“Mrs. Jensen?”
Her eyes opened in the darkness. That wasn’t an unfamiliar voice. As her head continued to spin, she tried to place it. Young man. In pain. Frightened, but trying to act brave.
Another touch. A hand, gentle but insistent. “Mrs. Jensen?”
She didn’t vomit. In spite of the spinning darkness, she pushed herself up and tried to focus. Someone helped her, and the touch was still gentle. As she straightened, her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, and she saw thighs encased in Elam’s old work pants. One of the thighs had extra thickness beneath the material.
She finally placed the voice. “Timothy?” she rasped.
“It’s me.”
Her surroundings came into better focus, and she saw that they were in a stall in the barn. “I know this place.”
“You do?”
“I used to live here.”
“In a barn?”
Goodness, he was as young as Raylene Harper. “No, but we kept a mean bull in this stall. I think I know how we can get out of here.”
“It’s been reinforced. One of the men nailed a bunch of boards up high, so we can’t even climb out.”
“Where are the men?”
“They’ve gone outside.”
“All of them?”
“Yes. Mrs. Jensen, you did fine work on my leg.”
“You can call me Keara. Have you heard what they’re planning?”
“Sure have. The marshal tried to convince me to join them. Said I’d make enough money that my folks would never have to work again.”
“I take it you turned him down.”
“Do you know what they’re up to?” His voice rose with obvious outrage.
“Shush. Don’t draw attention.”
“I’m sorry, but—”
“They’re planning to cross the border into Oklahoma Territory and murder more Indians.”
“You know about it?”
“We’re digging up details in bits and pieces. When we get out of here, you need to look up Raylene Harper.”
“Raylene? She’s in on this.”
“No, she’s not. She just got tricked. She’s worried about you.”
“I don’t think we’re going to get out of here alive.”
Keara sighed. This young man had a bad attitude. Perhaps he wouldn’t be a good match for Raylene, after all.
When Keara’s head stopped pounding so wildly, she inched her way past Timothy to a particular portion of the outer wall. “Did I mention we kept a mean bull in here at one time?”
“Yes.”
“We’ve kept nothing in here since.”
“Why not?”
Keara pressed her ear against the wall. She heard no one talking. It sounded as if the men were all at the barn entrance on the other side of the building.
She pressed her fingers against the boards. Sure enough, no one had noticed. “Because the bull kicked the boards loose here.” She pushed harder to allow daylight in.
Ma died and Pa lost his will to live about the time the bull kicked out the boards. Keara had her hands full corralling her brothers, and no one had seen fit to nail the boards back in place. They were as loose as a latchless door.
“Can you help me with this?” she asked, keeping her voice soft.
Timothy moved immediately to her side and reached for the boards.
“Quietly,” she said. “It won’t help us if they catch us again.”
“I’ll push the boards back and you climb out,” he said. “I’ll follow.”
Timothy had just crawled behind her into the shady side of the barn when they heard an outcry and a bellow from within the gang of men mingling in front of the barn.
“What’s that?” Timothy asked.
Keara couldn’t help thinking of her husband. She knew he’d planned to come to this place soon, but now?
She pressed her finger to her lips and led the way around the side of the barn. She saw a crowd of men shoving two men to the ground, kicking them, punching them.
“No,” she whispered.
“That’s Mr. Jensen!”
Keara glanced back the way they had come, where one of the windows stood open. “Come and boost me back inside.”
“But why?”
“I need a gun.”
“But they’d have all taken theirs.”
“My pa left a hunting rifle in the barn all the time.” She led the way back around the side of the building. “Said a fella never knew when he’d need to shoot a snake or other varmint.” She’d been so angry with Pa when she’d been forced to move that she’d left his rifle in its hiding place. If Snyder hadn’t found it, she might have a chance to use it.
With Timothy’s help, she climbed into the barn through the window, felt through the shadows until she clutched the reassuring handle of Pa’s rifle, and handed it out to Timothy. She shoved her toes into a slat in the wall and heaved herself back through the window. Timothy caught her with a grunt.
She checked the rifle for ammunition and was relieved to find it fully loaded. They had to hurry. “Let’s go.”
Timothy didn’t balk at facing down a crowd of angry men. He walked at Keara’s side, reached for a sturdy limb, and rapped it against the palm of his hand. “I thought I’d die, anyway. This will give us a better chance.”
Keara cocked the rifle, aimed at one of the men kicking Elam, and squeezed the trigger. There was a cry, and the man fell over, grabbing his shoulder. She shot again as the men grew silent and stopped their attack on Elam and Kellen. Another man fell.
She cocked the rifle again. “I have a few bullets left. Who’s next?”
“Mrs. Jensen.” It was ex-US Marshal Driscoll Frey stepping toward her through the crowd.
She took aim. “Good. You’re the one I wanted.”
He stopped and held his hands up. “Wait!”
She held the rifle steady. “Give me one reason why I should.”
“We aren’t going to kill your husband.”
“I know that, because I’ll kill you first.”
Nobody moved.
“And yes,” she said, “I know there aren’t enough bullets in this rifle to kill all of you, but I’m one of the best shots in the county. Ask anyone who knows me.”
“She is.” Elam pulled himself up, blood dripping from his cheek as he reached down to help Kellen. “I know her well.”
With Keara’s bead on Frey’s head, Elam and Kellen stepped through the frozen crowd of men. Elam didn’t attempt to take the rifle when he reached her. The men didn’t need any distractions.
“Your secret is out, men,” Elam said. “Not only do we know you’re planning to murder innocent US citizens, but we know your names. Driscoll Frey may have told you he’s a US marshal, but he’s not.”
As Elam spoke, the brush behind the crowd parted, and out stepped David Pettit with his band of men. One of the men saw Timothy and rushed forward.
“Pa,” Timothy said softly.
David and his men trained their pistols on the crowd from behind.
The sound of horses reached them from the wagon track, and all but Keara looked to the side to see who was coming.
“Anybody messes with my daughter will have to face me, and I’ve already been in jail once for killing a man.”
Keara did look then. “Pa!”
Sheriff Nolan joined Brute McBride. “We’ve more lawmen on their way. Anyone who tries to get away will be shot. McBride, looks like your daughter has already begun the process.”
Pa slid from his saddle and stepped to Keara’s side. He grasped the rifle and took it from her. “Darlin’, I’ve never been prouder of you.”
He turned back to Frey and his men. “You thought you’d make war against legal US citizens? Those tribes own that land, and they’ve got as much right to live in this country as you. Fact, I think they’ve got more rights. They haven’t been planning to murder anybody by spreading disease.”
Elam dabbed at the blood on his face and took a
step forward. “There was a cry of outrage by citizens all across this country about the horrors of the forced march. If you think that cry was loud, wait until they hear about this. And they will.”
The silence was broken only by the groans of the men Keara had shot.
As the sheriff took over and ordered the crowd to drop their weapons, Elam drew Keara aside and caught her in his arms.
“I thought I might lose you,” he whispered. “When you didn’t return to the house, and I found Elijah in the woods…” He pulled her close. “Keara, don’t you ever do anything like that again.”
Keara hugged him, and when he lowered his lips to hers, she kissed him with all the love she’d tried to conceal in her heart, though she winced in pain.
She smelled like manure, she was covered in it, and her hair fell around her face like a squirrel’s nest. Her final question had been answered, and her heart was home at last.
Twenty-Seven
Keara lay in the tub until it seemed she’d soaked nearly every drop of hot water into her skin. Her fingers were wrinkled and she felt relaxed down to the bone.
Someone knocked on the door. “Have you drowned in there?”
She smiled. It was Susanna, who had been the one to insist on this luxury in the first place. “Still working on it.”
“Well, I’m coming in. I brought clothes I want you to wear when Elam returns from town with Sikes.”
“Is it the blue and purple?”
“No.” The door unlatched and Susanna stepped in. “Don’t worry, I’m not making you wear fifteen pounds of undergarments.”
Keara raised her eyebrows at the pieces of silk and muslin her friend carried over her arm. “Are you sure? You shouldn’t have done all that work. I could’ve—”
“Yes, but you wouldn’t’ve,” Susanna said, mimicking Keara. “You’d have worn your old, stained brown things until they fell apart. I, on the other hand, love to sew when the neighbors aren’t trying to set up a practice for me, and the movements are helping my shoulder heal more quickly. Hurry and dry off. I want to get these clothes on you and get your hair dry in the sun so Elam can see the final result.”
Keara did as she was told. She’d learned that there were certain things Susanna would simply not back down on, and the remaking of Keara Jensen was one of them. The two women had exchanged a few heated words over it, but as Keara had learned to stand her ground with Gloria and remain friends, the same worked for Susanna.
Sadness weighed Keara down for most of the week, once they received the news that Susanna’s brother-in-law was on his way here by train to pick her up and take her immediately back home.
“I’d still like to observe a few more procedures before you have to leave.” Keara had followed Susanna’s instructions about new herbs to collect and dry, but several of the patient treatments—mixing certain powders for pneumonia, testing for blood diseases, breech births—hadn’t come up in the daily routine of seeing to patients who lived in the area.
Once folks found out about Susanna’s medical degree, the Jensen parlor, which was set off from the great room with fancy French doors, had many days become a regular medical practice.
“When is Sikes planning to leave with you? Can he at least spend the night?” Keara pulled on the first layer of soft underwear. It wasn’t scratchy.
Susanna sighed. “He doesn’t want to stay and visit. Typical of the man. He plans to catch a later train back today. He has sleeping berths for both of us, so it should be a lot more comfortable returning than it was riding out here. But he has business to get back to and he can’t linger. His words exactly.”
“We’ll take good care of Duchess while you’re gone.” Keara pulled on the second layer of underwear, eyeing the rest. Too bad Susanna had gone to all the trouble of sewing two extra layers that Keara would never wear—at least not in summertime.
“I get the impression you think I’m coming back this way.” Susanna held up a beautiful silk chemise, blue eyes sparkling.
Keara caught her breath and reached out to feel it. “It’s lovely!”
Susanna handed it to her to pull on. It fit perfectly.
Keara frowned at Susanna, however. “You are coming back, aren’t you?”
Her friend avoided her gaze. “I have patients who need me in Blackmoor, especially with Nathaniel gone. You know, you’re a lady of means now. You could easily afford a train trip to Pennsylvania to visit with me…perhaps learn a few more procedures.”
Keara’s spirits brightened. “I could travel back to Blackmoor with Duchess on the train.”
“About that—”
“And then you could travel back with me.”
Susanna gave a soft sigh, as she often did when she wanted to communicate that Keara was being as bullheaded as Brute McBride. At last, however, she held up the dress. It was the apple-red and yellow patterned material, snug around the midriff and tapering out from the hips. It had Georgian sleeves and a neckline that wouldn’t embarrass Keara to wear, and yet it most certainly wouldn’t choke her, either.
“Try it on.”
Keara did as told, and as it slid down over her hips, she knew it was a perfect fit. What couldn’t Susanna Luther do?
The mirror image of Keara in the dress was…
“Stunning,” Susanna said.
Keara could only nod.
“The bright yellow brings out the gold in your eyes. And that’s with wet hair. Wait until we get it fixed.”
Keara stared at the reflection of the two of them. So different on the outside, and yet she’d begun to see so many similarities between them. Perhaps it was because she’d grown to love Susanna as she had Gloria.
And then the tears came. Keara couldn’t help it. She’d been more teary-eyed these past few weeks since the capture of the killers, sometimes for no reason whatsoever, but now she knew why she was crying.
“Susanna.” Her voice was husky with an effort not to burst into sobs. “Are you sure you can’t just stay here?”
“Oh, my dear.” Susanna placed her arms around Keara and held her close—a gesture of affection she wouldn’t have been able to make before her shoulder had been given all these weeks to heal. “Nothing is ever set in stone, you know.”
Keara nodded and cried.
“You have Elam’s love. That’s a wonderful gift.”
Keara nodded, sniffed, cried harder.
Susanna released her and stepped back, and Keara saw tears coursing in a healthy flow down her friend’s face. “I hate leaving,” Susanna said. “As this day has drawn near, I’ve dreaded it more with each hour.”
“Then why?”
Susanna took her by the arm. “Come, let’s step outside into the sun and start drying that hair along with our faces.”
Keara went with her. The front porch steps were totally cleaned of bloodstains now, and the late spring breezes carried with them scents of clover from the fields. A rain last night had settled the dust, and the wind was warm enough for drying hair.
Susanna stepped over to the stone wall, where Elam had once chosen the embedded crystal to show Keara what he felt about her beauty. “This place has become like my true home,” Susanna said softly, looking out across the orchard where the children were weeding, interspersed by much play with their wandering baby brother. “After all these years of resisting Nathaniel’s pleas for me to listen to him about his faith in God, his belief in following Jesus Christ, I’ve only recently seen that faith in action in a whole community. Maybe because I wasn’t looking before.” She touched Keara’s arm. “It’s in you, in Elam, in his lovely sisters.”
“You’re a part of the community now.”
Susanna smiled. “I’ll always be a part of the Christian community now, and I have your example to thank for that. As for the future, we’ll wait and see. I have to return and make peace with my past.”
As she spoke, they heard the sound of Elijah’s trot and looked up to see Elam returning with Sikes Luther.
“Your
hair!” Susanna cried. “It isn’t finished.”
Keara chuckled. “You can stop worrying about my appearance now. Elam made it clear the day he found me covered in manure with my hair looking like a crow’s nest that he doesn’t see me from the outside.”
Susanna winked. “Oh yes he does. You know those times you aren’t watching, and he can’t keep his eyes off you? When he’s working Freda Mae in the corral and loses concentration when you step out on the porch?”
Keara felt her face grow warm. “We’ve been lingering on the front porch after everyone else has gone to bed.”
“I know. Why do you think I’ve started putting the children to bed early? How do you think I’ve found the time to sew your dresses?”
Keara felt the tears again. She blinked them away as Elam and Sikes approached the house. “Come back to us, Susanna,” she whispered. “Please come back to us.”
Susanna placed an arm around Keara’s shoulders and walked with her toward the arriving carriage.
Elam saw Keara and Susanna walking toward them, and he couldn’t take his eyes from Keara.
“That’s your new wife?” Sikes asked.
“That’s her.”
“A lovely young woman.”
“Her beauty begins in the heart and radiates outward.” Elam didn’t care if Sikes thought him a besotted fool, but he believed the man would understand. They’d shared quite a bit of correspondence since the incident with Marshal Frey, and Elam had found Sikes to be sincere, methodical, and dedicated to his career.
Elam climbed from the carriage and resisted the urge to go to Keara and take her in his arms. They only did that in private. He’d kissed her a total of five times since the day of Frey’s arrest, and it frustrated him to move so slowly. But he trusted Susanna’s advice.
After so many weeks of watching his wife’s kindness on a daily, nightly basis, Elam realized that her love had been lavished on his children since long before Gloria’s death. Keara was a gift from God for him and the children.
He thanked God for her every day.
After introductions, Sikes gave his apologies. “After our correspondence, Elam, I had so hoped to be able to spend more time here and get to know you better.”
The Wedding Kiss Page 25