Brenna loved Matthew, and knowing she’d destroyed all hope of ever winning his love was her greatest punishment.
She watched him now, willed him to look at her, to see that she was sorry, and that she’d never meant to hurt anyone. But he would never look at her with those soft, brown eyes. No matter how long or how hard she stared at him, he ignored her.
She’d give anything to hear him speak to her as before, his deep voice warm as butter and often full of humor as he teased her. The man she’d known was gone, destroyed. Her actions had crushed something even more valuable and fragile: trust.
Brenna drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs and swallowed the lump in her throat as she stared out into gloomy afternoon. It seemed that they’d been traveling across this frighteningly vast land forever. But she didn’t mind.
She had nowhere else to go, and truthfully she was a bit afraid of facing his tribe. Right now, she didn’t care if it took all summer to reach his tribe in the Black Hills.
A sharp clap of thunder startled her. The wind howled through their shelter. Brenna sighed. Before the day was done, she’d be wet, cold and miserable.
A hunk of dried jerky landed in her lap. She glanced up. So lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t heard Matthew rise or go into the food supplies. He sat back down in silence.
Brenna couldn’t eat. Her mind and stomach were in turmoil.
“Eat.”
The sharp command slashed through the oppressive air like an ax splitting a log. Brenna glanced at Matthew, who was staring outside as he chewed a hunk of dried beef.
“I’m not hungry,” she said softly.
“What game are you playing now, Brenna? Do you think to make my people feel sorry for you by starving yourself? You didn’t eat this morning.”
“What do you care, Matthew?” she asked. For nearly two weeks she’d endured his silent anger. She’d rather he yell at her. At least then they’d be talking.
“You agreed to spend a year with my people. It is not as harsh a punishment as you deserve. You’re acting like a sulking child.”
Brenna didn’t really consider going to live with Matthew’s people a punishment. She had nowhere else to go, and Matthew had promised both her and his sister that Brenna would be given a fair chance to regain her own self-respect and the respect of Mattie and Matthew’s people.
But the loss of Matthew’s friendship was punishment enough. Fat drops of rain splattered onto the ground. She figured they’d traveled a third of the distance, and were just a short way from the Missouri River.
From there, she knew they’d cross, and stop to see his uncle Wolf and aunt Jessie. Then they’d continue on, until they found his people’s summer camp.
“I do not expect you to forgive me, Matthew, but can you not understand?” She wanted to ask him if he could have spoken words that might have cost his mother her life.
Matthew had every right to hate her. Brenna’s mother and stepfather had caused them grief and heartache.
She stared at Matthew, willed him to look at her.
“I was afraid,” she whispered. Matthew remained silent but she saw his jaw harden. She waited for him to speak, to give her the chance to explain. But he didn’t.
Finally, Brenna jumped up, the chunk of pemmican falling onto the dirt ground.
“Where are you going?”
Brenna met his narrowed gaze. “Outside.” She said it defiantly, daring him to stop her.
Matthew just shrugged and looked away. Brenna fled out into the storm. She ran through the tall grass, nearly tripping in the burrow of some animal.
At that moment, she didn’t care if she lived or died.
She stopped at the stream that led to the Missouri. Panting and crying, her tears mingled with the heavy downfall of rain.
Blinded by the rain and deafened by her thoughts and the echo of Matt’s rejection, she didn’t see the dark figure moving closer to the shelter she’d just left.
But when the shot rang out, she whirled around. “Matt!” She screamed the word and ran back to the man she’d loved and lost.
* * *
Sunday suppers at the Jensen boardinghouse were loud, boisterous and chaotic. Food was passed around the table with dizzying speed, yet no one missed out on a single roll or scoop of dumplings or chunk of boiled chicken.
Forks clattered against good china, voices shouted for food or just to be heard over the din, and Renny loved every single loud, crazy moment.
Sundays were the one day she didn’t make the trek from town to home. Instead, her family, dressed in their Sunday best, came to town for the weekly sermon in their newly built church.
It didn’t matter the religion or belief, nearly everyone attended the service given by “Rev,” a young pastor with a mild-mannered and often humorous style of preaching.
But the real draw was the socializing and gossiping that usually followed as those who lived in town often invited homesteaders to supper before they left to return to their farms.
Today, as on every Sunday, Martha and Agatha’s long dining table was crowded with the O’Brien family. There were also two single men and another family staying for a few days. They were looking rather lost and intimidated by the spirited meal.
Chewing on a thick crust of bread slathered with butter, Renny conversed with the strangers, answering their questions. They were all part of a growing number of people moving westward.
Both men were heading farther west but the young family seemed interested in settling here in Pheasant Gully. They’d heard about the land that belonged to Brenna and Gil.
Renny studied the shy young woman with dark blond hair, her towheaded youngsters and her blond giant of a husband. Noting that Caitie and Kealan seemed to have already made friends with the children, she hoped they bought the land.
Though Gil and Brenna were no longer in Pheasant Gully, the money from the sale would be safely banked. That much Renny and her family had agreed to do for Brenna before she’d left with Matthew.
Renny tried not to dwell on the heartache and pain of the past month. In many ways, Brenna and Gil were victims as much as Renny and her brothers and sisters.
Allowing the chatter, laughter and rumble of deep voices to wash over her, she contentedly watched each of her siblings. Only Matthew was missing. Sighing, Renny knew she was being selfish in wanting everyone here, with her.
It was long past time for Matthew to live his own life and she suspected that given a choice between their two worlds, he’d one day choose to live among their people.
“Renny, you’re not eating?” Mattie’s soft voice came from her left.
“I’m fine, Mattie.” Renny scraped her fork around the plate but didn’t fool Mattie.
“Stop playing if you are not going to eat. I know you well, sister of mine. You’re sad.”
Renny set her fork down. “How can I be sad with all this happiness around us?” She tried to lighten her voice.
“Don’t you dare try to hide what you feel from me.” Mattie’s voice was sharp enough to make her husband glance over at them.
Renny shook her head at him and then stood. Mattie stood as well. With a brief glance at their hostesses, Renny excused the two of them and led Mattie out to the porch and down the steps.
The warm air and bright sun warmed her face and felt good after what seemed like days of rain. “Don’t worry about me, Mattie. I’ll be fine. You just be happy and make those kids happy and make that husband of yours happy.” Renny hugged Mattie to her.
“And you help him get his children back and make yourselves one big, happy family. That’s what our parents would have wanted.” Enough of her own worries.
“And what of you, sister? You’re worried that we won’t return.” Mattie squeezed Renny’s arm.
“I’ll be fine.”
Despite the full rays of sun beating down on them, Renny shivered.
She’d never been alone before—except for a short time after she and Emma had been taken captive and then separated. But even then, she’d been with a good family until she was reunited with her sister and father.
Still, she didn’t want anything, even her own fears, to mar Mattie’s happiness. She stopped at a grouping of chairs and benches and tables set beneath a spreading oak behind the Jensens’ home.
A short distance away, another oak had a swing attached. As she watched, Kealan and Caitie ran down the steps toward the swing. The two towheads were right behind.
Renny and Mattie sat. “When are you and Reed leaving?”
Mattie folded her hands in her lap. Then she nervously pleated her skirt. “A week. Maybe two.”
“So soon?” Shock rocketed through Renny. She’d figured that she had at least a month, maybe two, before the newly wedded couple left Pheasant Gully.
“Come with us, Renny.” Mattie turned in her chair.
Renny stared into her sister’s tear-filled eyes. She was tempted to shout out yes. But she bit her tongue instead and gave the same answer. “I can’t.” The last thing Mattie and Reed needed was her underfoot.
“Sell the house and land and come with us, Renny.” Mattie paused.
“We’ve never been apart and I don’t know how long we’ll be gone.” Her voice broke.
No matter how much she wanted to go, Renny knew it wasn’t right. So where did that leave her?
Alone.
“Renny?”
“I’m sorry, Mattie. I won’t go with you, but maybe it’s time to think about selling.”
“Where will you go?”
Renny thought for a moment, then shrugged. “No reason I can’t stay here, in town. Must be something I can do,” she said. “Could open my own business with the sale—that is, if it’s all right with everyone.”
Mattie smiled. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Renny.”
“Won’t be the same, living in town all the time,” Renny murmured.
“No, I have a feeling nothing will be the same for you,” Mattie said, her voice going soft.
Renny sent her sister a suspicious look. Mattie’s eyes were glazed and unseeing and a small smile played around her lips, which usually meant she was having a vision. Whatever she was seeing, it seemed to please her.
A horrifying thought came to mind. Was Mattie seeing her future this time? She opened her mouth to ask her but before she could demand to know what Mattie saw, her sister’s expression changed to one of horror.
Mattie doubled over as though she’d been punched in the stomach. She opened her mouth and started screaming.
“Matthew!”
Over and over she screamed her brother’s name.
Renny grabbed Mattie by the shoulders. “Mattie! Snap out of it. Come back!”
Her mouth went dry and her hands shook when her sister kept screaming until her eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped in Renny’s arms.
Chapter Six
From the spotlessly clean window, Tyler saw trouble coming. “Oh, no,” he groaned. He was just washing up, getting ready to sit down for Sunday supper.
Mrs. Burns, in a fit of temper, didn’t bother to knock. The door flew open and crashed against the wall.
A formidable woman dressed in severe grays, she pointed a long-nailed finger at Tyler. “It’s the Lord’s day. A man belongs at home with his family, not out getting himself drunk.”
“Now calm down, Mrs. Burns.” Tyler kept a wary eye on the tall, thin woman. He also kept the wooden kitchen table between them.
“Don’t you go telling me what to do, Sheriff. Your job is to serve and protect and uphold the law. I’m telling you it’s a sin to have that place open, tempting our husbands into sinning on Sundays when they should be home reading their Bibles and praying for forgiveness.” She paused to take a deep breath.
Tyler ran his hand through his hair. “Now, you know I can’t do anything about that. Don’t have the authority.”
Mrs. Burns slapped her palms down on the table, causing the silver and china to rattle. She leaned over, her eyes slits of fury. “Fetch him home,” she demanded, her soul-searing, nails-on-a-chalkboard voice making him wince.
Tyler sighed. He couldn’t blame Jake for trying to escape for a few hours. Two minutes around the man’s wife gave him a pounding head.
“Not much I can do unless he’s drunk and acting in a disorderly manner. Now, why don’t you go back home. I’ll make sure he gets home safely.”
Still screeching about the sin of man, the woman left. Tyler let out a huge sigh of relief. Moments later, Maze hurried in.
“Did I hear voices?” She glanced around.
Tyler sat in one of the chairs. “Mrs. Burns was here.”
Maze stirred a pot of boiling chicken then started dishing it out onto a platter. “Difficult woman,” she commented.
“Difficult, hell. Woman’s a snake. Swear she wears her hair pulled back so tight that someday her face is going to crack right down the middle.” Except her mouth. Those thin, dry lips were puckered into a permanent frown.
The town was overrun with difficult women these days, none more so than a certain redhead who held the honor of being the most stubborn, prideful, difficult and obstinate. And when riled, or threatened, she could be just plain nasty.
He remembered every word of last night’s exchange. Damn woman lived to slash at him with her sharp tongue. Crossing his arms across his chest, he stared down at the gleaming china that he assumed belonged to Maze—all he had were a couple tin plates.
“You let her get under your skin, Sheriff.” Maze was busy slicing steaming loaves of bread.
Tyler snorted. “Ticks get under a man’s skin. Miss O’Brien is a burr beneath the saddle of a bucking horse. She’ll be the cause of my death yet.”
Hearing a muffled snicker, he narrowed his eyes. “Glad you find this so amusing.” Renny’s attitude and opinions of him shouldn’t bother him—hell, he should be used to it. But Renny was like an itch that wouldn’t go away.
Maze turned, her brilliantly blue eyes sparkling with laughter. “Oh, I do find this amusing,” she said. “Heard she’s kept you waiting four nights running. Before you know it, the entire town will come out to the meadow for a nighttime picnic. The two of you do provide a wealth of entertainment.”
Maze nudged his booted foot with the tip of her shoe. Scowling, Tyler sat. He was surrounded by women intent on making his life difficult. “Don’t start selling tickets yet, Maze. I’m going to end this.”
Maze set the sliced bread on the table then stood back, hands on her hips. “I’ll save my energy for helping you plan your wedding. That girl will make a fine wife.”
“Wife?” Tyler choked on the word and stared at the woman in horror. “You been nipping at the sherry? Renny O’Brien isn’t even a friend.”
“Oh, it’s there. Just need to be patient, Sheriff.” Her eyes gleamed with determination. “She’ll learn. And discover that all is not as hopeless as it seems.”
Tyler stared at Maze, who seemed to have turned her thoughts and gaze inward. Then she shook her head as though returning from a trance. Passing behind him, she patted his shoulder. “Yes, it will all work out. We’ve seen to it,” she said softly.
“Seen to what?” Tyler asked. “What are you up to, Maze?”
Maze tucked a loose strand of silvery hair back into her bun. “You just worry about yourself, dear boy, and leave the rest to us.”
“Don’t need more interfering women messing with my life, so just forget the matchmaking. You hear?” Tyler felt the urge to leave, get his horse and just ride off into the sunset.
Tyler watched Maze bustle around the kitchen, s
etting steaming bowls of potatoes and beans on the table. He opened his mouth to order her to stay out of his business but instead, he found himself voicing his greatest fear.
“She’ll never forgive me for finding homes for the young’uns. Won’t even try to understand that I was just doing my job.” Something about Maze demanded the truth. Things he’d never told anyone seemed to just pour out of his mouth when he was around her.
“You tell her about Gracie?” Maze glanced out the window. “Supper’s ready. You washed up?”
Tyler got to his feet. At the large sink, he washed his hands then used the towel she handed him to dry them off.
“Won’t do no good to tell her. The stubborn woman won’t let me explain that I did what I thought best. She should have trusted me.”
Maze rolled her eyes. “Have you considered that she was doing what she thought best by refusing your help? They didn’t know you back then, and had no reason to trust anyone.” There was a hint of sadness in Maze’s voice.
“Well, she knows me now. Should give a man a chance to have his say.”
“Then go to her. Ask her for forgiveness. Then make her listen.”
“Forgiveness? I did what I thought best, what I wish someone had done for me and Grant. Then maybe Gracie would still be alive.”
He stared at the woman whom he was fast becoming fond of. So comfortable with her, he’d told her about Gracie and the guilt that still plagued him. He never talked about his family, but it had seemed so natural, so easy, compelling even, to talk to Maze.
A knock at the back door gave Tyler his much-needed reprieve. He opened the door to a tall, rail-thin man with a full beard and hair down to his shoulder.
“Evening, Doc,” Tyler said, holding out his hand.
“Evening, Sheriff. Maze.” Casey Jameson took his usual seat at the table. “Smells awfully good in here.”
After a short prayer of thanks for their meal, Tyler started passing platters.
Maze turned to the doc. “So nice that you were able to come, Dr. Jameson. Perhaps your presence will cheer our sheriff. He’s a bit of a crosspatch today.”
White Vengeance Page 6