Moira slowly smiled. It was as if the fire had never occurred. As if her hair had miraculously grown back. It would take several extra coils on one side to cover the scars on her neck, but once he had showed her how it would look, she was convinced that it would do the trick nicely. As much as she loved the auburn, this, this was more her.
“This is the one,” she said to Mr. Tennesen, meeting his gaze in the mirror.
“A fine choice,” he said. “I’ll wrap it up immediately.”
“No,” she said. “I’d like to wear it out, please. And might you make me another? It would be good to have two.”
“Certainly.”
She rose, paid him for the two wigs, then hurried out, aware that the sun was growing low in the sky. Had she really spent hours shopping in only two stores?
She slowed as she reached the exit. Outside, a man stood looking into the window display. Beyond him, just three paces off, was Billy, staring hard at him.
The brown-haired man’s eyes slid toward Moira, a curious look of accusation in them. Then he turned and walked down the street.
It was him. Fury rushed through her. Emboldened with Billy standing right there, she rushed after him. “Hey! Hey, you! Stop!”
He glanced over his shoulder, but not at her. He kept walking, picking up his pace.
Catching up to her, Billy grabbed her arm. “Miss St. Clair—”
“What do you want?” she cried after the spy, as the crowds swallowed him. “Why are you following me?”
She fought the urge to jump, to see over the heads of the others. “Do you see him?” she asked her much taller guardian. “The man who was just here?”
Billy shook his head and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “He’s gone, miss.”
The brown-haired man had disappeared again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
As soon as Nic heard that Peter’s killer was being held at the jail in Westcliffe, he knew the time had come at last to go and see Odessa.
Now that they were there, at the entrance of the Circle M, on the verge of seeing her, Nic hesitated. He whistled lowly and cocked his head. “Well, this is about the prettiest ranch I’ve ever seen,” he said. Still dotted with snow at the very top, the towering mountains were a crimson-purple in the early evening. The valley grasses were turning brown, and with autumn soon upon them the sagebrush was becoming dry and brittle, but there was a sense of lush abundance within the shadowed hills and wide, fenced patches of land before them. In the distance, a huge herd of horses set off running across the field, making their own horses prick their ears and shift in agitation.
“Easy, easy,” Nic said, bending low to pat Daisy’s neck. He looked over at Sabine and Everett, and said, “Ready?”
“Are you?” Sabine asked.
“I think so. Hopefully Odessa will forgive me my long silence.”
“She will when she learns what has happened for you these last months,” Sabine said, reaching out a hand shyly to him.
Nic smiled and squeezed it. He hoped she was right.
He was about to urge his horse forward when he saw someone galloping down the road toward them, from the direction of what he assumed was Westcliffe. They had just come through a small fledgling town called Conquistador. Was the man heading there? But as he neared, he began to slow as if he meant to turn into the Circle M gates too.
Again, their horses shifted nervously, with the other horse’s approach. The animals were weary from the journey, clearly eager to be relieved of saddles and the burden of human weight, free to run in the fields before them.
The man pulled up. He was a large, striking man. A star on his lapel caught the soft sunset glow. The sheriff. “Hello,” he said, nodding toward Nic and tipping his hat toward Sabine. “I’m Sheriff Daniel Adams. You folks heading into the Circle M?”
“We are,” Nic said, reaching out a hand. “I’m Dominic St. Clair. This is my fiancée, Sabine, and our son-to-be, Everett.”
“Dominic St. Clair.” The sheriff smiled and reached over to take his hand, slowly shaking it, while looking him over in delight. “Though I could’ve picked you out in a crowd, with eyes like that,” he said. “Remarkable that all three of you share the color.”
“You know my sisters?” Nic asked. They all started moving through the massive Circle M gate and down the lane.
“I do.”
“Moira? She’s here?” Nic said in excitement. Last he’d heard, she was in Paris.
“She was. She left a little over a week ago.” A shadow passed over Daniel’s face that made Nic wonder if he carried more than a passing interest in his sister, but Nic didn’t press him. Another sheriff? Nic would’ve guessed she would’ve sworn off lawmen forever after Reid Bannock. “Odessa is going to be some kind of glad, seeing you again. She’s worried about you.”
“I know. I’ve done a poor job keeping up with correspondence.” It was enough, to admit that.
Daniel said nothing. His eyes shifted over to Sabine, Everett. “You folks been on the road long?”
“A few days. We had joint properties, up past Buena Vista. Just sold them to a mining company. Figured it was time to look for a new place to settle. But I couldn’t move on before checking on my sisters.”
Daniel nodded. He had an easy way about him, quiet, contemplative, that Nic immediately liked.
In a few more minutes they crested a hill and Nic could see the grand, main house, with stables and other outbuildings stretching beyond it. His eyes widened.
“First time at the Circle M?” Daniel asked, surprise in his wide brown eyes.
Nic nodded. “Last I saw them was their wedding. They married up in the Springs. I never got down here.” He looked back over the ranch and then to Daniel again. “I knew Bryce had enough to provide for Odessa. Didn’t know his ranch was the size of Montana.”
Daniel smiled. “Come. I know just where to find your family this time of day.”
They rode down the lane and straight to the house. He shot an encouraging look at Sabine and Everett, though his own heart pounded. Would Odessa embrace him? Or slap him? Laugh or cry? He inhaled, calming himself. His sister couldn’t remain angry with him for long. They were blood. Kin.
He hoped.
Bryce came out on the porch first, to see who had arrived. “Daniel,” he greeted the sheriff with a nod, then glanced with some curiosity at the others. But then his eyes shifted back to Nic. “Dominic?” He rushed down the stairs as Nic dismounted and wrapped him in a big bear hug, pounding his back. “Nic, brother, your sister is going to be so glad to see you. Let me go and get her—”
But then she was there, at the top of the stairs, her arms around a small towheaded boy who looked to be about a year old. She has a baby. Odessa has a baby. He grinned and his heart flew with exhilaration as he slowly climbed the stairs, eyes on his sister. “Dess,” he said, sweeping off his hat. “I’m so sorry it’s been so long. Will you—”
She let out a little cry, as if she finally believed her eyes, and crossed the remaining distance between them. She wrapped her free arm around Nic’s neck and clung there until the baby started to squirm and complain. “Nic, Nic,” she said. “I’m so happy you’re here.” The baby squawked, and she backed away and touched his cheek, tears in her eyes. “Oh, you are well. And here. At last. You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.”
“Me too, Dess. And who is this?”
“Why, this is Samuel McAllan, your nephew,” she said, jostling the baby. His frown eased into a smile, punctuated by a few widely spaced baby teeth.
“And this is my family-to-be,” Nic said, turning to gesture toward Sabine and Everett, who had quietly followed him upstairs. He proudly introduced them all. Sabine and Odessa stood together for a moment.
“A new sister,” Odessa said, taking Sabine’s tentative hand. “Oh, Nic, she’s beautiful. And a son!” Her eyes moved to Nic, but blessedly, she didn’t probe further. He’d fill her in later. “Aren’t you a fine young man,” she
said. “I bet you’re hungry.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, let’s go in and get you something to eat. There’s plenty left over from supper.” Bryce headed in and Odessa waited at the door, watching as Sabine and Everett filed past.
“Where’s Moira off to?” Nic asked. “She coming home soon?”
Odessa’s elation left her eyes as they shifted to Daniel. Daniel hesitated before her, and Nic looked back. “Dess?” Nic asked.
“Moira left over a week ago,” she said, glancing at Daniel again with reproach in her eyes.
Nic frowned, worried over the unspoken conversation happening between his sister and the sheriff. Why the concern? “Where’d she go?”
“To New York,” she said. “She heard from the family of Gavin Knapp, a former beau. They wanted her to come and meet them.”
Nic turned back around, alarm surging through him. He didn’t like how either of them were acting. Moira had been in Paris and London for years, why were they so worried now? Surely, she could make her way around a city on her own. And who was this Gavin Knapp?
o
Daniel shifted, uncomfortable in the face of Nic’s obvious agitation over Moira. It brought up everything he himself was feeling. Moira, Moira, where are you? She had not answered his telegram. Why? To punish him? Or was she in some sort of trouble?
“You folks have a lot to catch up on,” he said, hat in hands. “So I’ll get along. But I wondered … Have you received word from Moira?”
Odessa’s expression softened. “Just one telegram. The day after she arrived.”
Daniel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. So she was safe. She just didn’t feel compelled to send a telegram to him. Not that he blamed her.
“You sent a telegram to her?” Odessa guessed.
“Yes.”
“I’m certain she’s been busy since she arrived. You’ll probably hear from her soon.”
“Yes,” he said, feeling the emptiness of the word. He didn’t anticipate a telegram. Not really. “Odessa,” he said, before she could turn away and join the others. “Why did she go?” he asked quietly. “What does she want with the Knapps?”
“I’m not certain,” Odessa said after hesitating. “I think she wanted a glimpse of her old life. Perhaps so she can more fully embrace this chapter. Gavin—because it ended so poorly …” She shook her head, as if she were sharing too much. “I think Moira is seeking healing. In many ways. Hopefully, in New York, she can find a portion.”
Daniel nodded and turned his hat in his hands again. “I’m going after her. I shouldn’t have ever let her go.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Daniel. Maybe it’s best you let her return on her own.”
“I let her go before,” he said miserably. “Back when I had no claim on her. Back when she was with Gavin. If I’d stepped up, done what I needed to …” He shook his head. “So much might’ve been different.”
She gave him a look of compassion and reached out to place a hand on his arm. “It might’ve been different. But you might not have discovered that you loved my sister. Truly loved her. Nor that she loved you.”
He stared at her, hard. Love. Love. He’d let love slip from his fingers. Let her go, to New York, where she might face danger, unprotected …
Daniel set his hat on his head. “Nonetheless, I’m going after her. I’ll be on the morning train.”
Odessa frowned. “She might not be ready to come back, Daniel. You know how Moira is.”
“I know how she is. I’ll let her see her business through. But I want her to know she won’t be alone. That I’m there for her, whenever she needs me, however she needs me.”
Odessa’s frown moved into a smile. “Then God go with you. I hope you return soon. Both of you.”
He squeezed her hand and then turned to go. He was out on the front porch and walking down the steps when the door opened behind him again. “Sheriff?”
Daniel paused and turned. It was Nic.
“Sheriff, may we come and see you tomorrow?”
Daniel hesitated. “Certainly. But I’m heading out on the morning train. Going to New York. After your sister.”
It was Nic’s turn to hesitate. He closed the door and walked to the top of the stairs. “You have intentions when it comes to my sister.”
“Intentions, yes. But bigger than that,” he said, a smile spreading across his face. “Dreams. Hope.”
Nic smiled then too. “Those are good things.”
“Indeed.”
“Well, I’ll look forward to getting to know you better upon your return, then,” Nic said, reaching out a hand. Daniel shook it. “But we have some official business with you before you leave. Everett, back there,” he said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “Sabine and I intend to adopt him, once we’re married. But he’s Peter Vaughn’s boy. I think you have his dad’s murderer in your jail, right?”
Daniel paused and turned fully around to face him. He’d heard from Sheriff Nelson that the boy and his guardians were heading down to Westcliffe to identify him.… His eyes widened in surprise. “That I do. Maybe once he gets a look at Everett, he’ll start talking. He’s been stubborn. Refused to speak other than to ask for a lawyer, who said to wait for the judge. Judge is due in any day now.”
A muscle in Nic’s cheek twitched. “Perhaps Everett identifying him could move him to confess. Can you take a later train?”
Daniel paused before saying, “First thing tomorrow?”
“We’ll be there.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Moira’s stomach rolled as Billy turned the corner and drove through the gates of the Knapps’ massive estate. She was here at last, for better or for worse. At least the anticipation of their meeting would soon be over. The lane meandered for a full quarter mile and was lined by perfectly pruned oak trees, each perhaps fifty years old. At the end of the macadam sprawled a massive, gothic mansion of gray stone, with two towers that bookended the building between them.
She closed her eyes and took long, slow breaths, trying to calm her flighty stomach. She reminded herself of the many times she called upon the powerful nobility in England and France who lived on estates much like this one, who received her with joy. You have the social graces to manage this awkward situation, she told herself, no matter how long those skills have lain dormant.
“You all right, miss?” Billy asked over his shoulder.
“Yes, Billy. Thank you,” she said. Ever since her afternoon of shopping—and her run-in with the brown-haired man—Billy had been present every moment she had had need of him. Fortunately, since that day, the man had not presented himself again. Perhaps he had given up, seeing as how Moira refused to cower when he neared. Perhaps he was like Reid Bannock had once been with her, preferring her meek and yielding. Perhaps he had recognized her, and thought that since she had donned her veils, she was now someone who could be controlled. Manipulated.
She flipped a coil of her blond wig over her shoulder and tilted her face up to the sunshine. It felt good to be free of the veil, even if it meant that she had to bear the heat and weight of the wig. For periods of time she could imagine herself whole again, unfettered by scars. Even when she gazed into the mirror, she could pretend for a while. The hairstyle was not entirely appropriate. Most kept their hair swept up in a loose bun nowadays. But the wig dresser had convinced her that a few extra strands about her neck, coiled just so, would be comely. And he was right.
She’d been recognized by several guests at the hotel who knew her as Moira St. Clair, having seen her on the stage there or met her at grand galas teeming with crowds of Europe’s elite. None were friends, only people she’d met in passing, but two had asked her to consider singing. She’d declined the invitations, of course—she was not yet prepared for that—but it felt good, to be noticed, to be wanted again. If they wanted her, surely the Knapps would as well.
Billy pulled up to the house and immediately climbed down to help her out. A butler appeared
at the massive front door and stood with his hands behind his back, waiting on her.
Moira lifted the skirts of her new turquoise gown with one hand and accepted Billy’s hand with the other. Once down upon the wide flagstones of the front walk, she watched as a small, graceful woman appeared in the doorway. She knew her immediately as Gavin’s mother. She had the same fine bone structure and piercing gray eyes. The woman moved toward her immediately, hands outstretched. “My dear Moira,” she said. Moira stretched out her own hands. “At last you are here.”
“I am very happy to meet you,” Moira said, smiling. “Thank you so much for the invitation.”
“It is our pleasure, my dear,” she said, smiling back into her eyes. She released her and gestured inside. “Please, have your man bring in your trunk. You planned to spend several days with us, did you not?”
“If it’s all right with you …”
“Of course, of course!” she said, clasping her hands together. “It will be a delight to have so much time together. I’ve nothing else planned.”
“It’s very gracious of you.”
Francine led her through the grand foyer and up a massive curving staircase, the balustrade in polished stone. A gigantic chandelier, holding perhaps more than a hundred candles, was in the center. Gas lamps dotted the wall, flickering with light. At the top, they turned and walked down a wide hallway to the very end. “I wanted you to have this room,” Francine said with a tender smile. “It was always Gavin’s favorite.”
Moira shoved aside a desire to ask for another room. It was odd, to be shown to Gavin’s favorite, when she was nothing more to him than a spurned lover, a temporary professional partner in the business of the stage. His mother behaved as if she had been his wife and would be comforted here in this masculine room, surrounded by his old things. One glance told her that many of the pieces of furniture and artwork from Gavin’s apartment had been moved here after his death. She could not control a shiver. She turned to ask if there was a smaller apartment, something that might not remind her so much of the Knapps’ lost son, but Francine’s face, so open and hopeful, made her clamp her lips shut.
Claim: A Novel of Colorado (The Homeward Trilogy) Page 24