To Capture the Sky (Choices of the Heart, book 2)

by Jennie Marsland

  Trey’s stomach twisted. He wasn’t prepared for the jolt of fear he experienced at hearing Beth talk long term, and as far as her using her money for the homestead…

  What’s wrong with you? You want her to stay, don’t you?

  But you can’t pay her back if she doesn’t. He hated the thought of being obliged to Beth that way. A few seconds ago he’d been ready to bundle her into his arms again, but now he took a mental step back. “Maybe. Let’s not count our chickens before they’re hatched.”

  She dropped his hand. “You don’t like the idea?”

  “I didn’t say that. I just don’t think you should rush into spending your money on this place.”

  Beth stood her ground and held his gaze. “I thought we decided a long time ago that I had a stake here, too.”

  “Yes, but if you decide not to stay, what would I do about paying you back?”

  The hurt on her face made Trey hate himself. “I wouldn’t expect you to pay me back, but if you couldn’t accept the horse as a gift, you could sell it and give the money to me. Forget it. I’m sorry for assuming.”

  She turned to leave, but Trey got hold of her arm. Why did she have to read him so well? “I just don’t want you to do anything you’ll end up regretting. Look, let’s not argue about something that might not even happen. If your paintings sell, we’ll talk about it then.” Of its own volition, his other hand reached out to touch her cheek. “You know, I’m starting to wonder how I managed this place without you.”

  With a small sigh, Beth allowed herself to be drawn into his arms. Her head dropped to his shoulder. As he held her close, Trey’s heartbeat slowed and his body relaxed. His doubts and fears didn’t get in the way when he held her. The feel and scent of her made it difficult to think at all.

  Beth stepped back. Her eyes searched Trey’s for answers. He didn’t have them. After a long moment, she turned away. “All right, we’ll talk about it if the paintings sell. Let’s get to work.”

  * * *

  Holly arrived home from the McShannons’ to a dim, empty house. She breathed a sigh of relief and hurried to light the lamp. She hadn’t intended to be this late, but now it wouldn’t matter. Her father would never know.

  The place wasn’t much smaller than the McShannons’, but Holly always avoided comparisons. They weren’t flattering to her home. She got a fire going and put yesterday’s soup on to heat, then sat down to do her homework for Monday while there was still plenty of light and she had the table to herself.

  She had a history essay to write and she liked history, but she found it hard to concentrate with her mind so full of the concert idea. Then there would be the dance, and her father had said she could go. She’d waited to ask him until he was drunk enough not to care much, but not too drunk to remember saying yes. She hadn’t dared mention Ben; she’d just let her father think she was going with her girlfriends.

  For as long as she could remember, Holly had loved to sing. She thought she had a good voice, but she’d never sung in public other than at Sunday school concerts as a small child. Now, if the concert happened, Mrs. McShannon would hear her. She must have heard plenty of good music before coming to Wallace Flats, and she’d give Holly an honest opinion – if she found the nerve to ask for it.

  Holly was deep in her essay when her father came in. She could read his moods with a glance. By the time he’d hung up his coat, she’d moved her schoolwork to the kitchen counter. “Hi, Pa. Supper’s ready.”

  “Get it on the table, then.”

  Holly filled two bowls with soup.

  After a few minutes’ silence, her father glanced up from his dinner with a suspicious frown. “That woman pay you today?”

  “No, she’s going to pay me when we’re finished.” Holly would give her father the two dollars Mrs. McShannon had promised, but she had no intention of letting him see the dress. She’d leave it at a friend’s house and go there to change before the concert.

  “I want to know when she does. She’d better not try to cheat you, or she’ll hear from me.”

  Holly didn’t control her temper quite fast enough. “Mrs. McShannon won’t cheat me. She isn’t like that.”

  Her father lifted his hand. “You watch your mouth, girl, or I’ll–”

  Holly held his gaze and didn’t budge. She’d made up her mind after her last beating that if it happened again, she’d leave for good, even if she had to go to the saloon. Neil Garrett didn’t let anyone hit his girls. “Go ahead. I promise you it’ll be the last time.”

  Her father glared at her, but he dropped his hand. He needed a housekeeper and they both knew it. He looked down and muttered into his soup bowl. “Who do you think you are?”

  “Nobody. Nobody yet. Excuse me, Pa, I’ve got homework to do.”

  His hand trembled, making him drop his spoon. That sort of thing had been happening to him more and more often lately. He picked up the spoon, cursed under his breath, and shoved his chair back. “Always got your nose in a book. What the hell good is it going to do you? What the hell does a girl need books for?”

  Holly rose, picked up her essay and marched to her room without looking back. I need books to get as far away from you as I can.

  CHAPTER 16

  Sleep didn’t come easily to Trey that night. When Beth went to the loft, he listened to the sounds of her getting ready for bed – the floor creaking as she moved to hang up her blouse, the soft thud of her denims hitting the floor as she stepped out of them. He kept his back to the blanket curtain, picturing Beth’s slender body silhouetted in the light of her candle, arms stretched over her head, breasts lifted as she slipped into her nightgown, her rich hair loose around her shoulders, flowing down her back. The image stuck in his mind like a burr.

  When the sound of her slow breathing told him she was asleep, Trey blew out the lamp and went to bed. Thoughts of Beth’s body arched in union with his mingled with thoughts of her smiling, holding his baby in her arms. A family to love, a family to lose…

  “Lose? Trey, we can’t lose. You know just as well as the rest of us what will happen if we do. We need you. I haven’t picked a first lieutenant yet. Just say the word and it’ll be you.”

  “Justin, I’d be proud to if this fight was right, but it isn’t.”

  “Trey, it seems like only yesterday that you and Chelle were babies. It’s selfish of me, I know, but I wish you were five years younger.”

  “Maman, I told Dad last night I’ll be going west when the war starts. It’s suicide. I won’t be a part of it.”

  “I’ve never been anything but proud of my children, and I’ve never been prouder of you than I am right now.”

  “I don’t know if you should be.”

  “Oh, cher, I do. Don’t ever forget it.”

  “Trey, there are so many things I’d like to know about you…”

  Beth’s question, the same one she’d asked the morning after Shiloh foaled, with lips still swollen from his kisses, pushed Justin’s and his mother’s words from Trey’s mind. He saw Beth flushed and sparkling with laughter and exhilaration after their first ride together. Saw her soaked and dripping after getting caught in the thunderstorm, with sparks of anger in her eyes. Saw the worry on her face when she watched over him through the night after his accident.

  I love her. Whatever might come of it, Trey was through dodging the fact. For the first time in his life, he was in love. Admitting it brought him some relief. He closed his eyes and let the remembered feel of Beth’s soft hands ease him into sleep.

  * * *

  After service Sunday morning, Beth lingered to talk to Reverend Baxter. In a few short weeks she’d come to like him very much. As Trey had said, all he had to do to win people over was to be himself.

  “Something on your mind, Mrs. McShannon?”

  Beth gathered her ideas as they walked up the aisle. “Yes. I’ve been hearing a lot of talk about the dance that’s coming up next month. I’m thinking it might be worthwhile to organize a concert
beforehand, since people will be coming into town anyway. I wanted to know what you thought of the idea.”

  Reverend Baxter frowned as he considered it. “What kind of concert were you thinking of?”

  Beth took a seat in a front pew. The church still smelled of a mixture of perfume and sweat from the bodies that had been packed into it earlier. “I thought we could get the school children to do a few songs, and some of the older boys and girls could do some dialogues and recitations. I’m sure we could get some adult performers, too. We could raise money for the relief fund, but being new here I don’t like to attempt it without your help.”

  Reverend Baxter pursed his lips in one of his characteristic expressions as he sat beside her. “I wouldn’t want you to be disappointed. You’ve never been to one of our dances. A lot of people consider the whole day a holiday. By evening, things can get rather unpredictable.”

  Beth grinned. “So I hear. If there was something organized happening before the dance, it might help keep things a little more orderly.”

  In the short time she’d known him, Beth had learned that Reverend Baxter didn’t like disappointing people. He didn’t disappoint her. “I suppose we can try. Spencer would probably help out. We can move the church piano outside, and I’ll ask Mrs. Henderson if she’ll accompany the singers. I’d need you to organize the program and run the rehearsals. There isn’t a lot of time, but we’ll see what we can do.”

  After agreeing with Reverend Baxter on a tentative rehearsal schedule and posting a notice calling for performers on the church bulletin board, Beth started down the street toward the forge. She and Trey were having lunch with the Reeves, and Trey had gone directly there after church. Beth already thought of John and Hannah as her friends as well as Trey’s. That felt good. She hadn’t made any close friends while she lived in Denver. The city wasn’t exactly full of young unmarried women, and the ones she met seemed to think of her as a rival in the matrimonial race.

  In front of the store, she met Lena Carter walking toward Neil’s. Beth was almost past the woman when something made her stop.

  I came out here to marry a man I’d never met, for a home and a hundred dollars. How different are we?

  “Hello, Lena.”

  Her obvious surprise touched Beth’s heart. How lonely Lena must be.

  “Hello.”

  “My name is Beth McShannon. I’m new here, but I’ve seen you a couple of times. I think you know my husband. He’s mentioned you.”

  “Yeah, I’ve met him.” Lena hurried away, leaving Beth wondering if she’d made a fool of herself. If she had, she wasn’t sorry.

  She found Trey and John in the Reeves’ kitchen, looking as if they’d just enjoyed a good joke. John put on a teasing smile as Beth walked in. “Trey tells me you’re setting up the Wallace Flats Philharmonic Society.”

  Beth had expected something of the sort. Trey’s reaction to the concert idea had been exactly like Maddy’s. “You’re asking for trouble. You’d better wait until there are a few more people in town who know what you mean by culture.”

  “Your faith is touching,” she’d answered tartly, and got one of his smug grins in response. He was wearing another one now.

  “If you believe everything he tells you, you’re not as smart as I thought you were,” Beth told John with a grin of her own. “Are you going to take part in the concert?”

  John’s face turned grave, but his eyes twinkled. “Wasn’t planning on it, but if you ask me the right way, I might sing.”

  Trey put on a pained expression. “John, I’d never embarrass a man in front of his family, but–”

  Ben came into the kitchen in time to hear him. “Too late. It’s already been done.”

  Hannah followed Ben into the room. “More than once.” Square-built and calm-eyed, ringlets of dark hair escaping from her heavy bun, she set plates on the table and pinched John’s arm. “Now you two just stop it. Beth, what did Reverend Baxter say about the concert?”

  Beth arched her eyebrows at Trey as she sat down. “He agreed with me that Wallace Flats could use some entertainment outside of the saloon. He’s going to help. Ben, I asked Holly yesterday to try to get her friends at school interested. Will you help her?”

  Ben shifted in his chair. “I guess so, as long as I don’t have to get on stage.”

  Trey laughed. “Amen to that. Stick to your guns, Ben.”

  After lunch, Ben left for a friend’s house. Trey and John cleared the table while Beth helped Hannah get ready to do the dishes. “Holly’s quite a young lady,” Beth said as she started scraping plates into the pig’s bucket. “She must have gotten her backbone from her mother.”

  Hannah ladled hot water into the dishpan. “We never knew Holly’s mother, but her ambition certainly didn’t come from Simon. Ben says Holly’s a good student. I’m amazed that she gets to school at all.”

  Trey turned to John with a smile. “John, maybe I was wrong. I think you should sing at the concert. If word gets around that you’re going to, we can be sure there won’t be any trouble before the dance. The town will be as empty as the church.”

  * * *

  On the following Thursday morning, Trey and Logan started branding the spring calves. The day had turned out warm for May, and by the time they quit for lunch they were both grimy and tired. Logan let the last calf go and straightened up with a groan. “That’s it for me, Trey. I’ve got work to do at home this afternoon. I swear, I’m getting too old for this.”

  Trey snorted as the calf ran bawling to its mother. “Too old, my arse. You can outwork me any time you want to.”

  His tone robbed the words of any insult. Logan retrieved his buckskin gelding from the river’s edge and mounted up, a grin on his weather-beaten face. “Why would I want to? Say hello to Beth for me.”

  After Logan rode off, Trey put out their fire, unsaddled Cloud and turned him loose. The stallion rolled, got up covered in dust, and splashed into the river for a drink. Trey shielded his eyes and looked down the wagon track toward home, watching for Chance.

  Beth had said she’d be out at lunchtime, a habit that Trey appreciated more and more as time went on. On the days when he expected her, he looked forward to it all morning. They talked about his plans for the homestead and the cattle. Trey showed Beth what he’d learned from his mother about healing plants, and pointed out patches of coneflower, yarrow, and tansy. Beth told stories about her uncle’s horse farm and questioned Trey about his family. Sometimes they didn’t talk much at all, but they didn’t have to. Sitting in silence with Beth felt good.

  Trey’s eyes stung with sweat and the back of his neck felt sunburned. The river would be deliciously cool. A deep pool lay about twenty yards upstream. He might as well clean up before Beth arrived.

  He stripped, slid into the achingly cold water, swam a few quick strokes and climbed out. The warm air felt like a lover’s touch on his chilled skin. He let the sun dry him, then dressed, got the blanket he kept tied to the back of his saddle, stretched out on it and closed his eyes.

  How long would it be before he crumbled? If he didn’t make Beth his real wife and give her his heart she’d leave him, and he was in far too deep to let her go. Trey turned the thought over in his mind as he’d been doing since the day Shiloh foaled. What if he told her the whole truth, told her what it really meant to be a turncoat? He thought he could survive her hate, but it would destroy him to have her despise him. And she would.

  The bright sun beat down on him, soothing tired muscles. He laid a forearm over his eyes and took in a breath laden with the scent of warm earth. Another. Three… four…

  He knew this scent, too. Lavender. He felt Beth’s body draped over his, reached for her and molded her to him. He heard her sigh, felt her lips meet his and part to let him in, but then her flavor and fragrance vanished along with the sun’s warmth.

  The acrid reek of burning brush stung Trey’s throat. A pale, smoke-hazed moon hung above him in the night sky. Beneath him, Cloud stumbled
and nearly went to his knees. Dizzy with fatigue, Trey pulled the horse up. Sheer instinct kept him in the saddle. He no longer cared if he fell. He only knew they couldn’t stop, not with troops from both sides moving through the darkness.

  The screams of the wounded who had died in the burning woods that day still rang in Trey’s mind, drowning out the subtle night sounds around him. The rest of his patrol was far enough behind that he couldn’t see them when he looked back. He was alone, living only for the moment when he would be able to rest.

  He rounded a bend in the road, heard a shout from the darkness of a stand of trees. Metal flashed in the moonlight. Trey pulled his rifle from its scabbard and fired. A cry of pain mingled with the sounds of horses and riders moving. The rest of his patrol came up behind him. The group under the trees disappeared, except for a lone horse and a dark shape on the ground.

  Trey dismounted and walked toward the still figure, knowing what he’d see, unable to stop. He turned the body over and looked into the face of the man he’d shot, a face he knew as well as his own. “Sweet Christ… Justin. Justin, hold on, I’m going to get you out of here…”

  The darkness broke up and gave way to sunlight again; the cool, smoky night to the warmth of Beth’s arms.

  “Trey, wake up. That’s it.”

  Stomach churning, muscles frozen, he clung to her while the nightmare faded. Long, humiliating seconds passed before he regained enough control to pull away. Beth sat quietly and waited while Trey gathered what was left of his dignity.

  “Maddy told me once that she and Logan asked you to stay with them your first winter here. I think I know now why you didn’t.”

  Still sick and shaky, Trey wiped his face with his sleeve and looked out over the river. “Yeah, I guess so.” Back then, the dreams had come almost nightly. He couldn’t have spent a week under the Kinsleys’ roof without them knowing.