Garrison stared at the seat in front of them, the tip of his pistol nudging her in her side. “My God, this part of the country is monotonous,” he sighed, shifting to make himself more comfortable. “Nothing but grass. Miles and miles of it.”
“It’s magnificent,” she said, refusing to look at him.
“Magnificent? Trust me, you’ll be glad to see civilization once we get there. Though for now, I should think we’ll end up somewhere in Texas. If nothing else, I admire the spirit of gambling out here.”
“I thought you wanted to go back to Boston.”
“Too many bad memories there. We need a fresh start.”
Sarah closed her eyes, feeling utterly miserable. “You can’t make the memories go away. A different city won’t erase what’s happened.”
His expression softened with his perfected mask of affection. “I know what happened between us was unpleasant, but—”
“I’m not talking about us. I’m talking about what happened to me. I love another man, and nothing you do or say will change that.”
She winced as the barrel of his gun jabbed her in a rib.
“I told you, I don’t want to hear another word about that.”
She glared at him, her chin rising defiantly. “Just because you don’t want to hear about my feelings doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”
“Oh, hush. You don’t know what you feel.”
Sarah ground her teeth together. She tried to feel pity for this man who knew nothing of real love, but it was hopeless. Garrison would never receive her pity. Not after what he’d done to her life.
Oh, how would she ever get out of this?
She sat in silence after that, jostling back and forth with the train’s easy rhythm, thinking of her unborn child and trying not to lose hope.
Briggs, George and Marshal Peavy galloped into Caldwell the next morning, just behind the arriving train and the black cloud of coal dust that sputtered out the front chimney. The horses were winded and so was Briggs after riding all night with little time to rest. It was the price he would pay for a second chance—a second chance he hoped he would receive.
The train, chugging ominously into the station, hissed and blew white steam onto the platform. The three men trotted alongside, Briggs standing up in the stirrups to peer in the windows at the passengers milling about in the aisles, picking up their bags. His head ached with the possibility that Sarah was not even on board. How would he ever find her again?
The locomotive’s wheels scraped noisily along the rails as it ground to a halt. Steam shot out again and the brass bell rang as Briggs and the marshal dismounted from their horses. After handing the geldings over to George, they ran to the back of the train, feet crunching over gravel, and climbed aboard.
Briggs led the way up the aisle, pushing his way through the passengers already standing. He and the marshal walked through two cars and found nothing, but when they reached the third, Briggs froze, his heart galloping at a frenzied pace. There it was. That purple feathered hat.
A noise escaped from deep inside his chest. She was here. He’d not lost her. Taking an anxious step forward, he suddenly remembered Garrison was supposed to be here, too. He looked at the man beside Sarah, and though he could only see the backs of their heads, he recognized the black top hat.
A new realm of horrible possibilities yawned in Briggs’s face. What if she wanted to be with Garrison after everything Briggs had put her through? He’d annulled their marriage. He could only imagine what tales Garrison had told her.
He felt the marshal’s hand touch his shoulder. “Do you see him?”
Heart racing, Briggs pointed. “That’s him. Beside Sarah, the lady in the purple hat.”
Marshal Peavy moved past Briggs. “That’s some hat.”
He walked up the aisle which had by now cleared of passengers, and reached their seat near the front. “Are you Garrison McPhee?”
Briggs watched from the back, needing to see how Sarah would react. She turned her head to look up at the marshal, her sweet profile revealing full lips parting in surprise.
Garrison paused, eyeing the marshal’s silver badge. “Yes. Is there a problem?”
Marshal Peavy reached down and grabbed his arm. “You’re under arrest. Come with me.”
Sarah stood, panicking. “No!”
A spark of grief ignited inside Briggs. She was trying to protect Garrison….
In the next instant, he saw clearly what she was yelling about. Garrison pulled his other hand up to reveal a large caliber pistol. He pointed it at the marshal and fired.
Briggs didn’t think. There was no time. As the recoil thundered in his ears, he lunged forward.
Garrison saw him out of the corner of his eye. The marshal fell back into the seats across the aisle. Garrison turned, cocking and pointing the gun at Briggs who heard Sarah’s cry, muffled as if from a great distance. “Garrison, no!”
Briggs reached Garrison and tackled him. They both fell into the aisle; Briggs landed on top and his chin impacted with Garrison’s forehead. Twisting and writhing, Briggs tried to grab for the gun. Passengers screamed and yelled. Noise and confusion rebounded off the walls. The barrel of the gun was jabbing into his gut.
Terror coursed through Briggs. His life was hanging on a jagged edge of time. He grunted as he jerked his hand to turn the barrel away.
Something clicked. The sound echoed inside his head.
Then the gun went off.
Garrison and Briggs stared at each other. Bewilderment filled Garrison’s eyes. In a breathless moment, his head tipped back and rested on the aisle floor. Then his eyes slowly closed.
All the chaos and screaming of seconds ago retreated. Silence wrapped around Briggs’s head; his body and mind felt drained. A hand touched his shoulder. He knew that touch. With a start, he scrambled to his feet, realizing he’d been lying on a dead man. Sarah took him by the arm and pulled him around to face her.
“Are you all right?” Her face was pale and tight with worry.
“I’m fine.” But his hands were trembling.
A groan sounded from the seat behind them. The marshal…
They turned, just as George came running up the aisle. “What happened?”
Briggs leaned over Marshal Peavy. Blood had stained his shirt at the shoulder. “You’re going to be okay.”
The marshal’s cheek twitched. “I think I’ll need a doctor.”
“George, fetch help,” Briggs said.
White-faced with shock, George turned and ran out. Sarah moved in close and took the marshal’s hand. “Can I do anything for you?”
He blinked a few times, worked hard to suck in a breath, then said, “You might want to reconsider that hat.”
After telling their stories to the local marshal, Sarah and Briggs watched with relief as the doctor took Marshal Peavy away on a stretcher. Sarah carried her hat in her hand and stepped off the train into the clear light of a sunny day. She could smell the scent of coal smoke in the air and the familiar animal smells that told her this, like Dodge, was a cow town.
Other passengers milled about on the depot platform and there was a low hum of curious conversation, undoubtedly about the recent disturbance. She felt Briggs step down behind her, and her heart tightened with longing. She could not turn around. She could not look at him. She was too afraid to hope…
George hopped off the last step and stood on the platform. “That was close. You both could have been killed.”
Sarah finally turned around. Briggs stood tall and strong, his hair resting lightly on his broad shoulders, his expression unreadable. Oh, how she wanted to feel his arms around her….
Sarah lowered her head, wanting to tell Briggs about the baby, but not in front of George. What if Briggs had already planned to marry Isabelle? What would happen then?
The three stood in awkward silence for a moment or two, staring at the wood planks beneath their feet. George scratched his head. “Maybe I’ll go check on the horses.”<
br />
Briggs called after him. “Check the train schedule, too, George.”
“Will do.”
Sarah felt her hopes die a little. Perhaps he meant to see her off.
All of a sudden, Briggs wrapped his hand around her good elbow and led her around the side of the building. “Where are we going?”
Stopping by the depot wall, he faced her, taking both her shoulders in his firm grip. “When you told the marshal you’d never intended to leave Dodge with Garrison, that you wanted him out of your life for good—was that true?”
She gazed up at him, seeing the concern in his eyes, the tension in his forehead. Fighting the urge to reach up and smooth away those deep lines, she answered, “Of course it’s true. I told you before. I don’t love him.”
“I was afraid you’d left town together.”
She shook her head.
Briggs closed his eyes. “When I think what could have happened if we hadn’t caught up with the train when we did.”
“But you did catch it, and everything is fine now.”
Slowly, he opened his eyes. Her gaze met with his, steady and unyielding. What was he feeling? she wondered, her stomach rolling with doubts and nervous knots. She had to know. She had to know before she told him.
She parted her lips to ask, but her words were cut short. His mouth came down upon hers, hard and wet with desire. Her head began to whirl. He swept her off the ground and into his arms, into the place that had become a fantasy these last agonizing hours. Feeling his warm tongue touch hers, she moaned with pleasure.
He broke away and gazed into her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Sarah.”
All the possible meanings contained in that single statement swam in her head. “Sorry for what?”
He shook his head, lowering it, as if in shame. Was he saying he was sorry to hurt her, sorry for going back to Isabelle? Or was it something else?
“I’m sorry for not believing you about Garrison. I should have been able to trust you.”
Still uncertain, she tried to find the right thing to say. “It’s not your fault. I should have trusted you, too. If I’d told you everything from the beginning, things might have turned out differently.”
“No, you had every reason to keep things secret. I was impossible. I shut you out when you needed me.”
Tears formed cool webs through her lashes when she blinked, glistening, blurring her view of the man before her. She wiped her eyes, trying to focus on him.
“I want you to know I never meant to hurt you,” he said. “But I think we were right to annul the marriage. When we spoke our wedding vows, they meant nothing.”
Sarah’s heart shattered. Grasping desperately for strength, she slowly filled her lungs with air and held on. Was he going to tell her he still loved Isabelle?
“All aboard!” the conductor called.
Harnessing all the courage she could find, Sarah posed the question directly. “Are you going to marry Isabelle?”
“Isabelle!” he blurted out. “I don’t want Isabelle.”
“But she came to visit you.”
Panic whisked across his face. “I drove her right back to town.”
Sarah stared at him, afraid to believe it.
“She wanted to work things out, but I told her…”
Sarah touched his face with her hand, forcing him to look at her, forcing herself to look into his eyes. “You told her what?”
“I told her I love you. That I always would.”
“All aboard!” the conductor called again.
“But the annulment… You said we did the right thing.”
He cupped her face in his large, warm hands. “Yes, I’m glad we annulled it, because the second time around, our vows will mean something.”
“What did you say?”
He dropped to one knee, holding her hand, kissing it again and again. He wrapped his arms around her hips, pulling her against him, burying his face in her skirts. “I love you, Sarah. Please, marry me. Truly, this time.”
Joy and rapture flooded through her. She, too, dropped to her knees, drove her fingers through his thick hair and pulled him toward her for a deep, soul-reaching kiss.
A minute later, the train whistle blew. As it chugged noisily out of the station, hissing and blowing huge clouds of black soot that quickly disappeared in the wind, Briggs and Sarah stared at one another. Sarah felt the sun on her nose. There was one last thing to confess….
“I have something to tell you. I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about it.”
“No matter what you tell me, I could feel nothing but happiness at this moment.”
She appreciated his reassurance, but couldn’t help feeling shaky. “I found out yesterday that I’m— I’m—”
How could she say it? What if Briggs couldn’t accept that the child might be Garrison’s?
“I’m in the family way,” she said, without further hesitation.
Briggs stared blankly for a moment, and Sarah’s heart stood still.
“Is it…is it mine?” he asked.
Something crumpled inside of Sarah. She had hoped, fancifully perhaps, that it would not matter.
The answer she had to give ripped her heart in two. “I’m not sure.” Ashamed and filled with remorse, she squinted through tears. Six months ago, who would have thought she would ever find herself in this predicament?
Head lowered and weeping in silence, she was startled by Briggs’s warm finger under her chin. Gently, he raised her face, urging her to look at him. His eyes were filled with tears.
“Sarah, I will love this child more than any father ever could. No matter what.”
Her body shuddered with a sob. “Briggs, I’m so sorry!”
“Sorry!” he bellowed, laughing. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve just made me the happiest man in the world!”
Sarah drew back in dismay. After everything she’d done, after all the lies, how could she be so blessed? “I love you,” she cried.
He gazed intently at her, his green eyes sparkling. “And I love you, too. It’s time to go home.”
Epilogue
Feet crunching over a thin coating of morning snow, Briggs paced by an upturned barrel outside the little sod dugout. He rubbed his cold hands together and blew into them. He could see his breath.
The labor had come early. What was taking so long?
A painful scream cut through the early morning air. He stopped, chest heaving. Good God, let her be all right. I can’t lose her, not now.
Another cry stabbed at him. He approached the door. He had to go inside. He couldn’t wait like this. He couldn’t stand to hear Sarah in such pain.
Just then, a different cry sounded. He sucked in a quick breath. A baby. It was a baby’s cry!
Waiting there, listening, he heard Martha’s gentle laughter. Hope and wonder moved through his swirling insides. The seconds ticked by like hours while he stood there, frozen with excitement, waiting for Martha to come out. Was everything all right? Was Sarah okay? He couldn’t bear to think what he’d do if she wasn’t.
He took an anxious step forward when the door swung open. “Congratulations,” Martha said, wiping her hands on a bloodstained cloth. “You have a son.”
His shoulders relaxed as a paternal glow warmed him. A son. He had a son. “Is Sarah all right?”
Martha smiled and nodded. “She was very brave. She wants to see you.”
A lump filled his throat. He rushed by Martha, touching her on the arm in thanks. Taking two steps at a time, he reached the dimly lit interior of their warm little house. Sarah lay on the bed with the babe in her arm, smiling. Her long black hair was damp around her face, her cheeks flushed. She’d never looked more beautiful.
“Hello,” she said, softly.
Briggs stood at the foot of the bed, staring at his wife and child. “Hello.”
“Someone wants to meet you.”
He walked around the bed, never taking his eyes off the two of them.
&n
bsp; The child, red-faced and gently wiggling, was wrapped in a small white quilt Martha had brought with her as a gift, and tucked close to Sarah. Briggs knelt down to get a closer look.
“Do you want to hold him?”
Unable to speak, Briggs took the infant into his arms. The boy held up his wee tiny hand and grasped Briggs’s large thumb. What joy could be greater than this? Briggs wondered, staring blissfully down into the sweet face, noticing the full head of black hair. “He has your fine looks.”
“Not entirely.”
Briggs raised his questioning gaze to see his wife smiling at him.
Carefully sitting up, she folded the quilt back from the child’s tiny head. “It seems he has your ears.”
Briggs shouted out in laughter. “I hadn’t thought you’d noticed my ears!”
“Your hair is beautiful, my dear husband, but it doesn’t hide everything.”
Sinking back into the pillow, Sarah giggled for a moment, then gestured for him to sit beside her. Briggs held the child in his arms and felt his eyes fill with tears. There would never be any doubt about it.
The boy was a Brigman.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-1373-9
PRAIRIE BRIDE
Copyright © 2000 by Julianne MacLean
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