The song ended and people began milling toward the candy tables to bid on the confections.
“Don’t shut me out, Jake. We need to discuss this. You’re thinking I’ve done something and I haven’t. We could leave if you’re upset. But Emilie . . .” Helena was clearly at odds. “I feel like I should stay.”
“We’ll stay. I’m not going to ruin her night. Forget about it.”
“But—”
“I said, forget about it.”
Then he took her arm and went through the motions of partaking in the festivities, giving her no opportunity to break through to him. Her talk with Kimball had left the door wide open. It was a way out if he wanted to leave. Even though he knew in his heart she hadn’t done anything wrong, he was scared to admit he’d gotten too close to her. Thoughts about working for the military had done it. He’d known at that instant that he was willing to cross the line for Helena and put convictions behind him. That he was willing to make her the most important thing in his life. Nothing and no one else mattered. It was a hell of an option to consider, seeing as he felt the way he did about soldiers.
Being with Helena felt so right, it had to be wrong. So he’d decided to take the door and throw himself out before Helena could beat him to the punch. He had land waiting for him. And that had been the prime objective for him marrying her. For a while, he’d forgotten that. But now it became his goal once again.
Chapter
17
The weekend was passed in near silence between Helena and Jake. Gone were the unguarded moments of intimacy. She couldn’t understand why he’d felt it necessary to block her out. She’d told him that she hadn’t said anything to Bayard. Why hadn’t he believed her? Each time she tried to speak to him, he talked over her and cut her off with an abrupt tone and went to work in another part of the stockade or stables. She wanted to scream her frustration. She had her pride, too, and gave him his space for a time. Father had been that way. When he was upset or angry, Mother had stayed away from him, giving him time to cool down and realize that what he was angry about was nothing to be angry about at all. After several days without Jake’s willingness to talk to her, Helena was exasperated and said enough was enough. They were going to have it out even if she had to yell for everyone to hear.
She began her search in the yard, her thoughts trailing for a few minutes to the other topic constantly on her mind. The Indian war had blossomed into a full-fledged battle. Like hot spots from a fire, skirmishes blazed across the territory. News came in with the Express riders, who were edgy and high-strung. James Whalen had been thrown off his horse when an arrow shot through the sky. Luckily, he’d been able to remount and make it to Busby’s. But James’s leg had been broken in the fall, so the eastern run was short a man. This put added pressure on those who were already taxed from the demands of breakneck speed and unfaltering endurance.
Telegraph lines were constantly being cut by the Paiutes in a show of contempt for the white man’s singing wires. Communication was severed between several stations, and the only way words were traded was by the reliability of the mail. Descriptions of braves streaked with paint, their bodies greased, were offered by the thirsty riders as they halted in clouds of dust at their stations.
Well-armed dragoons patrolled Genoa’s streets, keeping order in their imposing blue uniforms. Yet that didn’t take the edge off the fear the citizens were feeling. Especially Emilie.
Thomas had made one run to Gray’s station since the Candy Dance, and was due in to town within the hour. Emilie was a bundle of nerves waiting for his appearance. When he’d come by Monday, unharmed and coated with trail grit, Emilie had broken into tears on the heels of his departure, praying she would see him again. Helena had felt helpless to comfort her sister. There was no guarantee that she could give Emilie that Thomas would stay safe. But Helena held on to her mother’s cross that encircled her neck, and said a prayer of Godspeed for the young man.
Since Emilie had already fallen in love with Thomas, there was nothing Helena could do to stop her sister. Emilie was growing up and would have her own choices to make. It was a horrible suffering for any woman to go through, unsure if her man would still be hers in the days to come. Helena knew how Emilie was feeling. Though she and Jake were bound together as husband and wife, she was more of an outsider in his life than his partner.
As Helena crossed the yard, she saw no glimpses of Jake in the corral, or in the stables when she entered. Eliazer was alone.
“Where’s Jake?” she asked.
“Left.”
The word sliced through Helena. “Left?” All she could think of was he’d left for good, and a panic flared in her so great, she almost couldn’t breathe. But she calmed when she saw Traveler in his stall. Jake wouldn’t leave one of his horses behind. Boomerang was missing. “Where?”
“Said he was going up to the ridge.” Eliazer pointed out the open doors toward the northeast.
The land.
“Could you help me saddle Maria Jane?” Helena picked out a striped wool blanket while Eliazer selected a saddle. “I’ll try and be back before Thomas McAllister comes in. But if I’m not in time to help you with his mount, saddle Columbiana.”
“Yes, Miss Lena. I’ll make sure she’s ready.”
Helena’s horse was equipped, and she mounted. Riding out the tall stockade doors, she headed east. As she climbed to higher ground and approached the one-hundred-sixty-acre parcel, she spotted Jake’s roan and Obsi streaking through the high grass with his tail twitching. When she neared, the dog barked and Jake turned on her with his Colt drawn and aimed at her chest. Seeing her, he paused and reholstered his revolver. The expression on his face was anything but welcoming when she dismounted.
Tethering the horse’s reins to a chaparral, Helena removed her rawhide gloves and stuffed them into her belt. She scanned the land, seeing in it the splendor that was so appealing. The ground was rich and verdant, the trees spired and thick, while a cross section of the Carson River fed the parcel with endless water. Jake stood in an area devoid of trees, a natural meadow surrounded by pines and edged with cottonwoods toward the south. There was a slight slant to the terrain, but with it came an expansive view of the valley to the south.
“It’s pretty here. I’ve always liked this spot.” Her observance caused Jake to frown.
Without answering, he strode toward her on the thick heels of his boots. He was attired in worn black pants and a checkered cotton shirt with the sleeve cuffs turned up once, and his rugged appearance made her pulse beat at the base of her throat. His face was tanned a burnished brown, while his gray hat kept his blunt hair away from his brows. The brim and crown had been molded and shaped to suit him. Weather permitted him to go without a vest, but a bandanna was tied in a knot at his throat.
“What are you doing here?” he challenged. “You change your mind?”
Confusion filled her. “About what?”
“This. The land.”
“No, I haven’t.” Why would he think she did? “Since you keep running away from me, I came to talk to you.”
Jake reached into his pocket, took out a drawstring bag and papers, and rolled a cigarette. Lighting it, he inhaled and the smell of smoke drifted on the breeze. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the scent of tobacco in his presence. Putting her hands behind her back, she bit her lip and walked to where he stood. The strain in him was evident, as the muscles in his neck were taut. He was so very angry with her—angrier now than the night of the dance. Had she made a mistake by leaving him alone for so long? Did he think she didn’t care?
“You have to listen to my explanation about the dance,” she began in a rush so he couldn’t stop her. “I didn’t want to dance with Bayard. He suggested we do—only until you came back into the assembly. Then I would finish the waltz with you. I’m sorry if you find that so offensive. I never meant to hurt you just by dancing with Bayard. It meant nothing to me. As for Jenny, Bayard brought her up, not me. I st
ill don’t know how he found out. I asked him yesterday to tell me how, but he wouldn’t. He kept going around the issue and wouldn’t say.”
Holding his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, he watched it burn in his grasp, then lifted his gaze toward the high-domed cape of blue sky. “You don’t need me anymore.”
“Of course I need you!” she exclaimed.
Ignoring her plea, he went on. “You can stand on your own now. No one is going to go up against you.” Jake lifted the cigarette to his mouth and pulled in the smoke until the end burned red. “I think it’s time we end this. We’ve played the charade out.”
Shock and dismay clutched her.
“I want the land. You’ve given it to me. It’s legally mine.” His eyes were cold and unfeeling when he said, “Let’s not prolong the inevitable. I always said I’d leave, and you knew that.”
Hurt drew a deep line in her. She’d wanted him to stay. Would have asked him to stay. Then something hit her as sure as if she’d been physically struck. “How do you know this land is legally yours?”
His forehead dented into a scowl. “That’s fairly obvious. Your name was in the Kinsey book I signed this morning. Right there in ink, says you transferred this land to me as of yesterday. Don’t know why you couldn’t have told me instead of that goddamn judge.”
Helena was sick. Bayard had spoken to Jake about the turnover on the parcel? How could he? The only reason she’d told him he could begin proceedings was to give him a show of faith. Demonstrate that she was willing to let bygones be bygones. But Bayard had abused her once again. He’d gone to Jake. And now Jake thought she was trying to get rid of him.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it appear that I wanted you out of the station.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Jake,” she implored, “you’ve got to listen to me. I only told Bayard to transfer the deed because—”
“Doesn’t matter.” Jake ground his cigarette beneath his boot. “It’s over.” He began walking toward his horse.
“It’s not over,” she called, chasing after him. “It’s not!”
Sharply he turned on her. “It is when I’m singled out off the goddamn street by a man I don’t like and am told my wife wanted me to have this land as soon as possible so she could get me the hell out of her life.”
“I never said anything of the kind!” Terror made her weak. “You’ve got to believe me. I would never say such a thing to Bayard.”
“No? But you talked to him about Jenny.”
Helena’s breasts rose and fell with her anger. This had nothing to do with Jenny, or the deed, or even Bayard. “Jake Carrigan, you’re being totally unreasonable. This is all just an excuse for you. It’s a way for you to leave me.”
“I never said I’d stay.”
“But things changed between us, and you know that.” She knew that her admission would sound like a ploy to get him to stay, but she went ahead with it anyway. He had to know before he went off without her. “Jake, I love you.”
He froze, one foot in the stirrup of his saddle. She waited long minutes for him to say something. Anything. Even if he called her a liar, it would be better than his silence. At last, all he offered was, “You better mount up. I can’t leave you here alone.”
Helena stared at him. “You’re scared. At least admit it to yourself if you won’t admit it to me.”
Jake leaned forward and put his elbow on the saddle horn. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His gaze was unmoving as granite, his mouth a fixed line of fury.
“Well, I’ll say it, then. I’m scared, too. I won’t deny I wanted you to have the parcel, regardless of what happens in our relationship . . . where you live . . . or don’t. I wanted you to feel secure in knowing I would make good on my promise to give you the acreage.” She looked into his eyes, seeing the flecks of gold against green. Seeing the pain and indecision he wouldn’t acknowledge. “I want you to come back to the station. Don’t say the charade is over.”
“Too late. This is mine.”
Desperate, she lashed out at him with whatever ammunition she had to hold him to her until she could figure out what to do next. “But we had an agreement. You were to stay with me for six months.”
“Things change.”
“They don’t. And if you don’t stay, I’ll consider you a liar.”
Jake merely laughed. A terrible, insincere sound. “I’ve always told you I was a liar, Lena. That’s the one thing I’ve never lied to you about.”
* * *
Carrigan rode behind Helena, watching the line of her shoulders as she stiffly held the reins of the mustang. How he hated hurting her.
She’d said she loved him. The words had cut right through him. She’d admitted her feelings so easily, he’d fought against really believing her. But Helena wouldn’t have said it if it weren’t true.
She loved him.
He didn’t know how to deal with her love. It was more of a burden to him than a blessing. Because in return, he couldn’t say the same. Even though it was true. Or almost true. Hell, it was true, but he was too much of a realist to deny that loving her wouldn’t be the best thing for her.
Even while he was telling himself he’d be better off without her, he’d been thinking a lot about Captain Garrett’s offer. This not only had him in knots, it had him wondering if he was making the biggest mistake of his life by pushing Helena away.
It wasn’t too late to hunt down Captain Garrett and tell him he’d changed his mind. Carrigan had been rationalizing rounding up horses that would, in a sense, be used to kill part of his heritage. There were no shades of gray. It was a war drawn in black and white. Either you fought back, or you were killed. There was no disrespect to his mother’s band of people, yet there was no loyalty to any tribe of Indian just because his blood was part Choctaw. He’d been raised a white man, and he had to take their side. If he didn’t, people could get hurt. Helena could get hurt. By rounding up horses for the cavalry, he’d be helping her. Them. With the income off the horses, Carrigan could hire an extra man to help at the station while Helena was with him while he began building a house. Their house. He was going to ask her where she wanted the windows, and how many rooms she’d fancy . . . and if she liked porches . . . and porch swings.
Jesus, he couldn’t afford to dream such dreams.
She loved him. Carrigan couldn’t get the words out of his head. She loved him. And he’d hurt her.
A distant horse nickered, and Carrigan grew alert. Helena sat straighter and looked over her shoulder at him. He waved her back. She lightened the reins and had Maria Jane fall into step next to Boomerang. Carrigan withdrew his Colt and trained the barrel on a dense thicket of poplars. Within a moment, color came into view. Clothing of blue and red, swatches that were familiar to Jake.
Carrigan’s first thought had been that the rider was a lone Indian, but the man astride a slow-loping mustang wore trousers and a shirt, with a slouch hat. He was slumped over the saddle horn, his body swaying with the jarring movements of the horse.
“Oh, dear God,” Helena gasped.
Carrigan heard her cry in his ear just as he recognized the rider. The mustang cleared the trees and plodded over a sheet of granite on his way toward Genoa. The rider, in the uniform of the Pony Express, had an arrow sticking out of his back.
It was Thomas McAllister.
* * *
They guided the horse across Fifth Street with Thomas’s crippled body hunched in the saddle. He was alive, but just barely. His crumpled appearance drew a hasty crowd, and someone ran to the Indian Affairs office to notify the authorities. Since there was no physician, Helena and Jake brought Thomas to the station. As soon as they entered the wide gates, Emilie was dashing out of the store with her fist to her mouth in an effort to stop her screams from coming. But they did, and the sorrowful sounds caused even Obsi to sit back and howl his sadness.
Eliazer arrived to help with the horse, and as soon as J
ake had Thomas off the saddle, he hoisted him over his shoulder and carried him toward the rear entrance to the house. Down the hall and up the stairs, the pattern brought an agonizing sense of déjà vu to Helena. She’d made this crossing once before . . . with the man she’d fallen in love with. Then, she hadn’t known how she would come to feel about him. But for Emilie, the emotions were already there. Her sister was suffering immensely.
Once Jake reached the top of the stairs, he headed for his room, but Emilie cried out, “Put him in my bedroom.”
Helena would have made a comment, but the tone in Emilie’s voice, despite her outward appearance, was calm and insistent. “I’ll take care of him. Just tell me what to do.”
She led the way and pulled the coverlet off her bed so Jake could lay Thomas down on his stomach. A wide circle of blood had spread across the back of his shirt, the arrow’s feathered end almost unbearable to view. Its sight was gruesome and merciless, making Helena want to close her eyes. But cowering and falling into tears would not help Thomas. Emilie must have seen the prudence in this as well, for her sobs had ceased, and she was standing over Thomas with determination holding her fair face captive.
“How do we get the arrow out?” She addressed Jake, who had taken the knife from his boot and was slicing down the middle of Thomas’s shirt with the blade.
“Carefully.”
Once the shirt was free, Helena had to swallow the saliva gathering in her throat. For some reason, she’d been more equipped to handle Jake’s injury than Thomas’s. She’d taken charge without blinking, knowing that Jake had no one else to count on to see him through other than her. With Thomas . . . she couldn’t explain why she was falling apart. Perhaps because Emilie was being so brave. It gave Helena some leeway to feel her discomfort and fear.
Jake wiped his palms down the sides of his trousers, then gave Emilie a level glance. “If I don’t pull it out straight, the tip could break off inside of him. Many men have lived with an arrowhead in their bodies, but it’s painful. I’ll try and go slowly. It’s going to hurt him like hell. If he yells, don’t panic. I’m not killing him. I have no choice.”
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