Renny stared into the fireplace at the dying embers. Neither woman talked much about their past. She knew that Miss Martha had once been married yet still went by the single title of “Miss.”
“Mattie and Reed don’t need me underfoot,” she said. “Better they be on their own while they get used to being married and all.” She gave a helpless shrug. “Besides, I see them all day, every day.”
“Not the same, though, dear. Not the same,” Miss Martha said, echoing Renny’s own thoughts as she placed her knitting into a woven basket. Her hand tightened on the cat’s neck when he reached out a paw to snag the ball of yarn. The cat looked disgusted when his mistress put the lid on the basket. He jumped down and went to lie before the warm fireplace.
Catching Miss Agatha hiding a yawn behind her hand, Renny stood. “Well, guess I’ll be turning in. Got a lot to do come morning.”
“Good night, child,” Agatha said, her voice trailing off as she yawned widely.
“‘Night, Miss Agatha. Miss Martha.”
“Sweet dreams, child.” Miss Martha stood, then bent down to blow out one lantern. “By the way, did the sheriff find you? Hate to think of the poor boy still waiting for you out in the meadow.” She didn’t bother hiding the humor in her voice.
Renny rolled her eyes. “Nanny Troll found me.” The barest hint of sulk escaped. Last person she wanted to talk or even think about was Terrapin Tyler. She smirked to herself. Childish to call the man names, even if only to herself, but “Dog Meat” Tyler was just one of many private names she had for the thorn in her life.
Miss Martha extinguished the last lamp. “Don’t be too harsh on the poor soul, dear. He’s just looking out for you.”
With one foot on the steps, Renny glanced over her shoulder at the two white-haired women. “We don’t need him. We have each other. Don’t need his brand of help.” Resentment thrummed through her.
Miss Martha smiled softly. “Sometimes the thing we think we don’t need is exactly what we do need, child. Burdens were meant to be shared, and with your sister and Reed leaving soon to go visit his parents, you might need help. Don’t let pride get the best of you.”
Renny scowled as she tromped up the stairs while the two sisters went to their quarters on the ground floor. Miss Martha was off her rocker if she honestly thought Renny needed Tyler. If there was anything Renny did not need, it was a certain busybody sheriff.
Once in her room, Renny shut the door. She didn’t bother lighting a candle. Undressing in the dark, leaving on her long johns, she donned a large flannel shirt that had belonged to her father. Drawing it close, she sniffed.
Was there still the barest hint of the man she loved, or was the scent of a father only in her in her mind? Wrapping her arms around herself, she sat on the window seat.
The window, open a few inches, let in the fresh, cool air. Staring up at the glittering sky, Renny could no longer ignore the truth. Mattie’s leaving and taking the children with her to meet and visit with Reed’s parents was the root of her unrest. They were traveling soon, and Renny would be left behind.
This was worse than her moving out. At least now, she got to see them every day, knew when she rose in the morning that it would only be a short time before she was with them once more.
But they were leaving soon. Renny had no idea when they would return.
Renny pushed her fingers hard against her closed eyes to stop the burning of tears. She would not cry. She’d be brave. She’d be supportive.
And she’d be alone.
She lifted her head and she shook it in denial. “No, they’ll be back. Before winter sets in.”
Her father had said he’d return soon in nearly every letter he’d sent to her and her sister, Emma. But he’d never kept those promises. Not even when she’d begged him to come home.
She’d gone the first nine years of her life without meeting the man who’d fathered her. He’d left when she was fresh from the womb and had continued to run from grief until she and Emma left home to find and join him.
That journey had been long, frightening and so very exciting. The ending result had been a happy reunion, the marriage of her father to a Sioux woman, the wedding of her sister to a Sioux chief and the blending of two families and two cultures.
For a moment Renny retraced her steps into the past and relived some of those happy times when she, Mattie and Matthew had been much younger. The new family had returned to St. Louis. Back then, Renny had been so envious that her much older sister had gotten to stay behind and live with the Sioux.
But with an Indian mother, Renny spent the second part of her life immersed in that world so different from her own. Renny’s finger dug into the buffalo robe she sat upon. Though she’d brought with her many treasures from home, it just wasn’t the same. Nor did it bring the comfort she so badly needed.
The robe, quilts and dream catchers were reminders that everything was different now.
“Promised never to leave again, Pa,” she whispered, fighting the urge to cry. It didn’t matter that not one of them could have stopped the murders, that her parents would never have left their children willingly. All that mattered at that moment was that she hated what her life had become.
She hated it so much that she just wanted to weep and wail. Staring out into the dark, the tears remained frozen. Not once in the last year had she given in to that urge to cry. There was no time for tears, no energy to spare. Crying would not undo the past.
So she simply survived. And part of that survival meant letting her sister and Reed leave and hoping that they returned. No matter how many times she told herself it was fruitless to stew or worry over what she could not control, she couldn’t help it. For the last year she’d been the one holding her family together. She felt responsible for the youngsters.
But they had Mattie and Reed now.
They didn’t need her.
Renny couldn’t hide from the stinging truth. Caitie, Kealan and Daire would now rely on Mattie and their new father figure, Reed. No matter how much Renny wanted the children to stay with her, she knew they belonged with Mattie and Reed. Especially as Reed was hoping to regain custody of his two children. Soon, they’d be a family.
Gazing out into the night and spotting shadows moving here and there as men returned to their homes from the saloon, Renny felt lost and alone. She hated the night. There was nothing to distract her from emotions and thoughts best left undisturbed, and there was no one to reassure her that all would be right with her world.
Fear of being alone and forgotten or discarded rushed at her like hail pounding at the earth. Her life felt as dark as a stormy night. She was a small, fragile bird huddled in a tree with the wind whipping branches and leaves around her. It was all she could do to keep her grip on her emotions.
Up in the sky, the pale moon had risen high. As she watched, a thick cloud cover slowly crept in front of the moon, slowly swallowing it from sight. One by one each star seemed to burn out until there was nothing to see but dark.
And like the storm that gathered outside, the storm of her life threatened to burst, seething through her and around her until Renny feared she’d lose control. She knew better than most how life could snap the controls away from a person so easily and gleefully.
Renny felt as though she stood on the edge of a cliff with no escape but down. Everything inside her screamed that it was wrong for the family to split. They belonged here, with her, together.
Renny buried her head between her knees and gripped her legs hard. Life as she’d known it was changing faster than she could handle. She’d gone from being the one to hold her family together, overseeing all aspects of their lives, to—
—to nothing.
Needed by no one.
Everything inside Renny screamed for her to stop them, but it was too late. Matthew had left, Mattie w
ould soon leave, taking the others. The family would be scattered with no reassurances that they’d all be together again anytime soon.
How could they all just leave her? How could she let them?
A dark shadow flew past her window.
Weshawee!
It is time.
The voiced boomed in her head. Renny jumped up and backed away from the window, glancing around wildly. She swallowed hard. There was no one in the room with her. Maybe she’d fallen asleep.
The pane of glass rattled. A gust of wind rushed into the room.
Listen to your heart.
Feeling behind her with one hand, Renny sat heavily on the foot of the bed. The voice reminded her of an old, wise man she’d once met. For just a moment, she thought she saw the intensity of his dark gaze reflected in the window.
“It was long ago,” she said, her voice a mere whisper of breath. She was young, and scared. She’d just been kidnapped, separated from her sister, and traded for fresh horses by a band of Indians.
A man in the village had found her crying one day when she’d been scared that she’d never see her sister again. She felt lost and alone and he’d come to her in the woods, a big man, with a big voice but gentle words. She’d never forgotten him, or the comfort he’d offered in his wise words.
Spirits are here. Everywhere. With us always.
They speak through the wind. They are the wind.
They are the trees, the birds, the animals.
They are the earth, the rocks and sky.
They exist. Hear them. See them.
Listen and learn from the Spirits of the earth, for only then will you find peace within.
And she had, Renny thought bitterly, remembering how she’d learned the habits of every living thing, soaking up all that was told to her. Her understanding of the spiritual world had come as naturally to her as breathing—until the death of her parents tore from her her faith in anything not seen or touched.
“They were good people,” she whispered. And good deserved the reward of life. Her mother had believed, and lived as one with the spiritual world of her people. And Mattie. Her sister, with her unique gift of vision, had had her eyesight ruthlessly taken from her.
Good people, living good lives, only to have them destroyed. The very spirits they’d prayed to, given thanks to, had turned on them. That was why Renny no longer believed. She believed only in what she could see, touch and control.
She would not be vulnerable ever again. She’d trust only in herself.
Turning to climb into bed, she startled at the sharp rap to her window. Spinning around, she grabbed the tall bedpost with one hand.
“Stupid,” she cursed herself. “Just the wind. A storm brewing.”
Outside, branches whipped back and forth. She relaxed slightly and felt foolish even as she ran to the window and closed it. Then she climbed into bed and stared at the shadows dancing on one wall. They seemed alive. Shapes grew and merged, blending and changing.
Believe!
The voice came again. This time it was a gentle nudge. The shape on the wall looked like the head of a horse for just a moment.
Renny flipped onto her belly, closed her eyes and pulled the pillow over her head, closing her senses to all sight and sound.
Chapter Five
Menacing tiers of clouds gathered overhead. For the second day in a row, summer storms brought temperatures down and stole the afternoon light, leaving shadows to merge into one mass.
Brenna Gilmore huddled beneath a small canvas lean-to erected between two narrow saplings. Ropes tied to stakes and the trunks held the small canopy firmly in place against the brewing storm. Shivering as tentacles of cold slid through her blouse and skirt, she longed for the comfort of home.
In her mind, she gave a bitter laugh. She had no home, no life, no family left except her brother Gil, who hated her. The loss of both of their parents within days of each other had been cruel, but what had pushed him over the edge was learning that their mother was responsible for the death of their eldest brother.
Brenna heaved out a long, silent sigh of regret.
Everything she’d once known had been destroyed in a single day.
Above her head, leaves and small branches skittered down the canvas roof. More blew inside. Brenna set her needlework down to pull her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. The cold air carried the promise of another wet, miserable afternoon.
Sitting across from her, Matthew O’Brien was engrossed in arrow-making. He didn’t look up at her, or acknowledge her presence in any way. He was still very angry with her.
She didn’t blame him. He had every right to hate her for using her knowledge of the Sioux against his family.
She’d been fascinated by the entirely different culture of the Sioux and had taken it upon herself to learn all she could. Matthew had also taught her how to use a knife, a stick and a rifle to defend herself.
So she’d used her knowledge against Renny; Renny, who’d so fiercely protected her family. All Brenna had wanted to do was stop her mother from killing Mattie. So she’d come up with a plan to scare Renny into taking her family back to the Sioux for the summer.
It had been such a simple plan and one that might have worked had it not been for Brenna’s father—who had not been the man they’d all believed him to be.
He’d pushed Mattie and Gilbert into agreeing to marry. He’d claimed to want Mattie in the family—not as a widowed daughter-in-law but as the wife to his remaining son.
Mattie had agreed and Brenna had been afraid her mother would try once more to kill Mattie.
Brenna’s suspicions had been right. But it had been the deceit and treachery of Patrick O’Leary that drove her mother to madness.
His actions, motivated by revenge and greed, had caused both Renny and Matthew to be hurt and Daire and little Caitie to be kidnapped.
He’d brought shame down on Katherine O’Leary’s head, and she’d struck out at the one person she blamed: Mattie. In the end, Brenna had had no choice but to confess the truth to Matthew in order to save Mattie’s life.
Now Matthew hated her.
Staring morosely outside, Brenna was in many ways thankful that it was all over. Keeping that secret, having to watch her mother closely, having to hide the fact that she knew in case her mother turned on her, had been hard.
The burden of guilt and truth had at times seemed far too heavy to bear.
Still, she’d carry her own burden of guilt for her part in the tragedy forever. She wasn’t asking Matthew to forgive her, for she’d never forgive herself. But she longed for him to at least try to understand why she’d done what she’d done. He simply believed that she didn’t know right from wrong.
Brenna jabbed the needle down through the fabric. That’s where he was wrong. She’d known that what she was doing was wrong, but to do the right thing would have meant condemning her mother to death. She couldn’t bring herself to do that.
Katherine O’Leary had tried to kill Mattie the day Mattie and Collin married. But instead of Mattie dying in the fire, Collin had perished.
Her mother had killed her own son and had suffered each and every day thereafter with the knowledge that she’d killed her firstborn child.
Her mother’s death at the end of a noose would not have restored Mattie’s eyesight or brought Collin back from the dead. So Brenna had kept silent. She’d been damned from the moment when she’d witnessed her mother trying to kill Mattie.
Another wave of leaves swirled in their shelter. She gently brushed the debris off her stitching then stared down glumly at her sampler. The stitches were uneven; the small deer she’d just finished sewing looked lopsided.
Sighing, she tucked the needle and thread back into the cloth. Later, she’d have to rip it all out and st
art over. Brenna shoved the cloth back into a beautifully beaded leather pouch.
She stared at the blue, black and red geometric pattern, then traced the white and blue medallion sewn into the center of the flap. Each bead had been sewn precisely and evenly. The workmanship was exquisite.
Brenna still couldn’t believe that Mattie had given it to her the day she and Matthew had set out to join his tribe at their summer camp.
It held not only her needles, threads and material, but Mattie had also included a selection of feathers, beads, sinew and an awl—tools and supplies she’d need for her life in the Sioux village.
Glancing at the corner where her belongings were stashed, she eyed a second pouch. This one was plain, but, again, it was sewn with love and skill. It was old, soft as butter and filled with herbs and healing potions.
The two leather pouches had once belonged to Mattie. She’d been surprised when Mattie had given them to her, had tried to refuse the generous gifts as she hadn’t deserved such kindness or consideration from Mattie.
But Mattie had insisted. They were things that she wouldn’t be able to use and she’d wanted Brenna to have them. Brenna had felt so lost, alone and raw inside; she’d felt destroyed emotionally, that she’d gratefully accepted the gift. For with it, came the greatest gift of all: forgiveness.
Brenna’s tears sparked hotly. Mattie, blinded by Katherine’s hatred, had found it within herself to not only forgive but to understand.
Wiping the tears from her face, Brenna clutched her precious gift to her breast for a moment before putting it away. With nothing else to do, she gathered her shawl tightly around her, more for comfort than warmth.
Once again, Matthew drew her gaze. She felt chilled, both inside and out, and knew she’d never again feel warmth in her soul. But it was no less than she deserved.
She’d lost a cherished friend in Matthew, and something far more valuable: she’d lost all hope that one day Matthew would fall in love with her and make her his wife.
White Vengeance Page 5