Hannah Alexander

by Keeping Faith

  She sighed. “I trust your judgment. Tell me, then, when your father deeded the plantation to your brother.”

  He recalled his father’s fury with him, and then his death. After all that, to learn that Matthew and Victoria had married...it was like a stake in his heart. After all he’d gone through, his greatest wish was denied him, but if not for the past ten years of struggle, would he be the man he was now?

  “He changed the deed when I told him I was going to marry an abolitionist.”

  “I did write to you, Joseph. I take it you never received the letters.”

  “Of course not. After my father died I was angry to the bone and sick of life. I took a wagon train West to get away from the world I’d always known.”

  “Why didn’t you ask me about the letters long ago?”

  “When you were already married? A man doesn’t get that personal with the wife of another man. The only conclusion I could draw was that you had chosen security over love. How could I blame you? I didn’t realize how much I’d hurt you when I left.”

  “You mean you didn’t know how much I loved you?” she asked.

  “I thought that if you loved me enough, you would have gone with me.”

  “But I didn’t—”

  He touched her lips with his fingers. “I know better now. You are a woman of strong principles. You were wise enough to know you couldn’t have withstood watching slavery in action in every part of your life. I blamed myself for forcing you to choose a loveless marriage because of my need to obey my father’s dying wish.”

  “My marriage wasn’t loveless.”

  Her words stung, and yet he was glad, for her sake, that she’d not been lonely. “Can you tell me it was anything like the love we would have shared?”

  Victoria looked up and held his gaze for a long moment, her eyes bright, face still flushed from the fever, and he felt like a brute. Why was he doing this now?

  She shook her head, then leaned back against Boaz. “I think I’m the kind of woman who can only truly have a deep connection to one person my whole life. That spot was already taken. Matthew knew that.” The words fell softly, almost as if she felt guilty for speaking them.

  Joseph held Victoria’s clear gaze. It was the same gaze that had always had the power to scramble his thoughts to the point that he was unable to hold an intelligent conversation. He felt her studying him.

  “Now we know,” he said, feeling weak with regret, thinking about what might have been. “I’ve wanted to ask you about what happened for the past five weeks, but—”

  “But you’re a gentleman, and we had to get to know one another again.” She could read his mind. She knew him so well.

  “I wasn’t able to tell you before,” he said. “But all those nights on the trail, you were the one I dreamed about, and the guilt of dreaming of another man’s wife came close to driving me crazy. I was guilty of the sin of coveting my friend’s wife, and I fought it by keeping busy, by joining the cause you and Matthew started me on in the first place.”

  “I’m so sorry you endured those years.” Victoria’s voice weakened. “I never lacked for gentle company or interesting work. But you built a town in Kansas. God blessed your attempts to flee from your temptation.”

  “I think it was necessary for us to go our separate ways for a season,” he said. “Your skills will be vital in Kansas Territory, and I would never have gained knowledge of the wilderness and been able to lead other wagon trains to the Territory had I not been forced from your side. Do you remember the day your brother found me lying in the street?”

  He got the response he wanted when she smiled. “I remember,” she said. “Albert carried you to the clinic where I had taken a job working for Matthew, an old family friend.”

  “You chose to work in a dangerous part of town.”

  “And you chose to interfere when you saw a man beating his wife.” Her smile widened. “You always were the interfering sort. Albert and Matthew took to you immediately.”

  “And you?”

  “What woman wouldn’t take to a man like you?”

  He liked that. He recalled looking up from the cot where broad-shouldered, red-haired Albert had placed him and seeing Victoria at the far end of the room folding bandages. The vision of her had burned into his heart that very first time. Only in the weeks and months later had her depth and character burned into his soul.

  She took a breath and let it out slowly, as if trying to settle the pain in her thigh. “I believe Matthew intended to ask me to make a marriage/business partnership with him before you came along. He’d already begun to teach me minor skills.”

  That was something Joseph hadn’t known. “Matthew was the one who suggested I propose to you. He was like a fond uncle expressing his approval. He even seemed angry when I told him I was returning to Georgia.”

  “Of course. He doted on me. He always wanted me to be happy.”

  Joseph thought he heard something. He stiffened and held his hand up for her to be quiet, but when he peered through the screen of trees, he saw a doe drinking at the creek. He shook his head and tried to relax.

  “I once told Sara Jane that she shouldn’t be traded off like some prized pig,” he said.

  Victoria found the energy to chuckle at him. “Prized pig?”

  “She was a lovely young lady and deserved to marry for something besides money, which could be eaten by moths, destroyed by war or famine or theft.”

  An expression of wonder entered Victoria’s blue eyes. Her shapely lips parted with a chuckle. “Spoken like a true gentleman...except for the prized pig part.”

  “The two of you could have been friends.”

  “For a while, I hated the woman I thought you’d left me for, but how could I blame her for loving you?”

  Joseph frowned at the increased color that had begun to stain Victoria’s face and neck. He touched her face. “Your fever is rising.”

  She nodded. “My eyes are burning. I can always tell.”

  He moved closer to her. “We need to get you out of here as soon as it’s safe.”

  She stared up at him with eyes that had haunted him ever since he’d left, especially after receiving word of Matthew’s death. Those eyes had lingered in his dreams for his whole adult life.

  Joseph took her hand. It was cold. He took both of her hands in his and tried to instill some warmth in them. “You have permission to sock me in the mouth for all my poor behavior as soon as you’re well enough.”

  She gave a weak chuckle. “You could serve as my target stand when I practice my shooting.”

  “I’m all yours.” He halfway meant it. Sometimes he wondered if he hadn’t behaved more like Buster Johnston than he could admit to himself.

  She laid her head against Boaz’s side. “Do you really think those men are coming back?”

  “I wish I knew, but we can’t take a chance yet.”

  “If they’re coming, I wish they would hurry.” Her eyes slowly closed.

  He knew she was feeling worse and he prayed silently for something he could do to help her, distract her. “You know those arguments we had about slavery when we were falling in love? Your words only underscored what I’d come to believe. When I returned to Georgia, I felt as if I was returning to undertake a battle. I had even decided, at one time, to free all the slaves in the plantation.”

  Her lids fluttered open. “You did?”

  “It wasn’t until I arrived there that I realized I couldn’t do that. Not only would it endanger my family, but it would have endangered the slaves who had served my family for so many years. My younger brother, Edwin, shared many of my convictions, and together we made plans for greatly increased care for the slaves, increasingly better food and sanitation, better homes, shorter working hours. Since my father had already improved their living conditions a great deal after his father died, other plantations in the area improved the standards of living.”

  “It was a start,” she said as her eyes closed again. �
�I never knew.”

  “No. I wrote to you about it.”

  “I don’t care what your family says. You were a good son. Now,” she said, pressing her fingers to her forehead, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  He rushed to help her lean forward and held her hair back as she retched into the weeds, her whole body trembling. When she finished, he drew her back and dabbed her forehead with a damp cloth, helped her wash and gave her a sip of water.

  “Mint leaves?” he asked. “Did you pack any?”

  She shook her head.

  “Even if we dared try to return to town, you can’t ride in your condition,” he said.

  She moaned. Then her eyes widened as she went still and silent, nodding toward the creek.

  He heard what she had. More movement. Were the men coming back, or were more deer joining the doe at the water?

  Victoria breathed quietly while Joseph picked up her Colt and stepped with easy stealth through the thick growth of briars and trees. Good thing it was later spring and the brush covered them completely. He would prefer a cave, but their little hiding place would serve.

  He caught sight of one of what sounded like four riders along the creek. They were talking more softly this time, all wearing hats except one. That one...something familiar about him. And then he spoke, and for a moment Joseph could not breathe.

  Buster Johnston. He was riding with Silver Tail—Broderick Thames—who had apparently sobered up since Joseph had seen him a few hours ago.

  “You say you thought they were following this creek?” Thames asked Buster.

  “They sure were. Don’t know how many came this way, but if you ask me, they’ve got a lot of shooting skills.”

  Victoria’s trembling hand found its way to Joseph’s arm and she squeezed tightly. Her hand was as hot as her face appeared. He nodded and patted her hand with reassurance. What was the kid up to now?

  “You say they were men from the wagon train?” Thames asked.

  “Sure. Slave traders going to Kansas Territory. Bet I could get them to join your army, every one of them.”

  Joseph caught his breath again and felt a nigh-irresistible desire to burst out of the brush and grab Buster by the scruff of the neck. He was going to get them all killed.

  “Hold up, men!” Thames called, his voice louder. Much more sober than he’d been in the dram shop. Perhaps his behavior in town had been an act.

  There was the sound of boots landing on the rocky edge of the creek bed. “I thought you said that wagon train was settling around these parts.”

  “Not if we can’t find...land or...slaves to buy.” Buster’s voice sounded as if his throat had closed up on him.

  “Boss, got some blood here,” called one of the other men. “Got a lot of it.”

  Buster jumped from his horse and bent over. “Whoa! Lots of blood. Your men said they saw somebody coming this way. Think they got a shot at somebody?”

  “If they did, I wasn’t told,” Thames growled.

  “But why would they shoot at slave traders?” Buster demanded. “Don’t your men need all the help they can get?”

  Thames straightened and looked at Buster for a long moment, but the kid was still looking down at the blood on the rocks.

  “Looks like more than one person got shot,” Buster said. “See this here? And there’s some over there. What could cause this much blood loss?”

  As Joseph continued watching and Buster continued to study the ground, Thames reached for his pistol and nodded to the other two men.

  Joseph slowly cocked his weapon, making no sound, but suddenly aware that he wasn’t alone. The barrel of a rifle eased forward to his right. He didn’t have time to turn and look, but he knew Victoria was backing him up.

  At the creek bank, Buster finally looked up to see the weapons aimed at him. He froze. “What are you doing?” he cried. “I thought you said you were looking for men to join your raiders!”

  “I thought I caught the scent of an abolitionist,” Thames drawled. “You shouldn’t have changed your story.” Thames nodded to one of his men, who cocked his rifle. “Get up, kid.”

  Buster didn’t move. “Nope. If I stay here, you might not be so quick to shoot me. Bullets can ricochet from rocks, you know. Want to take the chance you’ll end up shooting yourself?”

  “Shoot him!” Thames told his rifleman.

  Before Joseph could aim, a deafening blast caught him beside his right ear. The would-be shooter tumbled to the rocks beside Buster. Thames and his remaining cohort pivoted toward the trees where Joseph and Victoria stood camouflaged behind thick brush. The cohort raised his rifle.

  Joseph caught the other man in the chest while Buster jumped to his feet and hauled a pistol out of his back pocket. It belonged to Deacon Fritz. What was Deacon thinking? The kid aimed his pistol at Thames and walked toward him, pointing the barrel directly into Thames’s face.

  “Try to hurt my friends, slaver, and you won’t have a face for your murdering posse to recognize.” The gun in his hand shook, and rage turned his face red. “You know what? I think I’ll just get rid of one more bushwhacker, save a few helpless Africans.”

  “Buster!” Joseph called. “No, don’t do it.”

  At the sound of Joseph’s voice, Thames raised his weapon. Victoria shot the man in the forehead before Joseph could stop her. Buster jumped backward with a yelp, tripped over a rock and fell on his hind end. “Captain? Tell me that’s you!”

  The rifle stock aimed upward. Joseph turned in time to see Victoria lose her grip on the barrel and stumble.

  “I shot him,” she whispered.

  Joseph caught both Victoria and her rifle at the same time and eased her onto the blanket beside Boaz. Though alert and slightly wide-eyed, the gelding hadn’t moved from his spot.

  Victoria trembled violently, lips parted, eyes wide in shock. “I sh-shot him,” she whispered.

  “I know. It wasn’t as simple as you expected it to be, was it?” Joseph glanced toward the creek. “Buster, bring us some water from the creek,” he called out. “I think we’re safe for now, but if you ever pull a prank like that again you’ll wish you’d been shot, because I know a lot more painful ways for a man to leave this world.”

  He returned his attention to Victoria. “Are you okay?”

  Tears filled her eyes. “I...really...shot them.”

  Carefully, Joseph drew her into his arms and held her against his chest. His first thought was that her fever had worsened and he needed to break it. His second thought that this was likely the first time she’d killed a human being, much less two at one time, and she was in shock.

  “You killed Matthew’s murderer, Victoria. He can’t hurt your friends now.”

  “What if he’s already hurt Buck and Francine?”

  “That kind of thinking will do you no good.” Joseph pressed his lips into her hair and continued to hold her. He didn’t want to let go, not ever. He wanted to stay beside her and protect her for the rest of their lives, and he didn’t care how many people thought he was being irreverent or inappropriate. This woman, this brilliant and caring doctor, needed someone to stand beside her always, to protect her so she could continue to heal and help others. He intended to be that person.

  Before he could say anything to her, she closed her eyes and her head fell back against Boaz.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Victoria awakened to the spatter of rushing water and the sound of raised voices. Her leg screamed with pain and she gritted her teeth so hard she was afraid she might break some of them, but it was better than crying out. She opened her eyes to find Joseph and Buster Johnston, of all people, hovering over her. The smell of dried fish eggs, water, whiskey and the reassuring scent of horse reminded her where she was.

  Had she really just shot two men? To save the life of this annoying upstart? What was he doing here? And why was he pretending to be a slaver?

  But wasn’t one of the men she’d shot the very monster she’d chased through
Missouri to seek revenge for her husband’s murder? And now she had her revenge. Why did it nauseate her?

  She needn’t ask Buster any questions because Joseph was doing an admirable job of grilling him.

  “Captain,” Buster whined, “I didn’t have a choice. Deacon Fritz and Heidi Ladue came riding into the camp like their horses’ tails were afire. Said the doctor was hurt bad and they were trying to lure the border ruffians away from her while you hid her.”

  “So Fritz sent you alone with those men to follow their tracks?” Joseph leaned over Victoria with a cloth of icy-cold water from a spring that fed the creek.

  “Well, no, but what was I supposed to do? Four men came riding into town along that same creek a little later, their horses all sweaty and slathering, and they went barging into the dram shop. A couple of minutes later they came out, all mad and glaring because that guy with the braid was shouting so loud his voice echoed from the cliffs across the creek.”

  “And you thought that would be a good time to join them?”

  “Pa always said when folks was all riled up was the best time to convince them you’re part of their crowd. I waited until the other fellas took their lathered-up horses to the stables and did what you told us to, asked Thames if they knew of any land or slaves for sale. Then I told them I’d seen someone I thought was looking for land and slaves go riding down Capps Creek, and I thought I knew where they were going.”

  “And he let you ride with them, just like that?”

  “Sure did. I told you, those men were all het up. Fella wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “Then you forgot your original story and told them we were headed for Kansas Territory. Not much of a liar, are you, son?”

  Buster kicked at a rock. “I guess I got kind of caught up in the excitement. It slipped out.”

  Joseph groaned. “You took it upon yourself to join their gang and spy on them? You thought that was a smart thing to do when you didn’t know anything about them?”