Seventeen

Elam leaned against the door verge of Rolfe’s bedroom, arms crossed over his chest. The three children were bunking here for the night.

Britte had spread her pallet beside the crib in case Cash should awaken. It was one of the multiple things her auntie Pen had told her to do. How had the children managed to have any fun at all with Penelope filling their heads full of matchmaking tips?

He couldn’t help wondering what else Penelope had said to the children to “help his marriage along.”

He couldn’t stop watching Keara now, with the children, as she told them about a princess and a knight. There were no wicked step-mothers mentioned in this story. In fact, she had no book. She was either making this story up or had memorized it.

She had Britte and Rolfe totally engrossed, and the softness of her voice lulled Cash to sleep. Elam realized she had him engrossed, as well, with her tender behavior toward his children.

He’d come far these past few months of the new century. After Gloria’s death, he’d spent a long time trying to deny his anger with God. At Christmas, he’d finally given in to it, mostly with silence, but he’d raged at God a few times when he was out in the pasture checking on the cattle. Moondance had borne silent witness to those rages.

Only once had God used human intervention to defend Himself. Keara’s intervention. It was New Year’s Day, sunny and mild, with the sound of birdsong competing with the rush of White River.

Elam had even raged at that. What right did the world have to sunshine in January when Gloria would never see this sunshine again? When her children would never see her again?

“She was only a loan.”

The voice had startled him mid-rant. It was feminine. Timid. He turned to find Keara standing several yards away with a basket of cracklin’ cornbread and ham. For the first time he could remember, he was too surprised to speak.

“God placed her on loan to us for as long as He felt she should stay.” Keara stepped closer, holding out the basket to Elam. “Who are we to complain, when she was His to loan to us in the first place?”

He took the basket. The food was still warm from the oven. He’d missed the New Year’s meal with his family because he couldn’t face Gloria’s empty chair. And for the first time, with Keara standing there watching him with sad eyes, God whispered in his ear that not only had Britte, Rolfe, and Cash lost their mother, but because of Elam’s actions, stalking off into the field every time he was angry with God, they’d lost part of their father as well.

If not for Keara, they’d have no one.

“A loan, you say.”

Tears filled Keara’s eyes. She nodded. “That’s how I’ve had to look at it, or I’d be lost in my grief. I have to tell myself she is living in the presence of true Light, not just our piddling old sunlight.”

Because of Keara, the children had been given Christmas gifts and homemade candy and had heard the Christmas story read from the Bible while all Elam could feel was bitterness.

“Nothing’s for sure on this earth,” she said as she turned and gazed around the winter pasture then reached up and scratched Moondance’s ears. “God never promised us an easy time of it here. In fact, He promised troubles. We just weren’t ready for this one.”

Her words, spoken at just the right time for Elam, began to change his heart over the following weeks. And it was still changing. He’d never have imagined how much.

By the time Keara finished her story to the children, Rolfe was snoring softly. She turned to look up at Elam with a smile. “Knights and princesses. Fit for both boys and girls.”

“I noticed Rolfe fell asleep during the kissing scene.”

Keara stepped over Britte on the pallet and joined him at the doorway. “I promised Susanna more dessert, and it’s warming in the oven. Why don’t we see if we can finally clear up all the mystery?”

Elam picked up the flickering oil lamp and closed the door on the sleeping children. He turned to follow in Keara’s wake, enjoying the scent of fresh air, spice, and tea leaves that was her own, which mingled with the heavy scent of the lamp oil.

“Did you make up that story?” he asked.

She nodded without turning. “A long time ago, I used to make up stories to keep the boys quiet while my mother rested. They always wanted stories of knights and conquest, but I wanted to pretend I was a princess who lived in a castle. So I combined everything together.”

He smiled, shaking his head. “You tame horses and little boys, and you can cook and doctor humans and animals back to health.”

“I don’t think I ever did tame my little brothers.”

“Of course you did. They’re mature young men who have set out to take on the world.”

“I’m just glad the world hasn’t sent them back with their tails between their legs.”

He caught up with her and touched her shoulder, holding the lantern high as he enjoyed the flicker of golden lights and enhancing shadows that played over her face when she looked up at him. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

His own boldness surprised him. He never would have spoken to her so personally like this before their wedding.

Or perhaps he would have been just as bold, but he would have meant his words in a different way. As a friend to a friend. Now he couldn’t even look at her past the frame of Monday’s wedding.

She returned his gaze for a long moment, as if she also enjoyed the lines of his face and the words that came from his lips. Then color deepened on her cheeks, and her chin dimpled as she grinned.

“Well, I’ve never been much good at fashion or flirting.” She chuckled and turned to walk ahead of him down the stairs. “I’ve only worn a corset once, and that was on my wedding day, and I don’t plan to do that again. It’s no wonder women of fashion always seem to faint so easily.” She raised her hand to her cheek with a mock gasp. “And of course for me to even mention the word corset to a man—even my own husband—is simply outrageous. It’s a wonder the Age of Victoria hasn’t killed us all.”

He laughed as he followed her down to light her way. That was another one of her talents. She could make him smile when he’d decided there was nothing to smile about. And she could speak her mind when she felt comfortable with a person. That was one thing she had in common with Gloria.

How could two women be such opposites in appearance, yet both draw his attention with such underlying power?

Keara preceded Elam back up the stairs, surprised she hadn’t dropped the dish of bread pudding. The way he’d been watching her tonight—the way he’d watched her ever since he’d arrived back home from his ride with the marshal and Timothy Skerit—made her clumsier than she’d been the day of the wedding. Until tonight, his every touch had brought heat to her skin. Tonight, however, he didn’t have to touch her to make her skin feel warm.

To make all of her feel warm.

She opened Britte’s bedroom door and stepped in ahead of Elam, holding the unbroken dish of warm bread pudding in her hands. The sight of her patient cooled all the heat.

Susanna looked pale, with dark circles under her eyes. Her hair appeared more stringy and matted than it had just an hour ago—as if she’d been trying to find a comfortable position to sleep, with little success. The lines around her eyes and mouth were tight.

“Your fever back?” Keara touched her fingertips to Susanna’s forehead.

“No, I’m just hurting.”

Keara reached for the whiskey-laced willow bark tea Elam had carried up for her. “Drink this before you eat the pudding so it’ll start working on you faster.” She sat on the side of the bed, easing down gently so she wouldn’t disturb Susanna’s shoulder.

The blue eyes, so like Gloria’s, remained dull. “You’re going to get me drunk again today? Wasn’t once enough?”

“You’re still hurting.”

“You want me to tell you everything, don’t you?” She was obviously trying to be funny, but she didn’t sound strong enough to carry it off.

“If that’s what it takes.” Keara held the cup to her patient’s lips.

Susanna took the cup in her good hand and thanked Keara then sipped. She wrinkled her nose. “I hate whiskey.”

“But you love how it relieves your pain.”

Susanna nodded and took a bigger sip, eyeing the bread pudding. “I feel like a helpless child.”

Elam reached for the only chair in the room, set it next to the bed, and sat down on it. “Then you should be glad you’re here, where you’re safe.”

Susanna glanced toward the closed and curtained window. “I don’t know if any of us are safe. For your sake and the children’s, I should have never come here. I should have thought of someone besides myself.”

“US Marshal Frey told me he’d followed you,” Elam said.

She nodded. “I don’t remember seeing anyone follow me. My other siblings and my parents still live in Pennsylvania, and I would expect that if the authorities tried to find me, they’d go to my family.”

“He must be a good tracker,” Keara said.

“I’m not so sure good tracking skills were what brought him here,” Elam said.

“So you’re saying he knew my destination when he set out from Blackmoor?” Susanna asked.

“Possibly.” Elam nodded. “Did you tell anyone where you were coming?”

“If I did, I don’t remember doing it.”

“What do you mean?” Keara asked.

Susanna took another few sips of the tea, but it didn’t seem to ease the tension. Instead, the lines grew deeper in her face. “There are blank spaces in my memory, probably from the concussion. As I’ve become more lucid, I’ve become more aware of those blanks. I was thinking clearly enough to make it here after I was shot, but other things have been hazy. I think when I fell from Duchess on the porch steps, that’s when I hit my head.”

Keara realized why Susanna had been so frightened. That fear was contagious.

The speed with which Susanna drank the tea told Keara the extent of her pain. She took the final swallow and then lay back on her pillows, eyes closing, face relaxing.

Keara took half a spoonful of the pudding and held it to Susanna’s lips. “How about something to kill the taste of that nasty whiskey?”

Susanna willingly opened her mouth, like a child, looking up at them.

Keara spooned a small bite into her mouth and watched with satisfaction as the enjoyment became obvious on Susanna’s face.

“If I live through this, you’ll have to give me your recipe.”

“You’ll live through this.”

“Help us get you safely through it, Susanna,” Elam said. “I know this is hard, but what happened in Blackmoor? We need to know what you do remember.”

Susanna reached for the spoon and took another bite, savored it for a moment, then placed the spoon back in the dish. “Nathaniel was the instigator, I’m afraid.”

“I have trouble believing that,” Elam said.

“Oh, believe it. He went digging where he wasn’t welcome. Had he chosen politics as his family wished him to in the beginning he likely would have…” Her voice wobbled. “He would have died sooner than he did.” She swallowed. “I blame Nathaniel’s family for his death. His father even threatened to disinherit him at one time—encouraged by his older brother, Sikes—for choosing medicine as his career.”

“His brother was that hostile toward him?” Elam asked.

“No, not hostile, he just always thinks he’s right. He takes after his late father.”

“Didn’t I meet Nathaniel’s family when Gloria and I got married?” Elam asked.

“Of course.” Susanna’s voice took on a chill. “Neither Nathaniel’s father nor his brother ever missed the chance to be in the public eye. Though they opposed Nathaniel’s career choice, they certainly weren’t opposed to exploiting his natural popularity for political reasons.”

Elam nodded. “It seemed half the state of Pennsylvania was at our wedding.”

“Nathaniel and I had married only three months earlier, and Mother asked us to invite all our friends to your wedding. Nathaniel had a lot of friends.” She glanced at the flicker of the lantern flame. “He was generous with his money, and that tends to bring the crowds. We discovered later that it was my father-in-law who manipulated Mother into turning your wedding into a political campaign, Elam. I’m sorry about that.”

“Gloria loved it,” he said.

“Of course she would have. I did not.”

“What does a wedding a decade ago have to do with US Marshal Frey?” Keara asked.

“Something happened recently that forced Nathaniel to reconsider his decision not to enter politics,” Susanna said. She glanced at Elam and then reached for another spoonful of bread pudding. “This is so delicious. Are these chopped black walnuts?”

“Yes. Susanna,” Keara said gently, “you’re stalling. Can’t you remember?”

Despite the prodding, Susanna indulged herself in a final bite of the pudding. She glanced once more at Elam then at Keara.

“Unfortunately, though Nathaniel was much more open-minded than the rest of his family, he did have a little too much of the Luther mindset. He encouraged my pursuit of medicine, but when it came to his new activities in the political arena, he was a bit too close-mouthed for my liking.”

“Was he involved in something top secret?” Keara asked.

Susanna grimaced. “Sikes knew better than to place his loquacious younger brother in such a sensitive position. All I knew these past few months was that Nathaniel grew quiet, even sullen at home. It wasn’t like him at all. When I questioned him he would snap at me.”

“You’re right. From my memories of Nathaniel, he was soft-spoken, always ready with a joke or humorous story,” Elam said.

“That’s why I watched him more closely,” Susanna said. “I even followed him into town a couple of times. The second time I did that, I caught him arguing with a big man with long red hair. It was the same man who shot me on Monday.”

“Frey?”

“Who else has long red hair like that? Two days after seeing the man with Nathaniel, I returned home with a wagon full of supplies and found our office door standing open.” She swallowed again and paused as the pain of memory shadowed her eyes. “I found Nathaniel in his study, lying in front of his rifle cabinet, with a shotgun on the floor beside him.” Tears formed at the corners of her eyes and trickled down her face. “He bled to death from a shot to the neck.”

Keara took her hand and squeezed. “What awful things you’ve been through. What kind of monster would do such a thing and then follow his victim’s wife to shoot her as well?”

The sound of a bell reached them from downstairs, startling Keara.

Susanna squeezed her hand more tightly. Her eyes widened with fright. “What was that?”

“Someone’s at the front door,” Elam said. “I’ll go see who it is. Keara, you stay here with Susanna. We have more to discuss.”

Susanna wouldn’t release Keara after Elam walked from the room. “Could that be Frey?”

“I doubt it, but if it is, Elam will handle him. Maybe I should bring you another cup of tea.”

Susanna took a shaky breath. “No, I’ll be fine. Thinking about Nathaniel’s death always does this to me.”

“How you must have loved him.”

Susanna gradually released her hold on Keara’s hand. “Oh, I did. Had I known how our marriage would end, I’d still have married that man a dozen times over any other.”

Keara remained by Susanna’s side and waited in silence as she listened to the sound of Elam’s footsteps down the stairs.