While they rolled across the flat prairie, the night painting the train windows black, Dale told Rowena about his past. In a deadpan voice, all his emotions locked away, he described every single act of violence, every breach of the law.
He told her about Laurel, how he had tracked down the men responsible.
The sergeant was already dead, sparing Dale from deciding if the small spark of compassion the man had shown toward Laurel was deserving of mercy. The next two, he had dispatched with a bullet. Each time it had been a fair fight, with the other man drawing first. But he had drawn faster and aimed better. The final man, Krieger, had thrown away his pistol and pulled out a blade. Dale had followed suit, and the victory had almost cost him his life, leaving his chest and abdomen webbed with scars.
He told Rowena how a warrant for murder had forced him into hiding. In the outlaw camp, he’d acted as a quartermaster, hauling in supplies. He had never robbed a stagecoach or a train. Until the final year, when all but one of his associates had been killed and he had become a member of the Red Bluff Gang. It was breaking away from those violent men that had left him wounded, for the coyote to finish, and had ultimately earned him his pardon.
Throughout it all, Rowena made no comment, asked no questions. She merely listened, occasionally nodding. Her face, normally so expressive, had turned into a pale mask. Only her eyes, wide and fearful, betrayed her anguish.
When Dale finished talking, he felt mentally drained. He needed space around himself. Space for the nightmares he already felt stalking at the gates of his mind. If he failed to stay awake, it would feel as if he had tumbled into hell. He didn’t want Rowena to see it. Didn’t want her to be drawn into that aura of violence.
He got to his feet. His limbs weighed like lead. His scars ached, as if reliving the memories had torn them open again. “I’ll find another compartment. It’s already past midnight but you might be able to get a couple of hours of sleep. I’ll come back and wake you up in good time before we get to Rawlins.”
Call after me, he thought as he pushed open the door into the corridor. Tell me not to go.
But although he could feel her eyes following him, Rowena made no sound.
When they got off the train in Rawlins, storm clouds covered the sky, blotting out the faint dawn light. Rowena waited at the railroad station while Dale went to the livery stable to fetch their horse and wagon.
Her mind rattled as empty as a pauper’s cauldron. Every time she tried to organize her thoughts, they slipped away from her, like a flock of birds scattering. She was a coward, but she already knew that. In the past, she’d run away. Now she was shutting her mind, as if she could escape from her own reactions, her own thoughts. Wasn’t that what she had once told Dale—that she was running away from herself?
He helped her up to the wagon, this man who was her husband but also a stranger. The wind was gathering force now, howling across the prairie. Even if she had wanted to talk, conversation would have been impossible. After a mile, the skies opened. Her skirts blew and flared around her, the silver satin gown, piped with midnight blue, now ruined. The rain lashed at them, soaking them in seconds. The wind tore off her bonnet and made her evening wrap flap around like a washwoman’s cloth, the wet fabric slapping at her body.
Dale halted the wagon, searched out a tarpaulin and wrapped them both into it. She huddled against him beneath the cloth as he drove the wagon through the storm. She could feel his warmth, the strength in him as he controlled the horse frightened by the lightning and the thunderclaps, but it no longer gave her the sense of safety she had felt when she curled up against him in bed at night.
The rain, the wind, the thoughts she refused to face, they all sapped her strength. By the time they stopped for the night, Rowena could barely stay awake. Side by side, they settled down on the wagon bed, sheltering beneath the canvas, together but alone.
When they got to Twin Springs, Dale stacked the huge fireplace in the parlor with logs and got the flames roaring. “I’ll heat water and bring out the bathtub. You can have your wash by the fire.”
He returned outside to take care of Samson, then came back and filled the tub for her. Rowena huddled in a chair by the fireside, the soaked gown clinging to her skin, clouds of steam rising from the fabric where the skirt hung too close to the flames.
Dale put out his hand. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”
She shrank back from him. “No!”
His arm fell. In his eyes she could see anguish. A small crack appeared in the armor she’d built around her emotions. “You should have told me...”
“I know. But I wanted a chance for things to be perfect between us. Not just one night, but forever.”
“It felt like a betrayal...to find out, in front of all those people...with Freddy gloating...with everyone staring.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. But now you know everything.”
Her anger stirred. “You say I know everything, but how can I be sure? You had a whole hidden life, a hidden past. I thought you had been wounded in the line of duty, but it was a lie. I thought you were a lawman, but you were an outlaw. Is there more? Are there women you’ve left behind, children I don’t know about?”
“No one but you. Ever.”
Unable to accept the reassurance in his words, Rowena curled up in her seat. It felt as if she had been broken into pieces inside.
Dale crouched to add more wood to the fire. He spoke quietly, the hiss of sparks and the howl of the wind outside almost drowning out his words. “I can’t change my past, Rowena. It will always be there. You know what kind of man I’ve been, but I hope that in the past three months I’ve shown you what kind of a man I am now.”
He got up and faced her, arms hanging down his sides, a vulnerable pose, as if he expected to receive a blow. “After I took the meat to the Indian reservation, you put up a wall between us. I won’t go through that again. Not for a month, not for a week, not for a single day. Either you accept me as I am, or we go our separate ways.” He stepped closer to her, leaned down and slipped his fingers beneath her chin, making her look up at him. “I’m going to have a wash in the bathing room, and then I’m going upstairs. Either you’ll sleep in my bed tonight or I’ll ride out in the morning.”
Dale lay awake, listening. A lamp burned on the nightstand, casting a soft glow over the room. Outside, the storm raged. Fierce gusts of wind slammed into the building, making him imagine the creak of footsteps even when there had been none.
Instead of an ultimatum, he should have given her time. Let her get used to the idea of his past. But even as he racked his brain for how to take back the words without sacrificing his pride, he knew it to be futile. He had meant what he said. He couldn’t go through it again, that cool rejection that made him feel as if he had lost everything once again.
What was that?
Braced up on his elbows, Dale listened. Surely, those had been footsteps? But then the soft pattering sound ceased. For what felt like an eternity he stared at the door to the corridor, not breathing, not moving. Even his heart seemed to have ceased beating.
Then the door inched open. One bare foot peeked into view, followed by the flowing hem of a nightgown.
She should be wearing socks, Dale thought. Her feet will get cold.
Rowena halted by the entrance and pushed the door closed behind her. She was carrying a candle, and in the flickering light of the flame Dale could see her face. She looked beautiful and brave and gentle and dignified. During those lonely years in the outlaw camp he’d dreamed of a woman, and she was the fulfillment of all those dreams. Whatever happened between them now, there could never be anyone else.
A sudden flare of the draft extinguished Rowena’s candle, and Dale could no longer see her features, could no longer see the play of expressions that so easily gave her emotions away. But the way Rowena stood still by the doorway suggested that she wanted to make a declaration of some sort. Never in his life had Dale understood that words could wound a man, cut him down as effectively as a bullet or a blade.
“I once asked you what you thought of Twin Springs. You never replied.”
His brows drew together. He tried to remember such a question, tried to remember the circumstances, so he could give the right answer, but his memory failed him. “It’s a good, solid house. The land might not be the best, but it is well suited for sheep.”
“You married me for the ranch. Are you satisfied with your bargain?”
“I’d be satisfied with my bargain even if you come without a single acre of land.”
Dale thought he heard a gasp of surprise, but it might have been the storm outside. Again, he strained his eyes to see Rowena’s face. The glow of the lamp was too faint to reach that far and he couldn’t make out anything but the pale outline of her features as she went on talking.
“You grew up with wealth and glamour. You have money that is yours for the taking. I heard you say it. Hunter Ironworks. Hunter Steel. Hunter Locomotives. One day you might wish to return to that life. I don’t want to be part of a family that rejects me, or live in a world where I will always be an outsider.”
He wanted to tell her that his mother would welcome her. That he would never take her anywhere she didn’t want to go. That he would never allow anyone to treat her like an outsider. But it would be impossible for him to give such guarantees. Instead, Dale was forced to search his own mind, formulate ideas he had never cared to analyze before.
“My father freed the slaves long before I was born. Although I lived on a plantation, I never felt the loss of a lifestyle. Only the loss of a home. And a home is people as much as it is a place.” He paused. “In my travels as a lawman I’ve stayed on many small ranches, run by a husband and wife. It’s a good life. Perhaps the best life I have seen. This is the life I want. A life with you.”
The white nightgown fluttered as Rowena took a step toward him and spoke quietly. “When I first saw you, I knew you were the kind of man who could help me take back Twin Springs. A fighting man.” She took another step forward. “I married you because you were tough and strong and capable of defeating your enemies. How could I now condemn you because you possess those very qualities, the qualities I needed you to have?”
She’d been holding the extinguished candle in her hand, and now it clattered to the floor. She ran toward him, and Dale opened his arms. Instead of getting in with him beneath the covers, Rowena sank to her knees by the bedside. She lifted one hand, traced the web of scars on his chest, her gentle touch gliding over his skin. Bending her head, she brushed soft kisses where the puckered white lines cut across his heart.
“I’m sorry,” she said between kisses. “I’m sorry for everything you have lost...your home...your family...your childhood...years of your life...”
When she raised her head and looked at him, Dale could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. In that moment, it hit him, a swell of emotion so powerful it felt as if he might not be able to contain it but his very heart would burst wide-open.
He loved her. He loved her. Perhaps he had loved her from the first moment he set eyes on her at the jail in Pinares. He reached out to pull Rowena up beside him, but she leaned away from him and shook her head. “Lie back,” she told him. “Let me.”
Dale obeyed. As the storm raged outside, Rowena traced his scars with her fingertips. Leaning over him, she kissed each one of the flaws and imperfections that mapped out his violent past, as if to tell him they didn’t matter, that she accepted him as he was, for what he was, for what he had been.
While he had lain alone in bed, waiting, terrified that she might not come to him, Dale had ached to hold her, feel the closeness between them, the closeness he feared he might have lost forever. Now he needed more. He wanted to feel her passion, feel that ultimate joining that proved she belonged to him and no one else. He curled his hands around her waist, lifted her up to straddle him. “You do it. You dictate the pace.”
At first, Rowena stared at him, wide-eyed. But she did not protest. With an awkward, hesitant motion, she sank over him and paused there, uncertain how to continue. Dale could feel her close around him. He wanted more. More and more and more.
“Do it,” he said. “Love me.”
Rowena rose above him, sank down again. As she found a rhythm, her body took over. She closed her eyes, tipped her head back and began to move with abandon. On her face, Dale could see the strain of tension as she sought that elusive completion.
He waited, tried to make it last. Just when he thought he could hold back no more, Rowena bowed over him and cried out, eyes closed, mouth open, her head tipped back. He could feel the tremors that rocked her and gave in to his own release.
“Look at me, Rowena. Open your eyes.”
Her lashes lifted. Their eyes met and held. And then, at that magical moment when shared pleasure ought to have sealed their togetherness, her gaze veered away. Even as Dale shuddered in the throes of completion, he could feel the distance, the mental separation between them. And he understood that although Rowena had chosen to accept him as her husband and wanted him to stay, when she looked at him she saw a killer, a man to fear.
Life settled into a pattern. They both behaved as if nothing had altered between them, but Dale couldn’t ignore the shadow of anxiety he could see in Rowena’s eyes whenever she looked at him. More and more often, she made some excuse to remain in the house when he rode out to inspect the sheep. It seemed to Dale as if his wife’s previously robust health had suddenly given way to a range of minor ailments. Today, it had been a bout of nausea.
And perhaps it was for the best that she had chosen to stay at home this morning, Dale thought when he caught sight of Faraday cantering toward him. The pair of dogs raced behind his big sorrel horse. When Dale pulled his dun gelding to a halt, Faraday almost crashed into him. Mud flew up beneath the sorrel’s hooves as the horse came to a sudden stop. The dogs yapped and growled.
Frowning, Dale studied his neighbor. Dressed in a fraying shirt and dirt-crusted trousers, unshaven, with straggly hair poking out from beneath his battered hat, Faraday had the look of a vagrant.
“When will you sign the lease?”
“I’ve told you. I’m not extending.”
“You’ve got to. Man, you’ve got to.”
A flicker of pity made Dale soften his reply. “I’m sorry, Faraday. There is nothing you can do to change my mind.”
“Nothing?” Faraday’s voice rose. “You said it is your wife’s land. She can change your mind. I’ll make her change your mind.”
Every trace of pity vanished. “You leave my wife out of it, Faraday.”
The older man’s expression grew crafty. “She’ll listen to me.”
Dale felt a surge of icy fury, the kind that had sustained him through the years when he’d given up the last of his childhood and all his youth to avenge Laurel’s death. “I’m warning you, Faraday. You go anywhere near my wife and I’ll kill you, as surely as night follows day.”
“You can’t stop me. You can’t stop me from taking what I want.” Faraday’s eyes bulged in his head, making him look like a madman. Spittle gathered at the corners of his mouth. He muttered to himself, oblivious to his surroundings. “Tried to stop me...didn’t mean to...”
Dale fought the grip of fear. Faraday had ridden in from the west, but he could have made a detour, could have already been to Twin Springs. “You didn’t mean to do what, Faraday?” Dale nudged his horse closer, every nerve taut. “What have you done?”
For a moment longer, Faraday continued his incoherent mutter. Then he gave a muffled cry. A shiver rippled over him, as if he’d woken up from a nightmare. Appearing to pull himself together, he straightened in the saddle and controlled the horse spooked by his nervous ramblings. When he spoke again, his voice had returned to normal. “I need that lease, Hunter. I must have it, or I’ll be ruined.”
After Faraday had wheeled his big sorrel around and ridden off, Dale put his heels to the flanks of his gelding and set off for home. The horse’s muscles flexed and strained beneath him, the wind whipped into his face, the landscape flew by. Every second that went past his fear escalated until nothing mattered except getting to Rowena.
At Twin Springs, he vaulted from the saddle and stormed to the front door.
“Rowena! Where are you? Are you all right?”
His wife came in from the parlor, a threaded needle in one hand and some flimsy garment in the other. “Why are you yelling like that?” she complained. “Good heavens, it was only an upset stomach. Must be because I’ve been doing the cooking recently.”
“Faraday wasn’t here?”
“No.” Her reply was calm, but the way she gripped her mending betrayed her unease. Dale wanted to bundle her into his arms and tell her that he’d never let anyone harm her. But to keep his wife safe, he might be forced to kill Faraday. The man’s mental balance already teetered on edge. One day soon, it would give way, and Dale would be left with no choice. He’d have to let out that ruthless killer inside him, let Rowena witness what he had once been. And that might cause the anxiety in her eyes to turn into horror.
For two days, Dale wrestled with the dilemma. How to keep Rowena safe without having to kill Faraday? He could only think of one way. And that meant taking the final step of making peace with his past.
Unwilling to leave his wife alone, he escorted her to attend the ladies’ sewing circle in Clayton. While Rowena spent the afternoon gossiping, with the pretext of making a wedding quilt for the barber’s eldest daughter, Dale took the opportunity to send another telegram to his mother.
Need help. Must buy out difficult neighbor. Send unlimited funds.
He waited for a week, to allow enough time for an express message to deliver a gold shipment to the bank in Rawlins. He used the delay to move the ram out with the ewes and lambs, and to fence in another paddock by the creek where the horses could look after themselves for a few days.
Then he told Rowena that he needed to make a trip to consult other sheep farmers. The lie grated in his gut, but if he revealed he was going to Rawlins, she might ask to come along. It was safer for her to stay behind, and further, he did not wish to reveal his plans, in case his mother refused to provide the funds. During his absence, Rowena should take the opportunity to visit her friends in Clayton. Dale left her with Sharon Madigan and her husband, with orders that she must remain there until he returned.
“Nothing? Nothing for Dale Hunter? Nothing at all?” Dale stared at the young man through the glass partition of the teller’s cage at the bank in Rawlins. “Are you sure?”
“I’m absolutely certain, sir.” Slight with fuzzy blond hair covering his chin, the teller was little more than a boy. Probably the banker’s son.
“Can I talk to someone in charge?” Dale asked.
“Certainly, sir.” A surly note entered the young man’s tone. “But it won’t change anything.” He vanished into the back. A moment later, a fair-haired man in his fifties walked out of the office and settled into the wooden chair behind the counter.
“We’ve had no wire transfers in your name, Mr. Hunter. In fact, we’ve had no substantial deposits of any sort.” The man cleared his throat, leaned closer and lowered his voice. “There is a gold shipment expected this morning, but it will be accompanied by the owner. An important businessman from the East.”
“I see.”
Dale left the bank. His steps were weary, his mood grim. Had his mother finally given up on him? Served him right. Madeline Hunter had cashed in every favor, used every connection to get him a pardon, the chance of a new life, and what had he given her in return? Three years of absence. Three years of silence.
His steps took him to the railroad station. At the platform, people were craning their necks, staring along the eastbound tracks. Dale joined them. The morning sun was still low, and he adjusted the brim of his hat as he strained his eyes into the distance. Like the rest of the crowd, he could feel the slight vibration in the ground, could see a wisp of steam floating into the bright blue sky. He listened to the snippets of conversation around him.
“Half an hour ahead of schedule.”
“Impossible. Trains are usually late.”
“They never come early.”
The plume of steam thickened, the vibration of the rails grew stronger. A dark dot formed on the horizon. The voices around him grew in excitement.
“It’s not a train! It’s just the engine!”
“A robbery!”
“The cars must have been uncoupled, left stranded.”
“Get the sheriff! Get the doctor!”
“Form a search party.”
“Bring water and blankets and clean dressings.”
“Get ready to ride.”
As the crowd stirred and shifted, preparing for action, a shiny new steam locomotive chugged in along the rails, slowed its pace and pulled to an orderly halt next to the platform.
A door opened, and a small woman clad in a dark blue silk gown, now streaked with soot, hopped down. Behind her, two of the biggest men Dale had ever laid eyes on unloaded a huge steel chest. Two more men followed, each carrying a revolving shotgun, in addition to a double rig of pistols on a gun belt and a rifle slung over their shoulders.
Madeline Hunter came to a halt and swept a look over the platform. When she spotted Dale, her expression grew tender. She gathered her skirts and hurried toward him.
Dale felt as if he’d been spun back through time, to those carefree days when he was a child. She had cured his hurts, shared his secrets, loved him without question. But with every step she took toward him, years seemed to flash by, with blame and guilt pushing them apart. Had it really been that long? She looked so small, so vulnerable. He had forgotten about time taking its toll. By the time Madeline Hunter came to a stop in front of Dale, he had conquered the initial shock of seeing her for the first time after she had visited him in hospital, when he had been so close to death he could barely remember the occasion.
“Mother,” he blurted out. “What are you doing here?”
“You said you needed me.” She reached up and laid a hand against his cheek, her reserved nature and ladylike manner preventing more exuberant public shows of affection. “For fourteen years, I have been waiting to hear those words. How could I not come?”
Dale curled his fingers around his mother’s wrist. Her bones felt fragile. He studied her face. She was still beautiful, but he could see lines around her eyes and strands of gray in the jet-black hair they had in common. A million words churned inside his head, a million explanations and apologies. He only managed a grunt, his throat tight with emotion.
His mother blinked away tears. Appearing to understand that he needed time, she turned to the men in charge of the steel chest. “Let’s get this to the bank.”
“How much did you bring?” Dale asked.
“A quarter of a million.” She glanced at him. “You said unlimited funds.”
“I need to buy a ranch. Not half of Wyoming.”
She laughed. There was lightness in the sound, a ring of true happiness. The pressure of guilt and doubt inside Dale eased. “How did you get here so fast?”
“There are benefits in owning a company that manufactures locomotives. The hardest part was finding towns with a spur rail, so we could overtake trains.” She took his elbow and ushered him along. “Let’s go and deposit your gold at the bank. I want to get going, so I can meet my new daughter-in-law.”