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 center 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 black 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.
~
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Defiant Love
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