by Jodi Thomas
McCall folded her arms as if waiting for a battle, but Sloan turned and walked away. He could say he didn’t want to fight with her a thousand times, but she still kept drawing lines in the sand, daring him to step over. Well, this time he wasn’t taking the challenge.
“I know the way back from here,” Winter said loudly for the second time. “We’re not far from the station.”
McCall raised her face to the noon sun. “Are you sure you know the way?”
“Yes,” Winter answered. “We crossed here when we were alone, after the old medicine man died. The station is beyond that rise where the trees shield the sunrise. We camped there before moving on. It took all morning on foot to make it to Miss Alyce, but on horseback I could make it in half the time.”
Sloan turned and walked back to Winter. “He’s right. He does know the way.”
“I know he’s right!” McCall snapped. “I grew up in this country.”
“I could go back alone,” Winter offered. “No one’s looking for me. It seems to me I’d be safer away from the two of you.”
Sloan touched the boy’s shoulder. “Then go. Find Miss Alyce and tell her to meet us at McCall’s place. Tell her to bring any supplies she thinks we’ll need.” He looked up at McCall. “Then we could ride a wide circle around the settlement so no one would see us.”
“I haven’t spent the night on the ranch since my husband died.” McCall took a step closer to Sloan.
“It would only be a few days. It’s the only place where we’ll be comfortable and safe without endangering anyone else. No one will look for us there.” He could tell she was thinking of agreeing. She might be angry, but she wasn’t foolish.
“Then what? We hide like rats forever?”
“No.” Sloan forced himself to stay calm. “I’ll rest up and get a fresh horse. Then I’ll go looking for them, once I know you’re safe.”
McCall took a deep breath. “It appears to be the only sensible thing to do.”
Sloan couldn’t believe she was agreeing so easily. He could almost see the wheels turning in her mind. She was up to something, but he’d just have to wait and find out what. Or maybe, like him, she was exhausted. Going home, even to a house she hated, sounded good.
They mounted in silence and rode together to where the trees marked the ridge. When Winter headed toward the station, Sloan and McCall began their circle to the ranch.
Sloan was careful to cover their trail, riding on hard ground when they could find any and staying to well-trod paths other times. McCall was an easy partner, for they paced themselves very much the same. She rode like a seasoned soldier, never complaining.
It was midafternoon when they reached her place. He watched her carefully. She showed no sign of being happy to be home. She didn’t pause or glance into the cemetery as they passed it. The place might as well have been unknown to her and not the place where she’d grown up.
When they stopped in front of the barn, Sloan broke the silence. “I’ll take care of the horses if you want to go on in.” The sky had clouded up, making the air cold once more. He’d offered her his coat five times in the past hour, but she’d always insisted her jacket was warm enough.
“I’ll start a fire.” She didn’t look at him as she turned and walked away.
Sloan led the horses into the huge barn. As he worked, he glanced around, noticing how neglected the barn looked. Only one of the stalls had been used in years, and most of the equipment hanging on the walls was in need of oiling. He tried to remember what McCall had told him about the place. Something about an old couple living out here as overseers until a few months ago, but she hadn’t lived here in years.
It was a shame she’d neglected the place. The land was good, grassy and laced with streams. Her ranch would make a grand place for raising horses. From the number of wild ones they’d seen, Holden must have done what most men did when there was no one left to run the place. He’d turned his cattle and horses loose. With work, the ranch could be productive once more.
Sloan crossed the yard to the back porch. Though the house was a good size, it seemed to be standing at attention like a toy headquarters, not a home. There were no curves or softness in the design. As he’d noticed before, there was no welcoming warmth about the house McCall grew up in. It reminded him of one of the hundreds of buildings he’d seen inside forts.
When he entered the kitchen, he found her sitting by a cold fireplace. A layer of dust covered what must have once been a spotless kitchen.
“McCall?” Sloan knelt by her chair.
“I don’t want to stay here.” She looked at him with an expression in her eyes he’d never seen. “I hate this place,” she whispered, as though someone might hear her. “There are too many ghosts. I thought I could come back for a day or two, but now I’m not sure.”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Sloan said as he glanced at the empty box of matches in her hand. “If ghosts could hurt anyone, I’d be long dead.”
“I’m not afraid,” McCall answered. “I just feel myself going back in time. By stepping into this house, I step back into the role I played until Holden died. I don’t want to be that person anymore.”
Sloan took her hand, “What person?” He couldn’t allow her to let a house break her. He cared for her too much.
“The perfect daughter, the perfect wife.” McCall glanced around the room as if expecting someone to jump out of the shadows. “My father couldn’t have a son who’d go to West Point and be an officer, so he did the next best thing. He raised me to be the perfect officer’s wife.”
Sloan pulled her toward the doorway. “And you were, weren’t you? Everything in order, follow a timetable, reason out strategies, never show your feelings, never complain.”
She looked up at him as if seeing the truth of his words.
“You can dress a wound, fire a gun, ride better than any messenger sent, therefore saving a man for the battle. What more could an officer want of a wife?”
McCall followed him into the hallway.
“You were raised by two military men to know your duty. And you did it to the end. You were perfect to have in camp to take care of Holden’s needs, and the only one who could have brought him through the lines so he could be buried back here.” Sloan continued as he pulled her into the main entry. “It’s no wonder Holden Harrison married you on sight.”
“But he—”
“He what?” Sloan raised his voice, suddenly angry at her family. They’d tried to take all the woman out of this beautiful creature. “But did he really love you? But did he cherish you as a husband should cherish a wife? Did he want you as a woman and not as a major’s second?”
McCall didn’t answer.
“Or maybe he just wanted you to have his children. Men like him are usually worried about leaving part of themselves to carry on.”
McCall looked at him then with anger to match his own. “He did want me to have his children. He told Starkie so.”
“So he could breed more soldiers for wars in the future.” Sloan stormed into the room he guessed to have been the study. “Why didn’t you, McCall? Why didn’t you have a dozen little Holdens? You were married long enough. I’m sure it would have made your father happy.”
A tear ran unnoticed down her cheek. “I don’t know. I couldn’t. After every time he touched me, I’d wait, hoping, but it never happened.”
Sloan saw it then, what drove her forever on into danger. “So, you weren’t perfect? You couldn’t have his children. But you made up for it, didn’t you, McCall? You rode into danger again and again. You became a legend as great as the famous Major Harrison.”
McCall turned her back. She didn’t want to face the truth.
Sloan wouldn’t stop. “But he died, didn’t he? He died with honor, and you lived on. So you locked up all the emotion and let only the legend live. You’ve been riding in honor’s shadow for three years.”
“That’s all still—”
“Don’t say it!�
� Sloan turned her to face him. “That’s not all of you that is still alive! There’s a woman inside you. A breathing, needing, passionate woman. You can run away from me, but you can’t run away from the truth.”
She stared at him, dry-eyed, as if weighing everything he’d said.
“I have to go,” she finally whispered. “There’s someone I have to see.”
Sloan released the grip he had on her arms. He could fight her when she was fiery. He would argue until morning. But he didn’t know how to react when she became so cold and factual, like a puppet who was being controlled by invisible strings.
“As soon as the supplies arrive, I’ll go with you.”
“There’s no need.”
“I’ll go with you,” he repeated.
Sloan had to shatter the cold manner about her, but he wasn’t sure how. He walked around the room, picking up objects.
“Whose room was this?” he asked.
McCall didn’t seem interested in talking, but she answered, “This was my grandfather’s study when I was a little girl. He never allowed me in. When he died, my father took over and taught me lessons in here. When he died, Holden used this room as his home office. Men would come here at all hours of the day and night to talk to him. The room was usually full of cigar smoke and the smell of brandy.”
“Do you hate this room as you hate the rest of the house?”
McCall looked interested in the conversation for the first time. “Yes. I probably hate this room the most. When I was little and didn’t do my lessons right, my father would make me stand at attention, sometimes for hours, in this room. It, more than any other room, has always been a place I didn’t belong.”
“Good.” Sloan opened one of the long windows. The afternoon air was warmer than the interior of the house. “Then let’s start here. This is your house, McCall. You shouldn’t hate it. It’s only a house.”
He picked up what looked like a cannonball mounted on a board. “Do you hate this?”
“Yes,” McCall answered slowly.
With one quick throw, Sloan sailed the cannonball out the window. “It’s gone.” He lifted a leather-bound cigar box. “Do you hate this?”
A smile touched her lips. “Yes,” she answered, more quickly than before.
The box flew out the window. “And this?” Sloan grabbed a brandy decanter.
“I always have hated that thing,” she shouted.
One by one all the items sailed out the window. McCall began to laugh as she handed Sloan all the worthless things the men in her life had collected and thought too valuable for a little girl to touch. War books, old drawings of battles from long ago, spurs worn in campaigns, all hit the dirt outside the window.
Soon the room was stripped of all but the furniture. “Now the carpet.”
McCall grabbed one end of the long roll to help carry it out.
“And the desk?” Sloan raised an eyebrow.
“No,” McCall laughed. “I like the desk.” She giggled. “I hid under it once and carved my name where no one would ever find it. My father would have killed me if he’d found out.”
Sloan looked around. “Do you like this room better now?”
McCall stared at the bare shelves and walls. All the trappings were gone. “Much better.”
The rattle of a wagon drew them out of the game and back to the danger they were in. Sloan pulled his Colt and moved to the window.
“Anybody home?” Annie yelled.
McCall hurried to the porch. “Where’s Winter and Miss Alyce?” she asked, then thought of how rude she must sound and softened her voice. “Good to see you, Annie.”
“They’re back at the station. Miss Alyce said to tell you she’d like to come out, but she needs to stay and look after my pa a bit longer. Winter thought you would want him to stay with Alyce and watch her. He’s also loving helping out while Pa’s in bed. So they sent me here with supplies.”
Sloan holstered his weapon and walked onto the porch. “Thanks,” he said simply as he started unloading the wagon.
Annie climbed down and looked at all the things cluttering the ground outside one of the windows. “What’s all this? Did someone break in to rob you and his bag burst as he climbed out?”
“No,” McCall laughed. “I was just cleaning house. I’m getting rid of a few things I no longer need.”
Annie picked up the cigar box. “I got a fellow over at the fort who might like this.”
“Take it,” McCall said. “I’d like to think of someone getting some use out of these things.”
“And this.” Annie lifted one of the drawings.
“I’ll unload a grocery box to put your finds in.” McCall followed Sloan into the house. “Pick out everything else you think your fellow might need.”
While Sloan unpacked, Annie pilfered and McCall made several trips upstairs. Each time she appeared on the porch with an armload more for Annie’s wagon.
“I can’t take so much,” Annie protested when the wagon was half full. “He’ll think he has to marry me if I give him all this.”
“Do you want to marry him?” McCall asked.
“More than anything.” Annie sighed, almost popping the buttons across her bustline.
“Then let me get some more.” She disappeared and returned with a folding field desk of fine redwood and shiny new boots.
Annie squealed, and Sloan left to help with the next trip McCall made upstairs.
By the time they finished, the wagon was packed full and Annie was speechless.
“Come back in a few days.” McCall smiled. “I’m sure I’ll find more.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Annie began.
“You don’t have to,” McCall answered honestly. “You’ve done me the favor.”
As Annie took the reins, she reached in her pocket. “Oh, I almost forgot. Miss Alyce gave me this to give to you.” She handed McCall a paper and slapped the horses into action.
McCall stepped beside Sloan on the porch and waved to Annie.
When the wagon was out of sight, she turned to Sloan. “Thank you.” She touched his arm lightly.
“For what?” Sloan leaned against the railing.
“For helping me clean house.”
“It was long overdue.” He held the door for her, wishing she’d touch him again, but she didn’t.
As they walked inside, she looked around. “Funny. The house is not the same now. I don’t hate it so much anymore.”
“Good.” Sloan moved toward the kitchen. “Can we cook something? I’m starving, and we now have matches.”
While Sloan rummaged through the groceries, McCall read the note from Miss Alyce. “She reminds us to be careful and be on guard,” McCall began. “Then she’s drawn a map that makes no sense. At the bottom, it says ‘to Sanctuary.’”
Sloan had two eggs in each hand as he leaned over her shoulder. “It looks like a map starting at the barn door and moving out back of your place.”
McCall turned it sideways. “If you say so. Funny, I haven’t heard that word in years. My grandfather used to tell me that he named the original homestead ‘Sanctuary,’ but when my grandmother came out from the East she made him change it.”
“Did you know her?”
McCall shook her head. “She died before they finished the new house. She was a gentle lady who hated this life as much as my grandfather and young father loved it. My grandfather used to say that if she hadn’t gone to Heaven that spring, she would have gone back to Boston with or without her husband and son.”
Sloan looked at the map more closely, wondering what the crazy old woman was trying to tell them.
“What’s for supper?” McCall asked as she spread the map on the table. “I’m starting to get hungry.”
“Can’t you cook?”
“Can’t you?” she countered.
Sloan smiled. “How about we work together on this, General, before we both starve?”
“All right.” McCall stood. “After we eat
we’ll try and decide what Miss Alyce is attempting to tell us with this map.”
Twenty-five
“HOW MUCH TIME did you say Miss Alyce spent at this place?” Sloan asked as he moved between the trees. McCall carried the map. He held a shovel and lantern.
McCall took the lantern as she folded the map. “Not much. She and her father used to come by during my grandfather’s early days. She was always around when I was small. Holden didn’t like her much. He never said anything to her, but I don’t remember her visiting us once during my marriage. She was here when we buried him, though. She helped me pack to move to the station that night. I guess you could say she’s been around all my life, but never stayed as a houseguest. It wouldn’t have been proper with only grandfather and father around.”
“You think she buried something of value here?” Sloan stepped off the paces Alyce had written on the map.
“I don’t think so,” McCall answered as she followed like a shadow behind him.
They were a hundred yards from the back of the barn where a break of trees had been planted years ago. The wooded area was shady and cold in the late afternoon breeze. When he stopped, she bumped into him.
Sloan took her by the arms and moved her out of the way before he began to dig. He felt a chill suddenly pass through him like some people say they get when they step on a grave.
The shovel struck metal after only a few inches. “Well, whatever she wants us to find, she didn’t bother burying it very deep.” Sloan raked the shovel along the metal.
In a few minutes, he’d cleared the dirt from what looked like a small door. McCall lit the lantern as he continued. Between the clouds and the shade, the light was so dim she was unable to see their find without the lantern.
“This isn’t logical,” McCall said as Sloan used the shovel as a wedge to pry open the old door.
As the metal fell back against the layers of leaves beneath a tree, McCall held the lantern down. It lit a narrow stairway.
“I’ll go down first,” Sloan volunteered. “From the rust on that door, I’d guess no one’s opened this in ten or fifteen years.”