“It’s so good to see—”
“When Dan told me you were—”
“And Roxanne’ll be here soon, and you’ll never guess—”
“I—I hope I won’t be too much bother,” Elizabeth said in a more solemn tone. She gripped Sahara’s hands like they were a lifeline. “Dan insisted I come along, and when I saw that three of the others were also expecting…well, one of them didn’t make it, and it gave us quite a scare.”
The smile fell from Sahara’s face, and she was grateful to Andy for stepping in when shock left her speechless.
“Well, you’ve done a fine job of getting here, Elizabeth, and we’re mighty glad you came,” he said in his most eloquent voice. “I’m Andy Glascock, foreman of this camp, and I’d be happy to show you to your pick of the rooms while everyone else is still talking.”
Elizabeth’s pale face lit up, yet she looked hesitantly from the logger to Sahara, as though she feared she was barging in on something.
“She can share my room,” Sahara insisted. “She won’t have to climb steps that way, and I have plenty of space. We’ll do our catching up tomorrow after you’ve had a chance to rest, all right?”
The ebony-haired woman nodded and then gasped as Andy swung her up into his arms to carry her through the crowd. Sahara felt her face warming with a grin as she watched the couple proceed toward the nearest house, where an excited Roxanne was now waiting on the front step. After all the declarations of love that bull of the woods had laid on her, she supposed she should feel jealous and angry that he’d latched on to a woman he’s just met, yet he and Elizabeth were perfect for each other. And it would certainly make things easier where Madigan was concerned.
Perhaps Andy had been testing her love for Dan all along…she knew his feelings for her ran deep and sincere, and that he’d intended to marry her the moment Madigan set her free. But meanwhile, he’d been a gentleman and a good friend, protecting her from her own wayward passions when her kisses almost carried them too far.
Oh, those kisses…Sahara touched her fingertips to her lips as she watched Andy step across the threshold with Elizabeth in his arms, cradling her as though he were already in love. She hoped Mrs. Kent would soon realize how lucky she was to have Glascock taking a shine to her…because she certainly knew.
A commotion behind her made her turn from the heartwarming scene and then groan: there was Bobby, elbowing through the crowd, waving a piece of paper above his head as he called out for attention.
“Let’s don’t git too cozy, folks,” he cried as he stepped up to the stump where she’d stood moments before. “This may look nicer’n a ice cream social ta you, but ya may change yer tune when ya hear what’s really been goin’ on. Listen, I say! This ain’t what is seems!”
Leave it to Bobby to spoil an otherwise perfect evening! Crossing her arms, Sahara noted that he swayed slightly as he gazed out over the crowd, and his carroty hair stood in untidy tufts, suggesting that he’d been sleeping off some whiskey and hadn’t quite finished the job.
“Sary, come up here! I know what yer thinkin’—that I’m shootin’ off my mouth, drunk—and I want ya ta see this telegram that proves every word I’m about ta say.”
The men and women had grown quiet and were looking at her expectantly as they parted to leave a pathway to her brother’s stump. Bobby, however, was too riled up to wait until she got there, and he paced across the broad, uneven platform as he began to speak.
“That advertisement my sister ran caused quite a stir—as ya can plainly see—and she done it outta the kindness of ‘er heart,” he preached. “I had a notion things wasn’t quite square when weeks went by and poor Sary didn’t get no mail, and you boys done give yerselves away in town tanight—and sure enough, somebody took ‘er perfectly fine idea and twisted it around. And that somebody’s Dan Madigan.”
The crowd gasped around her as Sahara stepped onto the stump, but she said nothing. From her vantage point, she could see the familiar buff-colored Stetson on the back edge of the crowd, and she wasn’t surprised when Madigan glared and started forward.
“Yessir, you ladies might wanna chew on this a bit ‘fore ya latch on ta these men, ‘cause they sent Madigan money ta git ya here,” her brother continued. “Yer bought ‘n’ paid for—got no choice but ta marry one of these loggers now, even though ya come here believin’ Sahara Spade was makin’ this all nice ‘n’ clean by bein’ your benefactor.”
Female chatter rose up as the ladies gaped at each other. “That’s white slavery!” one of them exclaimed. “That’s precisely why I abandoned Asa Mercer’s mission earlier this spring!”
“Me, too!”
“I demand—”
Sahara grabbed for the piece of paper in her brother’s hand, but he whirled around to continue in a theatrical whine. “That’s right!” he sang out. “Bought ‘n’ paid for! And while you men thought ya was helpin’ Sary’s cause by sendin’ these ladies’ names ta Magidan, did ya realize ya were sellin’ ‘er out? Did ya know Dan Madigan was the bastard who sold Spade Express out from under her, without so much as a by-yer-leave? And ya sent ‘im yer money so’s he could sideswipe ‘er again!”
A lower rumbling, like an approaching storm, echoed in the clearing as the lumberjacks joined in the women’s muttered protests. One man reached out to jostle Dan as he approached the platform, and Sahara cringed. While she wanted to know the details about how Madigan and Andy had pulled this stunt, she was shocked that such a happy gathering might soon turn into a lynch mob.
“Settle down!” she urged them. “Listen to reason instead of to Bobby! He’s just trying to—”
“No, listen to me,” Madigan interrupted as he rose up beside his accuser. He snatched the paper from Bobby’s hand, and as he skimmed it, Sahara noted the deep lines in his tanned, tired face, and the slight stooping that suggested he’d spent days on end in the saddle without rest. He flashed her a testy glare, and she—as well as the rest of them—knew better than to utter a word.
“Why do I know you rifled through Andy’s office to find this telegram?” he challenged the redheaded rabble-rouser beside him. Then he looked out over the antsy crowd and waited for silence. “This is indeed a wire I sent to Glascock when I saw Sahara’s advertisement in the papers, and as usual, Mr. Caldwell is talking out of his butt rather than seeking the facts. And dammit, Bobby, I haven’t escorted these women fifteen hundred miles—and paid part of their way—to listen to your smart mouth.”
Sahara watched her husband with a prickling of pride, because the looks on the ladies’ faces told her he’d gained their grudging respect on the long overland journey. She couldn’t help but be riveted, by his words and his demeanor, as he continued to set them all straight.
“I can see where my connivery would offend some of you—probably my wife most of all,” he added wryly. “But to insure that Sahara and you ladies didn’t bear the brunt of this transaction, I requested a deposit from each man who wanted a wife—only fair to get a commitment of some sort beforehand, I thought. I did it to save Sahara thousands of dollars she would’ve gladly spent, and because I knew she wanted this project to succeed more than anything in the world…probably more than she wanted me.”
Madigan paused, trying to shift into a mood that wasn’t so maudlin; but he had more unpleasant news to speak of, and he knew he’d better get it said while the crowd was listening. The burly, scowling loggers around the stump could easily beat the pulp out of him, and they would, if they learned all this by process of elimination.
“I received deposits from sixty-five men—they didn’t get their arms twisted, mind you, and every dollar went toward you ladies’ lodging, fares, and food. I paid for a lot of extras, plus my drivers’ salaries, out of my own pocket,” he added when he saw the men closest to the stump glowering at him. “I started out with sixty-two women, who discovered right off that this trip was no picnic, and despite my best efforts I’m now about fourteen short. Those of you who don’t end up wi
th a bride will get your deposit back as soon as I’m able to pay you.”
The rumbling was sudden and virulent, made and female voices raised in a strident pandemonium that nearly deafened Sahara.
“By God, I was the first to get my money to—”
“I didn’t travel all this way to be forced—”
“—wouldn’t have put up with that horrid dust if—”
“This is the biggest damn hoax, and we should demand our—”
“QUIET!”
The crowd had been too caught up to notice that Andy Glascock had made his way to the stump, and when he clamped a huge hand on one of Bobby’s shoulders and on one of Dan’s, a hush fell over the clearing again.
“It’s late,” he warned in an ominous voice. “I want you ladies to find your rooms, and I want my men to head for the bunkhouses. We’ll straighten this out and unload the coaches in the morning, when I’m sure all of
these matters—and all of us—will look a whole lot better.”
The loggers let out a collective breath, and with last glances at their guests they headed down the path toward the main camp. The women sagged and looked toward the two lamplit houses, where Roxanne and Charlie Oswald were awaiting them with kind smiles.
“Go back to your hut and don’t show your face again until you can apologize to all concerned, Caldwell,” the bull of the woods growled. “You’re damn lucky I don’t just send you down that flume tied to a log—without any more pay.”
Bobby looked ready to lash out, but he shrugged free of Andy’s grip and stalked away, muttering. Sahara, too, was boiling over with questions and accusations, but before she could voice them Glascock looked from her to her husband.
“We’ll talk this out tomorrow after breakfast, in my office,” he said in a firm, low voice. “Despite our best efforts and intentions, we’ve mucked things up royally. You can take my bunk, Madigan.”
“And where’ll you sleep?” Dan shot back.
Glascock eyed him tiredly and then looked at Sahara as though he couldn’t say what he really wanted to. “You should’ve wondered about that a long time ago, Mr. Madigan.”
Chapter 32
Sahara tiptoed past Elizabeth, who was finally sleeping after a restless night. Her face looked puffy and pale against her dusty black hair, and it was a sure bet the baby would be here within the week. How tired she must be after such a grueling trip! Tucking the sheet up over Elizabeth’s shoulder, Sahara hoped she could rest well today and eat some good, wholesome food to keep her strength up.
A few of the other women were already requesting baths and breakfast, which she had asked Roxanne and Charlie to oversee this morning. She stepped outside to find a handful of loggers unloading the stagecoach boots, eager for glimpses of their guests. They flashed her friendly smiles and greetings, and she knew Andy had been right: everything looked better after a night’s sleep.
She herself had gotten little rest, however, and as she strode toward the main camp, Sahara still felt her emotions whirling madly inside her. She was overjoyed to have her boardinghouses full, yet resentful about having her plans undercut again. Madigan looked better to her than she wanted to admit—and was the hero of this whole episode—but damn him and Andy for assuming she couldn’t carry anything out entirely on her own!
And the sight of Bobby coming out of Glascock’s office didn’t improve her mood. Her brother watched her approach, wearing a sheepish grin as he smoothed his carroty hair.
“Mornin’, sis,” he said cautiously.
“Awfully early for you to be up on Sunday—especially if you’re apologizing,” she added. “Or did you come to draw your pay?”
Bobby shifted his weight, smiling a little. “I come ta tell Glascock the boys was wantin’ a dance tonight, and that I was willin’ ta pay fer the whiskey and the fiddler. My way of makin’ up for shootin’ off, ya see. I just done it ta protect ya, Sary, but I coulda been more polite, what with the ladies bein’ present and all.”
Sahara looked him over carefully. He didn’t appear to be drunk, but something other than brotherly love had prompted this contrite conversation. “I know you were just looking out for me,” she admitted quietly, “and a dance would be a fine way for these folks to get better—”
She caught an odd flicker of a grin, and then she smiled herself. “Did you make a deposit on a bride, Bobby?”
“Hell, no!” he protested. “I didn’t know nothin’ ‘bout Glascock’s scheme at the time, but—well, some of them girls is right nice-lookin’, and it cain’t hurt ta try for their attention, now can it? I figger ta practice my moves, so’s when them other gals posted in the dinin’ hall gits here, I’ll have a fair chance at one. Now don’t you go laughin’ at me!”
Sahara did her best to swallow her giggles. Bobby Caldwell had never admitted any particular interest in impressing women before: he simply used them to scratch an occasional itch, without any thought for their opinion of him. Maybe there was hope yet if her surly, bullheaded brother was mending his ornery ways.
But her happiness went as flat as day-old beer when she stepped into Andy’s office. It was dim inside, and sparsely furnished, and the burly lumberjack behind the rough desk looked as intent at making his opponent speak first as Madigan did. They both eyed her warily, taking in her fresh, striped dress and fringed shawl.
Sahara studied them in turn, the broad-chested logger with the chestnut hair and beard, and the lithe, blond accountant whose eyes flashed like topaz as he appraised her. “Well,” she began with quiet sarcasm, “for two men who’ve so handily filled my houses with women, you don’t look very likely to be dancing tonight.”
Dan snorted. “Maybe that’s because your dance card’s a little too full, Mrs. Madigan,” he sneered. “Had I known I’d find you snuggling in this animal’s arms—”
“Had I know you were coming!” Sahara interrupted, pointing angrily at him. “But no! You couldn’t even answer the letter I sent, asking you to—”
“And just how was I supposed to receive a letter?” he demanded. “I’ve been on the trail for more than three weeks, and out rounding up supplies and your passengers for two weeks prior to that. Your gratitude overwhelms me, Sahara.”
She blinked. And then she glared at Glascock, determined that he’d take his rightful part in this argument. “And you knew Dan wouldn’t get my letter—knew he was to be here by the twenty-first! Yet you insisted I write to him!”
“I thought it would clarify your feelings for him,” the logger insisted. “I admit I came on strong and fast for you, Sahara—and I meant every promise I made, but only if you wanted me instead of Madigan.”
This exchange made Dan scowl, and he crossed the small office to lean over the logger’s desk. “I asked you, as one gentleman to another, to watch out for my wife while I was rounding up women—for her, and for your men—and you proposed to her? Seems to me—”
“Seems to me no gentleman would do such conniving behind his wife’s back! Twice!” Andy retorted. He half rose from his seat, until his face was level with Madigan’s. “If Sahara were my wife, I certainly wouldn’t have let her wander this far for this long without setting her straight. So don’t tell me—”
“You’ve obviously never tried to set Sahara straight,” Madigan snapped. “And if I find out you—”
“I didn’t need to. You’re married to a remarkable woman, Madigan,” the lumberjack said with a resigned sigh. “She threw herself into this project without a thought for her own future happiness. And when I offered to make a good life for her, that same devotion shone through, even though she didn’t realize she was holding out for you, pal. Had you been a day later, though, I would’ve claimed her. And I guarantee you, I’d have kept her so busy loving me she wouldn’t have time to wonder if you were ever coming after her. Or care.”
Sahara held her breath, thinking the two men might explode in each other’s faces. Andy was straightening to his full height, his head nearly touching the rough, beamed cei
ling, and he looked like a grizzly assessing its prey. She wanted to resent him for leading her on with such wild, wonderful promises, and for making her suffer through weeks when she thought her plans were doomed, yet now that she knew he was actually sounding her out, for her own benefit as well as his…
“By the way, Madigan,” he continued in a more civilized voice, “I can only guess at the hell those six coachfuls of women must’ve caused you, and I appreciate you holding up your end of the deal. I don’t recall seeing Elizabeth Kent’s letter in the stack I mailed you.”
“No, she’s…a friend of Sahara’s, and I convinced her she’d be better off here than alone in Indian country,” Dan replied quietly.
“I’m glad.” Glascock went to kneel in front of a strongbox behind his desk, smiling a little. “I want to pay her expenses. Even if she decides I’m not the right man to care for her and that baby, I don’t want you to be out money for her fare. I’ll also cover what you owe the men who don’t get brides. Not your fault those ladies abandoned ship. They probably wouldn’t have lasted out here in the woods anyway.”
Madigan stared at the fat envelope the massive lumberjack was holding out to him, and then accepted it. “Thank you. That’s more than fair.”
Andy shrugged, looking from him to Sahara with wistful brown eyes. “I’ve said my piece, so now I’ll bow out and leave you two to talk things over. You’ve surely had time enough to think about how things stand between you.”
The office rang with silence after the camp manager ducked out the door. Madigan rested against the edge of the desk, his arms folded, leaving Sahara to stand awkwardly in the center of the room. She longed to smooth the tired lines from Dan’s face, but he looked distant and unapproachable.
“I—I didn’t mean to seem ungrateful for the time and…and money you invested in my women,” she mumbled, stealing glances at him. “I get a little testy when I can’t do things my way, and—well, thanks to you, we all got what we wanted in spite of it.”
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