Love's Revenge (Entangled Scandalous) (8 page)

A low guttural sound signified the brave’s approval. Piah reined in his horse and the animal reared up. He shouted instructions to the others and they pulled their horses around and galloped back toward the rise. About halfway back to the rise, Piah paused, his horse nervously pawing the ground.

Then he charged.

She gasped. Stephen still held his rifle at his side. He did not raise it. In fact, he did not move. She was frozen in place. What was happening? Weren’t they friends? They had not acted like enemies.

She held Andy closer to her. The boy was fascinated by the approaching Indian. Stephen still didn’t move. Wasn’t he going to defend himself?

She fumbled in her deep pocket. She needed the Colt revolver and she needed it now.

“See, Mama.” Andy’s tiny hands pulled her face away from her desperate search for the gun.

“Yes, Yes. I see, Andy.”

She couldn’t put Andy down. She couldn’t master the heavy gun with one hand. She couldn’t help what was about to happen.

Piah whooped and hung low over his horse. His rifle was braced against his shoulder and pointed at Stephen. Clods of earth flew behind the charging pony.

The other braves had reached the top of the bluff and had paused to watch.

Every motion, every heartbeat lasted a lifetime. She wanted to scream at Stephen to protect himself. Protect them all. Was he a coward or martyr?

Piah screamed an epithet and unexpectedly switched the rifle to his other hand. With his foot securely in the loop of the horse’s mane, he reached out and grabbed the red kerchief from Stephen’s neck. He whooped, exhilarated, and pulled up his pony. He held up the red cloth and the other braves atop the hill acknowledged it
.
Their rifles held high above their heads, they yelped, and, for the first time, fired their weapons.

Piah looked at Katherine. With the bandana still in one hand, he braced his rifle on his hip and fired it into the air. She jumped, her heart racing out of control. As Piah rode toward the band that was even now disappearing over the horizon of the hill, her legs began to shake uncontrollably.

…

Stephen watched Piah and his small war party until they were gone. Katherine was white as a ghost. Only Andy was unperturbed. The boy smiled and waved to the departing Indians. In two strides, Stephen was beside them on the platform.

“Give him to me.”

Katherine released Andy. She looked like she would be ill.

The stillness was broken by the train whistle and the car jerked into movement. Kate covered her mouth with her hand.

“Fiona!” he bellowed as he entered the Pullman car.

The Irish nursemaid peeked out from behind the settee.

“They’re gone, girl. Take Andy and put him down for his nap and stay with him.”

Fiona was still white with fear but she nodded and stumbled to her feet. She took Andy, who was rubbing his eyes with his small fist. “Stay with him. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir...but Miss Barker?” Fiona asked.

“I’ll take care of Miss Barker. You take care of Andy. Is that a deal?”

“Yes, sir.” She dipped a wobbly curtsy and with weak legs headed to the next car and their sleeping compartment. Stephen made sure they safely crossed to the next car.

Kate was still on the rear platform. The waves of dry grass behind her had turned golden with the autumn sun. She had released her hair as if it would release the tension inside her, but held the railing tightly, her knuckles white with the force of her grip. He couldn’t see her face. But her every muscle, every limb was strained to the point of collapse. He approached her slowly.

“Katherine.”

She shook her head from side to side. She clearly did not want to talk.

“Are you all right?”

She turned to face him. Her hand was pressed once again to her mouth, her eyes welling with tears.

She removed her hand. “Am I all right?” Her voice was choked with tears. “Am I all right? You have the nerve to ask if I’m all right?”

“Let me explain.”

“Explain?” Anger had replaced her fear. “Yes, explain to me how you could put your son at risk, put
yourself
at risk...”—she hurried on—“...put
us all
at risk without lifting a hand to defend us. That man had a scalp—a human scalp on his belt. Were you going to let those barbarians take Andy’s scalp or mine? Mine, no doubt, would be a unique prize.” She drove her hands through her hair, letting the glistening strands float behind her in the breeze. “No. You can’t explain your actions. You can’t.” Her last words were half whispered and garbled by tears. She had started to shake uncontrollably.

…

Stephen stepped forward and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Listen to me very carefully. You don’t have any idea of what just happened. You’re horrified that Piah had a scalp. And you have every right to be. It is horrible. But do you know where they learned that little trick? From the Spanish, Katherine. The Spanish, Europeans, the noble, enlightened Europeans, taught many Indians the power of a scalp. A scalp is a testament to a man murdered, but the Spanish didn’t do it in fear or for pride, or even from superstition. They collected scalps purely for money, to collect their reward from the nobleman who had bid the deed done.” He paused. “Who is the barbarian, Katherine? Who?” He searched her eyes for understanding.

“I was so scared for Andy.” She sobbed.

He pulled her to him. “There was no danger.” He was telling only half the truth. “Piah would not risk attacking a train this far from his camp. He was making his unhappiness known. He has much to be unhappy about. Can you understand that?”

She shook her head from side to side against his chest.

Stephen pulled her more tightly to him. “Perhaps someday you will. Someday you will.”

Chapter Nine

In the cool autumn air of the next day, the steam from the engine hovered low on the platform of the Denver station, creating white clouds through which everyone and everything moved. In the early morning light, the effect was ethereal. It gave Stephen the odd feeling that everything this morning was happening in a dream.

He helped the fractious Kate down from the train. For a brief moment, he had the startling feeling of déjà vu. He wasn’t the only one.

More than one person on the platform stopped their conversation to watch. His appearance in Denver after a two-year absence would have been reason alone for the interest. But it was Katherine on his arm creating the undercurrent of speculation and discussion. He would have to get her away before someone approached him and blundered out information he did not wish to share with her.

“I don’t see the man I’ve asked to meet us. Why don’t you check on Fiona and Andy? I spoke to Fiona earlier. She was dressing Andy when I left them.”

Kate nodded and started back toward the train. More than one set of eyes tracked her movement.

“Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.” The loud outburst came from a bewhiskered, bow-legged mountain man who appeared out of a cloud of steam. The man’s graying hair and twinkling eyes brought a smile to Stephen’s face. Half Kris Kringle, half leprechaun, Dusty Krebs had proved a devoted friend these last two years. His broad grin was welcome enough for any man.

In a split second, he found himself in the older man’s bear hug.

“Peg’s nearly drove me from the house with her bothering and tsk tsk’n. Couldn’t sit down but she’d throw me out and dust the darned chair I was sitting in.”

“It’s good to see you, old friend, and good to hear Peg’s not changed a bit either.”

Dusty shook his head. “She near drove me crazy while you was gone. Thought she’d burst at the seams when she got your telegram saying you was coming with the boy. Since then, she’s been as expectant as a sparrow watching a worm hole.”

He signaled a porter while he questioned Dusty. “Have you had time to get the things I wanted?”

“Yep, we been bustin’ our butts to get things ready. Where are they?”

“Kate went back to get the boy and his nursemaid. Do you have a carriage?”

“Yep, fanciest one I could get my hands on. And a wagon for the luggage. I’ll see to that. Don’t trust these scoundrels none.” Dusty eyed the porters warily.

Through the steamy clouds Kate approached with Andy in her arms. Fiona trailed behind with a small satchel.

“Lordy, Lordy. But ain’t they a start.” Dusty whistled softly. “The boy looks just like you. No question ‘bout that.” His gaze shifted. “And I ain’t seen such a beauty in all my born days. She’s about the pertiest thing I ever seen. Looks nothing like her poor sister.”

Stephen didn’t answer.

Kate looked up. Her eyes were hard, challenging. Dusty was right. This woman bore no resemblance to Lizzie. Not in looks or temperament.

“Well, I’d know the boy’s yours from across a canyon. Wait ’til Peg sees him. She’ll be happier than a pig in a trough.”

Stephen laughed. Then sobered with a warning. “Remember what I wrote. Not a word to her about the past. Not until I’ve had time to tell her myself.”

“You ain’t told her yet?”

“Don’t look at me that way. I’ll tell her in my own time.”

“Well, that time better be pretty soon, ’cause she’s gonna cause quite a stir in this here town and they’ll be more than one busy body willing to tell her all about you.”

“I know. I know.” He would be living dangerously until he told Kate. But the time wasn’t right. Not yet.

…

“Welcome to Denver, Miz Barker.”

“Katherine, this is Dusty Krebs, a long-time associate of mine.”

“Mr. Krebs.” Kate nodded as she took in his ill-fitting trousers, collarless shirt, and odd vest which was made of a kind of animal hide trimmed in beads. His salt-and-pepper hair was well beyond his shoulders. He had not bothered to tie it back, preferring a braid or two near his face to keep it out of his eyes. The best thing she could say about him was that he seemed clean enough.

Andy squirmed in Kate’s arms. “Down, Mama. Down.”

She placed the child on the wooden platform and took his hand.

Dusty effortlessly crouched down on his haunches as if he had spent a lifetime in the position.

“I brought you something, little feller.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a beautiful figure of a horse no more than three inches long. It had been hand carved out of wood.

“Whittled it myself. Do you know what it is?”

Andy studied the man and then the wooden figure. “Horse,” came his quiet reply.

Dusty slapped his thigh, startling both Andy and her. “Smart as a whip, just like his daddy,” he cackled. The boy took refuge in the folds of Kate’s skirt.

“Here, it’s yours, Andy.” Dusty held out the small horse. “Take it now, don’t be shy about it.” Dusty looked up at her. “He’s as skittish as a new colt, eh?”

“Andy, Mr. Krebs has made you a beautiful horse. You can take it if you like.”

The boy slowly unfurled himself from her skirt and stepped forward, one hand keeping a secure hold of the skirt’s fabric. With his other hand, he reached out for the figurine.

“What do you say, Andy?” Already the boy was lost in inspection.

“Horse, Mama. Horse.”

“Yes, darling. But what do you say to Mr. Krebs.”

“Thank you.” The child mumbled the words, distracted by the present.

“You’re very kind, Mr. Krebs.”

“Miz Barker, if you keep calling me Mr. Krebs, I’m gonna have to stop my cussin’ and cut my hair. Neither of which I care t’do. So I guess you’ll just have to call me Dusty and be done with it.”

She found herself smiling. “If you wish, but then you must call me Kate.”

“Yes, Miss Kate. It’ll be my pleasure.” Dusty touched his hat.

The clatter of harnesses behind them halted the conversation. “That there’s yer rig. Told you it was a fancy one.” He beamed and looked to Stephen for approval.

“It’s beautiful,” she said without thinking. Far too elegant for a backwater town, she thought. She had not expected such luxury in Denver.

“I must warn you, Kate, Dusty will be the first one to brag about Denver and its accomplishments. Isn’t that so, Dusty?” Stephen laughed.

“We’re nigh on thirty-five-thousand people now. The best town between St. Louis and good ole San Fran.”

Before her, the City of Denver bustled with activity. Delivery wagons and private carriages hurried up and down the wide streets. Brick buildings some three stories high lined those streets. Beyond them lay a range of white-capped mountains so breathtaking that she was momentarily stunned.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Stephen was at her elbow.

“Yes, they are.”

“In my youth, I visited the Alps and felt that I would never see mountains more beautiful. But I had not seen these mountains.”

He had the look of a man returning home after a long journey. His face had relaxed and his eyes, his beautiful eyes, had softened. For the first since she’d met him, he appeared happy.

“Come on now, come on. Don’t be dawdlin’.” Dusty held open the carriage door. “Tell Peg I’ll be bringing the bags directly.”

Stephen lifted Andy into the carriage and offered an arm to the excited Fiona. When Fiona was seated, he offered his arm to Kate. There was a moment, just a moment, when she thought he sought a truce. She couldn’t offer him that, not yet. But she acknowledged that the game had shifted to a new playing field, and the next move was his.

…

“Oh my word! Oh my word! I can hardly stand it! Look at you! Are you all right, son?” The heavy-set woman almost tripped on the porch steps as she rushed from the imposing two-story house.

“I’m fine, Peg. Fine.”

The large woman threw herself onto Stephen with a smothering hug that she held long after Stephen seemed comfortable with it. Despite her enthusiasm, the woman touched his back lightly. Clearly she knew about his disfigurement.

The sight of it had never left Kate.

The older woman finally pulled away, dabbing at her eyes with her voluminous white apron. However distant she hoped to remain, Kate found herself drawn to the unbridled show of affection.

“Are you sure yer all right, then? I was afraid we’d never see you alive again. Mighty afraid.” She patted his arm as if to reassure herself of his presence. “Well, where is he? Where?”

“Calm down, Peg. You’ll die of apoplexy.” Stephen smiled at the woman, then placed a kiss on her florid cheek. “It’s good to see you again. You know you’re my favorite girl.”

“Aw, pshaw. You always were a devilish charmer.” Once more she grasped his arm. “We thought we’d lost you, dear boy. Lost you for good.” Tears welled up in the woman’s eyes again. This time she wiped them away with her sleeve. “God’s been good to us, seeing you safely back. Good indeed. But enough of this. Enough of this.” She batted at his sleeve. “Where is he?”

Stephen walked back to the carriage. “Andy, come here, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Kate felt helpless as the boy smiled and ran into his father’s arms. He carried Andy back to where the woman stood.

“Oh...oh...oh. Look at you now. Oh, but he’s a beautiful boy, Stephen. A beautiful boy. Look at his hair. His eyes.” Peg clapped her hands together in delight. Then covered her mouth. Her eyes were bright as unchecked tears streamed down her face.

“I want to hold him, but I’m afraid I’ll scare him, poor thing, with all this blubberin’.”

“Wait a moment, Peg. There’s someone else I want you to meet.” Stephen took two steps back to the carriage.

“Katherine.” He extended a hand to her to help her out. Reluctantly, she took his hand and stepped out of the carriage. “Peg, this is Katherine Barker. Katherine, this is Peg Malroney.”

Peg grew very quiet for a moment. Then a smile lit the woman’s face as she seemed to recover. “But where are my wits? Poor girl. Welcome. Welcome.”

Kate found herself in a bear-hug of an embrace. Peg’s whispered words in her ear stripped her even more of her equilibrium. “Poor Lizzie, we miss her so. I can’t tell you how sorry we all were, but we knew you was the one to raise the boy, however much it broke my heart to send him to you with the good Reverend and his wife. He’s a beautiful boy and it cheers my heart something fierce to see him growed up so.”

She fought the desire to push the woman away. She didn’t want to hear this. None of it. It only served to confuse her.

The older woman put a familiar arm around her shoulder. “Well, come on in. We’ve been makin’ a pure spectacle of ourselves out here. That’s for sure. Me and Dusty fixed up a bedroom for you and one for the boy. Hope you all like ’em.”

Kate walked mutely toward the magnificent home. Behind her, Fiona trailed with their hand luggage. The house was not at all what she had expected. The trip from the station had not been long, but it had stripped her of any notion that Denver was a backwater frontier town. A horse-drawn street railway plied the city. On one corner, the foundation was being laid for what Stephen had described as a five-story hotel that would eventually fill the entire block. It was being built by a Horace Tabor, a former shopkeeper who had struck it rich when he staked a pair of German prospectors to seventeen dollars’ worth of tools, grub, and whiskey for a one-third share in whatever they found. What they found was the Little Pittsburgh silver mine, of which even she was aware.

She told herself that it didn’t matter how large, how expensive, how ostentatious Denver became. It would never be Andy’s home.

Now that she was confronted with Stephen’s own home, her fears became more focused. It was beautifully proportioned, a city mansion to rival any in St. Louis. The main house was made extravagantly of dressed sandstone, and a wide and inviting porch swept gracefully around three sides. Above the porch, tall wide windows strutted across the second story with beautiful marble arches gracing the tops of each. A mansard slate roof with fine wrought iron work completed the exterior. It reminded her of a home she had once seen in a book of European architecture.

Peg hurried her up the steps and across the porch. She opened the door and allowed Kate to step inside first.

The house smelled of lemon wax and cinnamon. The polished oak floor of the entry hall gleamed. A delicate Queen Anne cabriole legged table was set to the right; above it hung a simple gilt-framed mirror. Across from the table, double doors opened into the formal parlor. A brightly colored Oriental rug covered most of the polished floor.

The antique furnishings might have been found in a fine English country home. Most of the pieces were Chippendale. One split back chair’s delicate oriental design and carved mahogany legs were exquisite. The room was painted a warm yellow and, as the morning light streamed in, the color made it more inviting.

“You must be tired after your long trip,” Peg said. “Let me show you your room. I hope it’s to your liking. We followed his instructions to the letter but it wasn’t that easy a thing to do with so little time.”

Kate turned to Stephen and offered to take Andy.

Stephen looked as if he were reading her every reaction. He set the boy down and took his hand. “I’ll watch him for a bit. Go with Peg and get settled.” He addressed Andy. “I could smell Peg’s molasses cookies a block away. Would you like a cookie, Andy?”

The two-year old’s face lit up. “Cookie?”

“Yes, the best cookie you’ll ever taste. Come on.”

Without a look back at her, Andy headed to the back of the house with Stephen.

The clatter of a wagon in front of the house created a stir.

“Well, here’s Dusty. About time too.” Peg smiled at her. “Go on upstairs. I’ll see to your things. It’s the first room on the right. I’ll be up in a jiffy.”

Kate moved up the stairs with leaden feet. She closed her eyes and let her hand slide lightly up the polished mahogany banister. She could hear Andy’s excited conversation at the back of the house. For a moment, with her eyes shut, she could have been back home in St. Louis. Nearing the top of the stairs, she opened her eyes. A child’s room lit by the morning sun beckoned warmly. A small brass bed had been tucked into a corner. Across it lay a handmade quilt depicting an assortment of animals—bear and bison, elk and antelope. A small wooden table and two chairs sat on a hand-braided rug. A wooden rocking horse made with care and artistry inhabited one corner, his yarn mane and button eyes awaiting a child’s caress.