Prairie Song

by Cheryl Anne Porter

  “Dammit.” Cole looked back over his shoulder, sparing a glance for the covered wagon to his right. Inside were three sleeping children he couldn’t leave alone in this sea of strangers. But Kitty was awake. Should he leave the hound in charge? Would the dog understand what Cole needed him to do? Or would he bound happily after Cole, thinking this a game of chase?

  It was a chance he’d have to take, Cole finally decided. Because with each second he hesitated, Kate was farther away. That being so, he took the several determined steps he needed to get to the back of the wagon. Once there, he cupped the grinning dog’s ears in his hands. And felt like a fool for speaking in so intelligent a manner to the dumb animal. “Stay here, Kitty. Stay with the kids. I’ve got to go get Kate. You understand? Stay here.”

  Kitty barked and wagged his tail. Could it be the dog understood? Cole stepped back from the wagon. Kitty stayed where he was. Cole nodded. “Good boy, Kitty.” Kitty put his front paws on the wagon’s tailgate … and showed a respectable amount of sharp teeth as he growled low in his throat.

  Having to trust that this display meant that Kitty knew he was on watch, Cole set out after Kate, roughly following her meandering path across the crowded ground. His passing elicited the same reactions she had from the disgruntled settlers. But ignoring them as she had, Cole ran on, his thoughts more and more disjointed. Only troublesome words would come. Talmidge. Saddlebags. Telegraph. Shoot a woman. Cole’s heart and mind seemed only to want to concern themselves with his present exertion, with keeping his steps sure and his feet under him. It was just as well. Because what could he say to her when he caught up with her?

  She’d read the truth for herself. Right there in his saddlebags. He couldn’t deny it. She now knew his next contract was to kill a woman. No wonder she was terrified of him. Hell, he scared himself sometimes. But what he couldn’t account for was Kate’s reacting only now to what she’d read. Of course, she hadn’t said when she’d read the telegraph. And he had to admit, she’d had ample opportunity over many days to do so. But why now? Why tonight? What had prompted her strong reaction? Had it been his fishing around with her about her predicament and the Talmidges possibly being here? Hell, he knew the two things weren’t related.

  Cole jerked to a stop, much as if his last thought had been a brick wall he’d run up against. He did know the two things weren’t related, didn’t he? Gripping his sides, his hands to his waist, his lungs aching for air, Cole frowned as he looked around. He’d broken free of the close-packed wagons and was now standing in a flat stretch of unoccupied plains that sloped down to the creek’s waters. Nothing moved in the unfettered moonlight. No sign of Kate. Dammit. And no, he didn’t really know she had no connection to the Talmidges, did he? Only she knew. And he had to find her. And ask her. But the truth remained. No matter what her answer was, he’d never hurt Kate.

  So now he had to find her and convince her. Before she got herself killed. But where to look? Which direction should he go? She could be anywhere. Frustrated in the extreme, Cole turned in a slow circle, his keenly trained gaze all but melting back the darkness in his quest to see his quarry. Then … Cole froze. There. Straight ahead. A shadow had flitted amongst the trees. Was it her? Could be. Could be a deer. Could be any one of the thousands of folks camped out here. Could be someone up to no good, too. Or … it could be Kate.

  It was a chance he had to take. Besides, he was armed and knew how to take care of himself. Unlike Kate. Once again, Cole set out, loping easily, quietly, hunting her now, trying his best to hear a sound, a twig snapping, underbrush rustling … anything that would tell him she was within his grasp. Then he heard it—a cry. A whimpering cry. Cole stopped, frozen in position, listening, fearing yet praying he’d hear it again, just so he could get a bearing from the sound. Then … there it was again. To his left. Cole pivoted in that direction. Dread washed over him, weakening him. He’d heard that sound before, he now realized. Kate had made it when she’d been bleeding the other day.

  Cole took off again, this time his entire being centered on the dark shadow stumbling blindly ahead of him, just inside the protective cover of the scrub oaks. Whoever—whatever—it was, it was hurting. That much was evident. And one thing hurt animals and hurt people were was dangerous. Cole swore under his breath … and pulled his gun from its holster. Holding the barrel up, keeping it pointed to the night sky, he entered the cover of the trees, keeping his back hugged up against the rough bark of one after another of the tall oaks as he cautiously threaded his way farther and farther in.

  Then, before he could think, or even react, Cole was blindsided. He had no time to do anything except grunt with the force of the impact and clutch clumsily at whoever had just hit him. Then … he knew. It was Kate who had collided with him and fallen into his arms. He knew because slivers of moonlight that penetrated the trees’ branches lit up her pale and stricken face. Quickly he holstered his gun and steadied her with both hands on her arms. “Kate, it’s me—Cole. What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

  “Oh, God.” A wrenching sob tore out of her as she clutched at his sleeves and leaned heavily into him, her cheek against his chest. “Why did you follow me? Why? What do you want from me? I don’t have anything left to give. Nothing.”

  “What are you talking about?” He tried to hold her out from him so he could see her face, but she resisted him. Concerned to the point of fear—for her and for himself—Cole relented and settled for stroking her hair as he held her to him. “Are you hurt somewhere, Kate? Are you bleeding?” She nodded. Cole’s heart almost stopped. “Let me get you back to the—”

  “No.” She tightened her grip on him, as if her strength could keep him in place. “Not like that. I don’t mean like before. Inside my heart, Cole. I hurt there. And it hurts so bad.”

  Cole swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. And thought he knew just how she felt. He knew some of the same pain. So, holding her close, caressing her silken hair, Cole encouraged her. “Tell me about it, Kate. Tell me why you hurt.”

  “No.” There was no longer a sobbing catch to her voice. She seemed to be calming down some. “Tell me why you followed me.”

  Cole looked off into the darkness above her head, which rested just below his chin. “Why? Because I—” He cut off his own words. He’d almost said because he cared.

  So Kate finished for him. “Because you … care, maybe? Is that it?”

  Cole stilled, felt suddenly heavy in his own clothes. The moment was here, the one he’d wanted only minutes ago when he’d set out after her. “Yes,” he said, imbuing the one simple word with all the things he couldn’t say, with all the things he’d never said before in his life to any woman. “Yes, Kate, I care. Is that so awful?”

  She nodded against his chest. “It is, Cole. It’s the worst thing in the world. And you don’t even know why.”

  Cole stiffened. His arms around her felt cold, inside him insult mixed with injury. “I think I do, Kate. I think I know.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “It’s okay. Really.” He reminded himself of what he knew of this world and his place in it. A self-deprecating shake of his head told him he had no right to be either insulted or injured. Because no one but him had chosen his life’s path for him. Not even his father who’d ridden off that day so many years ago, never to return.

  Cole pulled Kate away from him. She turned her moon-silvered face, wet with her tears, up to him. Cole’s heart melted … a woman like her wasn’t meant for a man like him. He didn’t waste time feeling sorry for himself. He had no patience with that. No, he was just saddened that it would be so. Because he felt certain that, given half a chance, he could make her happy. But the hell with it. It was too hard. “It’s okay, Kate. I know who I am. You don’t have to say anything.”

  She again shook her head. “No, Cole. Listen to me. The problem is not with you. It’s who I am. And it’s everything that I’ve done. Not you.”

  Troubled in the extreme, Cole frowned at he
r. “What are you talking about?”

  Kate shrugged out of his loosening grasp. She turned her back to him and raised her head, as if to stave off tears … or the truth. “I’m not who you think I am, Cole.”

  The cool, level tone of her voice shot through Cole like an arrow to the back. Something was wrong here. Very wrong. Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to know exactly what, either. Because he had a sense that the weight of what she had yet to say would crush him. But what surprised him the most about his own reaction was that he felt as if he already knew the truth of her unspoken words. As if on some level he’d always known or suspected she wasn’t who she said she was. She’d been too complicated, too closemouthed. It occurred to Cole now that he didn’t know the first thing about her. Only her lies. And that being so, could he take what she seemed on the verge of telling him now as the truth? Should he trust her now? But he knew he would. And it would most likely kill him. Thinking and fearing all this, Cole licked at his suddenly dry lips and ventured onward. What choice did he have? he asked himself. “Then who are you, Kate? That is your name, isn’t it?”

  She turned around to face him. Her chin rose a notch. She met his gaze. Her own was unwavering, her earlier tears dried. To Cole, she looked hard, as if formed of ice. Or maybe steel; there was a steeliness in her that perhaps he’d missed before now. “Yes. Kate’s my name,” she finally said. “But it’s not my only name.”

  The wind sloughed through the branches. An owl hooted. And Cole gestured his frustration. “What does that mean, not your only name? Just spit it out, Kate.”

  “All right,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “I’m the woman you’re hunting. I’m the woman you know as Anne Candless.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Goddamn you.”

  Kate flinched at Cole’s curse. But felt certain he was right … God had indeed damned her. She also believed that the man standing before her would, at any moment, send her to meet her Maker.

  But Cole apparently wasn’t finished with her just yet. He stabbed the air between them with his pointing finger. “You’re lying. You read that name in the telegraph. You don’t know anything about—”

  “Why would I lie, Cole?” Kate’s hands fisted at her sides. “Why would I say I’m Anne Candless if I wasn’t? Why?”

  Cole looked everywhere but at her as he cast about for answers, as if the night wind or the stolid oaks surrounding them would give him the reason—one good enough to keep him from pulling his Colt and shooting her dead. His gaze locked with hers. “Because you saw it and got scared that I—your husband now—would be the kind of man who could shoot a woman. You wanted to confront me and challenge me.”

  She nodded. “You’re right about one thing. I’ve spent a lot of time wondering just what type of man Mr. Talmidge would send. I wondered how low-down a critter the hired gun would be. And then, it did scare me that it was you, Cole.”

  He stared at her, his jaw worked, his frown deepened. “You’re not Anne Candless. Your name is Kate Chandler.”

  Kate started to speak, but a sudden calm, like the eye of a storm, befell her. A new awareness settled over her. She frowned, seeing Cole as if this were the first time she’d ever seen him. No man could be stronger, more solid, more sure of himself. Yet somehow he appeared young and scared, possibly like the little boy he’d been many years ago. To Kate, he looked as if a stiff breeze could knock him over, or as if his whole world was falling apart.

  Suddenly she knew, without really knowing, that the truth of who she was would save not only her … but him, as well. She had to convince him of her identity. It was her only hope … and his. Yet she didn’t even know what she meant by that. She just knew it was true and, therefore, good. Still, when she spoke, it was with a quiet authority in her voice that surprised her, a quality she’d never heard before. “Your not wanting me to be Anne Candless doesn’t make it the truth, Cole. And that’s one thing that’s been missing between us before now. The truth.”

  Cole pulled himself up stiffly, as if she’d slapped him. “I’ve always told you the truth, Kate. Always.” He quieted. Kate employed his own tactic against him … she waited. Then, the words burst out of him. “Except about finding that cousin of mine. I intended to, at first. But then I realized … the kids are better off with you, like you said.”

  Kate struggled not to look down in shame. Those sweet, precious children. How could she face them? How could they be better off with her? Only through a sheer effort of will did she maintain a level gaze as she met his dark eyes, so glittery in the silvered night. “Only I won’t be around for them to live with, will I? It’s your mission to see to that.”

  “Dammit, Kate, stop this. It’s not my mission. Besides, I know you. You’re a good woman. You wouldn’t even steal the time of day, much less money and jewelry.”

  A tsking sound escaped her. “Money and jewelry. I read that in the telegraph. And, you know, you’re right. I wouldn’t steal from him. Or from anyone else. I guess that’s the only thing he could think of to get someone like you to take the contract on my life.”

  “I didn’t want to, Kate. I had to. There wasn’t anything—”

  “Do you hear yourself? You’re apologizing to me—me—for taking the contract. Does that mean you believe me when I say I’m Anne Candless?”

  His frown deepened. “Don’t twist my words, Kate. And I don’t believe you’re her. All I’m saying is I took the contract against my better judgment. I have my sister’s kids to feed and clothe. That takes money. So I had no choice in the matter—”

  “I know something about that. I know about how your back gets to a wall before you know it. I might be young and all, but I’m not innocent of the ways of the world. Not anymore. You see, I didn’t find my back to a wall. Rather, it was to a mattress. For days on end—weeks, Cole. Oh, it was the finest mattress available. Feather-stuffed. In a beautiful room. Inside a wonderful mansion—”

  “What are you saying, Kate?” Cole stilled.

  Kate swallowed, suddenly overcome with the memory and the emotion of what she’d lived through. “I’m saying…” The words wouldn’t come. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes against the tears that threatened, against the awful pictures in her head. Then she opened her eyes and saw Cole hadn’t moved. “I’m saying I’m Anne Candless. Only the message you got was wrong. My real name is Anna Chandler. Anna Katherine Chandler. Kate, to you.”

  Kate watched as several emotions played over Cole’s face. Disbelief. Shock. Then, and slowly, dawning realization. Followed by denial. “You’re lying. And I won’t listen to another word.” He turned on his heel, turned away from her.

  Kate pushed forward, grabbing his sleeve and turning him to face her. “No. For the first time since you’ve known me, Cole, I’m not lying. I’m who I say I am—Anna Katherine Chandler.”

  “Youngblood,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re a Youngblood now.”

  For long wordless moments, Kate could only stare at him. Then she exhaled … her breath felt hot and moist against her lips. “Yes, I’m a Youngblood now. And I couldn’t be more sorry for you because of that.”

  “Sorry for me? Why?”

  “Because now you have to face me with that knowledge. Or Mr. Talmidge. You have to do the right thing, Cole. But only by one of us.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Cole muttered under his breath as he tugged himself out of her grip and again turned his back to her.

  Kate died a thousand deaths inside as he struggled with his dilemma. She wanted to reach out, to touch him, to beg him to understand. But she could do none of that. His dilemma was as much of her making as it was Mr. Talmidge’s. So all Kate could do was stare at Cole’s back, at his broad shoulders, and wonder what he would do. Should she already be running away? Had she been a fool to stand here and spell it all out for him? Not that he appeared to believe her completely yet.

  Just then, Cole pivoted around to face her. His features, in the moonlight, reflected a gun
fighter’s steeliness. “What did he do to you, Kate?”

  Breathless, scared, Kate could only get out, “Then you believe me?”

  “I don’t know what to believe. All I know is I’ve had my doubts since the day I took this job. It seemed to me that money and jewelry, to someone like the Talmidges, shouldn’t amount to a death sentence for some poor maid. I figured there was more to it, but I also figured it wasn’t my job to question the why of it. Because the final decision was mine. If I didn’t like the work, I didn’t have to take the money. But I did take it, and like I said, I had to—for the kids.”

  Kate nodded. “I understand that … about the kids.” She could see the reason in everything he said—even the part about doing what he did for his sister’s children. After all, hadn’t everything she’d done—every lie she’d told, every decision, good or bad, she’d made—been for her baby’s sake? Almost unconsciously she put a hand to her belly in a gesture of protection.

  Cole pointed at her gesture. “That’s what I want to know, Kate. Who’s your baby’s father?”

  Kate’s hand fisted around her skirt’s fabric, her chest hurt as she tried to take in a deep breath but couldn’t. She raised her chin a notch. “The father doesn’t matter. The baby’s mine … and I love her.”

  “I’m not saying you don’t. I’m just asking you if Edgar Talmidge is the father. He is, isn’t he? And he’s the one who wants your baby.”

  A yelp of hateful truth escaped Kate. She retreated a few steps, turned her face away from Cole’s steady scrutiny. Instantly he stepped up to her, gripping her by her arms. “Look at me, Kate. What did he do to you? Tell me.”

  “No,” she cried out, on the verge of sobbing.

  Cole’s grip on her tightened. “Dammit, Kate—tell me.”