“Do you need more time? We could go the following week. But keep in mind that the longer we postpone our trip, the less chance we have of reaching our destination before bad weather sets in.”
“Of course, you’re right. Friday will be fine.”
He looked pleased. “I shall make the necessary arrangements.”
Moments later Noel awoke from his nap. She walked over to his cart and picked him up. She held him close, pressing his warm little body next to her chest and dropping a kiss on his velvet-soft brow. His hair felt soft and silky to her touch. “We’re going home, little one.” Yes, yes, I must concentrate on thoughts of home. “And won’t your grandparents be happy to see what a big boy you are?” Concentrate. “Oh, Noel, we’re going home.”
*****
For the next two days Libby tried to find the right moment to break the news to Logan that she would be leaving town Friday. Perhaps knowing that she was leaving would make it easier for him. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about her safety should Flint return. Maybe if he knew she was leaving, he’d leave too. Then they’d both be safe from Flint.
Her chance came late that afternoon when she glanced out her window just as Logan returned home. She picked Noel from the floor, wrapped him in a blanket, and carried him to Logan’s cabin.
The door flew open and Logon looked pleased to see her. “Come in and have some of my terrible coffee.” He took Noel and placed on the rug.
She sat at the table and watched him pour two cups of coffee. She tried not to think of the time spent with him in the past. The nights she lay in bed watching him, monitoring his breathing, feeling the warmth of his presence. She tried not to think of a lot of things.
“The reason I came today is I wanted to tell you before you heard it from someone else.”
His face grew still. It was obvious that he’d guessed what she’d come to tell him.
Still, she had to follow through. It was the only way she knew to maintain control. “I’m going home. We’re leaving Friday. Thornton is going with me.”
He stared into his coffee cup. A silence stretched between them. It was as if he, too, were holding on for dear life. When at last he spoke, his voice was strained. “It’s best, Libby. You know that.”
She swallowed hard. “I wish things could be different. That you would come with me.”
He regarded her with dark troubled eyes. “I’m a trapper. How many trappers do you know in Boston?”
“Then I’ll go north with you.”
“No! I lost one wife to the wilds. I’m not about to make that mistake again.” His voice grew husky. “We always knew this day would come, Libby. Let’s not make it worse than it already is.”
“Nothing could be worse than this!”
“Libby…” He stood and pulled her to her feet, taking her into his arms, but she pulled away.
*****
Miserably, Logan watched her bundle Noel in her arms. It pained him to think he would never again lay eyes on the boy, lay eyes on her.
Holding Noel she froze in place, her back toward him, and he sensed her fight for control. When at last she turned, she looked composed but the sheen in her eyes gave her away.
“It’s best,” he said again so there could be no further argument. He loved her too much to say what he wanted to say, was desperate to say. Didn’t dare. For he knew how fragile her composure—his own composure—was.
The hurt increased to a point of torture as he watched her walk away. She never looked back as she crossed the street and disappeared into her house.
But even after both doors between them had been shut, he feared she would hear the silent cry of his less than noble heart, Don’t go, Libby. Don’t leave me.
Chapter 34
The decision to leave Calico Corners without saying a final good-bye to Libby was the most painful, most difficult thing he ever had to do. It was also the most necessary. Leaving town meant he wouldn’t have to watch her go.
His only hope was that she would understand why it must be this way.
It was still dark when he fought his way out of his tangled bedclothes. Not bothering to light the fire, he quickly dressed, picked up his saddle and stepped outside.
Jim Bridger nudged him with a soft nose. Logan threw the saddle over the horse, then loped back to the house for his bedroll and other supplies.
The last thing he grabbed was his shotgun. But before mounting the horse, he walked out to the middle of the street and stood for one last time in front of Libby’s house. How long he stood in the dark shadows he couldn’t say. But he stood long enough for the mist to seep through his clothes, long enough for the faint glow of dawn to touch the horizon.
He might have stood there forever had Noel not cried out, snapping him out of his reverie.
He knew every one of the child’s distinctive cries by heart. The particular one was the full-fledged lusty cry before each mealtime. The cry stopped abruptly, telling him that Libby had gathered him in her arms.
Logan squeezed his lids tight to hold back the moisture that blurred his vision. Groaning, he mounted his horse and rode out of town.
Every inch of him was filled with an excruciating pain that ate away at his core. No sooner had he skirted past the last building than he rode his horse hard in a desperate attempt to put as many miles behind him as possible. In a way it worked, for eventually the pain began to diminish and a bleak, empty void took its place.
Only then did he dare to stop his frantic pace and let his horse rest.
He traveled all day and all night. He ignored his tired muscles and painful leg cramps until he was convinced that he was so exhausted that nothing, not even memories of Libby, would interfere with his sleep. It was almost midnight when he finally dismounted and set up camp.
He slept little, if any, and when at last the first sliver of dawn touched the peaks of the mountains that loomed over him, he felt a sense of relief that the long night was over.
Overhead the sky was still dark and studded with stars. Shivering, he buried himself deeper into his bedroll. The pain in his leg had gone from a dull throb to a piercing ache. It was a painful reminder that his days as a trapper could soon end.
He rubbed the circulation back before standing, then walked slowly until the stiffness was less pronounced. But it wasn’t his leg that gave him pause. It was a sense of foreboding that came out of nowhere.
Alerted, he tested the air around him. After identifying even the softest of sounds and the faintest of odors to his satisfaction, he scanned the rocky cliffs ahead, his eyes quick and sharp. He found nothing to suggest there was danger lurking nearby.
Still, he kept a watchful eye as he tied his bedroll to the saddle. He reached into his necessary bag for some of the beef jerky he’d packed. After biting off a mouthful, he dug deeper into one of the pockets of his leather bag for the willow bark. He drew out a rectangular piece and as he did so, something fell to the ground. He bent to pick it up.
It was a gold locket. Libby’s gold locket. He released the catch with his thumb and studied the cluster of hair. He thought of Libby cutting a piece of her dead husband’s hair so she would have something to give Jeffrey’s son. He knew how much the locket meant to her.
He snapped the lid shut. Of all the blasted luck. How did the thing get in his necessary bag? He considered mailing the locket back to her at some later date. But by the time he reached a town big enough to have a post office, she would have already left Calico Corners. He knew her married name but not her maiden name. He had no way of tracking down her family in Boston.
As he considered his options, he lopped off a piece of rough bark with his knife and popped the square piece into his mouth.
He couldn’t go back.
But the locket means the world to her.
He couldn’t trust himself to go back.
But Libby was saving the locket for Noel.
If he went back he would do something he had no right to do. Drat! He dare not go back.
Not even for his godson’s sake. Not ever!
But how could he not?
*****
Libby stood in the center aisle of the general store and stared at Hap in disbelief. “What do you mean, Logan’s gone?”
Hap glanced at Sharkey and Big Sam, but when neither stepped forward to answer Libby’s question, he gave a sigh of resignation. “He came in here for supplies day before yesterday. Said he was going up north.”
“But that’s not possible!” Libby protested. “He wouldn’t leave without saying good-bye.”
She didn’t want to believe it was true, not even after she left the general store and headed straight for Logan’s house to see for herself.
Much to her alarm, she discovered that although the crude furnishings remained, including a pile of valuable pelts, his personal belongings were gone.
Still not wanting to believe he could take off without as much as a good-bye, she lay Noel in front of the darkened fireplace and tried to control her emotions. But she was hurting too much to keep the tears at bay. “Oh, Logan, how could you?’
She stayed in his house all that day, absorbing the essence of him that still lingered in the room to taunt her.
It was nearly dark when Big Sam and Sharkey arrived and found her sitting on the pallet, her face buried in one of the buckskin shirts Logan had left behind. Between the two of them, they tried to persuade her to go back to her cabin.
Big Sam regarded her with eyes filled with worry, “If you don’t get your sleep, Miz Libby, you ain’t gonna be fit for travelin’ tomorrow.”
“Big Sam’s right,” Sharkey agreed. “That stagecoach is due in early.”
“I’ll be ready,” she whispered. There was no reason to stay any longer, now that Logan was gone. “I’m going to miss you both.” She hugged Big Sam and wrapped her arms around Sharkey. “If you ever come to Boston…”
They hugged and cried and hugged some more. Finally, Big Sam scooped Noel into his strong dark arms and he and Sharkey escorted Libby home. After they left, she took off her calico dress and put on the buckskin dress Logan had made her. She wanted to surround herself with reminders of him and nothing reminded her of him more than the warm soft dress he’d made with his own two hands. She was still dressed in buckskin when she fell exhausted and depleted onto the bed.
*****
It was crazy to turn back. But once Logan made the decision, it was as if he was caught in
some strong magnetic force that took control of his every thought and deed.
He traveled all day, stopping only long enough to let his horse drink from the cool rushing springs he found along the way. He feared that if he lingered one moment longer than necessary he would not make it back in time. And she would have left with Thornton, never to be seen again.
And there was so much he had to tell her. So much that must be said. Maybe, they could be together. There had to be a way. Despite his leg. Despite the fact that he was a trapper and possibly even an ex-trapper, there had to be a way.
During the warmest part of the day, when the hot rays of the sun penetrated his leg and the willow bark had taken effect, he managed to convince himself that his leg was on the mend. On some deeper level, he knew that he was deluding himself. But it was a pleasant delusion and one that made the long hours in the saddle more bearable.
It was nightfall by the time he reached the mountain trail that led to Calico Corners. It was dangerous to try to navigate the sharp twists and turns in the dark. But he had no choice, not if he wanted to reach her in time.
He reached the summit without mishap. He reined in his horse and stopped to absorb the sounds and odors around him. It was a habit acquired in his youth after he and his papa were attacked by a small band of Indians. It was only by sheer skill that they’d escaped, but the lessons learned never left him.
His body tensed. He reached for his Hawken. But it was not the memory of that long-ago brush with death that had alerted him. His inner alarm had been triggered by some primal instinct. He cocked his rifle and waited.
Sensing his uneasiness, his horse nickered softly. A short distance away, an owl let out a low hooting sound. The nocturnal cry would normally have set his mind at rest. But not tonight.
The slight breeze carried the distinctive odor of a wolf’s den, but there was no smell of humans or bear. Nothing that would be cause for alarm. Still, he remained fully alert. He sniffed the air and listened, his sharp keen eyes measuring every shadow, every movement.
His gun held in readiness, he urged his horse forward. It puzzled him that Jim Bridger revealed none of the usual signs that signaled danger. How could his horse’s instincts be so out of accord with his own?
Without the slightest hesitation, the horse followed a sharp turn, but even this failed to put Logan’s mind at ease.
The sound of water rushing along the wooden flume obliterated the normal sounds of nature. There were no worrisome scents in the air, nothing at all that should cause alarm. Still, he scanned the darkness around him, convinced that something was amiss. Never before had he occasion to doubt his own instincts. He wasn’t about to doubt them now.
He reached the trail leading downward, but decided to take a short detour to a spot that overlooked the valley below and Calico Corners. After dark, the most that could be seen normally from such a vantage point was a pinpoint of light.
Tonight, however, a reddish glow ten times brighter than any gas lantern or campfire greeted his startled eyes and struck terror in his heart. Calico Corners was on fire!
With a thrust of his hand, he replaced his gun and urged his horse back toward the trail. With no thought for his own safety, he rode helter-skelter down the mountainside with only the faint light of the silver half-moon leading the way.
The pounding sound of his horse’s hooves beat out the silent cry of his heart. His leg hammered unmercifully against the rigid moist flank of his racing horse, but none of this mattered to him. The only thing that did matter was that Libby and Noel were in danger.
And he was so far away.
Chapter 35
Home. At last she was home in Boston. But rather than feeling joyous Libby was overwhelmed with feelings of confusion and fear. She ran along the same crowded streets she had roamed as a child.
She tensed and listened to the city sounds as Logan had taught her to listen. They were all there—the familiar sounds of home. The clink of milk bottles being delivered in the early morning hours. The clip-clop of iron horse shoes upon cobbled streets. The loud clangs of the anvil in the blacksmith shop a block away from her house.
It stuck her as strange that the familiar sounds of the city would suddenly seem so harsh and forbidding.
The smell of freshly baked bread from the bakery, combined with the salty smell of crab and lobster from nearby fish markets seemed far less forbidding, though nowhere near as welcoming as she had supposed.
It surprised her that she felt like a stranger. If only she could find the house she grew up in. Maybe, then, she’d feel at home.
She could see it now, in the hazy distance. She jumped off the pier and began to swim through the icy cold water toward the house. Her mother waved to her from the veranda. Her father called to her from a second-story window, telling her to go back.
Her limbs grew heavy, leaden, dragging her beneath the surface of the water. She could no longer breathe.
Gasping, she sat up in bed and clutched her throat. Her brain in tumult, she fought through a maze of confused senses. But it was a muffled choking sound coming from Noel’s cradle that jolted her to full wakefulness.
Before she could name the source of the danger, she jumped out of bed and made a mad dash across the room. Gathering Noel in her arms, she glanced in alarm at the bright orange glow outside the bedroom window. She fought against the terror that froze even her lungs. It was no time to panic.
Holding Noel close she dashed to the other room. The room was filled with smoke and her throat tightened in protest.
And there was no way to escape.
*****
By the time Logan thundered into town the flames had spread from one end of Main Street to the other. Urging Jim Bridger onward, Logan flew past the church just as the steeple collapsed, sending sparks flying across his path. His horse reared in panic.
He reined until he had the animal under control and quickly dismounted. He landed on his bad leg. He let out a muttered oath. Momentarily dazed by the pain, he fought his way through blinding smoke and scorching heat.
He hobbled on one foot and dragged his other leg behind him. Chunks of blazing wood fell around him.
The entire frame of Libby’s house was in flames, including her wooden porch where a group of men worked frantically. Buckets filled with water were hauled with speedy precision from one man to the next all the way from the creek.
Thornton’s usual soft-cultured voice was harsh and relentless as he issued orders to his men.
The entire porch and front entrance were completely engulfed in flames. Logan quickly hobbled to the side of the house where Thornton had just broken through the wall with a hatchet.
Logan called to the others. “Bring the water over here!”
No sooner had he spoken than gallons of water hit the side of the house. The water sizzled and evaporated as it doused the hot flames and sputtered steam.
Logan tried lifting his leg through the hole. His leg felt numb and heavy and refused to budge. He had no control over it. He slumped to the ground. Thornton gaped at him in surprise and valuable seconds were wasted.
“Go to her!” Logan shouted.
Thornton, moving quicker than Logan had ever seen him move, squeezed himself through the jagged opening and disappeared. Snapping orders to the men, Logan watched the gaping hole like a hawk. What was taking so long? What was Thornton doing in there?
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