Mountain Dawn

by Maureen Child

But she couldn't. And even if she could, she didn't have the right.

  "All right, Jacob," she whispered. "I'll come down."

  He moved quickly and waited for her at the foot of the ladder. As she stepped off the last rung, he took her hand and drew her over to the table and chairs. Seating her formally, Jacob remained standing, staring down at her, his back to the cold, empty fireplace.

  Bridget waited uneasily. She could imagine what it was he wanted to say, and truth to tell, she had no defense. It was her fault that Jessie had wandered off on a search for quiet and a cool drink of water. Every time she thought of what might have happened… the child could have slipped into the fast-moving stream… been trampled by a preoccupied crowd … attacked by wild animals… Bridget shuddered. But for the grace of God, they might very well be mourning right now with no one to blame but herself.

  So, whatever Jacob had to say to her, she would accept.

  Lord knew, he couldn't say anything she hadn't already said to herself.

  "Bridget –“ he began.

  She raised her gaze to his. He looked decidedly uncomfortable. Mentally, she tried to add up how much money she'd managed to put by. Two months' salary was not quite enough. If he wanted her to leave immediately, she wouldn't have the fare for a downriver trip. Perhaps Cherry would hire her temporarily. She could cook and clean for the girls.

  "Today, when Jessie was missing…" Jacob said softly.

  Aw, God, she asked silently, how would she ever bear to leave them?

  "… the only thing that kept me from losing my senses completely was you."

  Her eyes snapped to his. The pale blue depths of his eyes shimmered with something that Bridget couldn't quite identify. If she hadn't known better, she would have sworn he was nervous.

  "Seeing your fear… your love and concern for Jessie… helped more than you know." He took a deep breath and exhaled in a rush. "Just knowing that I wasn't alone… that you shared my worries… my love… kept me from doing what I wanted." His lips twisted slightly. "Tearing the town down board by board."

  "I know, Jacob," she offered quietly, "it's all my fault."

  "Yes, it is."

  Bridget stiffened her spine and waited for the blow to come.

  "You're entirely to blame for making me love you. For showing me how much Jessie and I need you."

  Her jaw dropped and she stared at him, stupefied.

  Jacob reached down and took her hands in his. Pulling Bridget to her feet, he kept his gaze locked with hers. "When Jessie called you Mama this morning, it was as though someone had hit me over the head with something."

  "Ah, Jacob," Bridget interrupted, "she's but a child… she didn't mean –“

  "Yes, she did." He moved his hands to cup her face. His steady gaze moved over her features lovingly. "She knew exactly what she was saying. To her, you're already her mother. To me, you're everything."

  Bridget gulped for air. She'd never expected this.

  "Marry me, Bridget O'Dell. Marry me and stay with us forever."

  "Oh, Jacob," she said quickly, "I don't…"

  He bent down and gave her a brief kiss. "I don't want you to think that I'm only asking this for Jessie's sake." His fingers moved through her hair gently. "I'm asking for my sake. Stay with me, Bridget. Love me."

  A long minute passed, then Bridget said, "I do love you, Jacob."

  He grinned and moved to pull her closer, but she pushed away.

  "But I can't marry you," she said and watched the light in his eyes die.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Fort Benton

  Eamon Flannagan stepped down the gangplank as though he were marching in a St Patrick's Day parade. Head up, shoulders back, his sharp eyes took in everything around him. But instead of the shouting, drunken miners, the muddy road, the wild-eyed saloon girls, Eamon saw opportunity.

  It was good to be on dry land again, he thought, and even better to have finally reached his destination. He shifted the weight of the bag carrying everything he owned in the world to his other shoulder and took a deep breath of the mountain air. Montana was indeed the place for a man to get his start.

  Why, there was simply no tellin' what a strong Irish lad might accomplish in a fine, wide-open country like this.

  His eyes lit on a restaurant, and he immediately changed course. First things first, he reminded himself. Get a good meal in ya, find Bridget, then make your fortune.

  Besides, maybe someone at the restaurant would know where Bridget Dugan went.

  #

  "Why not?"

  Jacob's voice was harsh. It hurt her just to hear it. Bridget turned away from him and held her hand over her mouth.

  She inhaled slowly, deeply. The time bad finally come. Though she'd always known it would, she'd somehow convinced herself in the last few weeks that the day of reckoning was far off in the future. Bridget had even toyed with the idea of simply accepting the marriage proposal she felt sure was coming and saying nothing about her past and what had brought her to Montana.

  But when he'd actually said the words she'd longed to hear, Bridget realized that she couldn't deceive him. No matter how much she wanted a life with him and Jessie, she couldn't spend years living a lie to pay for it.

  “Why, Bridget?" He spun her back to face him. "You just said you loved me. Were you lying?"

  She shook her head. "No. No, Jacob. Not about that. I do love you, though it would be better for both of us if I didn't."

  "Dammit, what's that supposed to mean?"

  "I don't blame you for bein' angry. But there's just no help for it."

  "What the hell is going through that mind of yours, Bridget O'Dell?" His features tight, he fought to rein in his growing dread. “Tell me."

  There was simply no easy way of doing this, she told herself. Best just to spit it out. "All right, then," Bridget whispered brokenly, "I'll tell ya. And after I do, I'll go."

  "Go? Go where?"

  She shook her head slowly. "Doesn't matter. You'll soon see that you’ll be wantin’ me gone." Deliberately she looked away from him. She couldn't bear watching the love in his eyes disappear. “To begin, Jacob, my name isn't Bridget O'Dell."

  "I thought not." Jacob wasn't surprised. He remembered the time on board ship when she'd stumbled over her own name.

  Bridget's eyes widened.

  "Remember?" he said quietly. "You almost said the wrong name one night on the River Belle?”

  She nodded. Of course. And she'd thought he hadn't noticed. She took a long, shuddering breath.

  "Me name's Dugan. Bridget Dugan." Before he could say anything else, she launched into her story. She told him everything – from the night of her mother's death, to the escape from the prison wagon, to her furtive, late-night boarding of the River Belle.

  Through it all, he remained silent. She heard his labored breathing and felt the wave of anger that poured from him into the small cabin.

  Finally finished, Bridget turned once more to look at him. He was just as she'd always known he would be. Face grim, eyes narrowed, he stared at her as though he'd never seen her before. He stood stiffly, curling his hands into fists at his sides. His beautiful eyes were shuttered, revealing nothing.

  Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked frantically. She knew tears wouldn't sway him, and she wanted to avoid yet another humiliation. Silently she waited for him to say something. Anything.

  Instead, he looked away from her and walked with a studied formality to the wall pegs on the far side of the cabin. She watched as he took down his coat and slipped it on. Next, he took down his rifle and held it clenched in his right fist. He took two steps to the door, turned the knob, and opened it. Before he stepped through, he said softly. "Please stay with Jessica until I return." He didn't wait for an answer. Quietly Jacob left the cabin and pulled the door closed behind him.

  Bridget dropped to the chair just behind her and desperately tried to will her heart to keep beating.

  Jacob walked quickly across the road, p
ast the jailhouse where Cotton was no doubt sleeping. The whole town appeared to be sleeping the afternoon away. He'd never seen the place this quiet.

  In fact, he wished he was lying beside Bridget right now, in the wide bed where they'd first made love.

  Bridget.

  He hurried his pace, not caring where he went, only knowing that he had to be away from the cabin to think. He should have known, he told himself. The way she avoided talking about herself. Her reaction on finding out that he was a marshal. The deliberate way she ducked any direct questions.

  Dammit. Why hadn't he seen it?

  But he had known she was hiding something – known it and hadn't cared – though he never would have guessed that Bridget was a fugitive. Somehow, he'd always pictured her as trying to escape the unwanted attentions of some faceless man. He kicked at a rock and sent it tumbling down the incline. Jacob shook his head as he realized that he was heading for the creek, but he didn't stop.

  Memories of their picnic crowded into his tired brain. Everything had been perfect then. They were all happy. He fancied he could still hear Bridget's laughter in the soft wind.

  As he reached the bank of the creek, he dropped to the ground. His rifle across his updrawn knees, Jacob stared down at the rushing water sparkling in the afternoon sunlight, letting his mind wander freely over the last few months.

  Every memory, every thought included Bridget – her temper, her laugh, her scolding and teasing. She'd changed his life as surely as she'd saved Jessica's. He couldn't even imagine his life without her.

  “Why the hell did she have to tell me now?" he asked of no one. "She's been quiet this long… why confess at all?"

  Because she's honest, his mind answered.

  Honest? the old Jacob snorted. Hardly the word he would use to describe a woman who'd escaped from prison, taken a new name, and lied to everyone she met. He tightened his grip on the rifle and stared unseeing at his own white knuckles. She is honest, his brain insisted. If she weren't, you'd be engaged now and never the wiser. He shook his head to dislodge the warring voices within and tried to think objectively about what she'd told him.

  First, he looked at her "crime." Crime, indeed! If he had that miserable storekeeper and the good-for-nothing judge in front of him now, he knew he'd beat them both into the ground. The only offense she'd committed was trying to ease her dying mother. For that, they would send her to prison?

  He didn't even bother to remind himself that he'd given equally severe punishments to several soldiers serving under him during the war. But that was war. This was different. Besides, he added, they hadn't even bothered to take into consideration the reason behind her actions.

  What kind of justice was that?

  As for escaping the prison wagon… what rational person wouldn't? It wasn't as though she'd arranged the escape. She'd simply been caught up in it. Besides, by the sound of it, the guard that had been tormenting them might very well have killed one of them.

  Jacob ground his teeth together as an image of Bridget, at the mercy of men like that, rose up before him.

  He couldn't even find it in himself to blame them for taking the guard's money. "For God's sake," he thundered to the empty afternoon, "how the hell else could she get away?"

  All right. It wasn't what she'd been through that bothered him, he finally admitted. It was the fact that she'd lied to him. He would never forget the feeling of stunned surprise that rushed through him as he listened to her story. Even at that, he couldn't by rights be angry at being lied to. Her trust was something he'd had to earn. And he had earned it. She'd told him the truth when she could have simply let the lie continue.

  Suddenly Jacob pushed himself to his feet. The important thing now was that she had told him – and what they were going to do about it. As he started back up the steep incline toward town, he told himself firmly that no matter what they decided, they would do it together. Already, he was busy fashioning one idea after the other. They would find a way.

  He refused to let her go.

  #

  Bridget climbed down the loft ladder slowly. It was finished. Her bag was packed, and she'd kissed Jessie goodbye. It was better this way, she knew. Far better than a long, heartbreaking farewell with the child. She swiped at her eyes. She'd be gone before Jessie awoke.

  The front door opened, and Bridget turned to face him.

  Her carpetbag sat atop the table, and she took a step closer to it.

  Jacob saw the bag right away. He nodded briefly, stepped into the cabin, took off his coat, and hung it up. Then he turned to face her. "Good. You're packed," he said.

  Well, what did you expect? her mind chided. Naturally, he wants you gone as quickly as you can be.

  Jacob crossed to his bed in the corner of the room and pulled a carpetbag out from under it. He glanced at her over his shoulder and began speaking in a rush of words. "I'll just throw in some clothes. Send for the rest of our things later. Or not." He shook his head. "Better not. Just buy new wherever we are."

  Bridget watched, confused, as he crumpled up shirts and pants and stuffed them into the bag. What in heaven?

  “Go pack for Jessie, will you?” He paused for a moment. "I'll be up to help in a minute." Snapping the bag closed, he stood and looked around the cabin. "As soon as we're set, I'll go down and get a couple of horses from the livery. Tell 'em we're going hunting." Jacob shook his head again. “No. Won't believe that. They would know that you wouldn't go hunting." He looked up at her and shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I'll think of something."

  Bridget stared at him. This was a Jacob she didn't know.

  He was moving so jerkily. Nervously pacing in between bouts of hurriedly talking to himself, he seemed, for the first time, to be completely out of control.

  "Just wrap a blanket around Jessie. I'll hold her in front of me on the saddle." He smiled. "She'll probably sleep most of the way."

  "Most of the way where?" Bridget asked quietly.

  He straightened up and shrugged. “Don't know yet. But we'll think of somewhere. Actually, we'd probably be safe enough here. But just to be sure, we'll leave. Maybe… California! That's certainly far enough away. We'll change our names, of course, for good measure." He waved a hand at her, urging her into action. “We can be gone well before nightfall. If you hurry."

  “We?”

  "Of course, we." Jacob crossed the room in a few easy strides. Laying his bands on her shoulders, he looked down at her solemnly. “You don't think I'm going to let you leave me, do you?"

  "But –“

  "No." He pulled her up against him and closed his arms around her for a brief hug. “We won't talk about it again, Bridget. Oh, I'm so glad you told me about everything." He stepped back and turned for the shelves of food. As he began pulling down supplies for their trip, he continued, "But whatever happened in both our pasts is over now. Finished. The important thing now is that we're together." He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. "And we're staying together. Now, go get Jessie ready."

  She walked to his side and laid a hand on his arm. When he paused to look at her, Bridget said softly, “No.”

  “No? What do you mean, no?”

  “I mean, Jacob, I'll not be the cause of your leavin'."

  “But, Bridget –“

  “No.” She reached up and smoothed his hair back from his face. A surge of love for him welled up in her, and she smiled. "Ah, Jacob. I know how much you love bein' a lawman. And you're a fine one, as well." She moved her hand back and forth gently over his arm. "You've spent your whole life buildin' a reputation for honesty. For doin' the right thing. I won't let ya give that up for me, darlin'… though I love ya for wantin' to."

  He reached for her, and she came into his arms eagerly. They stood quietly in the dim, late-afternoon sunlight, each drawing strength from the other.

  He sighed heavily. She was right, and Jacob knew it. He'd known it even as his mind was whirling with the half-baked notion in the first place. No matter how far you
traveled, living with a lie always tripped you up eventually.

  Tightening his arms slightly, he asked, “You'll stay?"

  "Aye, Jacob," she whispered, cuddling in closer, "I'll stay."

  "And marry me?"

  She tilted her head back so she could look at him. "Marry you?"

  "Aye," he mocked gently, "that hasn't changed. I want us to be married."

  "But –“

  "No buts." He bent down and kissed her slowly, thoroughly. When she was gasping for air, he straightened and said, "I have a few well-placed friends in Illinois and Missouri." He pressed her head back down against his chest. "I'll send a few wires. See what we can do."

  "All right, Jacob. We'll see." Release from her burden of secrecy, added to the exhaustion from battling the fire the night before, made Bridget suddenly, overwhelmingly tired. She yawned and Jacob chuckled.

  Lifting her in his arms, he carried her to her bedroom. “We've plenty of time for making plans, Bridget. Right now I think you should get some sleep." He set her down beside the bed and turned to leave.

  She stopped him with a hand on his arm. When their eyes met, she whispered. "Stay with me, Jacob."

  He lowered his head and kissed her. His mouth moved against hers with a gentle hunger, and he groaned softly when she moved her arms up to encircle his neck. With one hand, Jacob tossed the quilt back to the foot of the bed and slowly eased Bridget down to the mattress.

  #

  The woman, eyes wide, slipped out the cabin door and quietly closed it after her. Breathing shakily, she moved slowly down the passage toward her own cabin, where her husband lay sleeping off the effects of the laudanum she'd dropped in his after-supper coffee.

  Her body ached and her legs seemed too weak to support her. She clutched at the remnants of her gown, holding the edges of the ripped fabric across her breasts. She knew there would be bruises on her flesh by morning, but she would somehow find a way to hide them from her unsuspecting husband's eyes.

  With a little luck he would never know what had happened, she told herself. Her tired face flushed with shame as images of what she'd allowed to be done to her swam before her. In all her life she'd never imagined living through a night like this.