Renegade Wife

by Charlene Sands

  Captain Campbell glanced at Kane. “That’d be all right, as long as you have an escort. Some of my men haven’t seen a lady in more time than they’d like to recall. You’ll be escorting your wife, I presume?”

  Kane nodded and stared straight at Molly. “I won’t let her out of my sight.”

  “Fine, then. And might I ask you both to supper tonight? It would be my pleasure to have you sit at my table.” He smiled at Molly with warmth and she felt a genuine fondness for the courteous man.

  “Thank you,” Molly said instantly, but Kane’s forceful voice overrode her usual quiet tone.

  “No thanks. We’ll be moving on as soon as we’re through searching the camp.”

  The captain hid his disappointment well, and he nodded. “Then, feel free to ask of your brother. I wish you luck in locating him.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  “And Mr. Jackson?”

  Kane looked in the captain’s direction.

  “Your grandfather said you were raised by the Cheyenne. Keep in mind that there are a number of us who would like to see a peaceful solution to our problems with the Indian nation.”

  Kane spoke harshly, his face no longer expressionless, but filled with disdain. “Treaties were broken, land was stolen, lies were told, Captain.”

  The captain retaliated with quiet calm. “Homes have been pillaged, wagon trains raided, many have died at the hands of the very people who saved your life. Perhaps both people are to blame.”

  Kane shook his head. “The Cheyenne don’t see it that way.”

  Captain Campbell sighed resignedly. “Speak with my men. You’ll find them decent folk, here to protect the settlers and the Butterfield Overland mail wagons. We’ve all seen too much of war, Mr. Jackson.”

  “Kane,” Molly interrupted, before the two men lost their civility. She better understood why Kane had been so pensive as they approached the camp. To Molly, the soldiers represented safety and the camp, a sanctuary. But to a man who’d been raised by Indians, soldiers meant something entirely different. There wasn’t time to sort it all out now. They’d come here for a specific purpose. She pleaded, “I’m really anxious to make my inquiries.”

  “Of course,” the captain said. “You can hitch your wagon at the livery.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Molly said.

  He tipped his hat. “Good day.”

  Kane picked up the reins, and whistled softly. The wagon lurched forward, startling Molly. She hung on to the wagon seat as they made their way through the camp.

  When they reached the livery Kane jumped from the wagon and came around to help her down, but she released herself from his hold as soon as her feet hit the ground. “You were rude to the captain.”

  “He knows nothing of Indians.”

  “Maybe not. He hasn’t had the benefit of living among them like you had. But he seemed a fair man, Kane.”

  Kane grunted, his face hard. “None of the treaties were fair, Molly. None of the people got what they’d been promised. I lived with a small tribe who had to flee from their land, over and over again. We were not free. We had no rights. And fair men, like the captain, were easily fooled as well. Nothing can make up for the loss, Molly. Now, let’s get going. We’re leaving here in two hours, so ask your questions and do not leave my side.”

  Molly bit her lip, angry with Kane for his abrupt behavior. She had a good mind to walk off in the opposite direction, but she didn’t have time to waste. Her obstinate husband had given her two hours and she needed every last minute of it.

  “No one has seen Charlie,” Molly said with disappointment. She’d spoken with everyone she could find on the street and in the shops. She’d even barged into several barracks, approaching the men with a warm greeting much to Kane’s disapproval. But he’d stood by her side, cautioning the soldiers with dark, narrowed eyes, warning them not to come too close. Molly wondered if he’d been protective of her, or simply displaying contempt for them. Either way, her efforts had not been successful. “Not one man in the entire camp recognized his photograph.”

  “It’s a big territory, Molly. The chance of you finding someone straight away that’s seen or knows your brother isn’t likely. It’s our first day of searching,” Kane said as he helped her up on the wagon, “and we still have another town to reach before sundown. Are you ready?”

  Molly nodded. She wouldn’t give in to her disappointment. Kane was right. They had miles and miles of territory to search, so she bolstered her hopes as they made their way out of Camp Stockton.

  Hours later, they reached the town of Whiskey Flats near the Pecos River as dusk settled on the horizon. After unhitching the horses and renting a stall at the livery, Kane checked them into the Blue River Hotel. The second floor room was small and cramped, but clean. Cheery flowered wallpaper and bright curtains over a window that overlooked the main street in town held certain appeal. Molly figured the room would suffice for the night. As she gazed out the window, enjoying the cool early-evening breeze, she noted the banners and ribbons she’d seen earlier today when they’d made their way into town, claiming Whiskey Flats Founder’s Day Celebration.

  The festivities were slated for tomorrow.

  That was a good thing. Most of the townsfolk, as well as local ranchers, usually attended these celebrations. Molly would have the entire town come to her, so to speak. She’d make good use of her time here.

  Kane set her valise down by the one small bed they’d be sharing. “Let’s have our meal, before the diner closes.”

  Molly’s stomach grumbled, agreeing with Kane wholeheartedly. She’d never been one to require much food, not that there ever was an abundance or leftovers when she lived in St. Louis, for that matter. Her days on the road, out in the wide-open Texas spaces, spiked her appetite and she found herself hungry more times than not during the day. “That’s a good idea,” she stated plainly.

  Kane chuckled. “At least you agree with me about something.”

  Molly gasped at his remark until she realized he’d been teasing. His mood from earlier today while at Camp Stockton seemed to have lightened. He might even prove a pleasant dinner companion tonight.

  “You’ll find that I agree with you about most things.”

  Kane shook his head. “Woman, from the day I set eyes on you, you and I have been on opposite sides of the barnyard, and that doesn’t seem likely to change.”

  Molly raised her chin, ready to disagree, but Kane had removed his buckskin shirt, whipping it off in one efficient movement, then reaching down into his saddlebag for another, more civilized-looking garment.

  She’d never get over the sight of him, unclothed, his bare well-muscled chest bronzed from days in the sun. The length and breadth of him, and the way he undressed so indifferently in front of her, stole all her breath. Molly watched the muscles play over his chest as he worked the other shirt on, lifting it over his head and finding a place over his torso.

  The room was small. Kane was close. And Molly couldn’t quite banish the sense of intimacy she felt, being with Kane, here in their cramped hotel room, watching him dress before her.

  He was a complicated man, one she didn’t quite fully understand, yet he was her husband and a man she had come to admire.

  When she wasn’t disagreeing with him.

  “Ready to fill our bellies?” Kane turned toward the door.

  Molly grinned. “How delicately put.”

  And they walked down the stairs together, hand in hand, just like a real married couple.

  The Blue River Diner served up the best food Molly had ever eaten, including savory chicken and dumplings, vegetables in a buttery sauce and warm pecan pie. She feasted heartily at a square table decorated with a cornflower blue gingham tablecloth and a glass Mason jar filled with wildflowers. Molly had already asked around before taking her seat, showing the one picture she had of her brother to the other patrons in the crowded restaurant, but so far no one had recognized him.

  She finished sip
ping steamy coffee from a dainty cup before gazing up at Kane. He stared at her, his eyes focused as if settling something in his mind. “I have to leave you tonight and I need the tintype of Charlie.”

  Surprised, Molly clutched the image of her brother. That tintype was never far from her reach. “Why?”

  “My grandfather knows someone who’s good with reproducing images. He’s an artist, of sorts, but not the kind of man a lady ought to meet. I’m commissioning him to draw up sketches of Charlie, to help in the search.”

  Molly’s heart skipped with excitement, thinking of all the possibilities. “That’s wonderful. We can distribute them around tomorrow, but why can’t I meet him?”

  Kane sipped the last of his coffee, his hands appearing overly large holding the delicate rose-painted cup. “I just told you that he’s not the sort of man you’d want to meet.”

  Molly lowered her voice. “Is he an outlaw?”

  Kane shook his head. “No. Not exactly.”

  “Then, there’s no reason why I can’t join you,” Molly said with a nod of her head. She hated the thought of relinquishing the tintype to Kane or anyone, for that matter. It was all she had left of her brother.

  Kane sighed as if expecting this argument. Molly couldn’t help being curious. So far, she and Kane had been in this together, and now he was to ride off into the night, without her. “Molly, I need your trust.”

  “I do…trust you,” she said, biting her lip.

  Kane raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s just that we’re supposed to be doing this together.”

  “Some things a man’s got to do alone.”

  “Why?” she asked, more suspicious now than curious by Kane’s behavior. “Where are you going?”

  “Remember your attempt to visit Miss Tulip’s back in Bountiful?”

  Cautiously, Molly nodded, recalling her trek to the whorehouse, and not quite making it. It was her fainting spell and then the dunking in the creek that eventually got her engaged to Kane in the first place. Still and all, Molly wasn’t sure where this was leading.

  “Well, Miss Tulip’s place looks like a Baptist church compared to where I’m heading tonight.”

  And then it hit Molly. She covered her gasp with a hand, but the words still flew out nosily. “You’re leaving me to spend the night in a whorehouse?”

  Kane scratched his nose, seeming to ignore the diners who had turned their heads in his direction the minute she’d opened her mouth, but Molly didn’t miss their disgusted stares. She felt equally appalled.

  And betrayed.

  Suddenly she knew why the thought of Kane spending time with “ladies of the night,” bothered her so.

  Jealousy. Deep, heart-wrenching, unnerving jealousy surfaced like a claw-like ogre to rip at her insides. Kane wouldn’t make her his wife in the real sense, but he would spend the night with loose, immoral women.

  “Keep your voice down,” he commanded.

  “I will not! You can’t possibly mean to say—”

  Kane reached over and, none too delicately, clamped his hand over her mouth. “Quiet, Little Bird. Let me explain, okay?”

  Molly pierced him with a cold look of disdain, but finally she relented, then nodded.

  He released his hand. Keeping his voice down, he explained, “I’m not going there for any reason other than to commission the pictures of Charlie. It’s what you want, isn’t it? A way to better our search? Bennett said that when I was missing, he commissioned this man, but he has since gone into seclusion.”

  “He lives in a whorehouse?” This time, Molly whispered.

  “I don’t know for certain. But that’s where I’m told I can find him most nights.”

  “So, you’ll be gone all night?”

  “If that’s what it takes.”

  “And how will you spend your time, while he’s working on the pictures?” Molly couldn’t help but ask. Kane’s answer became very important to her.

  “Sleeping, I suppose.”

  “Alone?”

  Kane rose from his seat, tossed some coins on the table, then helped Molly out of her seat. He escorted her with a firm hand to the base of the hotel stairs and gazed into her eyes. “You have much to learn about the Cheyenne, Molly. We honor our marriage vows.”

  “But you’re no longer among the Cheyenne,” Molly pressed the point, unable to control her muddled thoughts. “And you’re forever reminding me that our marriage is—” she said, lowering her voice to a mere whisper “—temporary.”

  “Then you’ll have to trust me at my word. You’re my wife. I will only sleep with you.”

  “But,” she began, biting her lip again, debating whether she should speak her mind. She decided she just couldn’t hold back her uncertain thoughts any longer. “You won’t sleep with another woman, but will you—”

  “No, Molly.” Kane shook his head. “I won’t touch another woman.” And he touched her face, his fingertips gentle on her cheek.

  “I won’t take her into my arms.” And he wrapped his hands tightly around her waist, bringing her close.

  “And I won’t kiss another woman.” And he brought his lips to hers, kissing her softly and more gently than Kane had ever kissed her before.

  “I won’t bed another woman, Molly.” He smiled into her eyes and turned her to face the stairs. “Now, go up to the room. Get some rest. I’ll try to be back before sunup.”

  Molly climbed a stair, then another, feeling weightless as if she were floating on a fluffy cloud. Her mind swam deliciously with thoughts of her husband and her body still hummed from Kane’s sweet assault. Once she reached the top stair, she turned and gazed down with a question forming on her lips.

  But Kane had already gone.

  She wouldn’t have the chance to ask her boldest question ever.

  Chapter Eight

  Molly paced the all-too-quiet, stuffy room. No longer did the flowery décor seem cheery. No longer did she enjoy gazing out the window. Fidgeting with the creases on her dress and shuffling her feet about, she wore the carpet out with her constant movement. Restless from thoughts of Kane and what he was doing right now had her too jumpy to sleep.

  Her husband continued to baffle her with his often-distant demeanor. And then, there were times like tonight, when he’d behaved completely and wholly as a true husband should, seizing her into his arms and kissing her with enough tenderness to dizzy her. Her limbs had grown weak and her heart might surely have melted from the sweet way Kane had taken her.

  Molly’s thoughts turned instead to Kane’s mission. He was to seek out a disreputable man to commission his talent as an artist. She prayed for Kane’s safety, though in her heart of hearts Molly knew no more formidable man. Her husband wasn’t a man to cross or deny. Kane knew how to survive in this untamed land. He had done so for years prior to their meeting and as Molly learned more of his life, her admiration for him grew each day.

  As for his kisses, well…

  “Oh, heavens!” Molly admonished herself for wishing her husband here, to shed her loneliness in this confined and airless room. She couldn’t think of sharing this tiny bed with him without her mind wandering down a forbidden path.

  And the more she stared at those overly large flowers on the wall, the more she wanted to scream.

  She glanced out the window and saw people milling about. There was yet much to be done to ready for the festivities tomorrow. Surely, there would be no harm if she wandered downstairs and peeped her nose outside.

  Yes, Molly decided she needed the distraction, a way to calm jittery foolish nerves. She needed to stop the all-consuming thoughts of her husband. She needed to remind herself that her mission was to find her brother and not lust after the man she had married…temporarily.

  Molly exited the room with newfound vigor. She nearly glided down the stairs and stopped immediately when she came upon a group of women, chattering along in the most serious of tones.

  And before she knew it, the women were upon her at the base
of the staircase, circling her like wild dogs upon their prey.

  Molly looked at each one of the dozen faces she encountered, seeing neither joy nor amusement anywhere on their expressions. They stared at her with vigilance, until one woman stepped forth, dressed in the silliest of outfits, a short skirt over bloomers that cuffed her ankles.

  Regardless of their intent, Molly saw this as a great opportunity to query them about Charlie. She smiled amicably and addressed them all, ignoring that one woman who seemed to be sizing her up. “Hello, ladies.”

  Kane cursed under his breath as he made his way up the stairs at the Blue River Hotel, realizing that unless he wanted a torturous night ahead, he would be sleeping on the floor. Not that he minded, he’d grown up of the earth, but he’d miss Molly’s softness, the little sounds she made during the night, the feel of her silken hair against his skin when she moved closer to him.

  But damn it, Kane had ridden hard to get back early for Molly’s sake, tiring out both his horse and himself. He hadn’t the willpower to fight off her charms tonight—so the floor would be his bed.

  Anticipation grew in his belly as he put the key in the lock, imagining far too clearly the beauty sleeping on that small bed tonight, her face full of peace and serenity.

  If he wasn’t careful he’d get used to coming home to her at night after a long, hard ride, with the sweet taste of her lips still fresh on his mouth. If he wasn’t careful, he’d get used to seeing the bright green alight in her eyes when something amused her, and equally, the liquid fire fuel them when something angered her. Kane shoved those thoughts aside, thinking that, yes, tonight of all nights—he would sleep on the floor.

  He opened the door and walked with silence, until he reached the bed…the empty bed.

  Unnerved, he glanced around the hotel room with dread creeping into his gut. He’d known immediately as he swept the perimeter that Molly was gone. Dire warnings flashed through his mind. And instant recollections of another time, another missing wife, struck him like rapid and repeating gunfire.