The Bartered Bride (The Brides Book 3) (19 page)

TWENTY-SIX

J
em looped his reins over the hitching post near the back porch and bounded up the steps, calling out, “Mae!”

Annie hurried after him, making a worried noise that he couldn’t understand.

“Where is she?” he demanded, not turning back to look at her, but searching through the kitchen.

It was empty.

He swung to face her. “Where
is
she?” He’d heard Annie whistle while he was still far off. The slice of alarm that sent him into motion was still thrumming through his veins. That same alarm had sent him into a gallop, straight back to the ranch house. He could still picture Annie standing out back behind the house. How there’d been no sign of Mae. He’d known right off—Mae was missing. What he didn’t know was
how
. How could that have happened?

“Where?” he repeated.

She shook her head, showed him her empty hands again.
I don’t know.
An unacceptable answer.

He ran up the main stairs two at a time, to Mae’s room. Her bed was empty. The wardrobe door was hanging ajar, the contents dumped out, evidently by Annie. Mae’s clothes were strewn on the floor.

There was something disturbing about the sight of her clothes on the rug...tossed there in a panic.

Her little white pinafores seemed so much smaller than he remembered.

He sped from room to room.

Annie had looked everywhere. Everywhere, chest lids were open, wardrobe doors swung wide.

Everywhere. And his Mae was nowhere.

Ice filled his chest.

No
.

The door to Lorelei’s old writing room was closed as always, but the key was in the lock.

He looked at Annie and found her standing behind him, twisting her hands together as if she was wringing out a wet rag. Her eyes were fixed on the door, anxious.

It seemed more to him than her searching for Mae anywhere and everywhere.

Had she been in there? Why?

“You been in there?” he asked.

Her guilt-stricken face confirmed it. She’d been inside.

He entered the room and looked around, poking his head under Lorelei’s small desk to make sure Mae wasn’t hiding there.

Nothing else seemed disturbed. Perhaps Annie had just been searching after all. Maybe she just looked guilty because Mae was missing.

“Mae!” he called out, ready to race to Ben’s room and then back downstairs, looking wherever Annie might’ve missed.

Annie grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“Where’s Mae?” He held her shoulders and shook her. Heard her let out a sound of distress.

He let her go, thrusting a hand through his hair. His hat went flying backwards.

She couldn’t speak. Of course she couldn’t speak. He knew that. If only she could.

And with all his yelling and shaking her—he was only scaring her. And that wasn’t going to help them find Mae. They needed to be calm. They needed sharp eyes and clear minds.

She made a bunch of hand motions, sweeping motions that made no sense at all.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” he said, trying to keep the anger and frustration out of his voice and failing.

She scooted around him further into the study.

“What are you doing? Where’s Mae? Where’s Sugar?”

She was standing over Lorelei’s typewriter, putting her fingers on the keys.

“What are you doing? Leave that alone.” He reached to pull her hands away, angry. There was something about her actions that left him feeling violated. Why did she want to touch Lorelei’s things? Why now?

It wasn’t like she could write, or read for that matter.

Could she?

No, he knew she couldn’t write. He’d seen for himself.

He should just leave her, go out to his horse, and start searching. He’d check Ben’s room first. Mae wouldn’t have gone there, but he had to look. She wouldn’t have gone outside. She knew better. She was too small. But...what if she had?

Annie pressed on the keys. When he reached for her hands to stop her, she stomped her foot and pushed his hands away.

“Nuh,” she said angrily, making her “no” sound, her face frightened and urgent.

“What? Hurry.”

She pointed at the typewriter then at the stack of paper beside it.

It was fruitless. They were wasting time. But he did it. He threaded the paper into the mechanism.

“There,” he said. “Happy?” On one level, he could hear himself—heard the patronizing tone creeping into his voice. He also recognized it for what it was: his panic leaking out. He had to find Mae.

He turned halfway toward the door and stopped at the sound of keys tapping. He turned back and rolled the paper higher, startled to see a string of letters.

PUPPYGOTOUTMAEWENTAFTER.

Puppy got out. Mae went after.

She could
write
, he thought, stunned. How?

“Where are they?” he asked, quickly showing her the space bar.

CANT FIND THEM

So Mae had gone outside. She’d gone out with the puppy.

He raced outside for his horse, images flashing through his mind that sent chills of terror down his spine.

How long had she been gone? Minutes? An hour?

Where would they have wandered off to?

Had Annie checked the stables? She likely had. He’d found her outside by the paddock, hadn’t he? She’d been whistling for him. She given up her search and was calling to him, to anyone who would come. It all made sense now.

She was following after him now, close on his heels, gesturing.

He glanced at her, prepared to dismiss her, tell her to wait here.

She pointed to his horse, to herself. She made the motions of holding the reins and pointed into the distance.
I can ride. Take me with you.

She pointed to her eyes and again to the vast country surrounding them. She wanted to search with him. More eyes could only be better, he reasoned, so he quickly saddled one of Ben’s more docile geldings.

Annie showed him a patch of dirt, and he looked thoughtfully out over the swaying sea of grasses. They could be anywhere.

A sense of otherworldly calm settled over him.

His vision sharpened.

They’d find Mae. They’d bring her home. Even if they had to search from here to the Garden of the Gods.

Ray and the ranch hands rode up then, followed by Ben. The pregnant mare trailed after him on a rope.

Jem quickly explained the situation, and soon, they split up into pairs, fanning out from the house. The sounds of “Mae!” and “Sugar, come! Here, girl!” rang out from the fields.

They searched until the sky darkened with rain clouds.

The howls of coyotes rang out, chilling them all, Jem suspected. He squared his shoulders and sat taller in his saddle, searching behind another outcropping of rocks.

He’d ride all night into morning if he had to.

* * *

Annie rode her mount, peering into the growing darkness, trying to see something, anything, that would lead them to Mae and Sugar. In a flash, she saw the pond in her mind’s eye.

The pond really wasn’t much more than a large puddle, one the horses drank out of when they were let out to graze. There was a stand of aspens there too, casting shade, a place to cool off from the summer sun. Surely, it was too far from the house for Mae to walk on her short legs. But what if she had? Sugar loved the water.

The pond.

Had they fallen in?

Once Annie thought of the pond, she knew. Sugar loved to roll in the swampy mud on its banks.

She gestured wildly to Jem, and he followed as she took off at a brisk trot in the direction of the pond. The ground was cast in purpled shadows now. A child the size of Mae could easily get swallowed up in the smallest of crevices. Annie hoped her horse was taking extra care with his footing. From what she could tell, he was. Mr. Ruskin always said horses could see better in the dark than people did. She hoped that was true.

Jem rode in an almost eerie silence by her side, his expression heavy with worry.

When a swampy odor struck Annie’s nose, she knew they were close. Jem took the lead. His horse parted the reeds surrounding the pond. Annie followed him, spotting Mae and Sugar immediately. They were lying in the mud with Mae flopped against Sugar’s side, both of them sleeping.

Jem leapt from his horse and ran toward them. In seconds he had Mae up in his arms, cradled against his chest.

The poor lamb must’ve fallen asleep, exhausted from fear.

“Mae,” Jem said, “I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re safe. Daddy’s here.”

She and Sugar both were covered in a film of tar-black mud.

“Dadda,” Mae murmured, then startled fully awake. “Daddy! Annie!” She flung her arms around Jem’s neck and squeezed.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Jem hugged her tight. He buried his face into her hair.

“Daddy, too tight,” Mae protested, but he hugged her all the closer it seemed. He only loosened his hold finally to kiss her head, her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose.

“Daddy! Stop!” Mae giggled, a delightful sound that lit up the evening air.

Annie dropped her face into her hands and let out a sob of relief.

She couldn’t not look at them though, so she uncovered her face and stared unabashedly at Jem. Jem—who kept himself behind a thick wall—was holding Mae close.

Annie felt a surge of happiness to see his open affection for Mae. How free he was with his kisses and hugs.

He loves her.

Of course he loves her
. There’d never been a question of that. But to see him now. This was a different Jem. Perhaps this was how he’d been before. Before he lost his wife. Alive. Fully, completely
here
.

She hated that it had taken an incident like this to stir up this side of him, but she felt...happy. Happy to see it.

Mae needed a father like this Jem. She needed him. And here he was.

It was like the whole earth just shook. Annie wondered if he felt it too. Did he realize?

And then in an instant he was all business. He handed Mae to Annie and warned them to cover their ears before he shot off a signal for the other men. One if they found her. Another to say they were safe.

That done, he took Mae back and cradled her close.

“Sugar,” he called. She was still lying on the bank, her tail thumping madly.

Sugar?
Annie slipped out of her saddle and rushed to the puppy’s side. Jem crouched close beside her, running one hand over the dog’s head, back, and legs. She whimpered.

“She’s done something to her paw. Can’t see well enough to tell if it’s bleeding.” He glanced down quickly at Mae, as she buried her face against his neck. “But she’ll be fine,” he said reassuringly, “I’m sure of it. We’ll just get her back to the house and cleaned up. She’ll be fine.”

His eyes met Annie’s and she suddenly wasn’t so sure he meant what he said. He was worried about Sugar. That much she could tell from the way his brow was creased, from the shadows behind his gaze.

“Can you carry her if I lift her up?” he asked, inclining his head toward Sugar.

She quickly nodded and mounted her horse, waiting for him to hand the dog up to her. He had to set Mae down to do it, and Sugar cried out from being lifted. The tight set of Jem’s mouth revealed the strain he was under. That was all. Otherwise, he kept up a steady flow of reassuring comments.

“You’re going to be just fine.”

“There you go, Annie. Hold her just like that.”

“Up you go, Mae. You’ll ride with me. Hold on tight.”

And so on.

He kept it up all the way home as night fell, and the darkness closed in around them. Only the light of a full moon lit their way, brightening the shadows.

Back at the ranch house, he was again all business, marching around with Mae in his arms, handing out orders for the men to take care of the horses, for Annie to hand Sugar down to Ben. Orders for Ben to “have a care with her,” and get her up on the porch on the pump end, where they’d bathe her.