by Jenna Brandt
Without further thought, Margaret jumped down from the wagon and rushed to Cort’s side, kneeling beside him.
He had landed face first but had rolled over to his back. Margaret reached out to see to his injury, but he grabbed her hand and pushed it away. “Don’t. It’s nothing.”
“What happened?”
With narrowed eyes, he replied, “I think I know.”
Realizing he was looking at something over her shoulder, she glanced up to see her brother standing behind her. He seemed overly undisturbed with what happened to their guide. Margaret clenched her teeth in irritation, recognizing that something was going on of which she was not aware.
With audible irritation, Cort said, “I think that you have accomplished your goal, Randall.”
“Sorry, I figured it was the only sure way to get her attention.”
Margaret looked around and saw a small rock nearby. It must have been what hit Cort in the shoulder. At least, it turned out, her brother still had as good an aim as he did when he was a child. If he had been slightly off, he might have hit Cort in the head, causing dire consequences.
Randall had a smirk on his face. “Glad to see no permanent damage was done.”
“No thanks to you, friend,” Cort retorted.
Glaring at her brother, Margaret recognized his ploy was an attempt to show her concern for Cort. Of course, any decent person would have responded the way she had, except she doubted anyone would have run with sheer fright while fighting back tears. With one simple deed, her own brother revealed how much she cared about Cort.
While starting to sit up, Cort groaned in pain.
“Are you all right?” Margaret couldn’t mask her worry.
“Yes. I will be undeniably sore for the next few days, but I’ll manage. We need to talk.” He looked past Margaret and raised his eyes pointedly to Randall. “Alone.”
“I can detect when I have overstayed my welcome. I am on my way.”
Margaret stared at Cort and held her breath in anticipation. What was he thinking? She wondered if he knew how he affected her. It unnerved her how he stared at her in silence the way he often did.
Deciding to take a defensive stance, Margaret asked, “What do we need to discuss? Everything has been said that needs to be.”
“Well, you may have nothing to say to me, but I do have something to tell you.”
Trying to retreat with what little dignity she had left, Margaret began to stand up. Grabbing her arm and pulling her back down, Cort said forcefully, “Oh no, you don’t.”
“If you insist on intimidating me and forcing me to hear what you have to say, make it quick.” Margaret glanced over his shoulder, trying to pretend she was disinterested.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said teasingly, with a grin. Then an intent look came over him. “When I proposed to you, there was something I left out, Margaret.”
Without being able to help it, her hopeful eyes darted to his as she waited for him to continue.
“Margaret, I love you. I asked you to marry me because you are the most beautiful, charming, and strong woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Frankly, I want to know you will agree to be mine before we get to Boulder because I don’t want any other man to even think about proposing to you.”
Margaret was stunned. She never thought she would hear a confession like that from him. But she was still confused about one thing. “If what you say is true, why did you not say it when you proposed?”
He smiled and chuckled. “I was being practical. I was giving the logical reasons together, not realizing the most important reason was because I love you.”
She stared at him in awe. In that moment, she knew she also loved him in return. This man was everything she had ever wanted.
“You do not know how much it means to me to hear you say you love me. I am glad you did not give up on me.”
“I fight for what I want, Margaret. Maybe not always in the traditional sense. Sometimes, I do it on my knees. I can honestly say I earnestly sought Christ in prayer about us starting a relationship, and the Lord has given me His blessing. God has revealed to me that you are angry about some things that have happened in your past and that you even blame yourself for some of it, but He wants to help you heal your past wounds.”
Margaret inhaled sharply; shocked at Cort’s admission. She knew he was telling the truth because she had told no one about her feelings of guilt. “I must confess I am still young in my faith. I do not nearly have the relationship with God I wish I did.”
“God plans to use our relationship to bring you closer to Him.”
It was odd to hear someone speak about conversing with God as if it was as common as speaking with another person. Even after giving her life to the Lord, Margaret had never had that kind of relationship with God. She had been so preoccupied with all her plans and problems, she never took the time to go to church consistently or focus her time in prayer or the Bible the way she should. All of that was going to change, because she wanted to be the kind of wife Cort deserved.
Smiling across at the man God had brought into her life, the man who was beginning to mean more to her than anyone else in the world, she answered with the desire she had been covertly keeping hostage in her heart. “I will marry you, Cort Westcott.”
Chapter 7
They arrived in Boulder at dusk. The buzz of a huge silver strike just outside of town had the whole place flooded with people looking to strike it rich. Everyone from paupers to what looked like nobility floated across the crowded streets.
Boulder was still a relatively new town, only being established in 1858 when a group of investors decided the location would be an ideal staging area for mining.
Her father had heard that land in the Colorado Territory might be a good investment and had purchased some from the investors in 1859, then added a homestead to make the property functional.
Her father’s investment seemed to be one of the best decisions he could have made. It was going to make his son a very rich man.
The group was thrilled about the upcoming wedding, but at the moment, they were more excited to finally be back in civilization where they could have beds, baths, and clean clothes.
As Margaret enjoyed a hot bath in the hotel room she was renting until she and Cort were married, she reveled in the luxury she had not been able to experience in several months. Grateful everything was falling into place, she thought about how she had been worried nothing would work out between them. But there she was, about to become Cort’s wife.
Margaret chose to wear the prettiest of the few gowns she had brought over from France. It was of the purest pink silk and trimmed with gold and pearls. With a fitted waist and bare shoulders, the dress was breathtaking.
“You look lovely tonight, Margaret.” Cort took her hand in his, kissing the top softly before helping her into her chair inside the dining hall of the hotel. Without taking his admiring eyes off her, he made his way around the table to sit across from her.
Randall leaned over, saying from his seat next to her, “I must admit, sis, you look quite striking with that dress on.”
“What about me, Randy? Are you not going to compliment your wife?”
Randall brought his attention to Jackie, who stood at the entrance of the room. “You look ravishing, my sweet, as always.”
“You look tantalizing yourself, chéri.”
Margaret was not embarrassed anymore when the two of them talked that way. In fact, she felt like blurting out the same things to Cort. Instead, she opted for a little more veiled comment, saying, “I think Cort can hold his own with my brother.”
All eyes turned to Margaret, and a look of pleasure mixed with slight embarrassment crossed Cort’s face. “Thank you. You flatter me too much.”
She leaned across the table, replying with a smile, “I think not.”
Bending forward to meet her, he brushed a kiss across her cheek, saying in her ear as he retreated, “I cannot wait until the week’s end.�
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A blush stole across her cheeks. She too had been anticipating their wedding. They had decided to wait a week so that she could have a dress made and get everything settled. But a week was beginning to feel like forever.
Dinner went smoothly. It was nice to be able to have a refined meal with gentlemen and ladies again. An English couple, Lord and Lady York of Ashbury, had joined them for dinner. Also in attendance was Pastor Thompson and his wife. The food was delicious and the conversation delightful.
But the more Margaret thought about her upcoming commitment to Cort, she was puzzled by the fact that Cort did not seem to fit the typical American cowboy she had become accustomed to encountering along their trip west. Manners and decorum were two things that were surely lacking in the Americas, especially in the West, and Cort demonstrated both in abundance. She was dying to find out the secrets she knew he had buried inside.
Yet, it seemed hypocritical of her when she had her own secrets that she kept hidden. She wanted to tell Cort about her past, especially since he told her that God planned to use him to help her mend it, but she didn’t know how. She was also worried that it would change how he saw her.
During dinner, Randall related that he had gone to the bank, and sure enough, the deed had been there along with several bags of silver. He believed that he and Jackie could do quite well with it, after giving Margaret her portion, which she planned to use to help with Cort’s ranch.
After dinner, Cort cleared his throat, bringing the conversation and banter to a halt. Everyone turned to focus on him.
“I think now is the appropriate time to give my bride-to-be a wedding gift.”
Cort handed Margaret a piece of paper. When she opened it, her eyes grew round with shock and surprise.
“What does it say, Mags?”
Margaret looked up at Cort and then over at her brother, replying with sheer joy in her voice. “It is the ownership papers on Chester, Cort’s stallion.”
“Correction, your stallion. I know you wanted to start a horse ranch, and now we can do that together. Although Chester may not compare with your Charlie, he is one of the best horses here in America.”
Margaret pressed her lips together and fought back the tears of happiness that were threatening to escape. All she had ever wanted was to be treated as an equal in a relationship, but she never thought it would actually happen. Cort’s symbolic gesture showed he wanted her to be his partner in every aspect of their lives.
“No, he is a wonderful horse. In fact, when I saw him, I wanted to own him very much. Thank you, Cort. I know how much Chester means to you.”
“Not as much as you.”
Lady York asked, “Do you ride, Missus Learingam?”
“Yes, Lady Regina, as a matter of fact, I do. It is one of my favorite pastimes. My brother and I, as well as my sister-in-law, are all accomplished riders.”
“Then I say we should all go riding sometime,” added Lord Gregory.
“That would be smashing,” interjected Randall.
“I say, it is very hard though to ride out here with the fear of being overtaken by Indians at any moment. I overheard about an attack on one of the homesteads nearby. It happened some months back. A woman and little girl were killed, and they still have not caught the Indians who burned the place to the ground,” Lady Regina said.
Randall chimed in, saying, “It seems a lot of the townspeople have been talking about the Cheyenne attacks. I heard there have been several since the Sand Creek Massacre last year when soldiers killed Cheyenne and Arapahoe women and children at one of their encampments. Ever since, they have been retaliating by attacking settlers’ homesteads.”
“Yes, but that particular family could have been spared, had the husband been there to defend his homestead. Is that not absolutely appalling? You would think he would have stayed with them with the threat of Indians near,” added Lord Gregory.
At the mention of the attack, Cort visibly stiffened. Noticing the tension in him, Margaret tilted her head and probed him with a look. Avoiding her gaze, Cort stood up, saying, “If you will excuse me, I just realized that I have something I need to take care of.” Not waiting for a response, he walked out of the room.
Lord Gregory commented with a puzzled look, “I say, that sure was abrupt.”
Not caring about anything but finding out what was wrong with Cort, Margaret made her excuses to the group. “I think I too will retire for the evening. Thank you for joining us, Lord and Lady York.” Exiting, Margaret turned around and said to everyone, “Good evening.”
Margaret picked up her skirt and rushed to catch up with her fiancé, who was already at the end of the hall. Once she reached him, she put her hand on his shoulder, stopping him. After a moment’s pause, he turned around and she caught a glimpse of pain in his eyes before he hid it.
“You did not have to follow me.”
“I wanted to.”
“Yes, well, I am sorry to say, I think you will find I am bad company right now.”
“I can see something upset you in there. What was it?”
For several seconds, he stared at her with a blank expression. Then he ran his hand through his hair in agitation. “The homestead that Lady York was talking about was mine.”
Margaret rocked back on her heels, stunned from his revelation. “You mean it was your wife and daughter who were killed by Indians?”
“Yes.”
Margaret stood rooted to the spot in astonishment. She did not know what to say. What could she say to that? He clearly was dealing with demons that had come from that event. What could she do to aid him? Perhaps just listening might help a little.
“Can you talk about it?”
He rolled his shoulders in frustration. “Lord Gregory was right. I was stupid, and I did not stay with my family like I should have. I knew about the Sand Creek Massacre and how the Indian tribes were furious. I knew better than anyone that settlers were not safe since my wife was half Sioux and they had warned her that the Cheyenne and Arapahoe had threatened to start attacking at the last intertribal meeting.”
“But how were you to know that they would attack your place at that exact time?”
“Because there had been signs that a war party had been around, but I thought I could leave for a few hours and nothing would happen. We were low on ammunition, and I worried we would not be able to defend ourselves if anything should happen, so I went into town to purchase some as well as look at a new mare for the ranch. I made a miscalculated decision and it cost me my family. I wish I had gotten home just a few minutes earlier. Even if I had not been able to stop them, at least I would have died protecting my family.”
“I never want to hear you talk that way. If you had died that day with your family, we never would have met. I love you and need you. Besides, you had no idea what would happen when you left that day.”
“Nothing you can say will change the fact that their deaths are my fault. My late wife’s final words were ‘I prayed you would come back and stop them,’ but I failed her. I still struggle with why God did not bring me back in time to save them. I accept God allowed it to happen for a reason, but the pain and guilt still haunt me.”
Margaret reached up and touched the side of his face. “You are a good man, Cortland Westcott. Do not ever doubt it. I would not be marrying you if it was not so.”
He pulled her toward him and buried his face in her hair. After several seconds, he tilted his head so she could hear him whisper, “I thank God every day for you. He has blessed me with a gift that I do not deserve.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck. “I love you.”
He shifted so he could look into her eyes, then said, “And I, you.”
“I am glad that you told me about this. It makes me understand you more.” Then, as a thought struck her, she asked, “The Indians you helped us fight, where they the ones who attacked your place?”
“Yes, I had bee
n tracking them for a few months, and I am quite certain the one who tried to scalp you was the one I saw crouched over Estella. I know now that I should not have sought revenge against the Cheyenne, but it was the only way I thought I could deal with my loss. I thought if I killed them, it might wipe away my guilt. But instead it has added to it and magnified what I already feel. Now I have their deaths on my conscience as well Estella’s and Polly’s.”
“Was that your wife and daughter’s names?”
He nodded.
“What were they like?”
“I did not have Polly for very long. She was only nine months when she passed away. She had the curliest brown hair I had ever seen, and she had the cutest smile that lit up her brown eyes when she giggled. My late wife, Estella, was the daughter of a California landowner. Different than you, she was Spanish and Indian, dark and earthy. I remember the few times I caught her cooking and she did not hear me come inside the cabin. She was so uninhibited, and she moved in such a graceful dance-like manner as she worked.
“Her father did not want her to marry me, but she went against him and did. That was why we moved out here to the Colorado Territory. We decided to start over where no one knew anything about us.”
“She sounds wonderful,” Margaret said softly. She did not know how to handle this. She felt as if now she had to compete with a ghost. His dead wife sounded majestic and perfect.
“She was”—he looked up at Margaret—“but so are you. And you are probably more suited for life out here than she had been. Estella hated living on the homestead. We had no servants and she was used to having many. She did not know how to take care of a place by herself, and she was not capable of adapting. Unlike you, she did not even know how to fire a rifle well. In addition, she hated living here and wanted more than I could give her.”
“Just the same, it seems hard to compete with someone so extraordinary. My beauty pales in comparison to what you described.”
Cort shook his head. “No, she was beautiful, but sadly, in many ways, her beauty was only skin deep. We had terrible fights. She was hotheaded and stubborn, like her father. And she was used to getting her way, since she was an only child and heir to one of the wealthiest landowners in the West. But I loved her.”