“Emmeline,” Rafe said gruffly, “I’m willing to make an honest woman of you. We can go find the preacher right away and—”
“Make an honest woman out of me?” Emmeline raged, shoving the letter, now crumpled in her fist, at Rafe. “Of all the arrogant, insensitive, wretched things to say—”
Rafe flushed, and straightened his spine. “Well,” he said, in a way that obviously seemed reasonable to him, “it isn’t as if you’re pure or anything—”
Emmeline lost control of herself in that moment and did something she’d never even imagined doing before—she struck Rafe McKettrick across the face so hard that he rocked back on the heels of his boots. “Get out!” she screamed, while another Emmeline stood apart, astounded and appalled. “Get out of this hotel and don’t ever come back!” She saw Becky at the edge of her vision, closing her eyes and shaking her head.
“That,” Rafe yelled back, “is exactly what I mean to do!” He turned and stormed across the room to the doors, which were open to the sunshine and relatively fresh air, and even before he hit the sidewalk, Emmeline wanted to call him back.
Her pride wouldn’t allow it. She looked at Becky in a fever of desperation.
“Oh, Emmeline,” Becky said, very softly, “this is no time to be pigheaded. Go after the man.”
But Emmeline was unable to move. She watched through dry, burning eyes as Rafe strode past the front window, never so much as glancing her way.
“If he wants me,” she said, raising her chin, “he’ll have to come courting.” With that, she turned, climbed the stairs with all the dignity of a reigning queen, and promenaded along the second-floor corridor to the room she shared with Becky. There, she opened the door with decorum, stepped over the threshold, grabbed the pitcher from the washstand, and flung it hard against the nearest wall. It shattered with a satisfying, almost musical clatter.
The basin soon followed, splintering into a hundred tinkling shards.
Emmeline slammed the door behind her, marched herself over to the bed, and flung herself onto it, facedown, stricken by an unendurable grief.
She was now officially a fallen woman, used merchandise. And Rafe pitied her.
She began to sob, letting go of years of secret mourning, weeping not just for the loss of her marriage but for the little-girl parties she’d never been invited to as a child, for the times on the street, when she’d been running some errand or other, and women had swept their skirts aside as she passed, for all the dances she’d never danced, and all the flowers she’d never been given. For all the times she’d been brave, and raised her chin, and said it didn’t matter.
Here, at last, was something that did matter, unequivocally, undeniably: the link between her heart and Rafe’s. And now that was gone, too, just another flight of fancy.
Presently, Emmeline sat up, wiping her face with the heels of her palms.
It was time she put away childish things, once and for all. She was a woman, and there would be no more pretending.
Rafe was pacing off measurements and driving stakes into the ground when Kade rode across the creek, no doubt having spotted him from the barn, and sat there, leaning on the canticle of his saddle, watching him.
“What the hell are you doing?” he finally asked, when Rafe volunteered nothing. By that time, word was probably all over the territory that his marriage to Emmeline was nothing but a farce, and she probably had half a dozen suitors by now. Kade had to know, and now he was just looking for a chance to rub it in.
Rafe picked up a hammer and drove in a stake with one blow.“Fixing to build myself another house,” he said, with appropriate irony. After all, it would have been obvious to a blind man, what he was doing.
Kade narrowed his eyes, resettled his hat. Got down off the horse. “Why, so you can burn it down in a fit of temper, the way you did the last one?”
Rafe favored his brother with a scathing glance.“I mean to take another wife,” he said.“Start over from scratch. This time, I’ll have a house ready. Do things right.”
Kade stared at him. It wasn’t often that he was at a loss for words, but this time, he appeared to be choking on his own tongue.“What about Emmeline?” he demanded.“Or are you taking up bigamy now?”
“They made a mistake, at the Happy Home Matrimonial Service,” he confessed, and he felt some of the starch going out of him, just by saying the words. “Turns out Emmeline and I were never legally married.”
Kade let out a long whistle of exclamation, and Rafe, watching his brother through narrowed eyes, couldn’t rightly tell if he was sympathetic or not. “Son of a gun,” he said.
“I figure this is my chance to take up with somebody more suited to life on a ranch,” Rafe said.
“Like who?” Kade demanded, wrenching off his hat. He looked like he might take a bite right out of the brim. “Just exactly who do you figure on marrying? That little nun at the hotel? Or maybe you mean to chase after Phoebe Anne’s train and drag her back?”
“I’ll find somebody,” he said, pounding hard at one of the stakes in the ground.
Kade sighed and wheeled his arms once, for emphas Rafe guessed. “I knew you had your head stuck up your ass,” he said, “but I never reckoned how far!” He took a step toward Rafe, like he wanted to punch him, and then stopped, which was a wise choice on his part. If he wanted a fight, Rafe would oblige, and this time it would be no good-natured, brotherly scuffle, like the one before Jeb left.“Are you crazy, or what?” Kade persisted.“Emmeline is beautiful. She’s sweet, and smart, too—the kind of woman any man would be proud to have for a wife, and the mother of his children.”
“You want to marry her?” Rafe drawled. And then he frowned. It hadn’t occurred to him that one of his own brothers might step in and offer himself as Emmeline’s next husband. Now, he knew it was a real possibility—he could picture either Kade or Jeb riding to the rescue, and Emmeline might go along with such a plan out of sheer spite.
“I might just do that,” Kade said, and he looked like he meant it. “I’d sure as hell treat her better than you have. Not that that would take much doing, Big Brother.”
Rafe looked at the sharpened stake in his hand, looked up at his brother. Nah, he thought. Violence never really solved anything, and, besides, Pa would be sure to spot the body right away, since this was one of his favorite places to walk when he was brooding over something.
“Stay away from Emmeline,” Rafe said. He couldn’t help reflecting on what it would be like if she took up with another McKettrick. He’d have no choice but to pack up and leave the Triple M for good.
Kade put his hat on, took it clear off again and slapped one thigh with it before slapping it back on his head. His horse, grazing a few yards away, got fretful, and did some fancy sidestepping before calming down. “Have you even tried to talk to her about this?”
Rafe felt the sting of Emmeline’s rejection all over again. He’d offered to do right by her, despite all she’d put him through, and she’d thrown his suggestion right back in his face.“The time for talking is past,”he said. He paused, swept a hand through his hair. His voice was lower when he spoke again, and sort of ragged. “Word around town is, Emmeline’s come into some money. She’s the independent kind, anyhow. Like as not, she’ll move on.”
Kade looked patently unconvinced. “Did she say she was going to do that?”
Rafe shook his head. “No,” he said. “But I figure when she hears I’ve ordered up a new bride, she’ll pack up and go.”At least, that was what he hoped she would do. A contrary woman like Emmeline could be downright unpredictable, though.
“You sent away for another bride, after what just happened? Are you out of your mind?”
Kade looked as though he’d like to deck him, right then and there, but, wisely, he showed some restraint. Something flickered in his face—the same look he got when he drew a good poker hand—and then he asked the question that struck Rafe’s solar plexus like a fist.“What if she’s pregnant, Rafe? You ev
er think of that?”
He hadn’t, what with all that had been going on, and now he felt as though his knees might give way.
“You didn’t, did you?” Kade challenged, when Rafe failed to answer.
Rafe dropped the stake, dropped the mallet. Grabbed Kade by the front of his shirt. “You know someI don’t?” he demanded, in a whisper sharp enough to saw at the inside of his throat.
Kade knocked Rafe’s hands away, adjusted his shirt indignantly. “Big Brother,” he said, “I know plenty of things you don’t.”
“Right now,” Rafe said, flexing his fingers,“I’m only interested in one of those things.” He wanted to grab Kade again, but he resisted the temptation. There’d be a fight for sure if he did, and he needed to keep his head. “Tell me about Emmeline.”
“There are a few rumors going around town, that’s all,” Kade said. He looked almost contrite now, though there was a glint in his eyes that Rafe didn’t care for at all.
The thought of folks gossiping about Emmeline, for any reason, made Rafe spitting mad. They had no damn right, poking and prodding, making judgments, prying into other people’s private business. “Like what?” he asked, his voice low.
“She and Becky mean to build on to the hotel,” Kade answered. “That’s general knowledge. She’s supposed to be heading for San Francisco one day soon—Emmeline, I mean—on some kind of buying trip. Might be gone for some time, according to Minnie, over at the mercantile. Folks are saying Emmeline’s in the family way, and planning to have the baby there on the coast, where nobody knows her.”
“Since when,” Rafe rasped, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them from going for Kade’s throat, “are you privy to that kind of woman-talk?”
Kade smiled. “Since I’ve been looking for a wife,” he answered. “I make it a point to talk to everybody who might have an unattached female relative. You see, I still haven’t given up on turning the tables on you, Big Brother. Fact is, I’ve been getting letters from half a dozen marriageable women back east.” He paused. Smiled. “How would you like to take orders from me?”
Rafe spat in answer to that, then turned, half blinded by fractiousness and despair, and stomped off toward his horse. Chief, always a dependable critter before, whinnied and tossed his head, keeping himself and his dangling reins just out of Rafe’s reach. No doubt, he’d picked right up on Rafe’s mood, and wanted no part of his plans.
Behind him, Kade laughed. “Going somewhere, Rafe?” he asked.
Rafe managed to catch hold of Chief, calmed him down with a few terse but reassuring words, and mounted. By God, if Emmeline was expecting a child, and she hadn’t seen fit to tell him, he’d have a thing or two to say to her.
“You’d better hurry, if you’re headed for town,” Kade said, climbing back into the saddle himself. “Fine woman like Emmeline, why, she’s probably got a waiting list of men wanting to court her as soon as she takes your ring off. Past or no past, baby or no baby.”
Rafe’s belly churned at the images taking shape in his mind. He wheeled the horse around, without another word to his brother, intent on only one thing—confronting Emmeline.
Emmeline’s bags were packed, and stacked on the sidewalk outside the general store. The stagecoach had just rolled in, disgorging an interesting flock of passengers, and the air was roiling with dust. Becky stood next to Emmeline, a handkerchief pressed to her noe and mouth. John Lewis was there, too, as unsettled as Becky was.
Neither of them wanted Emmeline to make the trip to San Francisco, especially alone, but she’d made up her mind. She needed some time away, to think matters through. Especially since Minnie, who managed the post office in the back of the general store, had confided, two days ago, that Rafe was “up to his old tricks again.”
Emmeline, there to pick up Becky’s mail, most of it forwarded from Kansas City, had not been able to resist asking what those “old tricks” might be, and Minnie had told her, with feigned reluctance, about Rafe’s new letter to the Happy Home Matrimonial Service, in Kansas City. She’d heard tell, Minnie said dolorously, that Rafe was fixing to try married life again, with a brand-new bride. Emmeline, seething, wouldn’t have been surprised if the old snoop had steamed the envelope open and read Rafe’s letter for herself, but at that moment, and in the furious and anguished minutes, hours, and days following, the other woman’s perfidy was hardly her foremost concern.
Emmeline could barely eat or sleep, and she found it impossible to concentrate on any task more complicated than peeling potatoes for Stockard. The nerve of Rafe McKettrick. Why, she must have meant nothing at all to him—by now, her name had surely been crossed out of the fat family Bible, under “Marriages,” to make room for the next, the real, Mrs. Rafe McKettrick.
“I’ve always wanted to go to San Francisco,” she told Becky and the marshal calmly, as she waited to board the coach. She kissed Becky’s cheek. “You’ve been feeling much better, and now that Clive and Mandy are properly trained, and John here is overseeing things, I don’t have to worry—at least, not quite so much—that you’ll overwork yourself and fall ill.”
“But—” Becky protested. She’d already tried all her best arguments, it seemed, and now she was fresh out.
Emmeline forced a smile. The driver was loading her things into the boot of the stage. “I won’t be gone long,” she said. “I’ll order the new furniture we need for the hotel, take a week or so to see the sights and do some shopping, and then I’ll be back.”
“Ready, Mrs. McKettrick?”the driver asked. She flinched at the use of the name that had never been rightfully hers. Apparently, she was the only departing passenger.
She nodded numbly.
“We could order everything we need from the catalog!” Becky protested, not ready to give up, even though she’d used that suggestion before, several times.
The driver opened the door of the stagecoach, pulled down the folding step, and extended a hand to Emmeline.
Emmeline shook her head at Becky. “I wouldn’t think of making such an investment without looking at the merchandise in person,” she said, almost convincing herself that business was the real reason for this journey.“We want the very best for the Arizona Hotel.”
“I want the very best for you,” Becky said. “I don’t give a damn about the Arizona Hotel!”
“Take care of her,” Emmeline said to John in a soft but stern voice. Then she kissed Becky once more, offering a silent prayer for the other woman’s well-being as she did so, said one more goodbye, and boarded the stage. She waved through the window, and Becky waved back with the handkerchief, before pressing it to her eyes.
It was well after dark when Rafe finally reached the Arizona Hotel, Chief having thrown a shoe on the way to town, and subsequently come up lame. He’d had to walk for the better part of five miles, before Kade came meandering along in a buckboard, acting surprised to find his brother on foot in the middle of nowhere, leading a horse.“Need a ride?” he’d asked.
If he hadn’t been so desperate to get to Emmeline, Rafe would have told Kade what he could do with the wagon and the team and kept walking. Instead, he took the necessary gear from the bed of the buckboard, replacing Chief’s bridle with a rope and halter, and hitched him to the tailgate. The seat creaked as Rafe climbed up into the box beside Kade.
They couldn’t travel fast, leading a gimpy horse, but riding was better than walking. Kade didn’t try to strike up a conversation, but he was a burr in Rafe’s side all the same, because he kept on grinning to himself, and whistling under his breath.
When they got to Indian Rock, Kade drove right to the hotel without even asking if that was Rafe’s destination.
“I’ll take Chief over to the livery stable,” Kade said, with a wry grin and a tip of his hat. “Say hello to Emmeline for me.”
Rafe didn’t spare his brother a reply, but simply stalked into the lobby.
Becky was behind the registration desk, and she didn’t just look startled to see him, she l
ooked downright horrified.
“Rafe!” she said, running her gaze over the length of him, from his hat to his boots and finally back to his face.
He approached the desk, leaned against it, bracing himself with his hands. It didn’t occur to him until then that he was dirty, and still wearing his work clothes—trousers, barn boots, the top to a pair of old long johns, and suspenders. He gave the matter of his appearance a cursory consideration, then decided he didn’t give a damn what he looked like.“Is Emmeline here?” he asked.
“Are you all right, Rafe?” Becky came around the end of the desk to take his arm. “You look as though you walked all the way from the Triple M.”
He felt as if he had done precisely that, and without his boots, but it didn’t matter now how he’d gotten there. He had arrived, blistered feet, smarting pride and all, and now he could have a word or two with Emmeline, find out what was what.“My wife?” he pressed.
Becky did not question his use of the word wife. She winced slightly, though, or so it seemed to Rafe. The movement was subtle, and quickly gone, so he couldn’t be sure. “Oh, dear,” she said in a trilling voice, steering him toward one of the lobby chairs. “You’d better sit down.”
He sat. “Where is she?” he ground out, bending forward, resting his elbows on his knees. There was another potted palm next to his chair, and he swatted at it when the damn thing tried to grab him.
“She’s gone,” Becky said.
“Gone?” Rafe felt dazed, as if he’d just knocked back three shots of bad whiskey without taking a breath in between.
“Well, yes,” Becky went on, straightening her spine and folding her hands in her lap. “She left on this afternoon’s stagecoach, headed for San Francisco.”
Even though Kade had prepared him for this possibility, out there by the creek, Rafe still felt as though he’d been run down by a loaded freight wagon, then backed over for good measure. “San Francisco?” he asked, as if he’d never heard of the place, though he recollected, vaguely, that Kade had mentioned it.
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