It didn’t take long for Mic to find Wade. He’d left a trail a less experienced tracker could have followed with ease. Mic had been trained by one of the best. Jim Elk Horn had been his father’s friend and a comfort for the young, widowed Margaret and her infant son when an accident had taken his father’s life.
Jim had helped around the large ranch, showing the young Mic the ways of his people. It was Jim who’d taught him to sew the moccasins he now wore and walk through the forest like a ghost, leaving no discernible trace for others to follow. It was Jim who’d taught him about hunting and respect for the natural world around him, to see the hidden and hear the unspoken.
And it was Jim who’d brought fifteen-year-old Mic and seven-year-old Wade to the large rock overhang jutted out of the slope, allowing for a beautiful look at the sweeping valley below. He’d shown them the land they would one day own.
Wade sat there now, his gaze staring off into the distance. “I don’t need a lecture, Mic.”
“No, you don’t. What you need is a slap upside the head,” Mic joked, sitting beside his brother. “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been up in arms since we took Miss Christian from the stage. You’ve terrorized and ridiculed her as if this was her fault. It’s not like you. ”
“She belongs to Charles.”
Mic frowned. The way his brother said it held more meaning than the words implied. “He doesn’t own her. Not yet.”
“But he will. He’s laid claim to her and he will come for her.” Wade turned to him, his gaze intense. “You are putting a lot of trust in this woman. Are you sure she’s worthy of it? Because it could cost you your life. Our lives.”
“That was the plan. Take something of his and hold for ransom until he met our demands. What would you have me do differently?”
“Stick to the plan you outlined! You weren’t supposed to bring her to your home, Mic. What were you thinking?”
What was he thinking? He’d seen a frightened woman heading into a bad situation and reacted as he always did. He’d tried to help her, ease her suffering, and protect her, even as he ruined her life. “I wasn’t—”
“You weren’t supposed to get involved, Mic! You weren’t supposed to play knight in shining armor. You were supposed to help me kidnap her and then take Noah home. She’s seen you and Noah now. She can describe you both, and Charles will know who you are.”
Mic shook his head. “Like he doesn’t already know I’m involved?” Charles had to know he was involved, would always be involved as long as his family was in danger. “I’m your older brother, Wade, and the Nichols stay together. The only reason we’re safe here is because no one knows where I live. No one knows the name on the deed is my father’s name. Trust me. ”
Wade snorted. “I do. But can you trust her with your life? With our lives? Charles will get her the second you let her go and she’ll lead them right to your door.”
“Only if you keep terrorizing her, Wade.”
“Every time I see her, I see. . . ”
“I know. I miss her too. Take a few days, check on what livestock is left, and get your head straight. We’ll get out of this mess. I promise. ”
“And the woman?”
“Kindness and patience will win more than a hard hand.”
“Something old Jim would say. But she isn’t a horse and you’re not trying to break her.” Wade stood, slapping his hat against his leg. “What do you know about her, Mic? The wanted poster calls her a thief. If she’s stolen from Charles, we know what will happen to her.”
“She’ll end up dead.” Mic took off his hat and rubbed his forehead. “But I promised I’d take her to him if she wanted.”
“And you never break your promises.” Wade shook his head. “It’s madness. It’s a death sentence.”
Mic gazed out over the land, his father’s land. “I know, which is why I don’t think I can do it. I can’t send her to him, not after all he’s done to destroy my family. Not when I know what he will do to her.” He stood and met his brother’s eyes. “It’s Jane all over again. Lillian is running from something, something that terrifies her. I can feel it.”
Wade shook his head and put his hat back on, heading back toward the cabin. “Just don’t ask me to marry another one of your women. I already took Jane off your hands.”
Mic grinned and followed Wade through the forest track. “Stole her,” he corrected with a grin. “Like a cattle rustler coming in the night to take my fair Jane from me. But I’m glad you did. She was meant for you.”
“How can you be so damned accepting of everything?”
Mic stopped. Is that what Wade thought? He just accepted everything that happened, like their mother had, like Noah did? “What would you have me do, Wade? Fight everyone? Push everyone who cares away? Would you have me cry in my whiskey? Maybe scream to the heavens how unfair life is? Or curse the Almighty for the deeds of one man?”
Wade shot him a look. “Something—anything—would be nice.”
“Sometimes you are blind.” Mic pushed past Wade, moving swiftly through the trees to the cabin clearing. He stepped out behind the barn and headed for Noah.
Noah, who was stirring something in a large pot over an open flame, looked up at them. “I didn’t burn it.”
Mic smiled, ruffling the boy’s hair. “You did good.” He looked into the pot. Stew again. It was the one meal Noah could cook. “Has Lillian come out yet?”
Noah shook his head. “She’s taking a long time and I can’t go in until she’s done.”
“She’s probably still in the bath,” Wade said, joining them. “It’s a woman thing.”
Glancing at the cabin, Mic noticed the door slightly ajar and a flash of skin. Lillian was watching them.
Wade took a seat beside Noah and grunted. “We don’t have to wait for your woman to come before we eat, do we, Mic? I’m starved.”
Mic sighed. His brother was looking to get hit and Mic didn’t think it would be him doing the hitting. Lillian had looked ready to use the skillet as a weapon earlier and he’d be shocked if she didn’t use it on Wade’s skull. Maybe it would knock some sense into him.
“Go ahead and eat,” Mic said. “I’ll see if she wants to join us.”
Wade sighed. “Yeah, go get your lady friend.”
Mic shook his head and started for the cabin. He had a feeling that he was going to have to retrieve Lillian over the next few days, at least until she could handle Wade’s abrasive, unhelpful humor. Maybe one day she would see the brother he’d grown up with.
He knocked before pushing the door the rest of the way open. It seemed strange to be knocking on his own door and entering his home as if it belonged to another. It was his fault she was here and not in a dank cave with Wade.
Lillian stepped further back into the room and bumped into the potbelly stove. She let out a slight yelp and rubbed her behind as she scooted away from it. She cleared her throat. “Did you want me to go out there to eat or stay in here?”
He frowned, wondering why she was still wearing the clothes she’d been wearing in the coach, although it was clear that she’d bathed away her travels. “Why didn’t you change clothes?”
“Oh,” she stepped away from the potbelly stove and crossed her arms. “None of the clothes I have in the trunk are appropriate for being here. They’re too…” She shrugged. “This place is a lot different from Virginia.”
She was adorable when she was uncertain. But under all that, there was something that bothered him. The way she scrunched up her nose when she thought something she might say would offend him and the way her teeth worried her bottom lip as she waited for his response made him think she was use to the abusive nature of others.
“I see.” And he did, far more than she realized. “Would you like to join us?”
“Well... ” She glanced out the window to where his brothers were eating. “Can I eat in here?”
Mic followed the path of her gaze. It was probably the safer option if she didn’t go out there. But he would leave the decision in her hands. She needed some control over her life, as limited as it would be for a while. “It’s up to you, Uzizitka.”
“Really?” She eyed him warily, as if she didn’t believe him.
He smiled at her. “You might be trapped here for a time, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be comfortable.”
She glanced out the window again. “I won’t be comfortable out there. I’d rather eat in here.”
Tipping his hat to her. “As the lady wishes.” He headed for his brothers.
Wade looked up from his meal then toward the house. “Not coming?”
“Do you blame her? You’re not the best company.”
Wade ladled out two bowls and handed them to Mic.
He grinned and nodded his head in gratitude. Wade wasn’t a bad man. There was something about Lillian, or more specifically about Lillian being Charles’ intended, that set him off. Perhaps he would lighten up as the days passed.
He returned to the cabin, seeing Lillian’s face peeking out the window. He pushed the door open with his foot.
“What did they say?” she asked, turning to him.
He set the two bowls on the table. “Wade was wondering why you weren’t coming.”
She grimaced. “I think he knows why.” She stepped toward the table and sat down. “I’d offer to help cook, but I don’t know anything about it.”
Mic removed his coat and hat, setting them at the end of the bench before taking a seat at the table. “What can you do?”
She accepted the spoon he offered her and shrugged. “Not much of anything around here. Reading, some arithmetic, drawing, playing a piano. Do any of those help?”
He glanced around the room. “I’d have to say piano playing is out of the question since I don’t have one. Maybe you could teach Noah his letters and some arithmetic. He’s a quick learner.”
She nodded. “Alright. I’ll be happy to do what I can to teach him what he needs to know.”
“I have some simple chores around here. If you’re willing to learn, I’ll show you how.”
She dipped the spoon into the bowl, her motions more refined and graceful than his own. “What kind of chores?”
“Keeping the house clean, gathering eggs from the chicken coop, caring for the garden, and milking the cow.” He took a bite of the stew. It was one of Noah’s better concoctions. “Noah cares for the animals around here. Wade is usually out protecting the cattle from predators. ”
She glanced around the cabin. “There isn’t much to clean, so that part is easy. But I don’t know the first thing about the other things you mentioned.” She ate the stew and offered a tentative smile. “It’s good.”
“Noah will be happy to hear that. He takes pride in his stew. Of course, that’s all he can cook.”
“It’s better than what I can do.” She took another bite, slowly chewing before asking, “How old is Noah?”
Mic smiled at her, fascinated by the propriety that dictated her every action. “Sixteen.”
“And Wade?”
He took a bite before answering. “Twenty-three.”
She hesitated but finally asked, “And you?” Her gaze lowered to her bowl, her cheeks pink.
“I turn thirty in four months.” He stood. “I’m going to get more stew. Would you like some more before it’s gone?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks.”
He headed outside, noting Wade’s raised brow. “Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
Mic grunted and dished out another bowl of the cooling stew. “Where’d Noah go?”
Wade shook his head and pointed toward the barn. “Looking after his herd of orphans. I’ll bed in there for the night. I’d like to get an early start tomorrow.”
Mic nodded, almost glad Wade would be far from Lillian. The day was coming when Wade would say something that would set her off and she’d take more than a chunk of hair from his hard head. He returned to the cabin, settling in his seat before taking a bite of the thickening, cool goop. “Why did you decide to be a mail-order bride, Miss Christian?”
Her already too straight posture stiffened more, if that was possible, and she fidgeted on the bench. Several seconds passed before she said, “It was time for me to leave home.” She finished the rest of her stew and hurried to her feet. “Should I start cleaning? I can start with the dishes.”
“In a moment, Uzizitka.” He nodded toward the bench she’d vacated so abruptly. “Would you sit with me a little longer?”
Her hand gripped the spoon, her knuckles turning white. “What do you want to talk about?”
He’d thought his question a simple one, but it wasn’t. Not to her. Her reluctance made him curious about the secrets she kept. Were they truly so dangerous?
“I’ll let you choose the subject, or we can just sit in silence.” He took another bite, not really sure he wanted to keep up the pretense of eating cold stew, yet interested to see what she would choose to talk about.
Her grip loosened on the spoon and she slowly returned to her seat. “Alright.” She set the spoon back in the bowl, the little stew she had left forgotten. A long moment passed before she released her breath. “I didn’t have much of a choice but to be a mail-order bride.” She shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “I’m twenty-two, not exactly the kind of age a woman wants to be unless she wants to end up an old maid. There’s not much more to it than that.”
There was a hell of a lot more to it for her to act the way she did. “No suitors?”
She quickly shook her head. “No.” She glanced at him, her eyes quietly judging his reaction. “Now you know why I hesitated to say anything.” She glanced at him. She wanted him to believe her. “No woman wants to admit that, not to anyone,” she added.
He took his last bite, mulling over his unease. She was right, no woman wanted to be an old maid, but twenty-two was hardly old. And it was only part of her reason. In his heart, he knew there was more, but he wouldn’t push. It wasn’t like she trusted him or that she would be staying long enough for him to help her.
“Lucky for me that no man has claim to you, Uzizitka. I’d hate to have to beat them all back with a stick. ”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m able to handle the truth. I don’t fool myself into thinking I’m pretty.” Her gaze darted around the cabin, looking at everything except him, and saying more to him than she realized. In the next second, she said, “You said Noah needs some help with arithmetic and reading. How much schooling has he had? You might not know it to look at me, but I was an astute learner. I even assisted the teachers on occasion.”
His heart hurt for her. She didn’t think she was pretty or smart because someone had told her that, someone in her past she’d probably like to forget. He wanted to enfold her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right, that she was safe and welcome here. But words were just that: words. And they meant nothing if not put into action. “Lillian?”
She finally looked at him. “What?”
He stood and circled around the table to her, holding his hand out to her. “Cikala wiwayaka, who told you you weren’t pretty or smart?”
Her eyebrows furrowed and she turned away from him, focusing on picking up the bowl. “I’d rather not talk about it.” With an uneasy glance at his hand, she asked, “Why do you keep speaking words I don’t understand, let alone know how to pronounce? I don’t think it’s fair that you do that. For all I know you could be mocking me, and I wouldn’t even know it.”
He smiled and sat down beside her, far enough to be considered proper. “My father died before I was born and I was raised by my mother and Jim Elk Horn.” He tugged a lock of her hair. “He taught me the language of his people. It’s almost as natural for me to speak Lakota as it is English. Sometimes I even forget which one I’m speaking.”
She shifted away so that she was out of his reach. “And the words you’ve been saying, what do they mean?”
He rested his hand in his lap and crossed his feet at the ankles, leaning back against the table. “Cikala wiwayaka means something like little female captive and uzizitka is the name of a rose found around here.”
“You’re calling me a captive?” After a moment, she sighed. “I suppose that fits, given the circumstances. ”
He laughed. “I thought so.”
“And the rose? Does that refer to the flower I had in my hat and stitched on my shirtwaist?”
He shook his head. “The wild rose is a beautiful, delicate plant with tiny thorns to protect it. It has the ability to thrive where few plants can and bring nourishment to those who know what they are seeing.” He stood, suddenly uncomfortable by the turn of the conversation. Taking the bowl from her, his fingers brushed hers, and he tried to ignore the pleasant sensation. “I have something for you. Will you come with me?”
She hesitated but nodded. “Alright.”
He headed for the stairs, not waiting to see if she followed. Her boot heels clicked on the wood floor, a few steps behind him. He proceeded into the loft. This room would have housed his children if he and Jane had married as planned, but now it just housed his bed and everyone’s extra stuff.
Heading for the trunks in the corner of the room, he ignored hers, and reached out to open the first one. When she reached the top step, he waved her forward, but she hesitated so he turned his attention to the trunks.
“Mama never threw anything away.” He opened the first trunk, wincing as he saw Jane’s wedding dress and closed it. Opening the second one, he found a few of Abby’s old clothes. He glanced at Lillian, thought of her in a pair of pants and one of his old shirts, and knew he’d not be getting any sleep or work done with her around if she wore those. “No.”
“‘No’ what?” she asked, taking a cautious step forward, doing little to hide her curiosity about the trunk’s contents.
He laughed and closed the lid. “Abby’s old clothes. Though she wouldn’t mind you wearing them, I don’t think my thoughts could handle it.”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean by that?”
Deciding not to answer her question, he went to the third trunk which was filled with womanly things from his mother and lifted the lid then the fourth. Perfect. The fourth had the clothes he’d been looking for. He pulled both of them into the center of the room. The other four trunks could sit awhile longer. Maybe Lillian would be interested in their contents. Maybe not. Either way, he didn’t think it mattered at the moment.
“They’ll probably be a little big on you, Mother was a bit…”
“You don’t need to say it. I got a belt.”
He couldn’t stop himself from glancing at her pleasant bust line and then hips. “I’m going to... You can go through... Anything you can use in these two trunks are yours.”
“Thank you.” She held out her hand to accept the clothes he was holding.
He glanced at her hand then her face. He handed her the clothes, his face heating as he realized they were bloomers and a chemise. “I’m going to go.”
She accepted the items and took another step toward the trunk, and knelt down. She seemed so lost and alone beside the trunk, reminding him of another woman, another time.
“I think she would have liked you,” he softly said.
Lillian looked up at him. “Who is ‘she’?”
“My mother, Margaret Nic-” He shook his head, torn between his honest nature and the dishonest monster that would kidnap an innocent woman and hold her against her will. What would it matter if she knew their last name? And yet Wade’s words kept coming back to him. What did he really know about Lillian? Could he trust her?
Her bright green eyes held his gaze, waiting for him to finish, and when he didn’t, she said, “Margaret’s a nice name.”
“She was too much like Noah. Too sensitive.” He shook himself from his dark thoughts. “There were those who took advantage of that.”
After a moment, she said, “My father was the same way. He was more sensitive than my mother.” With a chuckle, she added, “I think other people thought they were an odd match, but they were happy. And in the end, I suppose that’s what it’s all about. Finding someone you can be happy with, even if others think that person isn’t perfect.” She sorted through the clothes. “I don’t see any flowers on these clothes. Does that mean you won’t call me the rose word anymore if I wear them?”
He smiled. “It never had anything to do with your clothes. Good night, Uzizitka. ”