A Hero's Heart

by Sylvia McDaniel

  “Ethan is none of your business.”

  Wade stepped closer to her, trapping her against the wagon. “You might want to thank Ethan, next time you see him. Otherwise, something more would have happened between us last night.” Wade stroked the hair away from her face. “The stars, the whiskey, and you by my side. I wanted to lay you down and—”

  “Mr. Ketchum!” Rachel whispered urgently, stopping him from saying the words she was afraid of hearing.

  Wade gazed down into her hazel eyes. Witch eyes. He’d wanted her with a single-minded passion last night, and even today she’d stirred his blood every time he looked at her. He ached to feel her mouth beneath his once more.

  He stepped in closer. His hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head as he pinned her against the back of the wagon, pressing his body into hers. He watched her eyes widen as she licked her full lips, enticing him, bewitching him. With a groan, he sank his lips to hers and kissed her with all the pent-up passion from the night before.

  But this time neither were woozy from the alcohol. This time they were both very sober, and quite aware of what was happening. Wade wrapped her in his arms, deepening the kiss, feeling her breasts crushed against him. She didn’t fight him, but leaned into him, opening her mouth fully for his kiss.

  Her body molded against his, the sweet scent of lilacs and Rachel filling him as his blood pounded in his ears.

  The realization that they were both enjoying this sneaked into his consciousness. She tasted fresh, clean and he wanted to drink of her until he’d had his fill, until she was crying out his name. No woman before had ever enticed him this way; it both scared him and intrigued him. She was sweetness and sunshine blended together, and she wasn’t meant for him. He broke the kiss off.

  If only they had more time. For one brief moment, he wished he was the type of man who deserved Rachel.

  Stunned, she touched her fingers to her lips, rubbing them in amazement. Then, suddenly as a lightning storm, her eyes flashed, her body tensed and she shoved him with all her might, sending him stumbling away from her.

  “Get away from me, you son of Satan,” she hissed.

  Wade rubbed his hand against his chin, his whiskers making a scratchy sound. “I’ve been called a lot of names, but never that one. Come to think of it, Rachel, my father could have been Satan.”

  Wade donned his hat and took Rachel’s hand. She tried to withdraw it from his grasp, but he held on tight and turned her palm face up. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out her hairpins and dropped them one by one into her hand.

  “Whoever Ethan was, he was a lucky man to have a woman like you. If you need me, I’ll be at the Mountain Dog Saloon. Good bye, Rachel.”

  * * *

  Dear Diary,

  We arrived in Fort Laramie only to discover that Mr. Jordan, the wagon-train master, will not take on single women. I came close to begging, and even agreed to hire a man to help us, but still the stubborn man refused to budge. One of us must be married in order to travel with his train.

  Though the summer is quite young, the snow closes the passes early in this part of the country and I fear we’ll be stuck in the mountains of Oregon if we do not leave now.

  So how does one go about finding a husband in a matter of days? There is one man I know in town. One man who is on his way to Oregon. But, dear God, this man looks like Lucifer, and could charm the scales off a rattler.

  Chapter Four

  “Afternoon, ma’am,” The stranger tipped his hat, his eyes traveling the length of her body. Rachel flashed him her meanest scowl, sending him scurrying into the saloon.

  Two hours of blazing sun, odd looks and a few leering grins from men entering and exiting the Mountain Dog Saloon had left her on edge. She felt as if she were on display, marching back and forth in front of the tavern, her parasol shielding her from the sun, her boots clicking on the wooden sidewalk. The black brocade of her dress radiated heat absorbed from the hot afternoon sun. Beneath petticoats and stays, Rachel’s body seemed to be melting.

  This was not part of her plan. She had no more prepared for a long wait than a snowstorm. All morning she’d rehearsed her speech to Mr. Ketchum, without considering the possibility of how to get him outside the saloon to hear it.

  Respectable ladies did not enter saloons, for any reason. Behind those swinging doors the brotherhood of man met, and the only females welcomed were women true ladies did not recognize.

  She’d considered sending Wade a message, but the men who approached the door frightened her.

  The sun slipped below the horizon, leaving the street in darkening shadows. Rachel shuddered. She’d stood out here for hours. How long could a man play cards and how safe was a lone woman on the streets of Fort Laramie after dark?

  “Hey, lady. Want to go inside with me?”

  A trickle of unease raced up Rachel’s spine. The man was bigger than a grizzly bear and looked as if his last bath had been given to him by his mother. With a sweeping glance, he sized her up like she was dessert. Warning bells rang in Rachel’s mind. Common sense said run, yet she stood fast.

  “No, thank you. I’m waiting for Mr. Wade Ketchum. Would you mind going in and asking him to come out?” she requested, the approaching darkness making her bolder.

  “You wait right there,” the big oaf commanded.

  What if Wade refused her? What if this burly man wouldn’t go away and leave her alone? Rachel waited, impatient to see Wade, yet reluctant to put her proposition before him. Her head was beginning to ache from the tension, and she didn’t feel comfortable leaving Becky with the children this long.

  As the doors swung open, Rachel looked up to see the mountain man standing in front of her, his large body overshadowing her. His arms were as big as her waist, each of his hands large enough to wrap around her throat.

  The big oaf scowled down at her. “The man’s busy. He can’t come out.” He took a step closer to Rachel; she shivered with fear. “Little lady, why don’t me and you go grab a bite to eat? I bet you got enough in that coin purse to buy us a nice dinner.”

  Before she had a chance to reply, he wrapped his hand around her arm and started to pull her away from the door. Rachel dug her heels in, but the wooden sidewalk refused to hold her. She stumbled toward the man. “I can’t. I don’t think my husband would approve.”

  He grabbed her wrist and brought her hand up before his eyes. “I don’t see no ring.”

  Rachel swallowed. She was a terrible liar and this grizzly bear either didn’t care or wasn’t fooled by her attempt at falsehood. “My husband gambled my ring away.”

  The man sent her a dubious look, but while he was trying to decide if she’d told the truth, another monster man shouted at him from the sutler’s store. “Pierre, get over here.” The man waved at him. “I need your help.”

  Pierre glanced at Rachel with longing and then at his friend. Reluctantly, he turned to Rachel. “You wait here. I’ll be back.”

  He took off with a rush and Rachel felt a surge of relief. The time for inaction was over. Squeezing her eyes shut, she said a quick prayer.

  When she opened her eyes, she took a deep breath, and plunged through the doors of the saloon.

  * * *

  Wade sat at the table, his back to the wall. A whore stood beside him patient and waiting. For a saloon girl, she was nice-looking, but she didn’t have hazel eyes, she didn’t blush easily and she was not petite or heart-tuggingly fragile. The lust he’d been so eager to be rid of seemed to have dried up the moment he walked into the saloon.

  Not only had his lust dried up, but so had his luck. Nothing had gone right today. The cards were colder than a snowstorm in January, and he was down to the last of his cash, the last of his reserves. Soon his horses would be up for bid and he’d be flat busted. The biggest card game of his life was cleaning out his pockets faster than a whore on Saturday night.

  It didn’t help that his mind had strayed continuously to Rachel. The queen of hearts had
hazel eyes and bore a slight resemblance to the preacher’s daughter. He’d been beaten twice by the damn card, and each time it seemed as if she’d smiled.

  The dealer dealt him new cards.

  “Mr. Ketchum?” The shaky, familiar, feminine voice called, sending the piano player’s fingers astray. A sour note brought the music to a halt. The voices of the patrons fell silent and the clatter of glass stilled. A hush descended upon the room, as all attention focused on the respectable woman, who dared enter the forbidden zone, standing at the door.

  “I’m looking for Mr. Wade Ketchum,” she said, her voice stronger, more determined.

  Wade froze. The woman who’d haunted his dreams last night, who wouldn’t leave his mind today, stood at the door, calling his name. What in the hell was she doing here, in the Mountain Dog Saloon? He watched as she glanced about the crowd, her chin up, her shoulders squared. She held her parasol like a weapon.

  She spied him sitting at the card table, and Wade watched her advance upon him, a determined march to her step. Her bottom lip quivered.

  There was something about her quiet dignity and strength that Wade admired. But why was she here?

  He watched as Rachel stood before him, trying to appear undaunted by the crowd of onlookers. But her hands shook. Her eyes grew large as they roamed over the scantily-clad woman beside Wade, taking in the short skirt, the barely concealed bosom. She swallowed convulsively and quickly averted her eyes, focusing instead on him.

  Wade couldn’t help but smile at the stubborn woman’s spunk.

  “Nice to see you again, Rachel.” He leaned back in his chair, sending the whore scuttling out of the way. “I’m rather surprised you’re here.”

  Their parting had been both pleasurable and painful. The kiss they’d shared had remained on his mind and on his lips.

  “Mr. Ketchum, I must talk to you. Could I please see you outside for a few minutes?” Rachel asked, the alabaster color of her skin turning a delicious shade of pink.

  “I’m kind of busy right now.” Wade fanned out his cards. She had waltzed through the door and lady luck seemed to smile in his favor. Two pairs. Aces and jacks. It had to be a sign. He couldn’t leave now. “We can talk right here.”

  “I think it would be best if we spoke in private.”

  Wade looked around at the crowded saloon. Men stood watching and waiting to see what would happen. A voice in the crowd yelled, “Is this your wife, Ketchum?”

  Rachel’s spine stiffened until he thought it would surely crack from the tension. She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and fanned herself. “Please, Mr. Ketchum, I sent you a message I was waiting outside.”

  The cards in his hand were a winning combination; the last of his money lay on the table. Two minutes more would see the hand finished. He couldn’t get up and walk away now. “No one told me.”

  Wade frowned. Something must have happened for her come inside a saloon looking for him. Something dreadful. “What’s wrong? Is one of the kids hurt?”

  He watched her twist the handkerchief in her hands, her eyes downcast. “The children are fine.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I have to…”

  “Tell me, Rachel,” Wade demanded, realizing she wouldn’t have come here if it wasn’t urgent.

  Her face was pale against the stark black mourning gown she wore. She put the handkerchief up to her nose and inhaled deeply. “I must—get married.”

  Laughter resounded through the saloon. Wade stared in shock. Married? Had he heard her correctly?

  A booming voice yelled from the crowd, “You got the lady in the family way, Ketchum?”

  Rachel’s mouth dropped open. Her eyes widened in fright and her pale face suddenly turned scarlet. She put the handkerchief to her lips and hurried for the door, bumping any man who was in her path, with her parasol.

  Wade stared in disbelief at her retreating figure. “Damn! What in the hell is she talking about.” He threw down his cards and hurried out the door.

  She ran as fast as her long skirts would allow, but he easily caught her as she reached the front gate of the fort.

  Grabbing her by the arm, he whirled her around to face him. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  Rachel stood before him, tears streaming down her face, her shoulders shaking. “I should never have gone in there. I should never have considered this would work. I’m crazy for believing you would help me.”

  “Slow down, woman. I can’t understand a word you’re saying. Tell me what’s happened.”

  He watched as she took several deep, calming breaths. “I’ve never been so humiliated in all my life. Now, everyone thinks that you and I…”

  Wade grinned completing her thought with relish. “I have to admit you created some scene back there.” He took a deep breath. “Did you say what I think you did?”

  “Yes, Mr. Ketchum. I must be married by day after tomorrow.”

  “Why? I know you’re not…ah…in the family way.”

  “Of course not!” Rachel exclaimed, her hazel eyes wide in her distress. “How could you think such a thing?”

  “You’re a damn good-looking woman. Any man would be stupid to turn down…” Stunned, he suddenly realized she had come with the express purpose of asking him to marry her. He released her arm as if he had touched a hot iron and started to back away.

  “Oh no. I’m not interested in getting married. You’re a fine woman, but marriage…”

  Rachel held up her hands, as if in anguish. Words began to pour from her lips at a rapid rate. “The wagon train will not accept Becky and me unless one of us is married. I thought if you married me, we could get it annulled as soon as we reached Oregon. It wouldn’t be forever. Just a couple of months.”

  “One little slip and those months could turn into years. We’d be stuck with one another.”

  “There will be no slip, Mr. Ketchum,” Rachel assured, him her tone indignant at the very suggestion.

  Frustrated, Wade tossed her an icy glare. “Just what do you have against my name? You want me to marry you, yet you can’t even call me Wade.”

  Rachel stared at him, clearly embarrassed. She stammered, “I…don’t know. It seems to fit you.”

  “It should; it’s my name. Find someone else to get hog-tied to. I’m not getting married for any reason.”

  She looked crestfallen. She wrung her hands in desperation. “I must find someone or we’re going to be stuck in this fort. What kind of life could I provide for us here?”

  Wade gazed around the small complex. It was teaming with people, mostly men and Indian squaws. He imagined Rachel and Becky stuck here, and knew that eventually they would be forced to work in the saloon or marry some randy soldier boy and bear him five or six kids.

  “Could you at least help me find someone?” she pleaded.

  Wade bristled. She wanted him to help her find another man to marry?

  “I’m not going to help you go through with this foolhardy plan of yours,” he responded angrily. “What if I talk to the wagon train’s leader? Maybe I could convince him.”

  Rachel laughed a derisive sound. “I don’t think so. He was adamant against single females. And if he did change his mind, it wouldn’t take Becky long to convince him he’d made a mistake.”

  Wade sighed. She was right. “Maybe you could hire someone.”

  Rachel shook her head. “No. He said hired men have been known to leave when the trail became too rough.”

  They were standing just inside the palisades; the guard tower loomed over them. Wade stared past the tower, towards Laramie Peak. He was broke. He would have to sell one of his horses, find a job or…

  He grabbed Rachel by the arm and spun her around to face him. “I have an idea.”

  She pulled back in fear, but he gently placed her arm in his and proceeded to stroll along the inside of the fence, as if they were a couple out courting. “What if you hire me to see you to Oregon for six hundred dollars and we
pretend we’re married.”

  Rachel stopped and pulled her hand away from him. “That’s outrageous. Not only is it lying, but six hundred dollars is an excessive amount!”

  Wade grinned. “The idea’s not bad though.”

  Hands on her hips, she glared at him through the twilight. “You’re suggesting I play the role of your wife, lie to everyone we meet and then, when we get to Oregon, pay you for escorting us? What do I tell people after we get there?”

  “I’ll leave before we reach The Dalles. You tell everyone I’ve gone ahead to prepare our place, and then you receive word I’ve been killed.”

  “I can’t lie.” With a stomp of her foot she turned and started to walk away, leaving Wade behind.

  “Rachel,” he called after her. “That wagon train leaves day after tomorrow. If you don’t go out with this train, you’ll have to wait until next year or return home to Tennessee. How about five hundred dollars?”

  She stopped, her back to him. The mention of the wagon train’s leaving seemed to have sunk into her consciousness, and Wade watched and waited for her response. A coyote howled in the distance, echoing Rachel’s apparent frustration.

  Just when Wade was sure she was going to walk away, she said, “Four hundred dollars, take it or leave it.”

  Four hundred dollars would do a lot to help him locate Walker and get back on his feet. Wade strolled up to Rachel, took her hand and shook it. “It’s a deal.”

  The flag flapped in the breeze directly above Rachel. She glared at him, “Before you start counting your money, I have several conditions for this false marriage.”

  Wade grinned, knowing without her having to say, what they would be. “I’m waiting.”

  “No one will know, including Becky and the children, that we’re not truly married.” He nodded in acknowledgement. “Our marriage will be in name only. You will sleep outside.”

  “Rachel,” Wade said with disbelief, “no one will believe we’re newlyweds if we aren’t bunking together.”

  He moved in, closing the distance between them until they were mere inches apart. She trembled and pulled her shawl closer to her.