by Sara Luck
Phoebe looked at the front page and found the headline:
DRUBBED DE WET
The Famous Boer Commander Given the Run
The London war office has received the following from Lord Roberts:
“Lt. General Charles Knox successfully engaged General Christiaan De Wet on October 27. During the Boer retreat, Knox caught De Wet in Rensburgdrift. The Boers lost heavily, but due to the treachery of the inhabitants, who admitted Boers to their houses in the night, from which a fire was opened at daybreak, the guerrilla fighters, led by De Wet, escaped. Troops dispatched from Modder River drove off the Boers and destroyed the houses of the treacherous inhabitants.”
“Christian, you have the same name as this general. Is he a relative?” Phoebe handed him the paper.
Christian read the article, and immediately his thoughts went to what he’d witnessed. The article said Knox—or “Nice Knox,” as the troops called him, because of his civility—had destroyed the houses of the “treacherous inhabitants.” Christian knew what that meant. All the farmsteads were burned, the animals were killed, and the women and children, at least those who survived, were rounded up and put in concentration camps. The newspapers didn’t report that part of the struggle.
Christian shuddered and put his arm around Phoebe, drawing her close. “I don’t know if the general is a relative or not. I don’t even know if I’m Dutch or British. Nobody knows who I am or where I came from.”
Phoebe leaned into Christian and kissed him lightly. “I know who you are.”
Just then the whistle blew, announcing the arrival of the train.
“There it is,” Christian said, helping Phoebe to her feet. “Let’s decide we’re going to forget all the ugly stuff and make the rest of the day—and night—special.”
The heavy engine, with its bell ringing, came rumbling into the station, the six large, spoked wheels shrouded by the steam that escaped from the drive cylinders. The engineer, with a pipe clenched between his teeth, was leaning out the cab window, looking back along the train to gauge his position. The train slowed to a stop with a clanking of couplers and the screech of steel on steel as the brake shoes clamped down on the wheels of the five cars.
Phoebe shivered a bit as she stood on the platform watching the train’s arrival, though it wasn’t from the chilly temperature but rather from the knowledge she’d be spending the night with Christian.
12
The car was warm when she stepped on board, as the small potbellied stoves that stood at each end of the car were being stoked with coal.
“Would you like to sit by the window or the aisle?” Christian asked.
“The window,” Phoebe decided as she stepped into the row to take her seat.
A moment later they started forward with a jerk; then came a second jerk as all the slack was taken up in the couplers. Gradually the train began picking up speed. By the time they were out of town, the train was moving so fast, it made her a little dizzy to look straight down and see the ballast whizzing by.
She hadn’t been on a train since arriving in Phoenix six years ago. At that time the SFP&P only went to Prescott, and she’d taken the connecting stage at seven in the evening. The thinking was that the stage would travel through the hottest part of the valley during the night, but the eighteen-hour trip with six other passengers had been miserable. Phoebe smiled as she recalled how the only other female passenger had moved from seat to seat, sitting beside one man and then another, Phoebe had pretended to sleep as she listened to the grunts and groans, not wanting to know what was happening as the woman serviced the men.
How naïve she’d been. After her mother had left, there was no one to tell Phoebe how a man and a woman should behave toward each other. She and her friend Selma had discussed what it would be like to lie with a man, but they were both too inexperienced to know for sure.
Phoebe thought back to the night she’d lost her virginity. Edwin, too, was a virgin, and neither of them knew what they were doing. As she recalled, that first time was not unlike the mating of animals. She was sure that something was wrong with her because intuitively she knew that sex could bring pleasure. In the early days with Edwin, she’d fantasized that she was not unlike the woman on the stagecoach, who Phoebe had at the time thought had done what she did for her own satisfaction, and not for money.
She wondered what had made her go to Christian that other night. But he had something about him—perhaps his nonchalance when he’d come to her room in his underwear when the revolver had discharged. She knew he wouldn’t judge her for her obvious indiscretion, and had it not been for July’s disapprobation, she knew she would’ve found her way to Christian’s bed again.
Even now, all she had to do was close her eyes and she could re-create the feel of his naked flesh against her own, the sensations she’d felt when he took her breast into his mouth, and the heat of his member when she took it in her hands. But the most glorious feeling was the sensation that had begun to course through her body—a feeling she’d never before experienced—when his hand stroked her most private parts.
As she sat on the train, its movement causing a sensation, she began to reexperience the feelings Christian had ignited, and she opened her eyes abruptly. “No!” she said aloud.
Christian took her hand. “What is it, Phoebe? Is something wrong?”
Phoebe withdrew her hand from his and shifted in her seat before she answered. “It’s nothing. I was just thinking about something.”
“Well, if it was something unpleasant, I hope it didn’t involve me,” Christian chuckled.
Phoebe smiled and turned to look out the window of the train. She sat in silence for a long time, taking in the desert landscape.
“This is the first time I’ve been out of Phoenix since I came here,” she said to open a conversation. “Some people think this scenery is ugly, but I like it.”
“All the cactus fascinates me. It doesn’t grow on the Karoo.”
“Do you miss your home?”
“A part of me does, but I can never go back to the life I knew before.”
“Why is that?”
“Cecil Rhodes.”
“I thought he was your mentor.”
“He was, but if you don’t do his bidding, he turns on you.”
“And you walked away from him?”
“I did.” Christian smiled. “All because of four long-legged birds.”
“Well, I’m glad you came, and I hope you stay a long time.”
“I’m glad I came, too, and now I have a question for you. Would you walk away from the Sloans?”
Phoebe turned to look directly at Christian. “It’s not the same thing. I have Will to consider.”
“It is the same thing. If you took Will and left, he’d be happy wherever you went.”
“You don’t understand, Christian. He’d lose everything that’s rightfully his.”
“What do you think he’d rather have? Money or love?”
Phoebe couldn’t answer. She looked down at her callused hands and broken fingernails from days of hard work. She knew Christian’s question wasn’t completely about Will.
“Christian, you have so much to offer. You came to this country as a stranger, and just by opening your mouth, you’re asked to spearhead a project that’s vitally important to this valley. Tell me, what do I have to offer anyone?”
“You really don’t know, do you?”
Phoebe shook her head slowly.
“You’re the most selfless person I’ve ever met. From what I can see, you never think of Phoebe first. If someone wanted to fall in love with you, would you let them?”
“Will loves me.”
“That’s not what we’re talking about. After our . . . indiscretion, I asked you if I could court you. Do you remember that?”
“I know you didn’t mean that. You were trying to make me feel better after I made such a fool of myself.”
A broad smile crossed Christian’s face. “Oh, no, Phoeb
e, if I were trying to make you feel better, I have a much better way of doing that.”
“That’s what I mean. You’re making fun of me again.”
Christian’s expression turned serious. “I’m not making fun of you, Phoebe. Believe me, I’m not.”
For the rest of the train ride, they rode in silence.
• • •
“Hot Springs Junction,” the conductor called out as he walked through the car. “Stage connecting to Castle Hot Springs, Cave Creek, and Mormon Girl Mine. Layover for Harquahala and points west.”
“This is where we get off.” Christian began gathering up their belongings.
“I hope Gwen is right about this place.” Phoebe looked out the window. “I’d hate to think we came all this way for nothing.”
“Don’t form any opinions just yet. I think we have another forty miles to go before we get there.”
Phoebe screwed her face into a grimace. “That’s another four hours.”
“But look at it this way. We’ll have each other.”
His smile was infectious and Phoebe had to laugh. But when they approached the coach, twelve people were waiting to board a vehicle that would normally accommodate nine. Phoebe and four other women were escorted inside. As Christian was one of the younger men, he and two others offered to ride on top of the stage.
Phoebe was disappointed that Christian wouldn’t be beside her, but she knew that her emotions would be easier to control with some separation from him.
What would happen tonight? There’d be no child to interrupt them. There’d be no July to condemn them. There’d not be a soul who would know either of their names.
Would she sleep with Christian?
Yes. Without question, that’s what she wanted.
Phoebe rubbed her brow; the bruise from the horse’s kick was still a little tender.
She wished she had someone to talk to—someone who wouldn’t judge her morals—but there was no one. Gwen came the closest, but they could never have this conversation. By encouraging Phoebe and Christian to come to this resort, was Gwen putting her sanction on the possibility of something happening between them?
But did Gwen’s imprimatur include acting upon carnal desire?
Phoebe shook her head. No decent woman entertained these thoughts unless she was in love with a man.
Love?
Phoebe recalled Christian’s words: If someone wanted to fall in love with you, would you let them?
What did it mean to fall in love with someone? Was it about desire or was it about friendship? Or was it about companionship? In Phoebe’s case, the answer was yes to all three. She was, undoubtedly, in love with Christian De Wet.
She closed her eyes. She couldn’t let him know. She would not entangle another man only to have her accusers claim she’d tricked him.
This was going to be a difficult night.
• • •
Phoebe’s fellow passengers had been carrying on a conversation for most of the trip, and though she responded pleasantly enough to anyone who addressed her, she remained quiet, either lost in her thoughts or, when her thoughts got too troubling, listening to the others talk. Two of the women were society ladies from back east, and they’d obviously been guests at the resort numerous times. They seemed to know the managers personally and questioned whether “Margaret could outdo herself this year.”
After the coach had been under way for a while, it stopped for a moment to, according to the driver, “give the team a blow.” Everyone stepped out to stretch their legs as the driver and several of the men disappeared behind some rocks.
Christian approached Phoebe with a grin. “I’d be glad to escort you if you need to take a stroll among the rocks.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll stay by the coach.”
Just then one of the ladies who’d wandered off began to scream. Christian, with Phoebe close behind, ran toward her. When they found her, she was backed up against a rock as a wild burro edged toward her.
“Help me! Begorra, ’n’ would someone be for getting this creature away before it kills me!” the woman screamed frantically.
Christian waved his arms, and the burro soon turned its attention to him. Phoebe picked up a few stones and began throwing them toward the animal, and soon it lumbered off.
“’Tis thankful I am that you came.” The woman threw herself into Christian’s arms. “And what would I have done now had ye not come to m’ rescue?”
Phoebe rolled her eyes as Christian contained his laughter.
“Let me help you back to the coach,” Christian offered as he eased her out of his arms.
“No, wait. I came out here because . . . sure ’n’ could yer wife be for staying with me for a minute?”
Phoebe started, “I’m not—”
“She’d be happy to stand guard. Just yell if you need me again.” Christian strode off behind the rock.
“Aye, ’n’ ’tis such a ninny,” the woman said as she took care of her toilet. “Yer husband is such a dear man.”
Phoebe started to correct her, but withheld her comment.
• • •
They’d been back under way for a while when an older gentleman pulled out his chain watch. “It won’t be long now,” he announced as he rolled up the shade on his side of the coach.
Phoebe could see the sun dipping low in the sky, its rays bouncing off the rocky cliffs and crags of the Bradshaw Mountains.
In the gloam of the evening, Phoebe could see the flora begin to change. Interspersed with the saguaro and hedgehog cacti and ocotillo that grew in abundance, she also saw an occasional palm tree. When the coach rounded a bend, before them was a manicured green lawn and a seemingly unending row of palm trees. Excitement caused her heart to beat rapidly as she anticipated what was before her: an evening with a handsome man. Gwen was a dear to be looking after Will, to make this possible for her. Anxious for a glimpse of the resort, she saw it—a large yellow building with a red roof. The first story had a porch with inviting swings, while the upper floor had open balconies.
Just then, Christian opened the door and gathered up her package. “It’s a good thing we bought a coat. I think you’re going to need it up here in the mountains.”
“I think you’re right.” Phoebe allowed Christian to help her down. When her foot reached the ground, a crone bounded from behind an exceptionally large palm tree. She was wearing a greenish false face with a grotesquely protruding nose, a flowing black dress, and a high-pointed hat that did nothing to control wayward strands of hair that seemed to be starched to maintain its dishevelment.
“Welcome, welcome, my dearies! Hee, hee, hee, hee!” the woman cackled.
“Bridgett, sure now ’n’ you’ve outdone yourself,” said the woman who’d been frightened by the burro. “I wouldn’t have missed yer Samhain for the world.”
Phoebe cast a questioning glance at Christian.
“I think it’s a Celtic celebration, but I’m not certain,” he said. “Is today the thirty-first?”
“Halloween! That’s just what we need to spoil our evening.”
“Who knows? Maybe it’ll be fun.” Christian led Phoebe toward the witch.
The woman addressed as Bridgett stepped out of character and embraced her friend. “Renny, sure now, ’n’ did Cullen know you were coming and he just didn’t tell me? Himself and Mr. Calhoun left yesterday. Would you be for believing this? He said he didn’t want anything to do with my folderol.”
“Folderol, is it? Here, now, ’n’ if I didn’t know Cullen O’Donnell better, I’d be for thinking that never had he set foot on our blessed Eire.”
Just then another woman came out to meet the arriving guests. “I see you’ve met my best friend, Bridgett O’Donnell. If this is your first visit to Castle Hot Springs and the Palm House, it’ll be a visit to remember. I’m Margaret Calhoun and I welcome all of you to my home.” She stepped aside and, with a sweeping hand, invited her guests to enter a large room lit by dozens o
f candles, each set in a carved pumpkin. Shadows danced on the wall as cutout paper figures of spiders and bats and black cats swung from the ceiling.
“Before the festivities begin, we need to get everyone settled. Mary Kathleen will see you to yer rooms, since Cullen O’Donnell and Keevan Calhoun had to get to Phoenix in such an all-important hurry,” Margaret said. “They told us Governor Murphy needed two more blokes to campaign for him, but Bridgett and I know the only campaigning they’ll be a doing is inside Paddy’s Saloon.”
“Aye, ’n’ ’tis the Lord’s truth you are speaking there, Margaret,” Bridgett said.
A few of the male guests who had converged on the new arrivals raised their drinks in salute as they let out a cheer. “To Paddy. May he be remembered wherever he may be!”
“I’m sorry,” Christian whispered as he guided Phoebe toward the desk. “I thought Halloween was for kids.”
“You forgot. This isn’t Halloween. It’s Samhain.” Phoebe exaggerated the pronunciation as sowin, as she had heard it spoken.
Christian chuckled at Phoebe’s mimicry as they stepped up to the desk. “You must be Mary Kathleen. We’d like two rooms, please.”
“No, I’m Mary Margaret. Mary Kathleen is standing by the steps and she will see you to yer room and look after the rest of yer bags. Are they on the porch?”
“This is all we have.” Christian indicated the bundle Phoebe had from the Chicago Store.
Mary Margaret’s eyes widened. “No bags? How can that be? How long do you plan to stay?”
“Only for the night,” Christian said. “Do you have rooms for us?”
“I guess we do, but most of our guests stay all winter, or at least a month. Are you sure you came all this way only to stay one night?”
“That’s right, we did. Is there something wrong with that?”