Chapter Twelve

Rowena’s Journal

December 3, 1875

It is impossible to believe that the sheriff plans to arrest Blair for murder. Barton Crouch was a brutal, evil man who came into our home intending to harm poor little Lizza who suffered from his beatings since they married. Sheriff Calumet tells us that Crouch’s father is a colonel in the Army, stationed at Fort Hays. He has a great deal of influence and is demanding that the person who shot his son be made to pay. How Calumet knows that Blair took the fatal shot is beyond all of us. No one who was there has opened their mouth to implicate him.

Luckily Simmons and Grady were able to convince the sheriff that Blair cannot travel. Meanwhile, we will have to find a way to clear his name before he is taken to the jail in Hays. No one has yet told Blair, and I fear that when he hears this he will relapse. Grady offered to go fetch Hildegarde Smythe, with a note from Blair that he wants to undergo her treatments and will pay her extra to come to Fairhaven. We must move forward with this in the hopes that his name can be cleared in the meantime.

Today Annie, Lizza, and I will begin baking fruit cakes for the holidays. Annie says she will get Nellie to help with measuring out all the ingredients. The new girl begged Grady to take her back home to the farm her parents have near Marysville. Said there was too much excitement at Fairhaven, and swore she saw a ghost in the west wing. Must have been one of Blair’s visitors.

He wants to have a true Victorian Christmas Party at Fairhaven this year, and plans to invite everyone in Victoria to the celebration the week prior to our family gathering, so we are all in a dither. I can scarcely believe it, and must try to put my worries about his impending arrest aside and capture the holiday spirit.

At St. Ann’s the birth of Christ was a somber event. We contemplated our souls, prayed a lot, and confessed our sins. We were not allowed to celebrate or have a birthday party for our savior. I vaguely recall my family’s Christmas gatherings and look forward to this one. Fairhaven already looks festive, with the hanging of wreaths which Lizza has taken upon herself to make from cedar boughs, bows, and berries. Nellie is helping her with some of the stitchery. Grady gathers what she needs and she sits at the end of the kitchen table every day making them. She has changed so much since escaping her dreadful life, as have we all.

I do not know what we would do without Grady.

After having breakfast with Blair in the study, Rowena asked if he’d like to go to the kitchen to witness her efforts at baking.

He laughed. “I think I will stay here and read for a while. That book has me hooked. Perhaps we could have tea together?”

“Of course. I’ll prepare it and bring it to you myself.” She went to his side and kissed him quite thoroughly. “If you need anything, just pull the bell rope and someone will come running.”

“Can we have a code so that if what I need is you, I can send you the message?” Before she could reply, he said, “Have I told you how lovely you look today in that blue dress? It matches your eyes.” He gestured with a hand. “And you’ve rid yourself of all that folderol.”

“Thank you so much. I’m enjoying adapting my dresses to fit the western style. Getting rid of the corset and worrisome hoops is such a relief.” She turned in a circle to show off the simple frock, trimmed in white lace at the throat and cuffs. The skirt was gathered in at the waist, then flowed gracefully to touch her ankles.

“Nellie is a master at stitchery. I, on the other hand, failed miserably, but managed to entertain them all with my efforts. I hope to do better in the kitchen.”

“You know you don’t have to cook or sew unless you want to. And what about that code?”

“I know, but I enjoy keeping busy when you are sleeping. Ah, the code. How about two pulls, a pause, then one pull, and I’ll come running?”

His dark eyes glittered with delight. It was so good to see him enjoying life, yet she wondered what he would do when he learned about the sheriff’s visit. Something must be done, but she didn’t know what.

She left him reading The Woman in White and hurried to the kitchen.

Grady was there finishing up his breakfast. He wiped his mouth and glanced up. “Glad you’re here. I think I have an idea to help the captain with this silly arrest thing.”

“Oh, good. What is it?” She slipped both arms into the straps of a white apron and allowed Annie to tie it behind her.

“I have a friend, name of James Lee Weston. He’s a rancher at heart, trying to build up his own spread, but he’s done some reading of the law before he fell in love with herding cows and horses. Hails from Texas, so we forgive him his oddities. God knows why anyone would want to chase around all over the country in the dust from a herd of slew-footed cattle, but there it is. If it’s fine with the captain, I’d like to hire him to look into this. He knows what he’s doing, the sheriff won’t recognize him if he has to do some snooping around, and the best part is, he and Tyra are very close. Fact is, I introduced them a while back. I think he’d be glad to help straighten out this mess.”

Of course. She’d heard the name of Weston before, from Marguerite. And it had been connected to her cousin. If they were close, perhaps the child would come home for a while if this man were busy defending Blair.

“That will be wonderful, Grady. The problem now is how to let Blair know about the sheriff’s suspicions without him lapsing into one of his dreadful spells. He was so happy when I left him reading this morning.”

Grady scratched his head and made a face. “Perhaps we could wait until I feel James Lee out. If he’s willing to help, then we can tell the captain the entire thing at once. You know, we could say, ‘The sheriff wants to arrest you but James Lee is prepared to take care of the matter, so don’t worry’?”

“It’s a thought. And I agree, it won’t hurt to wait until you know if this Weston fellow is willing. However, I still think we have to be prepared for Blair to relapse. So let’s keep mum for now and let him enjoy making plans for the holiday party.” She glanced at the three women preparing pans for baking, and they nodded in agreement.

By the time she returned to Blair’s study and found him asleep, huge snowflakes were blowing at a slant, so thick the barn had already disappeared. She lit a lamp, pulled the drapes closed, and settled in a chair to read The Woman in White and catch up with the slip of paper where Blair had marked his place. He would not sleep long, and she would be here when he awoke. He would want out of the bed, and she didn’t blame him.

Blair let his eyes drift open lazily. The room was filled with shadows that flickered with firelight. One lamp lit a circle around where Rowena sat, head bent forward reading from the book he’d left on the table. He remained quiet for a while so he could enjoy watching her without her knowledge.

She made tiny faces as she read, a reaction he supposed to the happenings in the life of Anne Catherick, who was imprisoned in the asylum because she knew a secret that might get her husband hanged. Did she fear he might relate badly to the tale? And poor Felix Clyde. Would he survive the fire and save the church? When she reached the marker Blair had left, she laid the book aside, then must have sensed him watching her, for she glanced his way, her features brightening.

“Hello,” she said, rising to come to his bed, to lay her hands on his chest, push his hair back, lean down, and offer her lips for a kiss.

“Hello to you as well,” he murmured. “How lovely you are.”

She dimpled. “Thank you, kind sir.”

“Is it good, the book?”

“Yes, I’m enjoying it immensely.”

“Did you get to read much at St. Ann’s?”

“No, not fiction. The Bible, the catechisms, the missals. We were steeped in the Catholic religion.” She shook away the bad memories. “Would you like to get out of that bed for a while? Simmons is in the kitchen.” She summoned him with the bell pull.

“This damned leg is giving me more trouble than I anticipated. It’s been three weeks, and I still cannot put my foot on the floor without experiencing excruciating pain.” He stopped, lest he sound like he was complaining.

Any movement sent flashes of agony all the way to his hip, bringing back memories of the pain of being wounded during the war.

Simmons rushed in. Easy to tell by his expression he expected something bad had happened. When Rowena explained that she needed help getting Blair into the chair after his nap, he brightened. The man delighted in being of use. Good thing too, all things considered.

Dammit, he wanted all this to go away. Wanted back on his feet again. Teaching Rowena to ride, supervising Grady in the care of Fairhaven animals, the Christmas party and dancing. Going on sleigh rides in the snow with her would be especially enjoyable. He would be riding by spring. Absolutely.

He ground the pain down as Simmons helped him into the chair, and didn’t realize he had made a sound until Rowena came to his side. She was on her knees, holding his hand against her lips. When the darkness fled, the first thing he saw was her wide blue eyes filled with tears.

“It’s all right. I’m all right. Don’t fuss, either of you.” The words sounded harsher than he intended, and he smoothed her arm. “It’s okay. Just a jab, that’s all. Just a jab.” He swallowed against the pain and closed his eyes until it faded. Smiled at the two of them. Damned if he wanted them hurting for him. A niggling thought would not leave him be. That this was the way life would be from now on. Sitting in this damned chair, fighting the pain and living on morphine. Struck down by his own stupidity just as he’d found a reason to live. He would not do that to her, tie her to a cripple. If it came to that, he’d blow his own head off.

“Blair?” she whispered. “What is it? Are you okay? Do you need morphine?”

“No, I’m tired of the days slipping away, one into another, under the influence of that blasted drug. I want us to be together, to get to know one another. Can’t do it with that wicked stuff. It promises me one thing, but takes something else from me. I’m strong enough to fight this.”

Outside, the wind howled and snow came down thick and fast, enclosing the castle in an unreachable world of tranquility. She was grateful for that, for it kept the sheriff and his threat away. It also prevented Grady from returning with word from James Lee as well as news about Hildegarde Smythe and when she would begin Blair’s treatments.

Would there always be something poised to disturb their happiness? Blair’s spells, then the accident that crushed his leg, now the shooting. Nothing to do but deal with them. Together. And that was the one thing that kept her content. No matter what, he loved her, she loved him. They could face anything.

Days filled with gay preparation for Christmas passed by quickly. Once in a while Rowena would peek outside to reassure herself that the barrier of deep snow kept them safe from outside interruptions. Unaware of what lay in wait, Blair continued to fuss about the high drifts and days of continued snowfall.

“Weatherby is supposed to take this blasted thing off my leg this week,” he announced a week before the scheduled Christmas party. “If he can’t get out here, I want it off. Just cut the blasted thing off so I can dress properly. And where the hell is Grady with those crutches? Damn and blast, I’m tired of this.” He paced the floor in the chair, back and forth from window to door to far wall and back again.

“Darling, you’re making me dizzy. Come over here beside me. Let’s finish The Woman in White. We haven’t read in a while, and it’s almost done. Don’t you want to see what happens to poor Felix?”

“Frankly, I don’t give a damn. Don’t you care what happens to me?” His petulant question amused her despite his discomfort. Men could be such babies sometimes.

But then he came to her and took her hand, and she took back every negative thought. His expression held such torment she wanted only to hold him in her arms.

“My poor darling. Of course I care what happens to you. More than anything else in the world. It won’t be long now. Simmons and I can remove the splint if the day arrives and Weatherby still isn’t here. Doesn’t it still hurt, though?”

“Probably hurts because it’s all bound up like this.” He pointed at the cloth wrappings holding wooden rods on either side of his lower right leg. “Damn thing needs some fresh air.”

She covered her mouth, turned so he wouldn’t see her laughing. When she’d controlled it a bit, she managed, “Well, perhaps we could open a window and let you stick your leg outside.”

“This is not amusing, Rowena.”

She chuckled. “Isn’t it?”

He glared at her, then started to laugh himself and rolled the chair over beside where she sat and took both her hands. “If the weather doesn’t clear, our party will be ill attended.”

“The important ones will be here. Well, almost all of them. I was hoping Tyra could get here with James Lee.”

His eyebrow rose. “Who is James Lee? “

Darn, she hadn’t meant to let that slip. He would have a hundred questions now. “It turns out he and Tyra have quite a thing going. At least they are seen together a lot.”

“I could guess that. But that doesn’t tell me who he is.”

“Mmm. Grady says he’s from Texas and is interested in ranching.”

“Then what’s he doing in Victoria?”

“I’m not sure. I think something to do with breeding his cattle with the ones brought here from England. I don’t know much about the cattle business.”

“You know more than I. What would be the reason for cross breeding them?” His thumb massaged the top of one of her hands.

She shrugged and tried to concentrate on their conversation. “I have no idea. We’ll have to ask him. I hope he and Tyra can get out here before Christmas. And that Grady is able to return.”

Secretly, she wished the sheriff would fall and break his own leg, or something equally debilitating to keep him away, at least through the holidays. If James Lee proved as good as Grady thought, he might be able to straighten this thing out quickly. She could only hope as much.

That night after Blair was settled in bed, she bent to blow out the lamp before undressing.

“Leave it. I want to watch you.”

It had been a while since they’d pleasured one another, and his request sent shivers of anticipation through her. Sometimes, between the pain and the morphine he couldn’t do much more than hold on to her as he slept. Often, she held his hand against her breast all night so he could feel her heartbeat. It calmed him and had gotten him through several nightmares since the accident.

Kicking out of her shoes and stockings, she stepped into the lamplight and unbuttoned the front of her dress, going slowly and watching passion soften his gaze. Once her arms were out of the sleeves, she slipped the dress down around her waist, slowly revealing the chemise, her nipples rigid beneath the thin cloth. His expression keyed a fluttering between her thighs that hastened her disrobing.

“No, slow. Go slow,” he murmured. “God, you’re lovely. Yes, easy. Top first.”

Those dark, bottomless eyes fed her growing desire, and she moved toward him. Her knees knocked against the mattress, and he flipped the covers away.

She crawled across the bed to where he lay propped up by several pillows. His erection created a peak in his nightshirt. She finished unbuttoning it, slipped his arms out, and left the shirt lying under him.

“Will you touch me?” he whispered. “Like when you bathe me?”

She did, and inside she grew hot and wet.

He made a funny sound down in his throat “Now come here.” He gestured across his lap and she straddled him, lowering herself slowly, taking him inside bit by bit until the he touched her very core, set it on fire. Her insides gripped him, and he let out a long sigh.

“Move, move. I can’t… Please.” The words tumbled out between great gasps, his hands gripping her hips, urging her on. Faster and faster she rode him, over wave after wave, him clutching the bedcovers in both fists until he cried out and fell still, throbbing in a beat met by her own body. Delight struck her deaf and dumb, blind and helpless. Sent her somewhere bright and shiny. For a long time, she clenched her knees against his sides and let the convulsive beat take over until she thought she might go mad with the ecstasy.

With no energy to move off him, she collapsed onto his chest. His heartbeat in her ear thundered like a drum beat, and he breathed fast and deep.

After a while he stirred. “Dear God in heaven.” He trailed a thumb down her backbone, rested the hand on her hip. “You are a wonderment, a true wonderment.”

“You are too. I’ll bet when you get out of that splint you’ll really show me, won’t you?”

He laughed, a big, deep belly laugh that bounced her up and down. “That was precisely what I was about to say. You read my mind.”

“Does this read your mind? I love you, more than anyone or anything in this world or the next.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

She rolled to his side and to the edge of the bed. “Be right back.”

“Uh, bring me…”

“Already doing it, love.”

A few minutes later they were both snugged under a pile of covers, his hand curled and lying over her heart.