lizza. Lizza?” He hammered hard on the door.
“Lord Prescott is in there. He’s been injured and is in bed. Please do not disturb him.” Simmons spoke the words as if the man were a guest and not an intruder.
“Open the door, so I can see.”
Simmons shook his head. “I am sorry, sir. I cannot do that.”
“You will, by God, or I’ll…” He stuck the gun under Simmons’ chin.
About that time Wilda came flying from the direction of the kitchen, eyes wide with terror. “They’re gone,” she yelled.
“Who’s gone?” Crouch shouted. “Get on over here where I can watch you.”
What would they do without Calder and Grady? And where could they be? Sick at heart, Rowena hurried to the study door, slipped a key from her pocket, and unlocked it. She could not let this man shoot Simmons, and he probably wouldn’t hurt Blair, who presented no danger to him. He was looking for Lizza.
She swung the door open to reveal Blair in bed, knocked out by a dose of morphine “See?” she said. “Now please do not disturb him.”
He grabbed Rowena’s arm with a grip that sent pain shooting into her shoulder. “You tell me where Lizza is, this very minute, or I’ll shoot all of you, including that man in there.”
Gritting her teeth, she peered up into his crazed features. “If you shoot all of us, then no one can tell you where Lizza is. That does not make sense. If you’ll put
the gun down, I’ll tell you what happened to Lizza.” Surely he would hear her teeth rattling with fear, but she held her ground.
****
From beyond the confines of his room, Blair made out voices. Shouting, Anger. Violence. His eyes snapped open. Dark. In the distance cannon fire. Men called out. Children cried. He felt around for his rifle. Where was it?
He could not move. Had he been shot? Yes, that was it. He remembered. Shot on the battlefield. Voices shouted for help all around him. Someone scurried up to him, keeping low while lead balls zinged overhead from all directions.
Pain. Oh, God, the pain. He tried to move from his position, but couldn’t. Where was his rifle? He bent at the waist, overcame the pain shooting up his leg, and pushed himself down to the ground. He came to lying on his stomach.
Passed out. He ran a hand down one leg, felt something binding it. Someone lifted him. He lashed out, struggled, tried to kick his attacker, but the darkness closed in once again.
Blair opened his eyes lying in bed in his study. A fire burned in the fireplace and his legs felt as if they had been held over that very fire.
“Lie still, please,” a woman said.
“Where are we?”
“At Fairhaven. You must be quiet.”
“Why? What is it? Is that you, Rowena?”
“No, it’s Wilda.”
“Wilda? What? Why? Where is Rowena?”
“You must lie still. You’re going to injure yourself badly. I’ll tell you, but you have to promise to lie still.”
“What is going on?”
“There’s a man here. He came for Lizza. Her husband, I guess. Rowena has managed to quiet him down. Simmons says Grady and Calder went to town They haven’t returned.”
“Get me my rifle.”
“No, now, don’t do that.”
“Get me the damned gun. Now.” He tried to sit up, but she held him down by the shoulders. He grabbed one of her hands. “Please.”
“All right. Tell me where it is, but please stay in the bed. If I let anything happen to you, Rowena will never forgive me.”
“Wait. Loaded pistols, in the safe behind the Bibles. On the shelf there.”
The woman was shaking so hard he could hardly hold on to her hand. But he had to make her understand. She hesitated a moment longer, then slipped off the edge of the bed and went to where he pointed. The safe, well hidden, was never kept locked. No reason to, and plenty of reason not to. When threatened, one needed protection fast. And this was one of those times.
She brought him the boxed pistols. All six chambers in each loaded with cap and ball. He laid them both on the bed, close at hand. “Can you get the man to come in here?”
“What? No. He’s already been in here.”
“Well, get him back in here. He almost killed that wife of his. A brutal man. He will hurt Rowena and Simmons. You have to do this. Good God, I can’t lie here and let harm come to them. Dammit, Wilda.”
He pawed at her, shameless in his pleas, frustrated that he could not leap from the bed and take care of this. He was, after all, a soldier. A man of war. A hellion, un trublion. A man who knew how to make trouble. How to kill. Why was he just lying here? Struggling, gasping in pain, he managed to sit up.
Wilda eased him back down. Not too difficult, he was weak as a kitten.
“I’ll go. I’ll bring him in here. Just don’t do that. Please, Blair.”
She held his shoulders, embraced him, kissed his cheek. “I’m so sorry. So sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about.” How strange, this woman he’d almost married telling him she was sorry, when she had hated him so much. It made him ache inside, and he wasn’t sure why.
“I’ll be right back. Stay put.” She scurried to the door, unlocked it, and slipped out.
How in hell could he just lie here with all that going on out there? Shame washed through him. He tried once again to rise from the bed, but it was impossible, no matter how hard he tried. His leg was like a stump of wood that someone chopped on with an axe.
Even so, he would not allow Rowena to be hurt.
He picked up one of the pistols and waited for the door to open.
****
Out of the corner of her eye, Rowena spotted Wilda tiptoeing toward her and Crouch, ensconced in the kitchen where she’d convinced him to talk over a cup of tea. Before getting that far, he’d slapped her soundly, then shook her so hard her teeth rattled. His fingers had left bruises on both arms.
She finally convinced him she knew where Lizza was and would tell him if only he stopped yelling. With no idea what she would do next, she served him a cup of tea and sat across from him, trembling.
“Lizza has gone to be with her family.” She had to say something, the first thing that came to her mind.
“Ain’t got no family. You’re lying.” His eyes slitted, open lips revealing stained teeth.
“No, she said a cousin lives in Marysville, and she took a stage there. I swear before God.” She squinted her eyes toward heaven. God would surely forgive a lie in this instance.
“Oh, yeah. So what’s this cousin’s name?”
It was at this point Wilda came scurrying down the hallway. Holding her stare, her sister approached Crouch. Why had Wilda left Blair alone?
“Sir, if you want to find your wife, I can show you where she is. Right this minute.”
“No,” Rowena shouted, leaping from her chair.
Wilda gestured toward her. “Enough is enough. If we don’t tell him, he’s going to kill us all.”
“I wanted you to—”
“Well, I don’t always do what you want. Do I?” Wilda stared at her.
What was going on? Wilda would not take this man to Lizza. She wouldn’t. So what was she planning?
Crouch jumped up, aimed a stare at Rowena. “I know’d you was a-lying, you little bitch.” He ran to Wilda and grabbed her arm. She winced. “Take me to her, and no tricks.”
Watching Rowena, Wilda led the man away. All Rowena could do was follow along and trust her sister had some sort of plan, or knew something she didn’t know.
Back down the hall, they headed straight for the staircase. Lizza was upstairs in a room at the very end of the east hall, but Wilda led him right on past the stairs and to the study door.
“No,” she shouted.
At the moment Wilda reached for the doorknob, the front door flew open, stopping everyone in their tracks as they stared at Calder Raines and Grady Jones, each holding a revolver.
“You bastard,” Calder shouted, and shot at Crouch, who’d shouldered the study door open and stumbled inside just as the lead ball cut a chunk out of the thick wood.
“Don’t shoot again, Blair’s in there,” Rowena shouted before Grady pulled the trigger.
A lit lamp beside the bed and the crackling fire cast dancing shadows over the walls when she rushed into the melee. Annie came racing toward the study. Crouch took a shot at Calder, and he shouted and fell back against the wall. A flash came from the bed where Blair lay. Crouch fired at the same time, but crumpled to the floor. Wilda had her arms around Calder while Simmons knelt to check the unmoving form on the floor. Rowena shoved her way through to Blair and threw her arms around him. He fell back on the pillow, breathing heavily. Feathers floated in the air from a hole shot in the bedding. The air was filled with the stench of black powder and the reverberating bam. A smoking gun lay on the coverlet near Blair’s hand. Simmons joined her beside him. Gathered the pistols, and put them back in the safe.
“Are you all right?” Rowena’s eyes watered until she couldn’t make out Blair’s features.
“Yes, I’m fine, but I could use some of that morphine. My leg hurts like the very devil.”
“He’s hit,” Wilda cried. “Calder’s been shot.”
Simmons hurried to where Calder had slumped into a chair and immediately took charge.
“Bring the lamp over here.” Wilda obeyed. “Annie, heat some water if there’s none in the reservoi
r, and bring some cloths.”
“Is it bad? Can you… Should we go fetch the doctor?”
“Just do as I asked, Miss Wilda. It’s merely a flesh wound. It will hurt for a while, but I can clean it up. In the morning you can take him in to Doctor Weatherby, if you wish.”
Rowena consciously absorbed all the action, even as she measured out medicine for Blair, added water to the glass, and raised his head so he could drink.
She sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his temples and speaking softly to him until he drifted off.
Calder looked a bit peaked, but smiled when she approached. “You came just in the nick of time,” she said. “Good to see you, even under such dreadful circumstances.”
He managed a tight smile. “Missed the son of a bitch, though, didn’t I? Never could shoot worth a damn. Is he dead?”
“Maybe so, but it all worked out in the end. Blair shot him, and yes, he’s dead. Hit him square between the eyes. How did you know to come here like that, without knocking or anything? You came in with your guns out.”
He chuckled, then sucked in a breath when Simmons tore away his shirt to expose the wound on his upper arm.
“Stopped by the doc’s to see Wilda, and the doc said you’d brought Mr. Prescott there home and that he was worried because that Crouch fella had stopped by demanding to know where Lizza was. Someone had told him they’d seen her leave in Prescott’s buggy, so he rode off headed this way. Then I fetched Grady—he’d come back to town to pick up some feed.” He stopped and took another deep breath. “We hightailed it out here.”
“That’s enough. Don’t talk anymore. Let Simmons take care of that. He’s good at patching people up.” Rowena touched his shoulder.
Calder grinned weakly. “I’ll be all right. I’ve had much worse.”
“Well, it’s good to meet you at last. Congratulations about the baby.”
“Yeah, ain’t she something, that woman?”
“Yes, she is something.”
Wilda returned carrying a bowl of steaming water, and Annie trotted along behind with some white cloths.
“Sorry I missed most all the excitement. I’d retired for the night, else I would’ve been on hand sooner.”
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