The Maverick's Bride

by Catherine Palmer

  He left the barn. Soapy was coming up the path, and the two talked for a minute or two. A sick cow, a jackal in the henhouse, the usual things. Adam lingered, hoping, but Emma did not join them. After a moment, they ambled down the hill together.

  Emma awoke and blinked in a beam of sunlight slanting across the bare wood floor. Adam. The first image in her mind.

  She closed her eyes, recalling their conflict the night before. Her discoveries, the confrontation, the tears. What a mess she had made of everything.

  The crates were sealed as tightly as ever. The proof of Adam’s innocence—if it existed—was locked inside the crates. Even then, how could she be sure of him? Worst of all, she had lost her heart to a man who gave her no hope of a future. And she could think of no way to retrieve her heart before it was irreparably broken.

  She tilted her face into the sunbeam, praying for an answer. But the storm inside her drowned out the voice of God. Sighing, she swung her legs from the bed.

  The day was passing, and she needed to look in on Tolito. Afterward, she would speak to the men she had hired in Mombasa. They must prepare the wagons to depart at dawn the following morning.

  By the time Emma dressed and ate, Adam had gone. Jackson told her the bwana was on rounds and would not return until lunchtime. She hurried down the path toward the little house and Tolito. Adam had promised to send his friend to Mombasa, and she hoped to make him comfortable for the journey.

  As Emma entered the house, Linde rushed out of Tolito’s bedroom. She wore a thin white gown and her hair tumbled about her shoulders as she grabbed Emma’s hands and pressed them to her lips.

  “What’s wrong, Linde?” Emma asked. “Has something happened?”

  “Tolito has pain!” The woman’s brown eyes were wide with fear.

  “Why did you not come for me?” Emma pulled away and ran into the room. She could see at once that Tolito’s condition had worsened. Groaning in agony, he was curled into a trembling ball.

  “Tolito, I am Memsahib Emma and I’m here to help you.” She touched his shoulder. “Where is your pain?”

  At that, the man burst into a loud, half-weeping explanation in a language Emma did not know. She gripped his hand and turned to Linde.

  “His shoulder,” Linde mumbled, gesturing. “The evil spirit of Bwana Bond was in lion. Now my brother die.”

  “Bwana Bond? Nicholas Bond?” Emma shook her head in confusion. Whatever could they be talking about?

  “Tolito, you are not going to die. Linde, give me the brown bottle. The laudanum.”

  The young woman handed her the drug. “I gave to him last night,” she confessed. “Big pain. Bad spirit of Bwana Bond.”

  Emma poured a spoonful of the opiate. “Linde, if you want to be a nurse, you must stop this nonsense about spirits. Your brother was wounded by a lion. Mr. Bond and Mr. King dislike each other, but that’s no reason to blame anyone but a wild beast for these wounds. When you saw Tolito suffering, why didn’t you send for me at once?”

  “Bwana Soapy say you angry with Bwana King and not come.”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Emma sighed in exasperation. “Just hold your brother’s hand while I tend his shoulder. How I wish for a doctor.”

  Frustrated at her lack of knowledge and the ridiculous notion about spirits, she studied the collection of medicines and instruments. What could she really do for Tolito? She had watched surgeons at work, but to try a procedure herself was out of the question. Yet something must be done or the man might not survive the trip to the coast.

  She breathed up a prayer as she turned to Linde. “You must assist me. Miss Nightingale would disapprove, but we shall do what we can.”

  “Yes, Memsahib Emma.” Linde gave a hint of a smile. “You make Tolito well.”

  What seemed like hours later, Emma’s stiff muscles protested as she stood to look out the window. A wild commotion of barking dogs and shouting children had erupted near the houses just below the office buildings. She could discern nothing amiss, so she returned to her patient.

  Tolito lay on his back, looking up at her. His dark face was drawn, but he was alive. With Linde at her side, Emma had managed to move Tolito’s shoulder back into place. Then she had cleaned his wound again, noting with relief that the infection seemed to be dissipating with frequent cleansing.

  “You’ll feel better soon, Tolito, but you will not be able to use this arm as you could before.” Despite Miss Nightingale’s admonitions to the contrary, Emma believed it was better for the patient to know the truth at once. “You will go to Mombasa as soon as you feel well enough to travel.”

  “Tolito’s arm bad before, Memsahib Emma. Before lion.” Linde gazed down at her brother as she spoke. “Tolito almost die. His arm die then.”

  Wondering at this news, Emma laid a damp cloth on her patient’s forehead. “You must see that he takes the laudanum, Linde. Otherwise the pain will be too great.”

  “Thank you, memsahib.” The women gazed at each other in silent understanding.

  “You are my friend, Linde,” Emma told her.

  “My sister.” Linde touched her bloodstained hands to Emma’s.

  “Yes, indeed,” she agreed, thinking of Cissy. “Linde, you are my friend and my sister.”

  The dazzling sunshine blinded her as Emma stepped onto the small verandah. She groped for the post and leaned against it, breathing deeply the fresh air and letting her eyes focus on the red dirt road and the whitewashed buildings. Battling the truth that this farm was a place she loved, a place she could easily call home, she walked down the steps.

  At the sound of hooves she turned to see a tall gray horse round the corner of the little house.

  “Emmaline?” Nicholas Bond’s voice rang out. “Thank God, I’ve found you at last!”

  Shading her eyes with her hand, Emma took in the handsome figure on the prancing horse. Nicholas looked fine, indeed. Clad in proper English riding clothes—a white shirt, khaki trousers, knee-high brown leather boots, brown riding jacket—he swept his hat from his head.

  “Good afternoon, Nicholas.” Emma dipped a curtsy, aware too late of the blood splatters on her dress. “You’ve been riding all day?”

  “And half the night.” Dismounting, he strode toward her. “I have good news.”

  “Cissy!” She ran toward him. “You’ve found her! Where is she?”

  “Not so hasty, dearest.” Laughing, he caught her hands before she could touch him. “What on earth have you been doing? Slaughtering game?”

  “Nicholas, where is my sister?”

  “Calm yourself.” He led his horse to the porch rail. “We’ve had a message.”

  “From Cissy? You must tell me everything at once.”

  He took a sealed envelope from his jacket. “The letter is addressed to you. I merely serve as the messenger.”

  Emma snatched the envelope and ripped it open with trembling fingers. “To Emmaline Pickering,” she read aloud. “Your sister is alive. Alive! There, that is wonderful news.”

  “Indeed, it is. Where is she?”

  “We are holding her prisoner.” The words took the breath from Emma’s lungs.

  She continued reading. “She is well hidden. You will never find her. To secure her release, deliver a chest containing two thousand English pounds in gold coin to the waterfall in the Aberdare mountain range one week from the date of this letter. Place the chest in the cave beside the falls. Your sister will come out of the forest near the pool. Do not involve the government in any way. If you do not follow these instructions, your sister will die.”

  Emma leaned against Nicholas to read the date. “But this was written two days ago. How shall we ever get there in time with the gold?”

  “The Aberdares are not far. We can reach the place in a week.”

  “Adam will send his men to fetch the gold. I shall start for the waterfall immediately.” She clenched the letter. “Who would dare to kidnap the daughter of Godfrey Pickering?”

  �
��Germans, no doubt. Look at this warning. Do not involve the government in any way. But that is just what they want you to do.”

  “Create an international incident?”

  “Yes. They want to provoke the English into commencing hostilities.”

  “I shall not tell anyone, and you must promise as well. I shall follow these instructions to the smallest detail.”

  Nicholas’s smile was tender. “Dearest Emmaline, I had no doubt you would do everything in your power to save your sister. I’ll assist you in every way.”

  “You are too good.”

  “But I must beg you not to give over the ransom.”

  “Not ransom my sister? How can you ask that?”

  “I believe Adam King and his German conspirators are behind this. They will use the gold against the British government. Come away with me, Emmaline. Allow me to find your sister for you and spare you the cost.”

  He took her hands. “I love you, Emmaline. Surely you can see that. Leave Adam King—break your pact with him—and become my wife. I am asking you now to marry me. Will you make me the happiest man in the world?”

  “Nicholas, I am…I’m touched by your endearment.” She managed to fumble out the words. “But I shall never disregard the instructions in this letter. And I certainly cannot think beyond it to any future, with you or anyone. I must find my sister.”

  He nodded. “I expected such a response and I accept it. Of course I shall take you to the Aberdares. I’ve brought my most trusted men. They will return to Tsavo and telegraph the bank. But it is a great sum, Emmaline.”

  “I have it. There’s nothing I shan’t do to rescue Cissy. Oh, I do hope she has been treated kindly. If they have hurt her…or abused her…”

  Emma covered her mouth with her hand. At once, Nicholas took her in his arms.

  “Emmaline, my love, do not make yourself ill. The Germans want the gold. They want an incident. Harming your sister would serve no purpose. You must believe she is all right.”

  “What’s going on here?”

  Surprised, Emma looked up to find Adam glaring at Nicholas from his horse. In an instant he had dismounted and was striding toward them.

  “What are you doing on my land, Bond?” He took Emma by the arm, turning her to expose the bloodstained clothing.

  “Oh, no, Adam, it’s not what you think. I’ve been working.” She gestured at the little house, then waved it off. “But look at this. I’ve had a message from Cissy’s kidnappers.”

  “Kidnappers? Give me that.” Adam scanned the letter. “You believe this, Emma?”

  “Of course I do. Who would invent such a lie? And to what purpose?”

  “Reads like something out of a mystery novel. The protectorate is filled with hardworking men, not criminals. No one’s ever been kidnapped. And who even knew your sister would be here? This thing took some scheming.”

  Emma stared at Adam in disbelief. How could he expect her to do anything but obey the letter—even if it were a hoax, even if he himself were behind it?

  “I don’t care what you think,” she told him. “I will get the gold and wait for my sister to come out of the forest.”

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  “Then I shall lose the money. It’s a chance I must take.”

  Adam stared at the ground for a moment. Then he turned on Nicholas. “Where did you get this letter, Bond?”

  “An African brought it to the station at Tsavo yesterday evening. I came at once.”

  “I’m sure you did. What kind of an African was he?”

  Nicholas scowled. “What do you mean?”

  “What tribe?” Adam barked.

  “How should I know? They’re all the same to me.”

  “What difference can it make?” Emma took the letter from Adam and slipped it into her pocket.

  “The tribe would give us a clue where Cissy might be.” He took off his hat and wiped his forehead. “Emma, I don’t believe anyone’s holding your sister. But I’ll send Soapy after the gold, and we’ll head for the Aberdares. When these kidnappers—if there are any—come out to get the gold, we’ll surround them.”

  “No, Adam!” Emma caught his arm. “I must do as they say or they might kill Cissy.”

  “She’s right, King.” Nicholas bristled. “Don’t try to use your cowboy heroics. You’ll only get people killed. I shall escort Emmaline to the Aberdares. You’re not needed, so just stay here with your cows.”

  “Get off my property, Bond.” Adam reached for the rifle on his saddle, but before Emma could stop him she saw Nicholas suddenly go completely white. The blood rushed from his face, and his eyelids flew open as if he were seeing a ghost.

  “Nicholas?” Emma started toward him, afraid that he was having an attack much like her father’s. But Adam caught her arm. She followed the direction of Nicholas’s shocked stare.

  Silhouetted in the sunlit doorway of the little house stood what might easily have been a ghost. Tolito leaned against the frame, his clothing spattered with blood, his face thin and wasted with pain. But most astonishing was the glare of hatred in his eyes.

  “Go,” Tolito commanded.

  Nicholas took a step backward. “That’s…that’s not…”

  “You know me.” The man in the doorway straightened. “I am Tolito.”

  “It can’t be,” Nicholas whispered.

  “You know each other?” Emma asked.

  “They’ve met.” Adam untied Nicholas’s horse.

  His face wan, Nicholas gestured to Emma. “Come with me. I’ll take you to find your sister.”

  She hesitated only a moment, listening to the whispered voice of her heart. “I shall go to the Aberdares with Adam. But when I have found Cissy, I’ll return to Mombasa and discuss your proposal.”

  “No, Emmaline, don’t make the wrong choice.” His words were calm enough, but then he made a choking sound.

  Now Linde stood in the doorway beside Tolito. She had changed into a vibrant purple dress with a flaming-red shawl. Her hair draped around her shoulders like a thick cape of lustrous silk. Her dark eyes sparked as she stepped out onto the verandah and raised a bronzed arm.

  “Go, evil spirit,” she commanded. “Leave us or be cursed forever.”

  Nicholas turned to Adam. “I shall do everything in my power to bring about your downfall. Everything.”

  “And if I see you on my land again, you’re dead.”

  Escaping the charged atmosphere, Emma started up the hill toward the big house. But with each step she took, she realized she had chosen to follow her heart. And her heart was held captive in the strong hands of a man with eyes the color of the African sky. A man she still wasn’t sure she could trust.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Adam stopped at the doorway to Emma’s room. She was packing a trunk and she looked up when he called her name.

  “Soapy’s at the stables,” he said, noting how weary she looked. “I’m sending him to Tsavo alone. He’ll ride faster that way. He’s a crack shot and he’ll guard your gold with his life.”

  “But I must catch him before he goes!” She brushed past Adam, gathered her skirts and started up the hill.

  He followed, overtaking her halfway there. Soapy had just ridden out of the barn, an extra horse tethered to his roan. Emma signaled with a wave.

  “Mr. Richards won’t give you the gold unless you have a sign from me,” she told him. Adam watched as she worked the brass ring free from her finger.

  Breathless, she handed it to Soapy. “Telegraph the bank in Mombasa my orders to send two thousand pounds in gold immediately to Tsavo station. Tell Mr. Richards the brass ring will arrive on the next train. You must tell him it’s urgent. He mustn’t wait for the ring.”

  “There’s only one train, ma’am. It’ll be in Mombasa by the time I ride into Tsavo. I’ll make sure the bank loads your gold before the train heads back up country. But if I don’t get to Tsavo before the train leaves the coast, you ain’t gonna get your gold in time to save
your sister.”

  “Ride like lightning, Soapy,” Adam ordered.

  “Yes, sir.” He held up the ring. “But what about this? Should I wait to put it on the train myself?”

  “Give it to someone else,” Adam growled. It was clear how much the ring—and their words of love—meant to Emma. “That thing isn’t worth a pile of corn shucks anyhow.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.” Soapy tucked the ring into the breast pocket of his shirt and smiled at Emma. “Don’t worry your purty head, ma’am. I’ll get that gold to you if it near kills me. My word is as good as a hangman’s knot.”

  With that, Soapy spurred his horse down the hill toward the plains. Adam watched until his friend was no more than a speck moving across a sea of golden grass.

  “You ready to go?” Unable to prevent the brusque tone of his voice, Adam started toward the house.

  Emma hurried after him. “What about Tolito?”

  “I ordered my foreman to take him to Tsavo when he’s fit enough. Linde will ride the train with him to Mombasa.”

  “Thank you, Adam.” She tried to slip past him as he held open the door to the house, but he caught her wrist.

  “Why didn’t you go with Bond?”

  Her green eyes were depthless as they met his. “More important, how does Mr. Bond know Tolito?”

  “You don’t need to know that, Emma. It’s history.”

  She freed her hand from his grip. “And you don’t need to know my motivations. We each have our secrets, haven’t we, Adam? That’s what keeps us safely apart.”

  “Your inability to trust me keeps us apart.”

  “Should I trust you?”

  “You should trust what I told you the other night,” he answered. “You should trust that I love you.”

  “If you love me,” she said quietly, “help me find my sister.”

  They rode alone. No wagon train would slow them this time, no heavy supplies, no plodding oxen. Adam rode his black stallion, Emma the red mare. They took only what they could carry in saddlebags.

  For three days they journeyed toward the fertile highlands. The land changed from dry, shimmering grasslands teeming with wildlife to green hills dotted with trees.