“And he graduated from Harvard Law School,” she said.
“Your world is very different.”
“But the people are the same. Hardworking folks doing the best they can for their families.”
“Your pa did well for his. I saw pictures of your farm and the mansion.”
“MacKlenna Farm doesn’t belong to me. I’m not a MacKlenna.”
His fingertips brushed her face as if they were pencils drawing intricate lines and shapes. “You say that, but there‘s a voice behind your eyes that screams it’s not true.”
“The MacKlenna tradition informed the person I am.”
“And you’ll teach that tradition to our children.”
One day she would birth his son, and the child would grow up to be like his father whom she knew very little about. “How many women have you been with?”
“What kind of question is that?” His tone was brusque, his eyes glaring.
“A reasonable one. You might have a disease.”
“I’ve always been careful.”
“Are you going to answer my question?”
“It’s none of your concern.” His handsome face appeared troubled, the corners of his eyes strained.
“I have a right to know.”
“Nae.” He rolled on top of her and nuzzled her neck, scratching her with his whiskers.
She pushed him away. “This is important.”
“You do not
need to worry yourself with this matter, Kitherina.”
She swallowed back tears. “I’m getting in the spring.” Grabbing their top blanket, she threw it around her shoulders and rushed off to the water.
The soaking did wonders for her body, but nothing for her hurt feelings.
She had been in the water for only a few minutes when Cullen appeared at her side and tenderly stroked her arm. “I’ve had no one to answer to for several years. I considered your question intrusive, but I don’t think you were asking for a number. I believe you were asking me to share who I am.”
He paused and sighed with a heavy breath. “There have been more women than I can count, more than I can remember. None of them meant anything, and I’m not proud of that.” He moved his hands up her arms and gently kneaded her shoulders.
“I never met a woman I cared to be with more than once until I met you. I’ve had feelings with you I’ve never had before. I wish I could give you an answer that would satisfy you. I can’t. I’ve been more discreet as I’ve aged. Please understand that my life began the moment I met you.”
As did hers. She slipped into his arms and their honeymoon ended the way it began. But Kit could not dislodge the memory of the deep red glow across Cullen’s chest and the fear notched on her heart.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“IT’S TOO QUIET.” A tingling sensation ran up and down Kit’s spine as she and Cullen approached the wagon train camped at the Dry Sandy Ford. Campfires and strong coffee infused twilight with familiar smells, but the absence of Mr. Cameron’s fiddle sent a hot spasm to the back of her throat and visions of murdered people to the forefront of her mind.
Those damn killers could be anywhere at any time.
Cullen shifted in his saddle and eased his hand closer to his hip, to his gun. His eyes swept the camp right to left, then slowly back again. “Mr. Cameron’s fingers must be sore tonight.”
She pulled her gun from her saddlebag and tucked it between the folds of her bunched-up skirt. Her trouser-covered legs twitched slightly from the long horseback ride. “I hope he’s not sick.”
They fell silent as they drew near Kit’s wagon on the north side of the circle.
Adam spotted them and sprang to his feet, holding a book with a two-fisted grip. “Glad you’re back.” A sigh of relief relaxed his shoulders.
Cullen dismounted and stretched his long frame. “Anything we should know?”
“Quiet as a hog’s tit.” Adam tucked the book under one arm and held Stormy’s bridle while Kit dismounted. The pistol went back into her saddlebag.
“Where’s Mr. Cameron?”
“Said he was taking the night off. I suspect his fingers are tired. He kept playing long after you rode off yesterday.”
“Bless his fiddle-fingered-heart,” Kit said.
“I’ll tend to the horses. Pa wanted to know as soon as you got back, Mr. Montgomery.”
“I’d best head over there.” Cullen whispered into Kit’s ear, “Thank you, Mrs. Montgomery for a night I’ll long remember.” He put his hands to her cheeks, eased her head back, and kissed her soundly.
Adam coughed.
She smiled a bittersweet smile. Now that they were back in camp, she had to share her husband with everyone else. “I’ll go with you.”
A few minutes later, they walked into the Barretts’ camp.
“About time you two showed up,” John said
Henry chuckled. “I thought we’d have to send out a search party.”
“Looks to me like you were relaxing, not rounding up volunteers.”
Braham handed Cullen a cigar. “How was the hot spring?”
He winked at Kit. “Well worth the ride.”
He waved his double entendre like a red flag in front of a bull. Her face heated. Thankfully, Frances, with her impeccable timing, plowed into Kit’s legs, nearly bowling her over.
“
You’re back
. We thought Mr. Montgomery would keep you
forever
.”
“We’ll have school tomorrow. Are your lessons done?”
“Mama helped us.”
“Frances, run along. Mrs. Montgomery is tired,” Sarah said.
Frances whispered in Kit’s ear loud enough for everyone to hear. “Did you get a baby while you were gone?”
“There’s no baby, Frances. It’s time for bed.” Sarah said.
Frances bobbed her mane of leonine curls. “Maybe next time you go away you’ll get a boy.”
Kit vacillated between bursting out laughing or throwing cold water on her heated face. The child defined precociousness.
“
Frances.
” Sarah’s tone was uncharacteristically sharp.
The little girl skipped away unfazed by her mother’s censure. Sarah seemed either worried or ill. Her outburst was out of character. Kit poured a cup of coffee and hugged her friend.
Sarah eased back in her chair at the table, her eyes unreadable in the firelight. “The girl’s too sassy.”
Kit settled into a chair next to Sarah and patted her hand. “I think she’s tired of being the youngest, but I’m not ready to be a mother.”
Sarah traced the grooves in the wood tabletop with a chipped fingernail, following its deep lines as they splintered off into different directions. “Life has a way of tempting us with the easier path when the harder one is often more rewarding.”
Kit shook her head. Another pithy
Sarahism
. “You don’t feel well, do you?”
Sarah stood, rubbing her chest. “Supper didn’t sit right. I’m turning in. I’ll be better by morning.”
A flurry of goose bumps flew up Kit’s arms. “Send John if you need me during the night.”
“I’ll see you in the morning.” Sarah waddled away, her hand pressed against her lower back. Abrupt, short tempered, shallow breathing, flushed face. Kit’s paramedic antenna inched out of her scalp.
The men were huddled over a map spread out on the table. John pointed his pipe at Cullen. “Folks are talking about the Sublette Cut-off to the Green River.”
Cullen removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He’d had very little sleep in the past two days. “I took the cut-off last time out. Four days of dry camp. Hell on the people. Worse on the animals. Can’t recommend the route. The trail through Fort Bridger adds three days, but at least you’ve got water and grass.”
John tapped his pipe against his bottom teeth. “It takes us in the wrong direction.”
“Temporarily,” Henry said.
“You’ll get opposition, but if that’s what you recommend, I’m with you.” John paused then turned to Braham. “What about you? You still leaving?”
Braham puffed on his cigar. “When we reach the Hudspeth Cut-Off.”
“Hate to lose you. You’re the best hunter we got,” Henry said.
“If I didn’t have a job waiting, I’d be tempted to head to Oregon.”
“And you, Cullen?”
He tugged on his lips. “Like Braham, I have a job waiting in San Francisco.”
“Surely lawyers are needed in the Willamette Valley same as California,” John said. “Why don’t you both open an office there?”
Cullen slapped Braham’s shoulder. “I believe he’ll find more opportunities in San—”
“Where’s Sarah?” John asked, narrowing his eyes.
“She went to bed. Said she didn’t feel well,” Kit said.
He pushed away from the table. “Did she say what was wrong?”
“Not specifically.”
“I need to go to her.” In the ten weeks they’d been traveling together, Kit had never seen intense-methodical-John rush off to do anything.
“She was quiet at dinner. Didn’t eat much,” Braham said.
“Then that’s not why she’s sick.” Kit mulled over possible illnesses.
Henry tapped the burnt tobacco from his pipe bowl. “Is she breeding?”
Kit shook her head slowly. “Surely not.” With a husband, five children, and more than nine-hundred miles to travel before they’d reach Oregon, she hoped Sarah wasn’t pregnant. Although from comments she’d made, Kit was certain her friend wanted another baby.
John stuck his head through the tent flaps. “Kit, Sarah’s asking for you.”
Kit’s mouth went dry as she hurried over to the Barretts’ tent. Inside she found Sarah on her cot, curled in the fetal position. Her deep low moans sounded like a woman in labor. “Sarah, are you pregnant?”
Sweat trickled down John’s face. “Baby’s due in October. She didn’t want anyone to know.”
Kit did a quick calculation. The baby was only about twenty-four weeks. There was no chance of survival. She squatted next to Sarah’s cot, dabbed at the perspiration on her face. “I’m going to my wagon for supplies. I’ll be right back.”
Kit motioned to John to meet her outside. Mr. Cameron had finally picked up his fiddle and was playing a piece Kit didn’t recognize, slow and mournful.
John leaned over and kissed his wife. “I’ll return directly.”
Kit and John walked out together. Once out of Sarah’s earshot, she turned to him. “I need a few things from my wagon. Sarah will probably deliver the baby tonight. You understand what that means don’t you?”
He sweated copiously now. A sheen of tears welled in his eyes.
Cullen stepped close, calmly threading his hat’s brim through his fingers. “How can I help, lass?” His voice whispered over her like a cool breeze, bringing his strength and reassurance.
“Sarah’s going to lose the baby,” John said, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Please don’t let anything happen to her. She’s my life.” He buried his face in his hands. Cullen squeezed John’s shoulder in a tender expression of sympathy that reflected in Cullen’s liquid eyes. The shared moment passed quickly. John dried his eyes and went back to his wife.
“I didn’t even know she was pregnant,” Kit said. “If I had known, I would have done more of her work, taken more responsibility. Now she’s losing her baby. I could have made a difference.”
Cullen hooked her elbow and turned her to face him. “Don’t take this on yourself. What you did or didn’t do has no bearing on Sarah’s baby. If anything, you’ve made her trip easier. This is not your fault, and I won’t have you blaming yourself.”
She sighed, her shoulders sagging under the weight of all that had happened during the past three days. “Walk with me to get my red bag.”
“You have medicine that will help, don’t you?” His question came with the expectation she had an unlimited supply of miracle cures. She didn’t. She gave him a sad smile. “I can’t save the baby.”
“Have you ever delivered one?”
“Four. All healthy and full-term. They arrived before the moms could get to the hospital. This will be the first…little one.”
“Should we get Mrs. Cameron to help?”
“It would be best if no one else was in there. Just in case…”
Cullen climbed into their wagon and came back out with the red bag wrapped in a blanket. “Do you need your medical box too?”
“This has everything I need.”
“Could your hospital save Sarah’s baby?” There was a curious emphasis in his question.
She leaned against the wagon and scrubbed her face with her hands. “Are you asking me if I’d consider taking Sarah to my time to save her baby? If you are, the answer is no. There have been incredible medical advances over the past century and a half, but saving a baby that size is rare. Those who survive usually have serious health problems.
His face creased with a mixture of sadness and relief.
“There’s another reason I wouldn’t take her back.” She lowered her voice to almost a whisper. “I don’t think the brooch is a revolving door. I could be wrong. But I believe the stone comes with a purpose. If I’m not pursuing that purpose, it might not work. I don’t know that for sure, but neither do I want to test it.”
He managed a thin-lipped smile. “The time might come, lass, when you’ll need to test its magic. But you’re right. The stone will do what it’s meant to do. No more. No less.” His quiet eyes held some emotion he tightly guarded.
She stood on tiptoes and kissed him. “Thank you for loving me.”
He returned her kiss, pulling her against his body. The muscled planes of his chest were familiar to her now. “Take care of Sarah. I’ll take care of you.”
Kit entered the Barretts’ stuffy tent carrying her paramedic bag rolled up in a wool blanket.
John squeezed his wife’s hand. “I’ll wait outside. But when the time comes, I want to be with you.” He turned to leave.
“John,” Sarah called after him, “don’t tell the girls.”
He shoved both hands through his hair. “They went with Mrs. Cameron. They know you’re feeling poorly. That’s all they’re to know.”
Kit’s throat thickened at the thought of how heartsick Frances would be, but Sarah’s heart must be on the verge of breaking, too. What emotions had Kit’s birth mother experienced when she’d sent her spiraling through the amber light, scared and alone? Twenty-five years later, the sense of aloneness had never left her—until now. Until Cullen pierced the veil.