Spirit's Song

by Madeline Baker

  “Did you ever know a man like that?” Kaylynn asked, her own troubles momentarily forgotten.

  “Yes, indeed. Before I met your grandfather, I fell in love with just such a man. He asked me to go West with him, but I was afraid. I didn’t want to leave my comfortable house and my friends. I was afraid of the kind of life he led.”

  “Are you sorry now that you didn’t go with him?”

  “I’ve been sorry every day of my life.”

  “Maybe I should go with Jesse…”

  “Did he ask you to go with him?”

  Kaylynn shook her head. “No.”

  “Then let him go, child.” Lynn Dearmond took Kaylynn’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I know it’s hard, but let him go. If he loves you, if it’s meant to be, he’ll be back.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The train pulled into New York City late Friday afternoon. The city was unlike anything Ravenhawk had ever seen. It was quite a change for a half-breed Lakota who was used to miles of endless prairie, and dusty little cow towns. Tall buildings lined both sides of the street. There were horses and carriages and people everywhere, all of them in an itching hurry. He saw women in fancy dresses and big hats adorned with flowers and feathers and colorful ribbons. Men in city suits and black bowlers. A Chinaman with a long black queue decked out in something that looked like baggy silk pajamas.

  Ravenhawk followed Alan down the street toward the hotel, aware of the curious stares of the men he passed, the lingering glances and smiles of the women. He tipped his hat to a pretty dark-haired young woman, laughed out loud when an older woman, obviously her mother, took the girl by the arm and ushered her across the street.

  When they reached the hotel, Ravenhawk opened the door for Alan, held it for a rather buxom blonde woman wearing a dress in an eye-popping shade of pink. She paused in the doorway, her deep-blue eyes gazing at him as if he were a banquet and she hadn’t eaten in weeks.

  “Have me met?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am,” Ravenhawk replied.

  She smiled up at him. “Perhaps I can arrange it.”

  “I’d like that,” Ravenhawk drawled.

  She tapped his shoulder with her fan. “Then I shall see what I can do.”

  She granted him another smile, then swished out the door in a rustle of silk and satin.

  Ravenhawk watched her sashay down the street, then walked across the floor to join Summers, who was standing at the desk.

  “I’ll be needing another room, as well,” Summers was saying. “Preferably one adjoining my own.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Summers.

  Alan signed the register with a flourish and handed the pen to the desk clerk. “Any messages for me?”

  “Yes, sir.” The man pulled a folded sheet of paper from under the desk. “This arrived last night.”

  Alan took the paper and read it quickly, a slow smile spreading over his face. With a nod, he folded the paper and slipped it in his coat pocket.

  He glanced at Ravenhawk. “I signed for you, too. Let’s go. I want to clean up before dinner.”

  Ravenhawk nodded. Being a bodyguard was the best job he’d ever had. It was certainly the easiest. Except for dispatching the train robbers, he hadn’t done anything except follow Summers around. He glanced around the hotel again as he followed Summers up the stairs. Yes, sir, he was living high on the hog now.

  * * * * *

  John Porter took a puff on his cigar. “Yes, sir, Mrs. Summers is here. I’ve seen her several times. She looks well. The Duvalls are giving her a welcome-home party tomorrow night.”

  “Is that so?” Alan smiled, thinking of the welcome he had in mind.

  “Yes, sir. I overheard her talking about it with her mother just yesterday afternoon.”

  Ravenhawk stood near the window, his back to the room. He had little interest in Summers’ wife. He was more concerned with John Porter. Unless he was very much mistaken, Porter had been a passenger on the stage out of Red Creek. Porter hadn’t recognized him when Alan introduced them, although he’d asked if they had met before. Since then, Ravenhawk had been aware of John Porter’s gaze on him more than once. Sooner or later, the man was going to remember who he was. Ravenhawk grinned at his reflection in the glass. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t wanted for anything in this part of the country.

  He ran a hand around the inside of his shirt collar. Summers had insisted that he get rid of his buckskins while they were in the city. A quick trip to a tailor shop, and Ravenhawk found himself wearing a pair of fashionable black trousers and a white linen shirt. He regarded himself in the mirror. Even though he was aware of his good looks, he’d never been particularly vain. Still, he had to admit he’d never looked better. There was a new suit of evening clothes hanging in his room, together with a pair of shiny black shoes. He had argued that he didn’t need any new duds, but after seeing himself in the mirror, he had changed his mind. Maybe clothes did make the man. He had to admit he looked damn good in his new suit. Little wonder Porter hadn’t been able to place him. He doubted if his own mother would recognize him now.

  “Well,” Porter said, rising, “if you won’t be needing me for anything else, I’ll be heading back for Frisco.”

  Alan nodded and the two men shook hands.

  It was with a sense of relief that Ravenhawk watched Porter take his leave. It could have proved embarrassing if Porter had recognized him and mentioned it to Summers.

  “Here.”

  Ravenhawk turned around at the sound of Summers’ voice.

  “What’s this for?” he asked as Summers handed him a glass of bourbon.

  “We’re celebrating,” Alan said.

  “Oh?” Ravenhawk took a sip, savoring the smooth taste of the whiskey. Never, in all his life, had he tasted anything so fine.

  Summers nodded, a satisfied grin playing over his face.

  “Tomorrow night I shall take back what is mine.”

  Ravenhawk nodded. Summers had been rather closemouthed on the train, saying only that he was going East to meet his wife.

  “Taking back what is mine” sounded ominous somehow, leaving Ravenhawk to wonder if the reunion was going to be a happy one.

  But that wasn’t his problem. He smiled as he emptied the glass in a single swallow. The pay was good and the whiskey was smooth. What more could he ask for?

  * * * * *

  Jesse sat in a far corner of the saloon, a glass of whiskey in one hand. Tomorrow was Saturday. The day of Kaylynn’s homecoming party. The day he was leaving town.

  Three days had passed since he had last seen Kaylynn. They had been the longest three days of his life. Time and again, he had left his hotel room, determined to go to her, to tell her he loved her, and every time he had turned back. She deserved better than a worn-out bounty hunter. She already had more than he could ever give her, more than he could ever hope to give her. He lifted the glass and drained it in a single swallow. “Be happy, darlin’,” he murmured. Picking up the bottle, he refilled his glass. Maybe, if he got good and drunk, he’d be able to forget her.

  And maybe pigs would fly.

  A clock chimed in the distance. This time tomorrow, he’d be on his way back where he belonged.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Kaylynn smoothed her skirt over her hips. The gown, of dark russet-colored silk, complimented the color of her hair and eyes and made her skin glow. It was a lovely dress, simple yet elegant, with a square neckline that was almost daring, long sleeves, a fitted bodice and a full skirt. It felt heavenly against her skin.

  Almost as wonderful as… She shook the thought aside as tears stung her eyes. She would not think of him! And yet, how could she help it when his child was growing within her womb?

  She studied her reflection in the mirror. She looked the same as always. Her stomach was still flat. No one, looking at her, would guess her secret.

  Downstairs, the grandfather clock chimed the hour. Pasting a smile on her face, she left her room.
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  It was time to go down and greet her guests.

  * * * * *

  Kaylynn stood between her parents, smiling and nodding and pretending she was having a good time. And she was. Really. It was nice to see all her old friends again. They were all there, the girls she had grown up with, gone to school with, laughed with, dreamed dreams with. They all looked happy and prosperous.

  Dinner was a huge success. Mrs. Moseley had outdone herself. The table was beautiful, set with china and crystal, candles and fresh flowers. The food excellent, the wine the best that money could buy.

  Kaylynn looked at the bounty spread on the table, at the platters of meat, bowls of fancy potatoes and vegetables dripping butter and sauce, and thought of the winter she had spent with the Cheyenne, how they had almost run out of food before the snow melted and the warriors had brought in fresh meat.

  She tried to pay attention to the conversation around, but she seemed trapped in the past, remembering the time she had spent with the Cheyenne, with Jesse and Ravenhawk. Mindful of her queasy stomach, she ate but little.

  When the meal was over, she couldn’t help noticing that there was enough food left on the table to feed Mo’e’ha and her family for a week.

  From the dining room, they moved into the ballroom. A five-piece orchestra struck up a waltz, and Kaylynn watched her mother and father take the floor. They made a handsome couple.

  Kaylynn moved around the room, speaking to her guests, getting caught up on the lives of her friends, congratulating Heather on the birth of her twin sons, wishing Cynthia happiness in her forthcoming marriage, laughing as Lucinda related her daughter’s latest prank. She waved at Regina, who was surrounded by men, as always. They all seemed to be happy with their lives, husbands, children. None of them seemed to have a care in the world.

  Feeling a little queasy, she slipped out of the ballroom and made her way into the library and shut the door. It was quiet in here. A single lamp turned away the darkness.

  She wandered around the room, fingers trailing over the top of the desk, the back of her father’s chair, the spines of the books on the shelves, resting on a volume bound in dark-blue cloth. Love Poems and Sonnets to Win a Lady’s Heart.

  Jesse had left town today. She had hoped he would come to see her before he left, had thought he would at least send her a note of farewell.

  She pulled the book from the shelf, remembering the day by the lake when she had recited poetry to Jesse.

  She opened the book to the section titled “My Spirit’s Songs”, thumbing through the pages until her gaze came to rest on one titled “Night Dreams”.

  I just can’t seem to get it right

  I’m wrong by day and wrong by night,

  I really think this feeling never ends.

  Why can’t I have a normal life,

  Not filled with all this pain and strife,

  Why is it that we have to be just friends?

  If I was there with you right now,

  I know we’d never wonder how

  We could please each other when we meet.

  I’d kiss your lips and brush your hair

  And show you just how much I care,

  I can’t imagine anything as sweet.

  But you are there and I am here,

  This is the thing that I most fear,

  That we will never meet in warm embrace.

  Darling, tell me I am wrong,

  Sing for me, my Spirit’s Song,

  Tell me that you long to see my face.

  Tell me that you long for me

  Tell me how you long to be

  With me every minute of the day.

  Tell me, when I long for you,

  That you are there and feel it, too,

  Listen to the words I long to say.

  I long to tell you how I care,

  I long to show you I’ll be there,

  When all the world around you comes apart.

  And when I think of your sweet kiss,

  My darling, just remember this,

  No one else will ever have my heart.

  So, here’s to us, here in the night,

  Our burning love our only light,

  To lead and guide us through these lonely times.

  Here’s to love and joy and peace,

  And memories that will never cease

  As long as I can love you in my rhymes.

  She took a deep breath and blew it out in a long sigh. She had been so certain that Jesse loved her, that somehow, they would be able to have a life together, that he would be there when she needed him.

  She glanced at the page again. “I long to show you I’ll be there, / When all the world around you comes apart…” That was how she felt, as if her world were coming apart.

  She put the book back on the shelf, refusing to give in to the melancholy sweeping over her. She had wanted to come home, to New York, and she was home. She had wanted a party. Why wasn’t she enjoying it? The orchestra was playing a reel; she heard the faint sound of laughter. Grams always said there was no use crying over spilt milk, and she was right. Jesse was gone, and all the crying in the world wouldn’t bring him back.

  She ran a hand over her hair, blinked back her tears and left the library. Tears hadn’t accomplished anything when she was captured by the Cheyenne; they wouldn’t help her now.

  Forcing a smile, she entered the ballroom. It was good to be home, to see familiar faces.

  Walking around the edge of the dance floor, she made her way to the punch bowl, determined to have a good time. Her parents had spared no expense this evening, she mused as Cora handed her a glass of punch. The least she could do was enjoy it.

  “Hey, Kaylynn.”

  She turned at the sound of a familiar voice. “Oh, hello, Rodney. Are you having a good time?”

  He lifted his glass in a toast. “As always, baby.”

  She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. She had never really liked Rodney Farnsworth. He was a terrible flirt. He had called on her several times before she announced her engagement to Alan, declaring that he loved her, but she had never taken him seriously.

  “You’re lookin’ real pretty tonight,” he remarked with a wry grin.

  Kaylynn frowned at him. “You’re drunk.”

  “Nah.” He shook his head, his grin widening. “A little tipsy, maybe. So, baby, how long are you gonna be in town?”

  “I don’t know. And I’m not your baby.”

  He moved toward her, leering. “You should have married me, you know? I’ve got just as much money as old Summers.”

  “Yes,” she said, trying to keep the mood light, “but he holds his liquor better.”

  Rodney grunted. “So, where is Alan?”

  “He couldn’t get away.”

  Rodney cupped her cheek with his free hand, and then, before she realized what he meant to do, he kissed her. “Any man who’d let you out of his sight is a fool.”

  “Who are you calling a fool?”

  Kaylynn’s eyes widened at the sound of Alan’s voice.

  Rodney straightened and whirled around, and Alan punched him in the face. He staggered backward, the glass falling from his hand. There was the sound of breaking crystal. Blood spurted from Rodney’s nose.

  “Get the hell away from my wife,” Alan said.

  Rodney pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it to his nose. “Sure, sure,” he said. “I didn’t mean nothing.”

  Alan glared at him. “Get out.”

  Suddenly sober, Rodney Farnsworth did as he was told. Alan Summers was not a man to trifle with.

  “Alan.” Kaylynn breathed his name.

  “I knew you would run home, sooner or later.”

  Kaylynn took a deep breath in an effort to calm the panic rising up within her. She wanted to tell him to go away, to leave her alone, but she couldn’t seem to speak. She could only stare at him, at the blood splattered across the front of his white linen shirt.

  “Quite impolite of you to hav
e a party and not invite your husband, don’t you think?”

  She nodded, suddenly aware that the orchestra had stopped playing, that everyone was watching them.

  He held out his hand. “Shall we dance?”

  She stared at his hand, the same hand that had broken Farnsworth’s nose. The same hand that had hit her more times than she could count.

  “Kaylynn, I said let’s dance.”

  She knew that tone of voice. It said, “Don’t argue with me, or you’ll regret it.”

  Her hand was shaking as she placed it in his. He saw it and smiled.

  His fingers curled around her hand, squeezing, squeezing. Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked them back.

  Slowly, he loosened his hold. “Later, I shall expect a day-by-day account of where you have been this past year, and what you have been doing.”

  Kaylynn nodded. She knew that look. Knew he meant to punish her later, when they were alone.

  A man moved up behind Alan. It was a day of surprises, she thought. First Alan, and now Ravenhawk, though she hardly recognized him.

  He stared at her, and she had a sudden urge to laugh. They were like two kids playing grown-up, she thought, her in her fancy ball gown and Ravenhawk in evening clothes.

  For a moment, their gazes met. When he would have spoken, she silenced him with a look.

  Alan smiled at her, a cold, heartless smile. “I don’t think we’ll dance after all,” he said. “I think it’s time you and I got reacquainted.”

  His words sent a chill down Kaylynn’s spine.

  Summoning every bit of courage she possessed, Kaylynn jerked her hand from Alan’s grasp. “No.”

  Alan’s eyes narrowed ominously. “No? Have you forgotten how much I detest that word?”

  Kaylynn shook her head. “I haven’t forgotten anything.”

  Alan stared at her, his eyes dark with rage. “I see I shall have to remind you of your place,” he said, and she had no doubt he was looking forward to doing just that.