Teton Sunrise (Teton Romance Trilogy) (27 page)

“There is a lot more to tell, my friend.” Laurent pulled out one of the chairs from under the table, and sat. He took a quick drink from the whiskey bag he still held in his hand. “I will tell you what I know, and then you must decide what you wish to do.”

Chapter 21

St. Charles, Missouri, Spring 1829

Alex guided his exhausted horse down the main street along the Missouri River. The gelding sloshed through puddles of mud from a recent spring rain, and carried his head low. Discreetly, Alex glanced through weary eyes at the hustle and bustle around him. Laurent’s equally tired horse prodded along next to his own. Boatmen moved along the docks, shouting orders and cursing. Some exchanged heated words with one another. Alex already longed for the solitude of the mountains.

He observed the people around him.  Men, and some women, of all shapes, sizes, and colors milled about among the busy throng along the banks of the Missouri. Vagrant Indians loitered along the streets, some Frenchmen sang loud songs, and even a few hunters and trappers in buckskins mingled with the rest of the crowd. The smell of liquor and fish mingled with the cleaner scent of honeysuckle blooming in early spring. Had it been a year already since he’d last been to St. Charles? Since he caught his first glimpse of Evelyn as a grown woman? The image of her, as he remembered her when he first saw her, blended with the image of the woman who had become more important to him than his own life.

“It has been a long journey, my friend, but soon you will be reunited with your wife,” Laurent said, guiding his horse closer to Alex. The smile on the Frenchman’s face lacked his usual exuberance. Alex nodded imperceptibly. His pulse increased despite his fatigue. Long journey was an understatement. Three months of navigating snow-packed mountain passes that others had said were impossible to traverse had taken their toll on both of them and their horses. The rigorous journey didn’t matter. He hadn’t seen
Evie
in nearly five months. The ache to hold her in his arms had become unbearable at times, and the need to feel her had driven him beyond human endurance.

How many blizzards and bitter cold nights had he suffered on his near-impossible trek through the mountains these past months to reach St. Louis, and finally St. Charles? The few mountain men he and Laurent had encountered had told him they’d never survive the trip. Sometimes days or even a week had gone by when they’d been forced to hole up somewhere when a mountain blizzard made travel impossible.

Visions of Evelyn kept him going.
The emptiness in his heart, and the unbearable yearning to see her smiling face and to touch her drove him to attempt the impossible.
Even Laurent had suggested it might be better to wait until the spring thaw. Alex refused to listen to reason. The moment Laurent’s words had sunk in that
Evie
wasn’t dead, he’d
sprung
into action. The next morning, he’d left Yancey in charge of his cabin, and mounted his horse. Laurent had insisted on going with him, and Alex was grateful to his friend for the company.

To the best of his estimate, it was October the day the earth shook and she disappeared. Since she’d come into his life at the summer rendezvous in early June, he’d barely had five months with her. No matter how much time had passed, her face remained etched as clearly into his memory as if she stood before him. During those horrible months when he thought she was lost to him forever, her soft voice and delicate feminine scent had remained imprinted on his mind.

His fingers tingled, and he gripped the reins tighter. If Henry had harmed her in any way, the bastard would pay with his life. Alex’s jaw clenched. His father’s farm was just a few miles outside of town. The closer he came, the stronger the anger and rage coursed through him, as if his old man held some kind of power over him now that he was back. He shook the unpleasant feeling aside. Anger at Henry had nothing to do with his father. Any man in love would react the same way if his wife had been kidnapped.

Nagging thoughts had consumed him during those cold and lonely weeks of trekking over frozen mountain passes. What if
Evie
had married Charlie? He knew without a doubt that she would never consent to marry him of her own free will, but Henry could have easily forced her. She had no proof that she was already married. Alex shifted in the saddle. The ways of the mountain men were not honored in St. Louis. She had no proof that she was already a married woman. If she was legally wed to another man, what recourse did he have? Pushing the unpleasant thought from his mind for now, he nudged his gelding forward.

After leaving the last buildings of town behind, Alex led the way along the narrow dirt road that followed a shallow stream. Recollections from his childhood rushed back to him.  How often had he walked this road as a young boy, running errands for his mother or simply to escape his father’s temper? He glanced toward the creek. A vague memory of a young girl arguing with a boy seeped into his mind. Alex pulled his horse to a stop.

“Let’s rest here for a moment,” he called to Laurent, who shot him a grateful look. As eager as he was to find Evelyn, he didn’t want to show up at her doorstep looking and smelling like the man she’d first met in the mountains. Although he was sure that she would receive him without distain and animosity this time, he ignored the urgency to reach the farm so that he could clean up before seeing her again.

Dismounting his horse, he pulled a shirt from a pouch tied to his saddle, and headed for the creek. He could clearly see
Evie
, a sassy young girl, punching Charlie Richardson in the nose. He’d laughed silently, hiding in the bushes that day. When Charlie grabbed her and pushed her into the creek, anger had exploded inside him. He hadn’t thought twice about coming to her aid, and punching Charlie as hard as he could. The look of gratitude in her eyes that day had sent his young heart fluttering, and he’d run off like a coward. From that day, he’d avoided Henry’s sister as best as he could. A slow smile spread across his face.

You’ve been drawn to her since that day, and you never even realized it.

Quickly, he finished shaving the beard from his face that he’d let grow over the months, and slipped into his clean shirt. Impatient to find Evelyn, he strode to his horse, which was eagerly grazing the green grass along the creek bank. 

“I will catch up with you,
mon
amie
,” Laurent said. He leaned up against a wide sycamore tree. “I will give my horse a little more time to rest. You go and
be
reunited with your wife.”

Alex nodded, and climbed into the saddle. He patted his horse’s neck. “A little further, and then you’ll get some much deserved rest.”

Guiding his horse along the road, his gaze scanned into the distance. If he took the cutoff to the left, he’d reach the farm where he’d grown up. Alex had no desire to see the place. He didn’t care what became of it. He nudged his mount with his heels, and continued on his way to the Lewis farm.

Only a few more miles.
His heart pounded with apprehension and eagerness in his chest. That he’d have to confront Charlie went without question. What he didn’t know was the reception he’d receive from
Evie
. Did she think he’d forgotten about her when he didn’t come looking for her? Perhaps she had thought that he was dead, just as he had presumed about her.

A man walking behind a team of oxen in a field stopped to watch him ride by. The smell of freshly tilled soil mingled with the pungent scent of cows; scents he’d grown up with but long ago forgotten. He’d traded those smells for the musky scent of beaver. Soon, the familiar house and outbuildings of the Lewis farm came into view. A dirt yard separated the simple farmhouse from the much larger barn. Chickens cackled and scratched at the ground in the yard. He pulled his horse to a stop in front of a small corral. A shaggy brown dog came running from around the other side of the barn, barking loudly and scattering the chickens.

Alex turned his head slowly, taking in the well-kept house and barn. This property was vastly different from his cabin in the remote Teton Mountains. He suddenly felt strange and out of place here. His mountains called to him. What if
Evie
didn’t want to go back with him? He couldn’t offer her what she had here. There was no constant threat of hostile Indians or wild animals to endanger her life. Slowly, he brought his leg over his horse’s neck and hopped to the ground. The dog continued to bark at him, but kept a safe distance away.

The front door of the farmhouse opened, and a man stepped outside. Alex dropped his horse’s reins. His jaw clenched, and anger rushed through him. Charlie Richardson, the man who had put a bullet in his chest a year ago.
The man who had killed
Evie’s
parents.

Holding a rifle in his hand, Charlie pointed it at Alex.

“I see you haven’t changed, Charlie.
Gonna
try and finish what you couldn’t do last spring?” Alex glared at him, his eyes unwavering.

“Henry Lewis warned me you might show up here one day,” Charlie said, and stepped further into the yard. Alex noted the slight hesitation in his
step,
and the unsteadiness in Charlie’s hold on his weapon.

“Is that right,” Alex said casually, his hand slowly inching toward the tomahawk hanging from his belt. He stepped away from his horse, a few paces toward the farmer. “Then I suppose you must know why I’m here.”

“Leave, Walker. You have no business here,” Charlie called across the space that separated them. He continued to step away from the house, pointing his rifle at Alex’s chest. “Go back to where you came from.”

Alex’s lips parted in a sneer.
“ I’ll
leave, as soon as I get what I came here for.”

“There’s nothing here that concerns you,” Charlie said hastily.

Alex inhaled deeply. “Where is Evelyn,” he demanded, tired of beating around the bush.

“She doesn’t concern you. You need to leave.”

“Like hell she doesn’t—”

A muffled cry came from inside the house, and Charlie’s head whipped around toward the sound. A woman’s cry of pain jolted Alex to the chore.
Evie
! What was happening to her inside that house? Cold sweat and fear raced down Alex’s back. It sounded as if someone was torturing
Evie
inside. His first thought was of Henry. He seized on the diversion, ignoring the rush of panic to his own heart, and charged at Charlie. Grabbing the rifle from the distracted man’s hands, disarming him proved rather easy. Charlie was a farmer, not some Crow or Blackfoot warrior out to kill him. Alex tossed the weapon to the ground, and pulled his knife from his belt, holding it to Charlie’s throat. 

“Where’s my wife?” he snarled.

Charlie backed up. His eyes widened in panic, and he swallowed repeatedly. Sweat beaded his forehead. He shook his head vigorously from side to side.

“She’s—”

Alex grabbed Charlie by the shirt, and slammed his fist against the man’s jaw, sending him to the ground. He rushed toward the house, kicked the door open, and held his knife out in front of him. Quickly, he scanned the large central room. A fire blazed in the hearth, and everything looked neat and tidy. Muffled voices and strange sounds came from a room down the narrow hallway to the left.

“
Evie
?”
Alex roared. He sprang in the direction of the sound, his heart pounding in his chest.

A woman wearing a bloodstained apron and holding a thick bundle of white cloth in her arms emerged from the room that Alex vaguely remembered had been
Evie’s
childhood bedroom. She stared at him, her mouth set in a firm line, her eyes shooting daggers at him.

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded. “Who are you? Where’s Mr. Richardson?”

Alex glowered at the woman, his focus on the door behind her. He stepped closer when she didn’t move aside, guarding the entrance to the bedroom with the fierceness of a mother grizzly.

“Where’s Evelyn?” he demanded.

“She’s resting at the moment. You can’t go in there.”

“Alex?”

Evie’s
weak and muted voice jolted him to the core. An arrow to the chest from a Blackfoot warrior couldn’t have made a greater impact.

“Like hell I can’t,” Alex growled, and pushed past the woman. He ripped the door open amid her adamant protests. The sight before him stopped him in his tracks. The pounding of his heart in his ears seemed to drown out all sound, and the air rushed from his lungs. A quick scan of the room revealed bloody linens tossed on the ground. A washbasin stood near the foot of the bed. It looked as if something had been butchered in this room.

Chapter 22

Alex’s eyes fell to the figure on the bed along the wall in the center of the room. His heart lurched in his chest.

“Alex?
Oh my God, Alex?”
Evelyn cried, struggling to lift herself up from the bed.

Dressed in a long white cotton nightgown, Evelyn sat half-reclined on the mattress. She braced her hands on either side of her to slide her body to a more upright position. Her eyes grew wide, and tears rolled down her cheeks. Her face looked ashen and matched the color of the sheets. Sweat-soaked hair clung to her forehead. She held her arm out toward him, beckoning him to her. He didn’t need any further encouragement.