High Plains Promise (Love on the High Plains Book 2)

by Beaudelaire, Simone

  “What do Cody and Kristina have to do with it?” Not wanting to appear too interested, Rebecca returned to pinning fabric.

  “They were on the train.”

  Rebecca glanced up sharply. “Are they all right?”

  “Yes,” Ilse replied, with deflated enthusiasm. “They're fine. But…” Her eyes lit up again. “But, well, you remember Kristina's brother, don't you?”

  “Calvin? Of course. Cute little boy. What about him?”

  “He was there, I hear. He was shot.”

  A strange sensation of cold gripped Rebecca's insides. Calvin Heitschmidt? James' son? She swallowed. “Is he all right?”

  “He's dead,” Ilse crowed. A ringing sound began to reverberate around the inside of Rebecca's head, drowning out the girl's inane chatter. She rose without a word and walked from the shop. Though Rebecca had the reputation of being serene, today she forgot dignity. Her walk changed to a trot, and then a full out run as she covered the distance between her place of business and the general store. Maybe it's lies. Just ugly gossip. Maybe that little cockroach got it wrong. Please, God, let her be wrong. Let Calvin be fine. She banged through the open door of the mercantile and her boots thundered onto the echoing floorboards. James was standing, examining a display of canned peaches, his back to her. At the noise, he turned. Rebecca took one look at his lost, despairing expression and her heart cracked. She could feel it breaking. She turned back to the door, pulling it shut behind her and twisting the key in the lock before flying into her beloved's arms.

  He crushed her in a trembling embrace.

  “Oh, James,” she whispered, “I'm so terribly sorry.”

  “I…” His voice broke. “I never got to make things right. I never got to say… to say I was sorry.”

  “He knew, darling. I know he did.”

  James sank to the floor, apparently unable to stand any longer. Rebecca stayed with him, planting herself on his lap and clinging to him. He lowered his head, hiding his face against her shoulder.

  Chapter 10

  Three months later

  “Kristina, how does a woman know if she's pregnant?” Allison asked, as she and her sister and best friend sat in her sparkling parlor with tea and cookies. The broken furniture had been repaired, the window replaced, and the whole room aired out by the refreshing early spring breeze.

  Outside the window, the sun was shining brightly. The grass had greened up and the few trees sported the earliest indication of leaves. It was only March though, and this tentative foray into spring could end in a heartbeat, buried under a blizzard. Such was the weather in Western Kansas.

  Used to Allison's blunt, uncouth word choices when she was in private, neither woman seemed surprised.

  “I'm not sure,” Kristina said. “I know I'm not expecting.” She colored a little.

  “Don't look at me,” Becky added. “I have no idea either. You'll have to ask someone who knows… like mother.”

  “I don't want to ask her, not yet. I'll get her hopes up, and then what if it's nothing?”

  “Good point,” Becky replied. “Since you and Wesley married, she's talked of nothing but the imaginary grandchildren she thought she'd never have. Do you suspect something?”

  “Well, yes,” Allison said. “I didn't have my woman's time last month, and it's late this month. I know it's always been irregular, but two months seems like a lot. That, and things are starting to smell funny.”

  Kristina looked at her askance. “What do you mean, smell funny?”

  “It's hard to explain. They smell the same as always, but suddenly the same old aromas bother me. Like the scent of peppermint around the candy counter at the mercantile.” At the very thought, she gagged a little. Swallowing the urge, she glanced at her friends and saw them looking at each other.

  “I think you might be right,” Becky said. “Better check with the doctor to be sure. Mother will be delighted.”

  “How do you feel about the possibility?” Kristina asked.

  “Scared,” Allison admitted. “I'd given up on ever having children, and now…”

  “I think you gave up too soon,” Becky commented. “I mean, you're only twenty-four. That's not such a great old age to find a husband and start a family.”

  “Oh, I know it's not,” Allison replied. “I just… well, when Wesley was married before, there was no one else I could imagine being with. It wasn't my age.”

  “Ah, yes,” Kristina said. “We both thought there was no one for us, didn't we? But the Lord had a plan all along. We just needed to trust Him.” Her freckled cheeks turned pink, not with embarrassment though. She got that little flush of color every time she thought of her handsome husband.

  Allison couldn't help smiling. Kristina, who had always straddled the line between cute and homely, suddenly looked pretty all the time because of her happy glow. Marriage suited her very well. In fact, as often as she and her pastor had been caught stealing kisses, it was a surprise she hadn't conceived yet. Allison's gaze turned to her sister. There was a new… something in Becky's expression. Her usual mask of a serene smile seemed to have grown, deepened. There was something beneath the surface, and Allison wanted to know what it was. But she would ask later. In private.

  “Have you heard any word on the train robbers?” Becky asked.

  “No,” Allison replied. “Let's hope they've gone for good.”

  “They haven't,” Kristina interjected with a shudder. “Lydia told me, that Sheriff Brody told her, they're still lurking somewhere across the Colorado border. Their old hideout near Liberal was raided, but no one was there. Some of the marked bills from one robbery have been circulating around Pueblo and Colorado Springs.”

  “You would think Colorado law enforcement would be able to track them down,” Allison said.

  “That's what Lydia told me the Sheriff says. He's really frustrated.”

  “What about the one they caught?” Becky asked.

  “Oh,” Kristina replied, shaking her head, confused emotions chasing across her features. “The trial was a few weeks ago. Don't you remember? He's going to be hanged.”

  The three women fell silent. They had all known this of course. In such a small and isolated town, there were few secrets, and a hanging would be a public spectacle, but none of them liked it.

  Allison patted Kristina's knee. “I know that must be uncomfortable for you. No one will blame you if you don't go.”

  “I don't plan to. And it's terrible. He killed my brother, you know.” Her voice wavered and Becky rose from her chair, setting aside her teacup and wrapping her arms around Kristina.

  “Mama Allie!” a little voice chirped from upstairs.

  Allison sighed. “Sounds like Melissa is up. She's going to want a snack. You two are welcome to stay, but I'll be back in mommy mode.”

  “It's really great how you've taken to caring for Wesley's daughter,” Kristina commented, her voice steady again, but red rimmed her turquoise eyes.

  “She's my daughter now, too,” Allison replied, probably a little more fiercely than needed.

  “Of course she is,” Becky said. “And you're doing a wonderful job with her. It must be a relief – to her and to Wesley – that she's in the care of someone so capable.”

  “I don't feel capable,” Allison admitted, as the sound of little feet thundered down the echoing staircase. “I feel out of my depth and scared. But if I really am expecting, I need all the practice I can get.” She placed a hand on her belly and wondered, for just a moment, if Wesley's baby really was growing in there. What a wonderful, terrifying, exciting thought.

  Then Melissa was there, blonde pigtails flying. She jumped into Allison's arms for a hug.

  “I'm hungry, Mama Allie,” she announced, and Allison gave her guests a `what did I tell you?' look.

  “All right, Missie Mae, let's go get you a snack,” she told the little girl, carrying her towards the kitchen. Before she could reach the doorway, there was a knock.

  “Come in,
” Allison called, and the door opened to reveal Cody's black hair and attractive face. Kristina suddenly looked like she was about to melt. She hurried to her husband and threw her arms around him. He touched his lips to her forehead.

  “Are you all done with your sermon?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I was heading home, and I thought I would stop by and see if you were ready.”

  The couple lived next door to the church, and the Fulton house was blocks out of his way, but Cody shrugged like it was nothing. Wrapping his arm around his wife, he led her out. She called a brief goodbye over her shoulder and was gone, the door banging shut behind her.

  The two sisters looked at each other and laughed. “I'd better go too,” Becky said, “I have to head over to the shop for a little while and I'd like to get it done before it gets dark.”

  Melissa squirmed out of Allison's arms and ran to her Becky, squeezing her tight around the knees and almost knocking her over.

  “Oof,” Becky grunted. “Come here, little one.” She peeled the toddler off her legs and picked her up. “If you need to go and see Doctor Halvorson, let me know. I'll look after Melissa for you.”

  “Wonderful!” Allison said. “That will be a big help. But, Becky, you'd better hurry. It's starting to look a little ominous out there.”

  Becky glanced out the parlor window at the darkening sky. It did look like some nasty weather was moving in. She gave Melissa a tight squeeze set her down. “See you later, Allison,” she said before hurrying out into the growing darkness.

  “Come on, Melissa,” Allison said, scooping up her stepdaughter and carrying her into the kitchen. “Let's get you some bread and jam.”

  Becky bustled around her shop. Running a business was much more difficult than she'd expected. The paperwork competed with her sewing time and ensured she never got as much done as she wanted or expected. Other expectations were also not panning out. Three months after promising to talk to her family about their courtship, James was still seeing her only in secret. He stopped by and kissed her, or touched her hand. Sometimes they sat together in church. Sometimes he came to dinner. But none of that was the declaration she'd wanted. It seemed impossible that a man of his maturity and status in the town would be playing games with her. But then, what was he waiting for? When she'd asked him to wait on talking to her parents, she hadn't meant forever. If he wanted to be with her, why wasn't he broadcasting it to the whole town? She wanted it to be known, to be seen on his arm and have people whisper speculation about whether they belonged together.

  She shook her head. She didn't understand what he was doing, and felt too shy to ask, so there they stayed, stuck in limbo, courting in secret as though they were doing a shameful thing, as though she were one…

  BOOM! An explosion rocked the shop, shattering the big plate-glass windows and tearing the door from its hinges. Becky was thrown to the floor, her head slamming the counter as she went.

  James strolled along the street to Becky's shop. He hoped she was in. Late afternoon, her hours became a little erratic, but he wanted to see her. Who was he fooling? He always wanted to see her. His pretty lady was filling up the empty places in his heart quite nicely. He passed the church just in time to see his daughter walk past, arm-in-arm with her husband.

  “Dad!” Kristina exclaimed, running over and hugging him.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” he replied, giving her a little squeeze. “Cody.”

  “Afternoon, James,” the minister said in his soft Texas drawl, shaking his free hand. “How's everything going?”

  “Well enough,” he replied, “but it looks like we're in for a bit of weather.” They all glanced at the sky. Heavy black rain clouds were billowing across the polished silver surface of heaven. The scent of moisture hung heavy in the still air. When the wind stopped, it was going to be bad. He had better hurry.

  Away up the street, a figure dressed all in black clattered across the bricks on a bay horse and stopped in the little downtown area. It was such an unusual sight, that the three of them stared. The man made a throwing motion with one arm before turning and racing back the way he had come, north, towards the edge of town.

  An explosion, far louder than the loudest prairie thunder, rocked the streets. Windows cracked and a few shattered as flames belched out from a little building nestled between the bank and jail. James drew in an unsteady breath, frozen for an endless second. Then he ran like he had never run before, Cody and Kristina close at his heels.

  They arrived at the front of Becky's burning shop as a shaken-looking Sheriff Brody staggered from his office. Patrons and employees poured out of the bank into the street, wanting to know what the ruckus was about.

  James peered into the shop, trying to see if anyone was inside. Please, Lord, let Rebecca be away from here. He couldn't tell. The shattered panes impeded his vision and the thick black smoke concealed the shop from view.

  “What happened?” Brody asked.

  “Someone firebombed the shop,” Cody replied. “We all saw it.”

  At that moment the heavens opened and a deluge of blinding, icy rain poured down on the crowd.

  Several of the milling onlookers squealed and ran for their homes. In the midst of the commotion, a heart-stopping sound cut through. A woman's scream of utter terror.

  Oh Lord, no! Rebecca! Without thought, James ran forward. The door was an inferno. No getting through that way. Shifting his eyes frantically to one side and then the other, he realized the glass had mostly broken out of the left-hand display window. He vaulted through.

  Inside, all was choking black smoke. James dropped to the floor, pulling his wet cravat over his nose.

  “Rebecca?” he called. The crackling of the fire drowned out his voice and the thick smoke prevented him from seeing. How could he find her?

  “Rebecca, where are you?” He crawled blindly. Where was she? Oh God, please let her be all right! Come on, Heitschmidt, it's a small space. Don't stop. Find her. He crept further into the inferno.

  “Rebecca!” A flaming beam fell from the ceiling, landing inches from his hip. For a moment, self-preservation threatened to send him back through the window.

  “Come on, man,” he said aloud, and then choked on a lungful of smoke. Even close to the floor, breathing was growing increasingly difficult. He pressed on. He had to find her. No turning back. Not without Rebecca. He hadn't done all he'd promised for her yet. Oh, God, I haven't even told her I love her. Please don't let her die! Please, God, let me find her.

  “I'm coming, Rebecca!” he called, as he inched his way forward, groping blindly through the choking smoke until his head hit a solid object. He touched it. Wood. The counter. What if she's behind it? He felt his way along the little wall to its opening and passed through. He reached out and his hand connected with a slim ankle.

  The heat was growing unbearable. All the walls were in flames. Luckily the floor and counter had not caught yet, but there wasn't much time. A hesitant hand touched his, and he grabbed and pulled, reversing Rebecca's direction so she was headed the same way as him.

  “Stay low,” he hissed in her ear. Then he began guiding her in a crawl across the floor, covering her body with his. It's a good thing she's so petite. He urged her forward, in what he hoped was a straight line, back towards the broken window.

  At last they arrived. He took a second to knock several spear-like shards of glass out of the bottom of the wooden frame, before he boosted her out, following close behind.

  Free of the burning shop, but still hidden from view by the smoke, he found Rebecca had collapsed. He scooped her into his arms and carried her away from the blaze.

  As they emerged into the rainy street, James noted in passing that a bucket brigade was throwing water… not on the shop, but on the jail and the bank. There was no hope for the seamstress's little storefront, but at least the other buildings could be spared. The rain would help with putting out the flames.

  Coughing, James sank down to sit on the sodden brick wa
lkway, Rebecca cradled close to his chest. She was still as death, her eyes closed.

  “Rebecca,” he said quietly, “Rebecca, are you all right?”

  “Dad?” James looked up to see Kristina standing over him. She was drenched from head to foot, and she sank to her knees, heedless of even more water soaking into her skirt. She threw her arms around his neck and nearly strangled him with an enthusiastic hug.

  “Easy,” he urged, prying her clutching arm away from his windpipe.

  “Sorry,” she said. “When you went through that window…” Her voice broke and he looked up to see tears streaming down her face. Poor Kristina. In the last few years she'd lost her mother and her brother. But in spite of that, he wouldn't have done anything differently. The risk had been necessary.

  His daughter visibly pulled herself together. “Is Becky all right?” she asked.

  “I don't know,” he replied. “She seems to have passed out.” He shook the young woman nestled in his lap gently. “Rebecca. Wake up, love. Rebecca.” Nothing. He looked up at Kristina and found her eyes had narrowed. James sighed. The cat was out of the bag now. Oh well. It was time anyway.

  “She's breathing,” Kristina observed. “Why don't you take her home, Dad? Being out in this rain won't do her any good.”

  James nodded. He lifted his precious burden, cradling her against his chest.

  “Kristina!” Cody appeared suddenly, grasping his wife's hand. “Come on, let's get you out of here before you catch your death.” He led her away.

  While the bucket brigade attempted to control the fire, which was quickly consuming Rebecca Spencer's seamstress shop, Sheriff Brody hurried back into the jail. The information that this had been a deliberate arson, a firebombing, told him it was also a diversionary tactic. Sure enough, the jail had more inhabitants than it should have. The prisoner inside one of the two small cells had been joined by a man, a bandana over his face, who was attempting to pick the lock on the barred door.