by Vivi Holt
The reverend cleared his throat and lifted the Bible a shade higher. “Dearly beloved … ahem … well, since there’s only the four of us …” He nodded to his wife Laura.
She grinned good-naturedly at him, her hands clasped demurely in front of her skirts. “So right, my dear. We can have a more casual service, I believe.”
Rev. Langston nodded again, adjusting his spectacles. “Ahem. Let’s see … Do you, Hank Oster, take this woman, Angela Wilcox, to be your wife?”
“I do,” Ost replied. He tugged a handkerchief from his pants pocket and wiped his face – he was sweating so much he’d look like he’d taken a swim before this was over.
Rev. Langston continued as Ost stared straight ahead, almost too afraid to look down at his betrothed in case she chose to flee. Was this how it was supposed to be? It didn’t seem right somehow. Shouldn’t they both be swept up in the romance of it all? That’s what he’d always thought it would be like.
When he lived in Fort Worth, Texas, he’d worked a while at the Black Jack Saloon, clearing tables and doing odd jobs. He remembered the saloon girls reading dime novels full of swoon-worthy heroes who swept the heroines off their feet. When they read them, they would giggle and sigh, before teasing him about all the hearts he’d break one day.
This didn’t seem swoon-worthy or romantic to him. But perhaps he’d gotten the wrong idea about love. He’d never even courted a girl before meeting Angela. And with no father around to give it to him straight, he had no idea what to expect. But he did know he wanted Angela to be happy. It pained him to think that perhaps she might be marrying him just to escape her circumstances. He knew that was part of it, but deep down inside he hoped she’d love him too.
“… husband and wife. You may kiss your bride, Hank.”
Ost turned to face Angela and found her smiling shyly at him. He cupped her face and kissed her softly on the lips. Her mouth tasted tear-salty, and as he pulled away his heart swelled with love for her.
“Wonderful!” exclaimed Laura, clapping her hands in delight. “The two of you are just darlin’. Oh my, look at you – like Prince Charming and Cinderella!”
Ost rubbed a hand across his mouth to hide his embarrassed grin.
They all walked from the chapel across the short pathway into the Langstons’ rectory. They sat and had tea and scones while Laura regaled them with tales of their youth. By the time Ost and Angela left, the sun was setting, and lengthening dark shadows cast by buildings and trees gave the town a haunted look.
“Where are we going now?” asked Angela softly. She’d stayed at the hotel the previous two nights, waiting for their wedding. He hadn’t taken her to his room yet, and was nervous about showing it to her. It wasn’t the kind of place a lady like Angela fit in, but he hoped she didn’t mind it until he could afford to build them something nicer.
“To my room over the brewery,” he said.
She nodded and followed him down the street. His hand itched to take hers, but instead he shoved both fists deep into his pockets. “It’s a lovely evening,” he stated.
“Yes, it is.”
Ost decided that either those dime novels were a load of bunk, or he was off to a lousy start with this whole marriage business.
The next morning dawned bright and cheery. Fall was on its way, and even though the sun shone, it didn’t warm the town of Bozeman the way it had weeks earlier. Ost shivered as he slipped from beneath the covers. Angela lay on her side, and he watched her a moment, his hand hovering above her. Finally he stood with a sigh and dressed quickly.
He’d considered sleeping on the floor beside the bed and letting her have it all to herself, but figured they were married and if he didn’t sleep beside her now he might never work up the courage. As it was, he spent most of the night perched on the edge of the straw tick – every time Angela rolled over, her stomach took up so much of the bed that there wasn’t much room left for him, skinny as he was.
It wasn’t far to the sheriff’s office and Ost liked to walk – it cleared his head and helped him get his mind around what was to come. The wedding had distracted him from thinking about the Berger gang and their cattle rustling. Maybe now Stanton would decide it was time to bring the outlaws in. He respected his boss, but sometimes the man was just too cautious – or too tired.
But even as he walked, his thoughts drifted back to Angela – his wife Angela Oster. Had they done the right thing? It was too late to back out now. He thought back to the last time they’d kissed, before talk of marriage took over their conversation. There’d been an undeniable spark between them, but where was it now? Was it the stress of everything that was going on with Berger, the baby, Angela’s memory? Or was something else?
“Good morning,” he called as he walked through the front door of the sheriff’s office.
Sheriff Stanton sat at his desk, sifting through a pile of paperwork. “Mornin’, Ost. How’s things?”
“Pretty good. Angela and I got hitched.”
Stanton arched an eyebrow. “Ya what?”
“We’re married.”
“Well, good for you.”
“Actually, Sheriff, if anyone says anything to you about it, I’d really appreciate if you could cover for us. You know, just say we’ve been married for a year but she’s been staying with her sick sister.”
“Um … I dunno as dishonesty is a good idea, ‘specially for a lawman. Maybe ya should think about that.” Stanton studied Ost with narrowed eyes.
“I know, but I’d hate for her to have to explain her condition to the townsfolk. Just doesn’t seem fair.”
“Ya might be right. But just now, we gotta deal with the Berger gang, start closin’ the net. I’ve sent telegrams to Hardin, Cheyenne and a few other places to let the lawmen there know we’re on the hunt. If ya could head down to the telegraph office and send a wire to the US Marshals in Butte and Billings and the sheriff over in Cutter’s Creek, I’d sure ‘preciate it.”
Ost set his hands on his hips, just above his gun belt. “Yes, sir!” he said enthusiastically.
11
The telegraph office was next to the bank on Bozeman’s main street. Ost glanced at it, but his thoughts were on Berger and how they’d catch the scoundrel. Angela had said Berger would come for her, but would he really risk arrest that way? And how could he know where she was? As far as Berger knew, she’d disappeared into the woods miles from Bozeman.
He marched into the telegraph office, dictated to the clerk the messages he needed sent and headed back outside. The sun shone bright between fluffy white clouds, and he smiled. Things were sure looking up. He was married, which he still found hard to believe. They were on the Berger gang’s trail – it’d just be a matter of time before they caught them. And that would bring an end to those varmints bleeding the ranchers of the area dry, not to mention punishing the man who’d treated Angela so poorly and murdered her folks.
A shout from the bank’s front door drew his attention. He stopped and turned toward it just as the doors flew open and two men ran out, bags of money clasped in their hands and neckerchiefs pulled up over their mouths. One held a pistol high above his head, while the other carried a shotgun in the crook of his arm. A third barreled out and ran past them down the stairs.
Ost ducked behind a telegraph post, drew his Colt revolver and raised it high. He took a deep breath and stepped out to confront them. “Halt! Deputy sheriff!”
All three men glanced his way. The first pointed his pistol at Ost and fired, just as Ost leaped back behind the post. A bullet ricocheted inches from his foot.
Ost didn’t feel scared, just angry. “I said halt – you’re under arrest!” he cried from his hiding place.
A gravelly voice chuckled, then called, “Sez who? Looks to me like yer outnumbered, Deputy.”
Ost winced as another bullet whizzed by his head and into the wall of the telegraph office. But he wasn’t backing down. “Give yourselves up! You won’t get away!” He leaned out, fired, then pulle
d back.
Suddenly there was another shot, and he realized his odds had just improved. Art Fitzgerald, one of the bank tellers, was leveling a shotgun at the men from one of the bank’s second-story windows. Ost was tempted to wave him back for his own safety, but he knew he needed the help.
The three men headed down the street, still shooting back at him. It looked like three members of the Berger gang, though he couldn’t be certain with their faces half-covered. But if they were part of the gang, this was the closest they’d gotten to capturing them – and Stanton would be livid if he let them get away. He leaned out and fired a few more shots down the street.
Everyone else except Art had taken cover, and Art was in a hard-to-hit spot anyway. The only people on the street were the gang, and they were headed for a trio of horses parked opposite the bank. Ost peered out, then scrambled across the road, head down.
All three of the outlaws mounted up and two galloped away, money bags bouncing against their saddles. Ost took aim at the third man, cocked his pistol and snuck closer while the rider untangled his reins from the hitching post. He looked familiar – long, tangled brown hair, long black beard and mustache, tan hat.
The man finally got the reins loose, then froze and turned to see Ost, now less than ten feet away with the Colt pointed at his face. He sighed, glanced up at Art, realized he only had one choice and slowly raised his hands skyward. “Dadgummit.”
“You’re under arrest,” stated Ost with a smile.
Sarah patted her horse’s neck and sighed. She’d been riding for days up and down the valley around the base of the mountain range, even skimming the edge of the plains, but still hadn’t found the Crow camp. From what she remembered, their fall camp should’ve been close to where she was. Though things could’ve changed in the time she’d been gone.
A sloping hill rose from the valley floor in front of her, and she eyed it thoughtfully. If her family was nearby, perhaps she’d be able to spot them from the top of the hill. It was worth a try. She urged the chestnut mare to the crest, then dismounted to study the valley unfurled beneath them. The mare immediately dropped her head to crop the dry grass.
Was that a trail of smoke? Sarah’s eyes narrowed and she cupped her hands around her eyes to block out the sun’s glare. Yes, it was smoke, and there was the camp, in a hollow only a few hundred yards away. She smiled, remounted and hurried toward the smoke, her heart racing and her throat tight.
Would they be happy to see her, or greet her with hostility? She couldn’t say. The last time she’d seen Ky, it seemed as though her friend would always welcome her warmly. But a lot had happened since then. Ky’s father Mutagaweer had died and her husband Bow Bearer had taken over from him as chief. It would be strange to refer to Bow Bearer, her childhood friend and one-time beau, as “Chief.” She drew close to the camp, slowed the mare to a walk and let the reins hang loose.
It wasn’t long before one of the children sent up the alert and the entire camp was aware of her presence. She smiled. Nothing much had changed – and yet, for her everything had. Soon she was met by a youth with a blank expression on his tanned face. He spoke in her native tongue, asking who she was and what she wanted. She told him, then waited while he ran into the heart of the camp to relay her message.
Then she saw Ky. Her friend ran to her, eyes wide. Sarah dismounted with a laugh, opened her arms and Ky fell into them. The two women embraced, laughing and crying in turns. “What are you doing here?” Ky asked.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too. I am so glad you came.”
“Look at you,” Sarah held her friend at arm’s length and studied her swollen belly. “You’re expecting. How many is that now?”
Ky laughed and ran a hand over her stomach. “This will be three.”
“I too have three little ones.” She pressed both hands to her own belly. “With another on the way.”
Ky linked her arm through Sarah’s and the two women walked together, Sarah pulling the mare along behind her. “Come, everyone will want to see you.”
“I hope so,” replied Sarah, her heart thumping.
Ky chuckled. “Well, most of the people will be very happy to see you.”
“What about Bow Bearer?”
“You leave him to me,” replied Ky, setting her face like flint toward the largest tent in the center of the camp. “He will welcome you as well.”
Sarah squatted comfortably beside the fire circle and sliced pemmican, feeling as if she’d never left. But this time she wasn’t afraid for her life, as she had been the last time she’d been in the Crow camp.
In front of the fire, a group of children played, running and chasing each other and squealing in delight. She missed her own children – it had been two long weeks since she last saw them. She knew she couldn’t stay here long, since she’d lost so much time searching for it, but she’d enjoyed every moment of her visit. She’d been warmly welcomed like the long-lost relative she was, and it warmed her spirit to be home at last.
She spotted Bow Bearer walking through the camp toward her. She’d slept the previous night in the tent with Ky and her children, but knew that once he returned things might change. He’d been out with a hunting party for days, and she’d almost hoped he wouldn’t return before she left. Her heart sank as she saw him approach. She cared a great deal for her friend, but he’d changed into a man, a chief who was used to getting his own way. And from what Ky told her, she’d guessed a tense relationship between them.
He startled when he saw her, then dropped a dead hare at her feet. “Sarah?”
She smiled and stood to embrace him. “Bow Bearer. It is good to see you, my brother.”
“I am not your brother. And you know I don’t like it when you call me that.”
“I thought only to remind you of our long-standing relationship,” she said, doing her best to take a submissive stance. He made an impressive chief, she had to admit. Muscles rippled across his chest and down his bare arms. His breechcloth fit snugly and his long black hair shone in the morning sun.
“There is no need to remind me. I think of you often.”
“I congratulate you on your marriage, Bow Bearer. Ky is my oldest friend, and I am very glad to see the two of you allied.”
He grunted. “Yes.”
“I’m sure it helped with the council when you bid to be chief after her father died. To be married to the old chief’s daughter …”
He frowned. “It was an auspicious match.”
“And a good one. She is a wonderful, warm and very beautiful woman. You are blessed.”
He nodded. “She is. Though you know she was not my first choice.”
Sarah’s eyes widened with sudden anger on her friend’s behalf. To have a husband admit he’d wished to marry another was the worst offense he could make against his wife. And that he might not appreciate her friend the way he should made her blood boil. “I am sorry to hear that, Chief Bow Bearer. But I’m sure you have found her to be more than satisfactory since then.”
He studied her through narrowed eyes. “I think often of the one I once lost.”
Her cheeks colored and she dropped her gaze to the ground, unable to hold his any longer. “Bow Bearer, if you mean me …”
He took her hands, winding his fingers through hers. His movements were slow, but passionate. “Sarah, you’ve forever known how I feel about you. We were meant to be, you and I. I never forgave Mutagaweer for how he intended to sell you off and made you run for your life.”
She glanced up to find his eyes boring into her.
“It should have been us, Sarah Songan my love”
Her eyes widened. How dare he speak to her that way when his wife, her best friend, was near! “No, Bow Bearer, it shouldn’t. I found someone else to share my life with and I am happy. As you should be with Ky.”
“But you are here. If you are happy with the white man, why are you here?” He frowned and tried to pull her closer.
She r
esisted, attempting to tug her hands free. “I’m here to visit my family and my friends. I miss everyone.”
“You miss everyone – does that include me?”
She frowned, her cheeks flaming. “I miss you as I do the rest of my family.”
He smiled and pulled her against his chest. “Why did you leave, my love?” he whispered against her hair.
She trembled against him. He was warm and strong, but she couldn’t give in. “You know why.”
“Stay now. We can be together.”
“No.”
“Stay.” He tipped her face up with one hand cupped beneath her chin until her eyes met his, then kissed her, hard and demanding.
She pulled away, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and slapped him across the cheek.
His eyes darkened and he caught her wrist. “Be careful, Sarah.”
“We can’t be together, Bow Bearer. Not ever. You have to forget about me. Be happy with Ky. She deserves so much more …”
“More than me?” His chest puffed out and his eyes narrowed.
“No. More than part of you.”
“But we could be happy together, Sarah.”
“No, Bow Bearer. You might. I couldn’t.” She turned to leave.
“It doesn’t matter where you go, Sarah,” he called after her. “I’ll come for you. I’ll always come for you. I won’t ever let you forget what we could’ve been, and still should be.”
She faced him, cheeks streaked with tears. “No, Bow Bearer, don’t do that. Don’t say that.”
“I’ll find you, Sarah. We belong together.”
She turned and ran, tears streaming down her face. How could he say that, when Ky loved him and had given herself to him? She should be enough for him. He only wanted Sarah because he couldn’t have her, she was sure. And she loved Bill and her children – she’d never consider leaving them. She might have harbored feelings for Bow Bearer once, in the secret depths of a girl’s heart, but she was no longer a girl – she was a woman with responsibilities and a family to care for.