Claim: A Novel of Colorado (The Homeward Trilogy)

by Bergren, Lisa T.

  And one was Daniel Adams.

  o

  “Let me in at once!” Daniel demanded, ramming his knuckles against the door.

  As soon as he’d seen the blond man from the hotel—the one who had so quickly departed upon overhearing Daniel’s quest—beyond the butler, he knew he was in the right place. He was a spy, left at the hotel to do just this—warn the Knapps of anyone seeking out Moira.

  “Moira? Moira!” Daniel bellowed, stepping back and staring up at the vast gray monstrosity of a house. Was she somewhere inside? Why would they not allow him to see her? Claim she wasn’t here? Unless they intended to do her harm?

  “Moira!” he bellowed, cupping his hands around his lips.

  The door opened and an older, graying gentleman strode out. “Now, see here. You will cease your demonstration at once!”

  “You are Mr. Knapp?” Daniel said. Billy and the young cabbie came to flank him.

  Two burly manservants stood to either side of the door, just behind Mr. Knapp.

  “You are on private property, sir,” Mr. Knapp said. “You must leave immediately.”

  “I will not,” Daniel said. “Not without Moira St. Clair.”

  “Moira St. Clair?” the man said, raising his eyebrows. “What is your business with her?”

  “I’m in love with her. And I’ve come to take her home.”

  “I’m afraid you’re in for a disappointment. Moira has decided to stay here, with us. We intend to see to her every need. And that of her child.”

  Daniel rocked back on his heels. Was it possible? Could it be? She’d come, intent on meeting the Knapps, perhaps giving her child a connection to his grandparents.… He studied the older man and steeled himself. “I’m all for family reunions, but I’ll need to hear that from Moira herself.”

  “In time, you just might. But not today. Moira is … indisposed. May I tell her who it was that came to call upon her?”

  “Daniel Adams. Sheriff Adams.”

  Did the man pause for a moment at the mention of his title? Daniel brushed aside his coat, giving the man a view of the star, pinned to his vest, as well as the revolvers in his holster. Was Mr. Knapp truly ready to come to blows over Moira? “I’ve come all the way from Colorado. I need to see her, Mr. Knapp. Even for a moment.”

  The man studied him. “I’m afraid it’s impossible today. Come back tomorrow.”

  Daniel frowned. “I don’t think you understand. I’m not leaving here until I see her.”

  The young cabbie reached out and pulled on Daniel’s arm. But Daniel wrenched away, concentrating on Mr. Knapp.

  “Sheriff Adams,” the young man said.

  Daniel looked over his shoulder at him, but the man was looking up, to the top of the building. To the turret. A blonde woman in blue-green stood there, hands pounding against the glass, as if shouting. It was hard to see her clearly, but it was a good bet it was Moira.

  “That your girl?” the cabbie asked.

  “Yes, it is,” Daniel said, drawing his first revolver out and pointing it at Mr. Knapp’s forehead. “You,” he said to the man, “are going to do exactly as I say.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Unable to get the window latch to open, Moira screamed and pounded on the window when she saw Daniel. She was moving toward one of the other, larger windows in the room when Sully entered, took her around the waist, and threw her to the bed.

  “Stay away from those windows,” he growled, leaning over her. His head went up, listening as the noises down the hall and in the foyer grew louder. More shouting ensued, although the words were unintelligible.

  “Come ’ere,” he said, lifting her by the forearm. He pulled her along to the door of her bedroom and then cautiously peered around the corner and down the hall.

  Swearing, he moved back in and closed the door. “Who’s coming for you, Miss St. Clair?”

  “I don’t know,” she mumbled.

  “Who is he?” he ground out, cruelly pinching her face between his fingers.

  “The man I love,” she said.

  “Perfect.” He pulled her in front of him like a shield, then drew out his pistol and placed it under her chin.

  Moira closed her eyes. Would this be how her life came to an end? So close to Daniel, tragically separated forever? Unable to give her child even a start at life? “Please,” she moaned.

  “Quiet.”

  They heard several others arrive outside the door in the hallway. Someone kicked it in, and there he was, Daniel, holding Mr. Knapp captive at the end of his own pistol. “Let her go,” Daniel demanded.

  Nobody moved.

  “Tell him to let her go,” he said, leaning closer to Mr. Knapp.

  “Release her!” cried Mrs. Knapp. Moira could see the edge of her skirt in the doorway, nothing more. Was another man holding her? “Please, she is not worth such trouble.”

  “Francine, are you certain?”

  “I am! Let her go!”

  Mr. Knapp hesitated, his mouth working, as if he knew the words he wished to say but could not make himself actually form them. Finally, he gave the man holding Moira a quick nod.

  The man behind Moira groaned and let the pistol slowly drop from her chin.

  With a cry, Moira moved toward Daniel, the room stretching interminably long. It began to spin, slide beneath her feet, and she stumbled. She tried to reach out, grab hold of the table beside her, but it kept spinning out of reach.

  “Moira? Moira!” His voice echoed in her head as if through a canyon. “What have you done to her? What’s wrong with her?”

  o

  Daniel shoved Mr. Knapp through the doorway. He handed his pistol to the young cabbie and rushed to Moira, catching her just before she collapsed. “What did you give her?”

  The older gentleman eyed his wife, now in the doorway.

  “A mild sedative.”

  Daniel glanced down at Moira. “It doesn’t appear mild to me.”

  “It should wear off in a day or two. We merely wanted her to stay long enough that we could talk some sense into her. She is carrying our grandchild!”

  “She came here, more than willing to make you two a part of her child’s life. What did you do?”

  “Nothing,” Mr. Knapp said. “We only promised her and her child wealth, care.”

  “That doesn’t explain this,” Daniel said. “Something happened.”

  “They wanted me to sign a forged marriage certificate,” Moira mumbled. “And leave my baby with them.”

  “She makes it sound despicable,” Mrs. Knapp said indignantly. “We were providing her a way out! A path of honor.”

  “Except she would be signing away her child.”

  Mrs. Knapp clamped her lips shut.

  “Billy,” Daniel said, gesturing the big man forward. “Keep your gun on the guard.” He bent and lifted Moira up, then turned to face the Knapps. “I’m taking her out of here now. Give me any cause, and I’ll see that you are charged with kidnapping and assault.”

  He moved forward and through the doorway, then down the hall, never looking back, trusting that Billy and the young cabbie were keeping the others at bay. They swept down the stairs and out past the open-mouthed butler who held the door. He set Moira into the back of the carriage and climbed in after her. His men were coming out, weapons pointing toward the open doorway. But no one pursued them.

  “Let’s get out of here,” said the young man, face drawn.

  But Billy was already whipping the horses, sending them lurching forward and away from the Knapp estate.

  Daniel struggled to hold on, even as he pulled Moira, slack in a faint, into his arms again. He looked up at the young cabbie. “Anyone coming after us?”

  “Not a soul,” he said. He turned back around but kept glancing over his shoulder.

  “Billy, get us to a physician. Better yet, the hospital.”

  “Right away, Sheriff.”

  o

  “Moira,” Daniel said, taking her hand the next morning.


  She moved her head, as if awakening, and his heart surged with hope.

  “Moira, wake up, sweetheart,” he urged, caressing her face.

  Slowly, she blinked several times and her long lashes fluttered. She stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to ascertain if what she saw was real. “D-Daniel?”

  “Yes. I’m here.”

  She took a deep breath. “You came for me.”

  “I never should’ve let you go,” he said. “I love you, Moira. With everything in my heart. I was … I was chasing my past. Trying to make something right and only making everything worse.”

  She considered his words for a long moment. “Me, too, I think.”

  “I’m hoping, Moira,” he said, drawing her hand to his chest. “I’m hoping that you and your baby are my future. When you’re better, when you’re feeling more yourself, I’ll explain everything.”

  She reached up and cradled his cheek in her small hand. “It’s enough, Daniel. Enough that you are here. Thank you for coming after me.”

  He let her sink back into the pillow and she closed her eyes. But she left her hand in his.

  It felt right, good. At last.

  o

  Two days later Daniel hired a carriage, and they left the hospital, moving out into a warm, humid summer afternoon. They drove for more than ten blocks, then turned and entered Central Park, climbing a hill. Moira leaned her head back against the seat, watching the broad branches of the trees pass by, a brilliant blue sky beyond them. She felt happy, gloriously free to be out of the confining, austere walls of the hospital.

  “It’s lovely, but honestly, I can’t wait to leave here,” she said. “Get as far away from the Knapps as I can. And just be with you.”

  “First things first,” he said, taking her hand in his and gazing at her with his sad eyes. “I need to tell you some things, Moira. Hard things.”

  She frowned and leaned slightly away, but kept her hand in his. Whatever he had to tell her, it was best that it was out in the open.

  The driver pulled up in a small clearing. Daniel rose and then helped her out. He reached back in for a picnic basket and a blanket, and then taking her firmly by the hand, led her up a small knoll. He spread out the blanket and she sat down on it. Her hands were sweating as she waited for him to join her, to speak, to let out whatever he had been holding in for such a terribly long time.

  Daniel knelt beside her, and slightly in front, so he could look her in the eye. “Moira,” he began tentatively, reaching for her hand, “about five years ago, something terrible happened.” His gaze flicked to hers.

  “My wife, Mary, was expecting, only a few months off from having the babe. About where you are now,” he said glancing downward. He blew out a long breath.

  Moira frowned and covered her belly with her hand, fearing what he was about to say.

  “We were living in Kansas, homesteading some land. I was away for a couple of days, getting supplies. When I returned …”

  She licked her lips and forced herself to remain still, to wait.

  “While I was gone, two men had entered the cabin, attacked Mary … and left her for dead. I think … I think she was probably alive for some time after they left. I could tell …” He looked down at his hands. “By the time I got home, she was gone, and the baby with her. I was too late.”

  His words made Moira ache as if a hollow space had been carved inside her and filled with his sorrow. This, this was what had made him so sad, so silent and watchful, for so long.

  “There’s more,” he said quietly, daring to look her in the eye. “I went after them. Those two. Tracked them down. Killed one, wounded the other. But he got away.”

  Moira’s eyes widened.

  “I turned myself in for murder. The judge let me off. Called the act justifiable. Eye for an eye. But it was wrong of me, Moira. Wrong then. Wrong now, for me to still want to make things right.”

  “But it’s understandable,” she said. “You were hurt. So terribly hurt.”

  “I’ve been on the hunt for that man ever since that day,” he said. “In one way or another. It was what led me to Leadville. I figured a big mining town like that with all its gambling and such would draw that kind of man, at some point. At least, it was as good a guess as any other …” He shook his head and then rubbed his neck with one hand. “I was thinking about moving on when my boss sent me to England for that antique bar and mirror. At that point, I wasn’t feeling much. I had a hard time caring about anything, other than showing up for work, putting in my time, and getting to bed. I was moving through my days half alive.” He paused, waited for Moira to meet his gaze again. “Until I met you.”

  Moira shifted. Uneasy, remembering how he had drawn her too, even though he was hardly the kind of man that usually drew her eye. Now he was the only one. She realized he’d always been the only one. Her true one.

  “Then you were off with Gavin,” he said, giving her a sad smile. “And I beat myself up for letting you go. But I had no claim on you. We were nothing more than fellow passengers on a ship. But then, there you were again, in my life, arriving like a beacon of light in Leadville. And in so much trouble.”

  “You saved me then too,” she whispered.

  “But I couldn’t save myself.” He shook his head again. “I was still wanting to find that man. The other that killed Mary and my child. So I took the sheriff position, thinking that if I could just find him, take care of it, be done with it, then you and I might have a chance.”

  She waited for a couple of breaths. “And so … you found him?”

  “No. One of my deputies reminded me what God was trying to tell me all along. I was chasing the past, when you were my future. I don’t even know if that man is alive, Moira.” He looked up at her in misery. “And yet I let you go again, because I was foolish.”

  “So now … you can let it go? Just like that?”

  He smiled. “It wasn’t fast. I finally just hit the end. I have to let that man go—leave justice to God—in order for me to claim my future. And, Moira, I hope to God that you will be a part of my future.”

  She gave him a tender smile. “I hope so too.”

  o

  “Maybe I ought to simply sign on to one of Bryce’s carpentry crews instead of staying on as sheriff.”

  “Maybe.” She lifted a hand to his cheek. “Or maybe you’ve gained the wisdom to be one of the best sheriffs in Colorado.”

  He searched her eyes and then smiled. “And what of you?” he asked. “You said you came here chasing the past too.”

  “I did. I was hungering for a bit of my own family. Grandparents for my child. A glimpse of the ‘glory’ I left behind.”

  “And? What did you find?”

  “It is … what it is. Places like this—”she waved about her—“will always hold the memories of many chapters in my life. But not the end.” She looked at him. “That, I hope, will be with you.” She paused. “Daniel, I’ve been so afraid. So afraid of the scars I carried, the sins I’ve committed. Afraid that they’d keep us apart forever.” Slowly, she lifted a trembling hand to her wig and pulled it from her head. She stared down at the grass before her, unable to summon the courage to look upon him as he gazed at her. Scars and all.

  “Moira.”

  Slowly, she dragged her eyes up to meet his. And all she saw in them was love and admiration. “Believe me when I tell you this, beloved,” he said.

  She stared at him now, unable to look away.

  “You are more beautiful, more perfect to me than ever. Your scars, as terrible as they might feel to you, are simply a part of you. A part of your life. And your life, your life, Moira, is more precious to me than my own. I look at you,” he said, shaking his head, “and all I see is beauty. Will you allow me that? Will you trust me, when I say that? Because it’s true.” He rose and cupped her face in his hands. “You are beautiful, through and through. You are beloved. And please, Moira, please say you’ll be mine. Forever. Will you be my w
ife?”

  “Yes,” she said, her eyelids fluttering, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Yes.”

  And then he kissed her. Slowly. Passionately. For all the world to see.

  But Moira did not care. Because he, her child, and her God were her present. Her future.

  Hand in hand, they would see it through together.

  EPILOGUE

  After they attended the trial of the Dolly Mae owners up in Buena Vista, Nic and his family—past and future—went up to St. Elmo. It took him several days, but eventually he tracked down Sinopa. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Sabine smile so broadly as when the two came into town, riding, side by side, that morning.

  Now he awaited his bride. He glanced over to Moira and Daniel, who held hands, then to Odessa, Bryce, and the baby. He grinned as he spotted the horse’s nose, edging out from the trees.

  Sinopa was in front, riding without use of a saddle, and Sabine rode sideways behind him, dressed in a fine ivory leather dress, heavily beaded at the yoke, her hair down about her shoulders. The parson shifted nervously beside Nic, obviously disapproving of the former schoolteacher in full Blackfeet regalia. “Say a negative word,” Nic hissed, “and you’ll regret it.”

  The parson snorted, as if offended, but held his tongue. Any thought of him disappeared as Sabine drew closer. He moved forward, Everett right at his side, and waited for Sinopa to pull up on the horse’s reins. When he did, Nic reached up a hand. “Glad you’re here for this, brother.”

  Sinopa dismounted, shook his hand and smiled back. “As am I. You understand the importance of this moment?”

  “Sinopa,” Sabine said, trying to intervene.

  Nic smiled. “It’s all right, Sabine.” He looked at Sinopa. “I will defend your sister with my own life. I will never harm her. I will love her with everything in me. She has a claim on my heart that I don’t ever want to disappear. Is that the understanding you seek?”

  The brave studied him for a long moment, then nodded once.

  The fat parson cleared his throat. The evening was drawing to a close, the sun now setting in the west, casting warm ruby light through the trees. Sinopa moved to the horse and then gently lowered Sabine to the ground. The small group climbed up through the trees on a narrow path, and Nic thought of all the steps he had taken, through so many countries, and all of them somehow seemed to lead here, to this place. A shiver ran down his back as he turned and took Sabine’s hands in his. It was holy, this union. This connection between them. How had he not known what love was like, all this time?