Lucas knew something was wrong the moment he stepped into the kitchen. The strong aroma of sage and cedar and something sweet wafted around him, and although his stomach was grumbling for breakfast, he looked through the house for Sarah. He found her on the back porch, standing, unmoving, and looking out at the mountains, the air strangely sparkling. The hazy cold winter morning promised a dry, clear day, which normally would set Sarah in a good mood. But one look at her told him she was greatly troubled.
She said without turning, “Eli and LeRoy got back late last night. They were down in Evans.”
“What happened?” Lucas asked. It must be serious since she didn’t have a mug of hot coffee in her hand. Now he knew why he’d sensed something off when he came inside; he was always met with the strong aroma of coffee. But not this morning.
Sarah turned and cocked her head. “I don’t know yet. But we will soon find out.” She listened for a moment, and sure enough, footsteps pounded from the far end of the house, where her sons’ bedrooms were.
Lucas took her arm. “Come, I’ll make you coffee, and breakfast.”
She shook her head, which worried him even more. A shiver danced across his neck. If she wasn’t eating or drinking right now, he wouldn’t either.
Lucas followed her to the sitting room, where the leftover embers from last night’s fire faintly glowed. On the small table in front of the sofa was a flat stone with a tied-up bundle of herbs lying on it. She picked up the herbs and poked it into the charred wood. When the end started smoldering, she turned and stood before him and waved it up and down in front of him. She’d never done this before, but he didn’t want to break her concentration to ask why she was doing this. He stood there and waited until she was finished circling his body and muttering words in Cheyenne under her breath.
Just then Eli and LeRoy tromped into the room and stopped abruptly.
Whatever trouble Sarah had sensed was written all over their faces. But they appeared unharmed, so they hadn’t been in a tussle. Yet, their faces were brimming with emotion.
“Sit,” Sarah said evenly, setting the bundle of smoldering herbs on the dish. Her boys complied, exchanging a nervous glance as they lowered down onto the long sofa. They waited for further instructions.
Sarah ignored them and came over to Lucas, who stood by the hearth. “The Cheyenne use sage to drive away bad spirits, bad thoughts. The cedar smoke rises to the heavens in prayer, to protect those in danger. And the sweetgrass welcomes in the good spirits. Helps to keep a clear, level head.” She threw Eli a look that Lucas couldn’t decipher.
“Let’s hear it,” she said to LeRoy, her hands on her hips.
LeRoy got up and paced, his face in a scowl. “Now, Ma, just listen. We didn’t get into any trouble.” Eli nodded vigorously, and Sarah pursed her lips together, as if she didn’t believe LeRoy. “Just hear me out,” he insisted.
Sarah sat in the big stuffed chair next to Lucas. Her face was calm and unexpressive as she scrutinized LeRoy. When she laid her hands in her lap and blew out a breath, LeRoy continued.
“After we got done delivering those horses to the Caldwells, we headed over to the saloon for a drink. You know—Old Myer’s place. Thought we’d git warm a spell and then head home. But when we came near the alleyway behind the building, we heard voices, arguing.”
Eli cut in. “It was Gus Woodson—drunk as all get out and blathering about somethin’.”
“Let LeRoy tell it,” Sarah told him.
It rattled Lucas to see LeRoy this agitated.
“All right,” LeRoy said, coming to a halt in front of his mother. “It’s like this. We leaned close to listen, to get a look-see, but I swear no one saw us. But we heard what they said just fine.” He looked at Eli, who nodded again. “Rusty Dunnigan sounded mean and threatening, and I think Gus got punched a few times by the grunts and groans we heard. Rusty said something like, ‘You and your big mouth. You had to tell him about that Indian kid, didn’t you? Just had to brag about dumping his body in the river.’” He looked at Lucas. “You heard about that, right? It’s been in the paper—this kid had been working at the mill down in LaSalle. Got into some scrap with Caleb Dixon, with plenty o’ witnesses. Then—he disappeared. No one’s heard from him. That’s who Rusty was talking about.”
Sarah’s face tightened but she said nothing. She looked at the fireless hearth and waited. Lucas gritted his teeth, thinking about that poor kid and the fatal mistake he’d made. Something had to be done once and for all to rein in these ranchers.
“So,” LeRoy continued. “Gus belly-ached, saying, ‘So what? He ain’t got no reason to tell anyone. And who’d believe him anyway? He’s a drunk too.’ And then Rusty says, ‘and now he knows what we’re planning. You idiot,’ Rusty screamed at him, ‘that fancy-pants is going to tell his sister, and she’ll tell those Indians and that cowboy. She’s friendly with them. And their pappy’s rich and knows the sheriff.’”
Lucas stiffened. They were talking about Walter. He clenched his fists and set his jaw. Walter was a dead man—no doubt about it. LeRoy looked at him.
“They mentioned Walter’s name. That’s him—right? Your sweetheart’s brother? The one I saw at the picnic.”
Lucas nodded, his gut turning sour. He looked at Sarah, who nodded back. She sure had a nose for danger. And Lucas could hardly think of a more dangerous situation—especially for Emma’s brother. Lucas regretted not having said anything to Emma’s father before now. He’d hoped all Walter was doing was socializing with those vile men, maybe buying them drinks and just listening to their complaints. But it was clear now that Walter was in over his head, and had nary a clue. Lucas had to warn him and Mr. Bradshaw, now, regardless of how they regarded him. Emma’s whole family might be in danger.
His feet got twitchy, and he wanted to bolt out of the room. But he needed to know more.
He asked LeRoy, “Did they say anything else about this plan?”
Eli couldn’t hobble his lips any longer. “Do they have to? You know whatever plan they’re scheming, it means they’re coming here at some point to do some damage. But before they get a chance—”
Sarah laid a hand on Eli’s arm, but she said nothing, and her look was thoughtful, not angry. He threw himself back against the sofa cushions. She got up and fetched the small box from the shelf, and pulled out a leather pouch.
She felt around inside and pulled out a small glass jar. LeRoy said, “Ma, they said something about a party in Fort Collins. Woodson told Dunnigan that Walter and his family would be there today. It’s clear what they mean to do.”
Lucas’s blood raced in his ears. Fort Collins is fifteen miles away. A lot of open, desolate road . . .
“I’ll head over to Greeley. See if I can catch the Bradshaws before they head out,” he said, glancing out at the bright, clear morning. “It’s about a three-hour ride by carriage to Fort Collins. What’s this party?”
Sarah turned to him, a small bottle in her hand. She pulled the cork out and went over to him. “The town holds it every year at the community center. A charity auction to raise money for the needy. It’s an all-day affair, so . . . it’s likely they’re already on their way.”
“Then I’ll catch up to them.” He wondered why Walter would be going to this event. With his pregnant wife? He supposed he might, if his father wanted the whole family together. Not too harrowing a journey so long as the road is clear and dry. But there was no counting on the weather—ever—on the Front Range.
“Ma,” Eli protested, “we’re not going to just sit here like ducks and wait until those men decide to attack us.”
“No.” Sarah dipped her finger into the small jar of blue powder and then streaked a line down one of Lucas’s cheeks. She streaked the other cheek, and then his forehead.
She walked up to Eli, who jumped to his feet. “I know,” she said, performing the same actions on Eli’s face. He responded with a smile and narrowed eyes. “I want you two to be careful. Watch and listen. I won’t abide by any unnecessary violence.” She fixed her gaze on Eli. “But do what you have to.” She added, “This thing’s come to a head, and the time for talk is over.”
“You got that right,” Eli mumbled with a scowl under his breath.
When she was done with Eli, she did the same procedure on LeRoy; although, the blue powder just turned clear once rubbed into the skin. Lucas guessed they’d had this done to them before, but Sarah saw he looked for an explanation.
“This is made from a little flower called everlasting. The Cheyenne believe the powder helps the warrior become invisible. It keeps the honorable one safe, makes him quick in battle, and protects him from evil.”
Lucas gulped. He’d never seen Sarah like this—so strangely calm, instructing her sons in this manner. He imagined a tribe of Cheyenne readying for battle, wondering how many times Sarah had witnessed such preparations when a child among her people.
Eli and LeRoy came and stood in front of Sarah and closed their eyes. Sarah closed hers, and waving her hands slowly as she circled them, she sang—or chanted—words in an undertone, in the Cheyenne language. Lucas didn’t understand a word of it, but he felt tingling all over his body and an odd surge of energy fill the room.
When she finished chanting, she hugged LeRoy, then Eli, without saying another word.
They tipped their hats at her, and headed for the door. LeRoy threw a glance at Lucas that showed him calm, confident, and determined. Sarah went over and relit her herb stick. The moment the door closed, Lucas rushed to his cabin and grabbed his gun belt and strapped it around his waist. He checked over his Colt, made sure it was fully loaded. He then picked up his Henry .44 rifle and two boxes of ammunition and tucked them under his arm. When he got back into the sitting room, Sarah was sitting before the stone plate, burning more of the sagey-sweet herbs and mumbling in Cheyenne.
As he grabbed his coat off the wall hook, she said to him, “Fear slumbers beneath the rocks, like a bear in hibernation. And when disturbed, it roars. But do not be afraid of the bear. It cannot stay in the den forever; it must face the light.”
She came over to the door, put her hands on his shoulders, and looked him in the eye. “Don’t be afraid to face your fear. For if you stare down the bear, it will turn and lumber away, never to bother you again. Only then will you be free of it.”
What fear? Lucas’s heart pounded mercilessly in his chest. Sweat broke out on his forehead, but he drew in a long breath and calmed his nerve. Emma. His greatest fear was losing her. Was he going to lose her? The thought made him yearn to bolt, chase her down, and wrap her in his arms. But Sarah kept her hands on him, and he felt power and heat seep from her palms into his shoulders. His legs shook.
“She is on the other side of your fear. Once you go through it, you will find her there, waiting.” Her smile was reassuring.
Lucas gulped and searched her face for the answers he so desperately needed. But she said nothing more. She broke her enchantment with a light chuckle and patted his hat down on his head.
“Go. Do what is needed. May your horse be swift and your heart strong.”
A crushing weight of worry pressed down on him, fueling his sense of urgency. He thanked Sarah, found his warm gloves and thick wool scarf by the door, and filled up a canteen. He wanted to tell her to be watchful, and to be careful, but he knew she would. But she would now be here alone and no match for a gang of ruffians. He grunted. He hated to think what Eli and LeRoy might do, and hoped they could stop whatever those men had planned without anyone dying. But somehow he knew death was never too far away from the likes of men like Rusty Dunnigan and Caleb Dixon.
Sarah was right, he thought sadly, the time for talk was over. A man—or woman—had to protect their own, if they had no one else to do the protecting for them.
Lucas hurried out, the morning growing late and the sun arcing the sky. Not a cloud marred the blue pool overhead, and the dry air was as still as death. Lucas shuddered. The calm before the storm? He saddled up, tying his rifle and supplies behind the cantel, and then mounted Ransom.
“Let’s go, pal,” he said, swinging his horse around and kicking hard. A rock lodged in his gut as he tore off down the dirt road. “I hope to God I’m not too late.
The ride to Fort Collins was long and tiring, with little to see other than flat desert, cactus, and scrub brush, reminding Emma once more how vast and lonely this high desert was. Leftover snowdrifts dotted the landscape, and only the clumps of cottonwoods growing along the Platte some distance away broke up the expansive horizon.
The rhythmic rocking of the spacious carriage had put her mother to sleep beside her, her head bobbing against the wall of the carriage.
Walter sat across from them, with his arm linked through Lynette’s, looking bored.
Emma’s father was outside on the bench seat, driving the team of Cleveland Bays—Mr. Turnbull’s rig and horses he’d kindly offered to them to use while he and Randall were in Denver. The leather seats were cold, but between them all they had plenty of warm blankets. Her father had a heavy buffalo hide to keep his legs warm, but Emma imagined he must be quite cold, having been exposed to the elements for the last few hours.
But it was clear they were coming into a town—finally. Fort Collins looked bigger than Greeley, and the storefronts older. The trees lining the streets were taller than those in Greeley as well. She’d learned there had been a fort here not all that long ago, but once the Indians had been relocated and the threats of skirmishes ended, settlers flooded in and agriculture boomed along the Cache la Poudre River. There was even an agriculture college there, which piqued Emma’s curiosity. Unfortunately they wouldn’t have time to explore the town much, if at all. She’d promised her mother she’d help with the auction, and with Lynette, who had insisted on coming.
“It’s my last chance to get out of town and see the land before the baby comes and winter sets in,” her sister-in-law had told her when they left this morning. Emma could imagine how restless and impatient Lynette was to have her baby—although she still had a full month to go. Emma couldn’t imagine how Lynette could get much bigger though. She looked over at Lynette’s waist. She must be so uncomfortable.
As if hearing her thoughts, Lynette let out a little moan. Walter looked at her with concern.
“It’s just my back,” she told him, patting his hand reassuringly. “It’s been aching all day. And this carriage ride, although quite comfortable, is not helping much.”
He tipped his head to get a good look out the window. “Well, we seem to have arrived. I’ll take you for a short walk around the town,” he said, sounding eager himself to get out of the carriage. “Some fresh air will do us both good.”
Although he’d been polite to Emma, Walter had hardly said three words to her in recent weeks. If they’d been alone, she could only imagine what he’d say to her. And what she’d say to him. It took tremendous control to restrain her anger at him for how he treated Lucas, but she tried to understand his viewpoint. He had seen his engaged sister kissing another man. Could she fault him for being protective and angry? She heaved a sigh, wondering if she and Walter would ever become friends. She so looked forward to being an aunt, and hoped she would be welcomed at their house and allowed to help with the baby. It behooved her to try to get on Walter’s good side—if that was even possible.
Emma was pleased to see Walter showing so much concern over Lynette. And he was sober, for a change. Although, it was morning. However, his face looked bright and his eyes clear. Perhaps he’d stopped drinking recently, now with the baby’s impending birth. Or maybe he knows Father would be furious if he detected any liquor on his breath. It was clear there was tension between father and son, but maybe today’s outing would help bring them all together as a family. Although I would rather be spending it with Lucas.
Thoughts of him and his kisses had plagued her the whole ride, and she’d closed her eyes and replayed the way his lips had hungrily tasted hers, and his hands had explored her body. She ached with longing for him, and the pain of their separation was unbearable. She had been counting the days until Randall would be back, so she could do what must be done.
She’d mulled over and over what might happen when Randall returned. How he would react to her calling off their engagement. What her father would do and say when he learned she planned to marry Lucas Rawlings. Her mother would faint dead away, no doubt. Maybe they’d throw Emma out on the street. She hoped they would understand, see how much she and Lucas loved each other. Maybe in time they would accept him as their son-in-law. But if not, that was the price she was willing to pay for love. She would make no compromises. Or give any excuses.
The carriage slowed to a stop. Emma looked out and saw they were at a large, long pale-yellow block building. To her surprise, dozens of people milled around out on the lawn, dressed in warm winter clothes and boots. When she opened the carriage door and stepped down, a cool breeze soothed her face, chasing away the tiredness and the tightness in her limbs. Her mother, awake now, came out and set about business right away, giving Emma a litany of all the things they needed to do for the auction. Apparently the Greeley women’s charity group had been given the assignment to lay out all the auction items with the proper bidding sheets and decorations.
Her father helped Lynette out of the carriage, with Walter supporting her back from behind. “I’ll take the horses to the carriage house,” he said, pointing to an adjoining structure already quite filled with similar carriages and buggies.
Her mother nodded and took Emma’s arm, practically dragging her inside. Walter and Lynette strolled down the gravel path near the street, Lynette waddling like a duck. Emma smiled at the thought of a baby, imagining children with Lucas’s wavy hair and deep-green eyes. A pang hit her as she remembered his lost son. Would he want children after what he’d suffered? She hoped so. Surely they would bring joy and comfort to his soul, chase away his loss. Although Emma knew he would never forget the baby he lost—or Alice. And she would never expect him to. She prayed they would have many full and happy years together—and many children.
With a smile lighting up her face at that thought, she went inside, taking in the warmth and gaiety and joy of the season. The hall was decorated with Christmas cheer from floor to ceiling, the draped pine boughs giving off a heady scent. She had a lot to be grateful for, she mused, as she followed her mother across the hall full of chatter and music. She loved a wonderful man—and had found him here in Colorado Territory—a place she least expected to find one. And she was coming to love the Front Range, also much to her surprise.
She scanned the room, looking for a familiar face but not expecting any. Violet’s family had planned to come, but then relatives had paid a surprise visit from St. Louis, so they were staying in Greeley. Emma was sad Violet wasn’t there to make her laugh and take her mind off Lucas.
She sucked in a breath. Standing against the wall were two young men she recognized—even from this far away. Just by his stance Emma could tell the one with the light-brown hair and dark hat was Eli, Sarah’s son. And LeRoy stood beside him. They were studying the crowd as if looking for someone. If they’re here, maybe Sarah is too. And that could mean Lucas might . . .
She looked over everyone in the large hall, but saw neither Sarah nor Lucas. She had to find out if Lucas was here—or coming. But as she hurried over to them, they spotted her, and both their faces formed a frown. Emma slowed and swallowed her worry. They weren’t angry, not at her, but the look on their faces concerned her.
“Hello, Eli. LeRoy,” she said, her voice quiet. “Is something the matter?”
LeRoy answered in a serious tone. “Is your brother here?” Eli was still searching the crowd, with an even more agitated look on his face.
Emma’s stomach twisted. “My brother. Why are you asking?”
“Is he here?” LeRoy repeated, clearly trying not to be rude, but insistent.
“Yes. He’s taking a walk with Lynette. Why do—?”
“Which way did they go?”
“Um . . . to the right, once you head out the front doors. But I don’t understand—”
LeRoy nudged Eli, who nodded and hurried out.
LeRoy looked at Emma, with Sarah’s charcoal eyes and prominent mouth. He seemed to have streaks of blue, barely noticeable, on his cheeks. “I can’t say anything right now. I’ll let Lucas explain.”
“Lucas! Is he here?” her heart fluttered at the thought of seeing him, now, here. The ache grew inside her, igniting her longing. She glanced around the crowded room.
“Not yet,” LeRoy told her. “He’ll be here soon.” He seemed to spot someone by the door, but Emma couldn’t tell who he was looking at. “I have to go,” he said.
“But . . . what about Walter? Is he all right? Has something happened?”
LeRoy tipped his head, the brim of his hat shadowing his brooding eyes. “Not yet. And we’re fixin’ to keep it that way.”
LeRoy strode away from her, leaving his words hanging ominously in the air.
Emma’s head spun, and she drew in short breaths. Oh, Walter, what have you done?