Page 25 of Come the Spring (Claybornes' Brides (Rose Hill) 5)

  When he finally lifted his head and saw the bemused look in her eyes, he nodded with satisfaction. “Listen to me, woman. That’s how I want to be kissed every morning. I want a whole lot more than that, but we’ll start with a kiss.”

  “For how long, Cole?”

  She didn’t realize she’d spoken the thought aloud until he answered her.

  “For the rest of our lives, and yours is going to be real short if you keep having such crazy thoughts.”

  “You can’t possibly know what I’m thinking.”

  “Sure I can,” he boasted. “It’s like looking in a mirror.” He shook his head in self-deprecation. “My brother Adam used to tell me I’d get it all back.”

  “Get what back?”

  “My attitude,” he answered. “I’m the one who never wanted any strings, and it’s galling to know you feel the same way.”

  “I do feel that way,” she cried out.

  “All you’re doing is striking first.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “You’re so certain I’ll leave you, you’re taking action first and leaving me. Isn’t that right?”

  He wouldn’t give her time to answer, but plunged ahead. “Well, I’ve got news for you, baby. That isn’t going to happen. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. I meant what I said. It’s forever, Jessie, and I seem to recall you gave me the same promise.”

  She didn’t believe she could be any more miserable than she was at this very moment. Memory served her well, and she knew that even the most fervent promises were empty. He loved her now, yes, but in time he would change his mind.

  “I don’t want you to stay with me because of what happened. I asked you for one single night, and you gave me that.”

  “Are you going to thank me now?”

  His tone suggested she not comply. “It’s time to go.”

  “You’re trying my patience,” he whispered.

  He didn’t say another word to her for almost an hour. He kept looking back over his shoulder to make sure she was all right, and she noticed that his expression grew more hostile with each glance.

  She knew she had hurt him, but it was for the best to end it now. She told herself she was simply protecting herself and her son, because if she opened her heart to him, she would be giving him the power to destroy her. She couldn’t take that chance. Yet, thinking about life without him made her miserable, and she didn’t know what to do to stop the ache. She hated being afraid, and loving Cole terrified her because it meant she would have to trust him.

  Why, oh, why, hadn’t she considered all the ramifications before she attacked the man? Because, she wanted to know what it felt like to be loved. Dear God, what had she done?

  “Jessie, we did it all wrong.”

  She stared at his back, her heart already shattering, while she waited for him to tell her he had finally come to his senses.

  He didn’t turn around as he explained, but took the lead down the last slope that led into the town where they would catch the train.

  “We had our wedding night before our wedding. We just did it backwards, that’s all. If there’s time, we’ll fix that when we get to town.”

  “How do you plan to do that?”

  “Find a preacher.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “I’m not marrying you.”

  “I’m not asking.”

  “Good, because I…”

  “I’m telling you we’re getting married. You made that decision when you gave yourself to me last night.”

  He let her hear the anger in his voice, but he was careful not to let her know how worried he was. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought he was scared. Loving her shook him to the core, and he didn’t know how to make her understand that his love was real … and forever.

  “Caleb…”

  “I’ll be a good father.”

  “I won’t subject him to heartache. He’ll become attached to you, and then …” She didn’t go on because of the scathing look he shot her over his shoulder.

  “There’s something I think you’d better know about me.”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “I always win.”

  Thirty-Two

  Of the one hundred twenty-three passengers on the train headed south, only one person happened to be looking out the window at the precise second that Marshal Cooper was thrown over the trestle into the water, but one passenger was quite enough. Mildred Sparrow, a spry woman of advanced years and a sedentary disposition, was seated on a hard wooden bench in the rear car with her husband, George, at her side. He was slumped against her, sound asleep, and was using her shoulder as a pillow. Mildred was quietly admiring the lovely view one second and screaming like a madwoman the next. She was so distraught she could barely tell her husband what she had just witnessed. George didn’t believe her. Insisting she’d dozed off and imagined that a man was hurled to his death, he opened the window and stuck his head out to have a look himself.

  He didn’t see anything. Mildred wouldn’t be hushed, though. She caused quite a scene, and the only way the porter could get her to stop screaming was to promise to stop the train and investigate. He too believed that Mildred had let her imagination run away with her.

  The train came to a screeching halt about a quarter of a mile from the nearest town. The conductor led the curious across the dry, barren land to a hill overlooking the lake. More than twenty men and women were in his entourage, and all of them doubting Thomases. More would have ventured out if they hadn’t been afraid of the possibility of stepping on a rattlesnake.

  The conductor was out of breath by the time he reached the top of the hill. He looked down, let out a startled gasp, and whispered, “Dear God, it’s true.”

  The group stood with their heads bowed in silent prayer as they watched a fisherman drag a body out of the lake.

  Black Creek Junction was a quiet little town in the middle of an isolated and desolate stretch of land. There wasn’t a tree or a bush or a flower for as far as the eye could see. The sunsets were the town’s only vanity. Each day as the sun descended, orange shards of light struck the red clay soil and the western sky exploded in color, giving the appreciative audience the illusion that the horizon was on fire. Those who stood in the town square swore that they could see flames dancing across the land. It was a spectacular sight, made even more magical when old man Towers felt up to playing his fiddle. The townspeople told newcomers that they had actually seen flickering flames keeping time to the fiddler’s tunes.

  Grace was transfixed by the magnificent sunset and was watching the phenomenon from the train.

  Though reluctant to pull her away from the window, Daniel had to be practical. “We only have an hour to eat and stretch our legs,” he reminded her.

  The mention of food reminded her how hungry she was. She put on her gloves and her hat and followed him down the corridor.

  “Do you wear your gloves everywhere you go?” he asked.

  “A lady must always wear her gloves in public.”

  He smiled as he shook his head. She was so very proper all the time, ridiculously so, and sweet … Lord, but she was sweet. He wondered how proper she’d be in bed. The second the thought popped into his head, he pushed it aside.

  “Do you think you’ll be able to eat a little something?” she asked. “Has your stomach settled down?”

  “Quit fussing over me. I’m fine.”

  Dinner was being served inside a two-story way station on the outskirts of town, about half a block from the depot. Daniel hadn’t even stepped off the train when he was summoned.

  “Marshal Ryan?”

  He turned and saw a heavyset, bowlegged man running toward him. “Yes?” he said as he put his arm across the opening so Grace would have to stay inside the train.

  “I thought that was you, being so tall and all. The porter gave me a good description of you. My name’s Owen Wheeler, and I’m the sheriff in this here town. Folks who know me

good call me by my nickname, Bobcat. You can too if you want,” he added as he shook Daniel’s hand. “It’s a right pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”

  Bobcat spotted Grace behind Daniel, tipped the brim of his hat, and said, “Howdy, ma’am.”

  “Hello, Mr. Bobcat.”

  “Just plain old Bobcat will do,” he explained. “Don’t need a ‘mister’ in front of it.”

  “How did you ever get such a nickname?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

  He grinned at her. “A while back, I ran into a bobcat and had to wrestle with him. I got the scars all over my belly to prove it. If you’d like to see…”

  “No, no, that’s quite all right. I believe you,” Grace rushed out.

  The sheriff couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Grace, and the rudeness irritated Daniel. “Was there something I could help you with?” he asked impatiently.

  Bobcat vigorously nodded. “We’ve got some trouble here. I was telling the porter about it, and he mentioned he’d seen you wearing a badge and thought maybe you could help.”

  “What exactly is the problem?” Daniel asked, wishing the sheriff would get to the point.

  “Yesterday, Gladys Anderson’s boy, Billy, pulled a man out of the lake. Billy was doing some fishing instead of going to work at the stables like he was supposed to, but it was fortunate he’s such a slacker. The man would have drowned if Billy hadn’t been there, and that’s the truth. Billy saw it happen too.”

  “Saw what happen?”

  “Billy was sitting on his boat watching the train go over the trestle when all of a sudden he sees a man come flying out and plunging down into the water. The poor fella hit hard and went right under, but Billy fished him out, and that’s when he noticed the man had been shot. I’m thinking he was thrown off that train.”

  Grace was horrified. “How awful,” she said. “Is the gentleman going to recover?”

  Bobcat mournfully shook his head. “Doc says he’s in a real bad way, ma’am. Real bad. The bullet went through, so Doc didn’t have to dig it out, but infection already set in. I figured you’d want to know, Marshal, being as the dying man is one of yours.”

  Daniel was already reaching for Grace to pull her off the train.

  “He was wearing a badge,” Bobcat explained. “And the porter told me his name is Cooper. Do you know him?”

  “Where is he?” Daniel asked, his voice sharp with fear and anger.

  “Inside the way station. Doc wouldn’t let us take him any further. He’s in one of the sleeping rooms upstairs. The marshal’s fighting for his life, but Doc doesn’t think he’s gonna make it.”

  Shaken by what he had just heard, Daniel grabbed Grace and quickened his pace toward the building. The sheriff ran by his side.

  “Did you question everyone on the train?” Daniel demanded.

  “I did,” the sheriff answered. “One woman saw him going over the trestle, but she didn’t see anything else. No one heard the gunshot either,” he added in a pant. “A window was shattered by one bullet, and I figure two were fired. The second went through the marshal.”

  Daniel reached the door to the way station, threw it open, and rushed inside. His gaze was on the crowd sitting at the long tables waiting for their food to be served. He kept Grace tucked into his side, spotted the stairs in the corner, and headed across the room.

  As they raced up the narrow steps, he glanced back at the sheriff. “What about the woman Marshal Cooper was traveling with? Where is she?”

  “There weren’t no woman.”

  “Yes, there was,” Daniel muttered.

  “The porter told me the marshal had a woman with him, and other folks remember seeing her getting on the train. She might have been there when they started, but she weren’t there when the train was stopped. That’s the God’s truth.”

  “What about her things?” Grace asked. “Did you find a valise or a bag?”

  “No, ma’am. We didn’t find anything. That compartment was empty, and there weren’t nothing left behind to prove a woman had ever been there.”

  They reached the end of the hallway, where the physician was standing. He nodded to Daniel and then opened the door and went back inside.

  “Grace, wait with the sheriff out here,” Daniel said. “Sheriff, don’t let anyone up those stairs. You understand me?”

  “What do you want me to do if someone wants to come up?”

  “Shoot him.”

  The sheriff’s eyes widened. Grace waited until Daniel had gone inside Cooper’s room before bowing her head and saying a silent prayer that his friend would survive.

  “Was the missing woman Marshal Cooper’s wife?” Bobcat asked.

  “No,” she answered. “They weren’t related. Marshal Cooper was escorting Rebecca to Texas.”

  “Well, where in tarnation is she?”

  Grace shook her head. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  A shiver passed down her arms. Rebecca had vanished.

  God help her.

  Thirty-Three

  Daniel kept vigil by his friend’s side all through the night. Cooper, locked in a fitful sleep, was having nightmares and mumbling words about monsters and traitors that didn’t make any sense.

  Grace took care of practical matters. She asked the porter to remove their bags from the train, ordered a tray of food be sent up for Daniel to eat later if and when his appetite returned, and kept Sheriff Bobcat company at the small round table in the corridor adjacent to Cooper’s room.

  The sheriff kept up a constant flow of chatter while he and Grace ate supper together. The food was bland but filling, and an hour later she couldn’t remember what had been served. Her mind was filled with fear for Marshal Cooper and Rebecca.

  The physician came out of Cooper’s room around nine that evening. He shook his head sorrowfully and told the sheriff there was little improvement.

  “I opened the wound near the rib cage to drain the infection. I don’t know what good it will do now, though. The man’s burning up with fever. I mixed up a batch of my herb brew, and if I could only get him to wake up long enough to swallow some, I know it would do him some good.”

  “You can’t get Marshal Cooper to wake up?” Grace asked, her worry apparent in her trembling voice.

  “No, ma’am, I can’t,” the doctor answered. He scratched his whiskered jaw and added, “That poor man is delirious and ranting and raving about monsters.”

  “Sounds like he’s plumb out of his head,” Bobcat interjected.

  The physician agreed with his friend’s diagnosis. “It looks that way. I don’t believe there’s anything more to be done tonight. I’m going to go on home and get a couple of hours sleep. Then I’ll venture back here and have another look at him. Miss, if you don’t mind me saying so, you look awful weary. Why don’t you find a bed with clean sheets and get some rest.”

  “We got her all fixed up in the room next to your patient. It’s the only door with a lock on it up here.”

  After the doctor went down the stairs, Bobcat turned to Grace. “I’m right proud to be of help to Marshal Ryan, and now that I know you need protecting, I’ll just set myself outside your door with my loaded rifle.”

  “Do you think that’s necessary? The train left hours ago, and the only other people here are the owners.”

  “Of course it’s necessary. The Blackwater gang ain’t going to knock on the door and ask if they can come inside and shoot you. They’ll try to sneak in. Now, don’t argue with me. You go on ahead into your room and get some sleep. I’ll keep my eyes open.”

  Grace didn’t argue. The room she’d been assigned was sparsely furnished. There was a bed with a wooden headboard, a chest of drawers, and three hooks on the wall to hang her clothes on. She put her gloves and hat on top of the dresser, and then went right back out into the hallway.

  “I’m just going to look in on Daniel for a moment,” she explained as she hurried past the sheriff b

efore he could try to stop her. “I won’t be long.”

  She didn’t knock on Cooper’s door, for she knew that Daniel would send her back to her room. She simply went inside and quietly shut the door behind her.

  Daniel was standing at the window but turned when she entered the room. His surprise at seeing her was quickly replaced with a frown.

  “What are you doing here? You should be getting ready for bed. You’re going to have to get up early tomorrow.”

  “I would like to help you take care of your friend.”

  “There isn’t anything you can do.”

  He looked haggard and sounded defeated. It was as though he had already accepted Cooper’s death and was mourning him. She wanted to tell him to have hope, but she didn’t think anything that she said would change his attitude.

  “You’re exhausted,” she said. “Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll sit with Marshal Cooper. You still haven’t recovered from the influenza.”

  “Don’t fuss over me,” he growled.

  She gave up trying to talk sense to the obstinate man and turned her attention to Cooper. He was sleeping on his back in the double bed with just a sheet covering him to his waist. He was as still as death. A thick bandage was wrapped around his middle, and there were spots of bright red blood seeping through the white packing. His complexion was a chalky gray, and in the dim light from the two lanterns on the bedside tables, Cooper looked as though his next breath would be his last.

  “The doctor couldn’t get him to wake up and drink the medicine?”

  “No. He kept choking.”

  She got down to business, unbuttoned the cuffs of her sleeves and rolled them up to her elbows. Then she went to the basin and washed her hands.

  “What do you think you’re going to do?”

  “Daniel, try not to take your anger out on me. All right? I know how upset you are about your friend, but being hostile isn’t going to help. To answer your question,” she continued. “I’m going to try to bring his fever down.”