The Taming of Shaw MacCade

by Judith E. French

  After what nearly happened at the church three weeks ago, she'd decided that maybe she'd set too many conditions for happiness.

  "I love you, Mrs. MacCade," he murmured.

  "What? What did you say?" she cried.

  "I said I love you.' What's wrong with that?"

  "Nothing! Nothing at all. You've never said it," she said. And when he looked down at her, he saw that her cheeks were wet with tears.

  He reined in Echo, drew her into his arms, and kissed her tenderly. "Figured you were smart enough to guess that," he said.

  "A woman likes to hear it."

  "Fair enough!" Shaw raised his voice to a shout. "I love you! I love Becca Raeburn MacCade!" he bellowed. "Loud enough for you, dariin'?"

  She laughed and kissed him again. "I've waited a long time to hear that," she said. "A long, long time." Her voice grew husky. "You've made me the happiest woman in the world, Shaw."

  "Hell, Bee, I've loved you since the day I pulled you out of the Little Smoke. It just took me a while to come to admit it." He shook the lines, and the horse began to trot again. "Couldn't imagine you wouldn't know it. I don't go around giving my best arrowheads to just anyone."

  "I'm glad you don't," she murmured.

  They didn't stop again until they reached the ferry crossing. "There's nobody here to pull us across," she said. "I suppose we'll have to do it ourselves."

  "May as well get used to it," he answered. Puzzled, she glanced at him, and he reached under the buggy seat and came up with a small brown paper parcel. "Open it," he said. "It's just something I got you for a wedding gift."

  "A wedding present? But I didn't get you anything."

  "Don't worry. This is sort of a present for both of us."

  She tore open the package. Inside was a smaller box. She pried that open. Inside that was a length of muslin. Bee unrolled the cloth. "Whatever is—" She held the gift in her hand. "I don't understand," she said.

  On her outstretched palm lay a roughly carved child's toy: a wooden raft of tiny logs, laced together with a length of rawhide. "It's a raft," he said.

  "I can see that, but—"

  "No, you can't see." He climbed down and helped her out of the carriage. Together, they walked to the riverbank. The ferry was tied there, waiting. And on the mooring post was a big bow in MacCade plaid. "It's yours darlin," he said. "Angel Crossing."

  "Mine?" She looked at him wide-eyed. "I don't understand. Angel Crossing is Poppa's. The boys—"

  "I bought it from him, Bee. He can give your brothers their inheritance in gold dust. I bought Angel Crossing for you with the gold I brought back from California. I struck it rich, Mrs. MacCade. Course, we're not so rich now. But we do have a house and a way to make a living."

  "Here? We're going to live here?"

  "If you want to."

  "But Poppa?"

  "His bride has a nice home, large enough for both families. Your brothers can live with Poppa or go to hell for all I care."

  She looked stunned. "Noah?"

  "I've hired him to help with the ferry. But his mother wants him to live with her and your father for a while. If they change their mind, he can come back anytime. Noah can take his pick of our place, Ma's house, or Dagmar's." He grinned at her.

  "Grandma?"

  "Grandma and Pilar were part of the deal. I figure this house is big enough for the five of us, including, you, me, and Dewey."

  "Sam?"

  "We promised Sam we'd take her back to her mother. I've hired a lawyer to conduct a search for Betty in Saint Louis, but if he doesn't find her, then we'll keep her, too. If you're agreeable, that is. No more making all the decisions for us, Mrs. MacCade. I've learned my lesson."

  "You know I love Sam. Of course, I want her." She quivered with excitement. "I can't believe Poppa sold you Angel Crossing."

  "Why not? He's got a new wife, a new family, a new farm."

  "He does, doesn't he? I hope he's not too old to start over."

  Shaw chuckled. "He wasn't too old to father a new daughter."

  "Annika? But she's not..." Becca's mouth opened in astonishment. "Not Poppa. He wouldn't." She felt dumbstruck. "Would he?"

  "Your grandmother says he did. She claims your father and the widow have been friends for years—very good friends. But she wouldn't marry him so long as the MacCades and the Raeburns were feuding. Said she didn't want to have her kids in the middle of a shootin' war."

  "I can understand that," she answered, "but not..." She sighed impatiently. "How could Poppa blame Eve for having a child out of wedlock and then go and do the same thing?"

  "He's a man, Becca. Human, same as the rest of us. And Dagmar was an older widow. Folks tend to look the other way for widows, more than they would an unmarried girl like your sister. And if I had to lay a bet, I'd reckon Annika is his. Have you noticed the eyes on that little girl? More Raeburn gray than blue, I'd say."

  "Maybe, but I just can't picture Poppa doing such a thing."

  "He's been a widower a long time. Maybe he's tired of being alone, too."

  "Maybe." She sighed. "I can see that selling Angel Crossing to us makes sense. He never was very interested in the ferry. He likes farming. If we have the land, there's not much for him and your father to fight over anymore."

  "Exactly," Shaw agreed.

  "But what about Uncle Quinn? You can't tell me that he's going to live at Dagmar's farm."

  "Nope. He's taking his share of the money from the sale of the place and is going back to the old country to take a look around. Says he wants to see where the Raeburns started out. He wants to hear bagpipes, and eat decent haggis, whatever that is."

  "Sheep's stomach." Becca giggled.

  Shaw looked up at the gray sky. "Snow don't look much like stoppin'," he observed. "Maybe we'd best get on home. Feed up the stock. See how Chinook and Sasha are getting along with the Raeburn horses."

  "We're going to live here," she repeated. "We're not running off to California or Oregon or Mexico?"

  "Nope," he said. "Not so long as you don't get itchy feet, woman."

  "Have I told you how much I love you?"

  "Not enough, darlin'. But if we hurry and get through the chores, maybe we could crawl between the feather ticks in that big bed of yours and you could show me."

  She laughed. "Maybe I will do just that," she said.

  And then he led the horse onto the ferry. They crossed the river to home and to all the laughter and loving that life together would bring them.

  Epilogue

  Washington Territory May 1857

  Rebecca dipped her quill in the inkwell, wiped away any excess ink, and continued her letter to Eve.

  ...You cannot imagine the beauty of Washington Territory. The soil is rich, and the climate much milder than Missouri. Grandma's apple and cherry trees are thriving, and she is thinking of enlarging the orchard. Shaw, his brother Ewen, and Noah ferried a hundred cattle out to a small island that we bought in the sound. The animals wintered well and nearly every cow has safely calved.

  Shaw insists that you will receive this letter long before you leave Independence. If you do, don't fail to bring me a bucket of dirt from Angel Crossing and seeds from my old flower garden. Eve, I cannot wait to see you, Bruce, Jamie, and young master Campbell. Sam asks me a dozen times a day when you will arrive.

  Give Corbett and Katie our love. I miss him, but I'm glad that there are Raeburns and MacCades at Angel Crossing. You see, you and Bruce started something. First the two of you married, then Shaw and I, and then Corbett and Shaw's sister after she was widowed. Who knows, maybe in time we can lure more of the family west to Washington Territory? The land is big enough for all of us, and I know you and Bruce and the children will be happy here. I can hardly wait until Christmas. You'll be here and settled on your farm, and we—

  "Mama! Mama!" Emily cried.

  Rebecca sighed patiently, wiped her quill, and placed it on the glass stand. She blew on the paper to dry the ink, then opened the cent
er drawer of her rosewood writing desk, and put Eve's letter inside.

  "Mama!"

  That was Samantha's voice. "Coming, Sam," Rebecca answered.

  "Mama, make him stop!" Emily again. "Luke's teasing us!"

  "If I have to come down there, you'll all be sorry!" Rebecca called. Rising, she went to the glass-paned double doors that led to the balcony and paused a moment to take in the breathtaking view of wooded hills, islands, and dark, rolling sound.

  She had insisted that the three-story mansion house Shaw built for their family face the sea. Each night, they fell asleep to the sound of lapping waves and woke to the smell of salt and the cries of gulls.

  How a stay-at-home Missouri girl could fall so in love with the Pacific Coast was a wonder and a miracle, but she never tired of it. When Shaw had proposed they move to California or the northwest, she'd been shocked. After all, they were settled comfortably at Angel Crossing. What with Dewey and Sam and little Luke—a two-year-old, half-Osage boy they'd adopted a year after they were married—they'd had a family of their own to raise. All of their friends and relatives were nearby, and the ferry business was thriving.

  But Shaw was worried about the talk of war between the North and South. Missouri was a slave state, and tempers were running high. He said he'd seen enough violence and wanted her and the children safely away. And, at almost the same time, letters came from a law firm in California. Some mining claims that Shaw had an interest in near Sacramento had proven to be rich ones, and suddenly they were wealthy again.

  "Becca, just come west with me to take a look," he'd offered. "If you don't like California, I promise I'll bring you home."

  She'd never thought of leaving Angel Crossing, never wanted to see the Pacific Ocean or the great western mountains. But the thought that Shaw might have to go off to war and that she would see neighbor turn against neighbor were enough to send her to her knees in prayer.

  In the end, they'd decided to make the move. Next to choosing Shaw MacCade, Luke, and the other children, Rebecca thought Washington Territory was her finest decision. She'd liked the color and energy of San Francisco, but she'd been none too fond of the dry California farmland.

  Rebecca would never regret the six months they'd spent there or the weeks in Sacramento, where they'd found their adopted daughter Emily in an abandoned Chinese laundry. In the spring, they'd come north by clipper ship, sailing up the coast to the great Puget Sound and their new home.

  And Rebecca had known that this was the place she wanted to live out her life the moment she'd seen the wide beach with a long, grassy slope rising from the water's edge and a fairyland of snow-capped mountains in the distance.

  "Mama!" Emily was working herself into a temper. Rebecca knew if she didn't go to Luke's rescue, his sisters would soon unite and get the best of him. Quickly, she closed the double doors and crossed the thick Oriental carpet to the doorway leading to the hall.

  "No, you don't." Shaw loomed in the doorway. She laughed. "Did you hear that racket downstairs? If I don't settle the quarrel, Emily will—"

  "No, you will not," he said, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her full on the mouth. "You've been up since six this morning. Betty and Martha will see to the children. What use is it for me to hire servants to help you if you want to do everything yourself?"

  "I refuse to be an invalid. I'm fine," Rebecca proclaimed. "In fact, I was thinking of having Joseph saddle my mare this afternoon and riding out—"

  "You, my darlin'," he said, "are out of your mind." He kissed her again. "Here, I stop work, come up to spend time with you and the boys, and—"

  "Shaw, it's been two months. I'm fine, strong as a horse."

  "A horse, is it?" He caught her around the waist and lifted her gently off the floor and swung her around. "Have I told you how much I love you, Mrs. MacCade?"

  She laughed. "Not today. Put me down, you rascal! I'll not be bullied."

  "Can you be bribed?" He sat her down and dug in his back pocket for a long, blue velvet box.

  "I already have, haven't I?" she answered. "This house, this beautiful land, an ocean—"

  "Actually, I've been meaning to talk to you about that, Bee." His dark eyes twinkled with mischief. "I didn't exactly buy the whole Pacific for you."

  "You didn't? Blackguard." Laughing, she opened the jewelry box to find a delicate gold necklace and matching earrings. "Oh, it's beautiful, Shaw. Thank you."

  "No, thank you," he said. "I ordered them for you when you first told me about..." He trailed off. "You're a fine woman, Mrs. MacCade, and you deserve pretty things."

  "Flattery will get you anywhere." Her eyes clouded with moisture. "Thank you." Then she put the box on her writing desk and took his hand. "Shh," she warned. "They're sleeping." She led him from the sitting room into the hall and then into the nursery, where two carved mahogany cradles stood side by side. Two infant boys, one fair, one black-haired, lay sleeping.

  Gordon, the oldest twin by a quarter hour, was the dark one; he lay on his back, both chubby hands spread wide. Garrett curled on his side, a small thumb tucked securely in his mouth.

  "I still can't believe we did it," Shaw said, squeezing her hand tightly. "You did it."

  She smiled at him. "Didn't I tell you? You should have started coming to church with me years ago. Once you gave up your heathen ways, the Lord smiled on you."

  "On us," he said thickly. He leaned and kissed one fuzzy head and then the other.

  Rebecca put a finger to her lips and motioned to the inner door that led from the nursery to the master bedroom. "Since you won't let me go riding," she said, once he'd closed the door behind them, "perhaps..."

  A smile spread across Shaw's face. "Honey, you know I've been waitin', but..." He drew in a deep breath. "Twins have to be hard on the mother. I don't want—"

  "Oh, but I do," she said, sitting on the side of the bed and beginning to unbutton one high black kid boot. "I've missed you so much," she said. "And if the children are otherwise occupied, maybe you and I..."

  "Becca Raeburn MacCade, you are the best thing that ever happened to me," he said huskily. Buttons popped as he yanked his shirt over his head.

  She dropped the boot onto the floor and began to unfasten the other one. "Say it," she teased.

  "I love you."

  "Again."

  "I love you, Becca."

  "I'm from Missouri, Shaw MacCade. You'll have to prove it to me."

  And he did, that day, and every day, forever and ever.

  The End

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  Here's an excerpt from

  DEFIANT LOVE

  ~

  Adam Rourke tried to conceal the dislike he felt for these frontier Pennsylvanians. They were a rude lot, and he had no doubt that Rebecca Bradford had been misused.

  The German led the way to a log blockhouse.

  The leather hinges squeaked. The dirt floor gave off a musty smell. The rough log walls would give no solace to a young and frightened woman. Adam found the girl huddled in the darkest corner. "Rebecca, Rebecca Bradford? I'm come to take you home."

  There was no sign that she heard.

  "Wait outside." The softness in Adam's voice nearly covered the steel. "Now." Blood pounded in his temple as he saw the bruise that ran down the side of the girl's cheek.

  Adam squatted on the dirt floor. "Rebecca Bradford? I'm Adam Rourke. I worked for your grandfather at Sheffield. I gave you pony rides. Do you remember the b
lack pony?"

  Her voice came clear in the darkness, heavily accented. "Gray."

  "Yes." Adam tried to keep the excitement from his voice. "I've come to take you home."

  "No." Star Blanket rose. "I not this Beck-ka. I Star Blanket, of the Wolf Clan. Shawnee. I go back to my people." She moved gracefully along the side of the wall, her thick braid hanging over one shoulder. "Beck-ka'bad'ford dead. Iroquois kill. You set me free."

  Trickles of sweat began to run down Adam's forehead.

  Her unwillingness was the last thing he'd expected. "You're frightened. Once you're home at Sheffield, you'll feel better." He sighed. "These people have treated you badly. But you can trust me."

  How easily they spoke of trust, these English-manake. Star Blanket's green eyes inspected him closely. He was a giant of a man, a head taller than any of the Shawnee warriors in her village. His hair was brown and waving.

  His eyes, at least, were the proper color—brown—and full of intelligence. But they showed none of the fierceness that should shine through the windows of the soul. His hands were large and hard.

  She searched her mind for memories of A-dam Rourke. The corners of her lips curved upward.

  "Will you come with me?" A ray of light, coming through the trapdoor in the ceiling, illuminated her smooth, heart-shaped face. The breath caught in his throat. Once she was washed and dressed in decent clothing, she would be a real beauty.

  The ragged gown hung on her, but even the dirty folds could not hide the womanly curves of her high, firm breasts and compact hips. The bare feet that peeked out from under the muddy hem were small and shapely. But it was her eyes that drew him, large and heavy lashed. They glittered in the dark cell like fiery emeralds. Bradford eyes.

  "I will." But I do not promise how far. She lowered her eyes to hide the cunning there. She would not hurt him when she made her escape. But she would take away his horses and perhaps the fine English pistol.

  ~

  To purchase

  Defiant Love

  from your favorite eBook Retailer,

  visit Judith E. French's eBook Discovery Author Page