Hellfire and damnation, you are a self-centered bastard, Ben Lansing. You promised you weren’t going to leave Miranda with a child. The one promise he had really meant to keep.
“We need to be more cautious.” He gasped for breath.
“Why?” Miranda caressed his cheek. “Are you afraid someone will catch us behaving like a couple of newlyweds?”
He pulled her hand away and bent to fasten his buttons.
“That is what we’re supposed to be doin’. Pretending. It is all part of our deception, isn’t it, Ben?” Miranda sat up. “Appearances. All the neighbors are to think we’re in love. Have you even thought about what they’ll think when you leave me?”
“That I’m a cad to abandon a pretty young wife.”
“If you imagine they won’t all believe that I’m . . . a failure—”
He took her hand and squeezed it. “They won’t, love—”
“Don’t!” She pulled her hand away from him. “Don’t use that name.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then stay. We can be happy together, I know we can.”
“If you’re worried about appearances, come with me as far as San Francisco. You can return the grieving widow—”
“That’s your brilliant plan? You with all your education and refinement, you couldn’t think of something better? Something with a bit of imagination, maybe? You run off to some tropical island and leave me here pretending to be a widow just as I’ve pretended to be your wife? All this deception just so that I can have the respect of the community?” She stood up and shook her skirt. “Damn you, Ben Lansing! I don’t care about that kind of respect. I want you. I love you!” She brushed at the grass that clung to her wool skirt. “As far as I’m concerned, you can leave now! And you can tell the whole damn town that this marriage was a sham—all you ever wanted was an excuse to . . . to . . .” She ran toward the creek.
He took one step to follow her. If she wanted him to leave now, that is what he should do. He’d done her enough harm. He spun around and marched into the house ready to pack his bags. He had to get away from her. The woman was convinced she loved him. Benjamin Lansing, the most selfish man on earth. True, he would never beat her. That hardly mattered; there were plenty of other ways to do her harm.
The longer he stayed with Miranda, the more difficult the leaving would be. He pulled open his drawer and caught sight of the remaining sheaths he’d purchased. Dammit! He couldn’t leave without knowing whether she carried his child.
He heard her soft footfalls behind him and turned to face her. “I promised Jonathan I’d be here for Christmas,” he said. “I won’t go back on that promise.”
She opened her mouth and he was certain she would chastise him for keeping a promise to a little boy when he’d broken so many promises he’d made to her. Instead, she bit her lip and nodded. “I haven’t seen Mercy in three days. I’m going to ride over and check on her.” She pulled her saddlebag out from under the bed. “I may be gone a few days.”
As he watched her pack, Ben pretended he’d be able to leave her when the time came. He even imagined he’d be happy to be free of the marriage vows he’d made under duress. He used to be a better liar.
Chapter 18
The idea that Benjamin Lansing could be a cowboy was a joke. And yet, here he was riding with his new brother-in-law. The man was the most irritating, stubborn creature he’d had the displeasure of knowing. Buchanan was correct when he’d said Ben would need some means of making a living if he intended to support his wife. Not that Ben was going to be here long, but he did have to keep up pretenses. He didn’t mind work; in fact, he was glad to have something to keep him busy. He only wished it was something he found more interesting than watching cows and keeping them moving in the desired direction.
Ben watched Thad work. He seemed to enjoy yelling at the cows and bossing the cowboys. Thad liked to be in charge, and this was his way of controlling Ben. No doubt, Thad feared Ben would leave Miranda, likely with a few children. Miranda complained that her older sister still watched over her as though she were a child. But Mercy’s meddling didn’t compare with her husband’s. Thad wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d made Ben over in his own image as a husband and a father.
Well, Thad could try. Ben knew he didn’t have it in him to raise children. There wasn’t a good father in his family. Something in the Lansing blood must make it impossible for men to care about their children. The thought that his recklessness might have made a child ate at him. He watched Miranda carefully for any sign that she was in a family way. That task would be considerably easier if his wife weren’t avoiding him. Not that he could blame her. She’d been hurt enough to be wary of men, and yet she’d allowed him to become a part of her life. He’d rewarded her by scoffing at the idea that they should be together. There was nothing he could do to convince her that he was entirely to blame. She would make a wonderful wife and mother when she found the right man.
He thought again about his plan for leaving her. He’d make it quick when the time came. He’d leave for San Francisco at the first sign of spring. It wouldn’t be difficult to fabricate his own death before boarding a mail ship to the Sandwich Islands. He had no other family to concern himself with except for Jonathan. Mercy and Thad would look after the boy. As for the rest of Ben’s family, they probably wouldn’t notice he was gone. His mother, God rest her soul, was at peace. His brothers didn’t care about him. His father wouldn’t shed a single tear—he would be more upset if his bank profits went down this year. Ben wouldn’t lose any sleep worrying about the old son of a bitch.
A simple message to Miranda from a fictional doctor and she would be free. Bless her heart, Miranda would grieve him. Her grief would be short-lived, though. A beautiful young widow would have no problem finding a husband in Colorado—a man who could love her properly, take care of her, and give her a real family. In the meantime, Ben was counting on Thad and Mercy to take care of Miranda.
He watched the man ahead of him, Buck, urging the steers forward and wondered how he did it. Somehow the cows seemed to understand him.
“They ain’t all that bright.” Cochrane rode up beside him.
“Who isn’t?”
“Them cows.” Cochrane slapped a straggler with the end of his rope as if to prove his point. “Get ’em moving in one direction and they keep movin’ that way. It don’t generally occur to ’em to wander off, unless they see a patch of grass that strikes their fancy. You see one wander off, give him a shout or a slap, and he’ll catch up with the herd.”
Ben noticed a straggler and positioned Lightning behind him. “Ya!” he yelled at the dawdling steer. The animal moved along, falling in line with the others.
Cochrane pulled up next to Ben. “See, cows ain’t thinkers. They follow whoever seems to be in charge. You want them to believe that’s you.”
“I appreciate your advice,” Ben said.
Cochrane grinned. “Oughta be Miranda here teachin’ you. She grew up here—knows a hell of a lot more about it than that Buchanan fella.”
Ben had sense enough to keep his mouth shut. He didn’t much care for Buchanan, either, but he was certain the man would take care of Jonathan and he’d never allow Miranda to go hungry, either. Ben would be grateful to him for those things—he didn’t have to like him.
A dust cloud on the horizon signaled a horse approaching, carrying a man in a hurry. Ben checked the pistol in his holster, making certain it was loose and ready to draw if he needed it. He glanced at Cochrane, judging the cowboy’s response to the approaching man.
“Morgan!” Cochrane shouted. Thad turned his big black gelding to face the oncoming rider.
“Wonder what’s got him riding like the devil himself is chasing him?” Cochrane asked.
“I’m gonna find out.” Thad shoved his hat down on his head. He looked over his shoulder at Buck. “Keep ’em movin’!”
“Will do, boss.” Buck whistled at some dawdler
s as Thad pulled away from the group.
Ben turned his horse to follow Thad toward the approaching rider. The men galloped to within a few yards of each other, then pulled the three horses to a stop. They approached slowly, the excited horses snorting greetings to each other.
“Sheriff Bradford sent word they found O’Reilly,” Morgan managed between breaths.
“O’Reilly?” Thad’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes, sir.”
Thad looked at Ben. “You comin’?”
“Damn right I am,” Ben said.
Thad nodded. “Morgan can help Buck and Cochrane move the herd.” He turned to Morgan. “Where is the bastard, and how many men with him?”
“Holed up in the caves near the south end of the old Lansing place. Not sure how many. The sheriff sent word for any man who wants to help to meet at the old Lansing place.”
Ben glanced at Thad. “Let’s go.”
As the men rode side by side, one simple fact meandered through Ben’s mind. O’Reilly had tried to kill Miranda. Ben would make certain O’Reilly faced justice. If he had to do it with his bare hands, so much the better.
Within an hour a dozen men had gathered at the old Lansing place. They approached the caves cautiously, making their way up through thick woods, rather than following the narrow path that would have exposed them to view from the cave openings.
Halfway up the hill, they tethered their horses and continued on foot, keeping eyes and ears open for any sign of O’Reilly or his men. As they approached the clearing in front of the caves, they all bent low, fanning out as the sheriff directed them. Ben crept silently to the edge of the trees, his Colt ready for action. His pulse raced as it seldom had since the war. He glanced around him and saw a dozen men all with guns drawn, ready for whatever might be waiting in the caves. Unfortunately, no one knew what that might be.
Ben peered through the brush at the remains of an open fire. There was no movement or sign of life. He glanced at Thad a few yards away, leaning to look around the tree in front of him. The sheriff came up to Thad’s shoulder and whispered something, then crept over to Ben.
“Do you see anything?” the lawman whispered.
Ben shook his head.
“Damn!” Sheriff Bradford spit a wad of tobacco onto the ground. “I’m afraid we missed ’em!”
“They could be holed up in the back of the cave.” Thad came and knelt next to Ben. “There’s another way in.” He pointed through the trees. “I’ll take Ben around to the back of the cave. There’s a small entrance there, hidden in the rocks. We won’t be able to get through it, but we should be able to flush them out if anyone is inside.”
The sheriff nodded, and Ben followed Thad through the trees and up onto the rocks that formed the roof of the cave. They moved silently, Thad in front and Ben following about two yards behind him. The ground was littered with old cans, bottles, and garbage. They found part of a butchered cow. The carcass appeared to be a few days old. Thad bent to look for a brand and pointed to the Circle J.
“Guess they don’t mind wasting a cow that’s been stolen,” Ben whispered.
“Reckon you’re right about that,” Thad said.
They continued on over the cave, and Thad suddenly disappeared. Ben crept forward until he found the place where Thad had dropped between the rocks. Thad put a finger over his lips. Ben kept silent as he squeezed in next to his brother-in-law.
Thad pointed to a small opening and Ben peered into the dark cave. There was no sign of life inside. “I think I can squeeze through,” Ben mouthed.
Thad shook his head, but Ben slipped off his gun belt and jacket. He wasn’t going to let O’Reilly slip away from them this easily. If the son of a bitch was cowering in a dark corner, Ben would find him. He turned sideways and squeezed through the narrow opening. Once inside, he kept his back against the wall and looked around. As his eyes slowly adjusted, he found the cave was not completely dark. Besides the opening he’d come through, there was light coming from the front entrance and several small cracks in the ceiling of the cave. From what he could see, someone had been living in this cave. The stench of tobacco and liquor remained. Bottles, cans, and food waste were piled in corners.
There was no sign of any living creature. Ben touched the remains of a fire and found it cold. He made his way cautiously toward the front entrance and emerged into the bright sunlight.
Thad jumped down from the rocks behind him.
“They’re gone,” Ben said.
“Damnation,” Thad mumbled.
Ben kicked at a loose rock. “That bastard is a slippery devil. Hellfire . . . Miranda.” Ben glanced at Thad. “She went into town today—alone.”
“I’ll come with you,” Thad clapped a hand on Ben’s shoulder.
“No need for that,” Ben said. “I’m sure you’re anxious to check on Mercy and Jonathan. I may not be much of a husband, but I can protect my own wife.”
Chapter 19
Miranda sat near the stove in Clarisse’s kitchen. The days had grown cold, and she was still frozen from the ride into town. Clarisse and Ingrid had made a good bit of progress since the last time Miranda had been here. Now the three of them sat quietly finishing the garments. Ingrid added the buttons. Clarisse and Miranda added ribbons and lace, all the pretty niceties that would ensure these gowns were special. Not everyday dresses, but something a lady would wear to church, or to a fancy tea.
Ingrid hummed softly as she worked.
“How are your little girls, Ingrid?” Miranda asked.
The question brought a smile to the young widow’s face. “Full of mischief. I am glad of a chance to rest here.”
“Shh,” Clarisse said. “I told the boys they had to watch the little ones while we work. Don’t want them hearin’ this is rest.”
Ingrid and Clarisse laughed in a bit of shared maternal understanding. Miranda smiled. It was possible she would have the same worries someday. Too bad Ben wouldn’t be around to share the worries and the joys with her.
“Mrs. Hansen.” Robert, the oldest Wyatt boy, came running into the kitchen. “I’m afraid your babe is cryin’ so’s we can’t seem to stop her.”
Ingrid mumbled something in Swedish under her breath. “Ja, thank you, Robert. I’m coming.” She stood and shook her head at Clarisse. “We had a few moments of peace, no?”
“A few moments more than yesterday when one of the babies was fussing the entire time we tried to work.”
“Ja, that is true. Today was better.” She followed Robert out of the room.
Clarisse looked up from her sewing, catching Miranda’s eye. “I’m glad we’re alone for a bit. I’ve wanted to ask you how you’ve been feeling.”
“I’m just fine, Clarisse. How about you?”
“I mean, you haven’t been feeling sick at all?”
“No.” Miranda wrinkled her brow. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no special reason.” Clarisse bent back to her work. “I was only thinking, maybe you should take more fabric home with you this time, so you don’t have to come to town so often.”
“Why? You worried about the weather? It’s early yet. Seems to me the roads are usually clear until after Christmas. I’ll bet we have two or three weeks left of good roads.”
“I wasn’t so worried about the road as I was the risk of you ridin’ back and forth so much.” Clarisse set her work down and stared intently at Miranda until the younger woman returned her gaze. “I thought perhaps you might be expectin’.”
“Oh.” Miranda blushed. She had thought it was possible. Had hoped and worried at the same time. If she was pregnant and Ben found out, she wasn’t sure how he’d feel. He’d been so certain that a baby would ruin things for them both. And yet, she still hoped. “Do I look like I’m gainin’ weight?” Miranda tried to joke.
“No, honey. I just had a feelin’.” Clarisse made no pretense of sewing. “You are, aren’t you?”
“I . . . it’s too soon to be sure.”
“You
’ve missed your monthly?”
Miranda hesitated, and then nodded. “Near two weeks past.” She’d managed to keep that fact from Ben’s notice, she hoped. She’d spent a week with Mercy getting her kitchen root cellar ready for winter. When she returned, she had lied to Ben, telling him she’d been “indisposed” during her time away.
“Not too soon to be certain, then. Seems very likely. Have you been sick at all?”
“I feel fine. I’m probably just imaginin’ . . .”
“Well, there’s no rule that says you must feel bad. Many women don’t.”
Miranda knew, she’d simply been afraid to admit it to herself for fear Ben would guess. “I . . . I haven’t said anything to Ben yet.” And truthfully, I’m not certain I should. “I think I should wait—be sure.”
“Well, I don’t know what it’s gonna take to make you sure!” Clarisse smiled at her. “I won’t say anything, I promise.” Clarisse squeezed her hand. “Mercy is goin’ to be so pleased.”
“Don’t tell her!” Miranda snapped. “I mean, not until after I let Ben know. Thank you for understandin’.” Miranda didn’t think Clarisse could possibly understand her situation. But she sure wasn’t going to try and explain it. The important thing was for Clarisse not to say anything.
“You can count on me.” Clarisse grinned. “But I hope you’ll make an announcement soon ’cause it’s gonna be a hard secret for me to keep.”
Miranda smiled. A hard secret indeed; she bent to her sewing and let her mind wander. She imagined sitting in the old rocker her father had made and holding her baby to her breast. It would be August or September. She could sit out on the porch and watch the sunset over the mountains. Ben would bring her a shawl. He always worried about her being cold. Except that Ben would be gone by then.
“I reckon the money from his paintings will be a help to you,” Clarisse said.
“Yes,” Miranda said. She was so pleased that Ben was painting again. The money wasn’t necessarily a good thing, though. Once he had enough money, there would be nothing stopping him from leaving her.
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