Colorado Dawn (43 page)

“Aye.” Tears filled her eyes. “Over two months ago.”

The ground seemed to waffle beneath Ash’s feet. Images flashed through his mind. Donnan, Neil, his parents. So many lost. “I should have been there,” he said, still trying to digest that Donnan was gone, and now he was the last brother left.

“Dinna do that to yourself, Angus. It happened in his sleep. He dinna suffer.” In a stronger voice, she said, “Colin, here, has come to handle all the legalities of the transfer. They’re a maze to me. I ken you shy away from paperwork, but you can trust Colin to help you sort through it all. Fain has helped me handle things until we could find you, and now that we have, we can complete the transfer, then all go back home together.”

His sister’s voice barely penetrated the numbness in his mind. He blinked at her, trying to make sense of the words.
Go back?

A feeling of suffocation gripped his throat.

No. ’Tis too soon.

He turned, seeking Maddie, and saw her watching from the doorway, a tormented look on her ashen face. He wanted to reassure her, tell her this was a mistake and they would figure something out. But the words couldn’t get past the clog in his throat.

Glynnis put her hand over his. “I know you grieve for Donnan, Angus, but you must—”

“No.” He wanted to thrust the plaid back at his sister. Deny that any of this had happened. “I dinna want this.” ’
Tis too soon.
I’m not ready
. His body started to shake. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

“ ’Tis your duty, Angus. There’s no one else.”

“Bugger duty!”

“Lord Kirkwell.” MacPherson gave a nervous cough. “If we could go someplace private where we could discuss—”

“No! There’s naught to—”

“My office,” Miss Hathaway cut in, stepping past Ash toward her suite of rooms behind the front desk. “This way, if you will. May I get you refreshments?”

At a sound, Ash looked over to see Maddie racing up the staircase, Edwina Brodie and Prudence Lincoln staring after her. “Lass! Maddie!”

She stopped and turned, her face white, her hands clutching the rail. He saw the glisten of tears on her stricken face, and everything inside of him rebelled at what he was doing to her.

“Dinna run from me now,” he begged, not caring who heard. “Please, lass. We’ll work something out.”

“I k-know.” Then she whirled and continued up the stairs and out of his sight.

Maddie burst through the door of the suite, Edwina and Pru moments behind her.

Oh God, oh God…

“Maddie! What’s happening? What’s going on?”

“He’s dead.”

“Who’s dead?”

“Donnan. His brother.” Stopping in the middle of the sitting room, she clapped shaking hands to her head and tried to stop the spinning. “Ash is now the earl. He’ll have to go back.”

“Back? To Scotland?”

“Yes.”
Oh God. It’s too soon
.

“Will you go, too?”

“Yes—No—I don’t know.” She took a deep breath. Then another.
And another. She took her hands away. The shaking slowed. Moving on unsteady legs, she went to one of the chairs by the window and sank down before her knees gave out. “Yes. I have to go back, too.”

Pru knelt beside her. “Is that what you want?”

“I gave my word.”

“I knew it,” Edwina wailed, plopping into the chair across from Maddie’s. “We’ll never see you again.”

The door opened. Lucinda came in, carrying a bottle of brandy and an armful of glasses. She set them on the table, pulled the stopper from the bottle, and with a trembling hand, poured a small measure of amber liquid into each glass. With a fixed smile, she passed them around, then lifted hers high. “To our new countess.” She tossed hers back in a single swallow, carefully set the glass on the table, then burst into tears.

Within seconds, all of them were crying.

“It’s probably for the best,” Maddie said, once she had regained control.

Edwina dabbed at her puffy eyes. “For whom?”

“Our children, if we have any. His family. Ash.”

“What about you?” Lucinda asked. “Is this what you want?”

“And what about your photography?” Pru cut in.

Blinking back more tears, Maddie looked out the window beside her. The lowering sun outlined the snowy peaks in gold and pink. Already aspen leaves coated the ground and soon the snow would come to stay through the long winter. She envisioned a whole new world of light and shadow emerging from the frozen ground—stark, bare alder branches—tall firs rising like white-capped sentinels, their limbs drooping beneath a burden of snow—icicle daggers hanging from the eaves—tracks cutting across an unbroken drift of powdery snow. She would miss trying to capture all that with her camera.

But if she stayed, she would miss Ash more. So much more.

Turning from the window, she smiled weakly at her beloved friends. “Mr. Satterwhite accused me of hiding behind my camera.
I think perhaps he was right. Being here with all of you—seeing Edwina with her new family, and Pru with Thomas and her school, and watching Lucinda give this crusty little town new hope—has made me realize there can be so much more for me than a collection of photographs in some dusty book on a stranger’s shelf. I want it all. And with Ash I can have it.”

Tears were starting again, and she didn’t want it to end that way. Forcing a smile, she poured another swallow into each glass. “Here’s to us,” she said, raising hers high. “Still and always the ladies of Heartbreak Creek…no matter where we are.”

Behind her, the door opened, and Maddie turned to see Ash in the doorway. His face was as pale and drawn as if he were in the throes of one of his headaches. “If you don’t mind, ladies, I need to talk to my wife.”

While they murmured their good-byes and filed out, he went to the table and poured a brandy. He was on his second drink when he heard the door close and the rustle of her skirts as Maddie come up behind him. His nerves were so frayed he couldn’t hold back a shiver when she rested her hand on the small of his back. “Ash, I’m so sorry about Donnan.”

“Aye.” He stared down into his glass, afraid to turn and look into her face. “And I’m sorry, too, lass, to let you down once again.”

“Let me down? How?”

“The earldom.” He downed the last swallow, then carefully set the glass back on the table. “I tried to give it to Glynnis, but she wouldna take it.”

Moving around to his side, she stared up into his face. “The earldom? To Glynnis?”

“In Scotland it’s possible for a daughter to inherit. But only if there’s no male heir. I told her we could pretend she dinna find me and have me declared dead. But she wouldna do that. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Ash.” He expected tears and regrets, but instead, she put her arms around him and hugged him close. “You nincompoop.”
Rising on tiptoe, she pressed a kiss against his neck, then settled back and rested her head over his heart.

He looked down at her glossy auburn curls and felt an unfamiliar sting in his eyes. His love for this woman was like a living thing lodged in his chest, and with every breath it seemed to grow. “Nincompoop?”

“Only a nincompoop would apologize to his wife for making her a countess.”

“In name only.”

“What?” She drew back to look questioningly up at him again.

“Glynnis wouldn’t accept the title, but she is happy to take over Northbridge to hold for our son, should we have one.”

“What?”

He brushed a curl off her cheek. “Have you gone deaf, lass? You canna hear what I’m saying?”

“We’re not going back?”

“Perhaps every few years for a visit. But not to live. Unless that’s what you want.”

Her brows drew together. “But what do you want, Ash?”

“You, lass. Any way I can get you.”

She dinna seem impressed by his gallant turn of phrase. Hope dwindled. “What’s wrong, Maddie? I thought you’d be pleased.”

“That you’ve given up your birthright? I told you I’d go back with you. There’s no need to give up Northbridge and the duties that await you there.”

“I dinna give it up. I only left it in my sister’s care. I never wanted it, lass. But Glynnis does, and she’ll do right by it, so she will.”

“So you’re no longer Ashby, but now Kirkwell. Or both, until we have an heir. That should confuse these Americans thoroughly.”

“Then let’s just use Angus, love, unless you’d rather tout the title. I dinna feel much like an earl.”

“You
look
every inch of one.” She studied him through narrowed eyes, her mouth slightly askew as it often was when she was puzzling something through. He could almost hear her sorting it all out in her fine mind.

“So you
want
to stay here?” she finally asked. “In Heartbreak Creek?”

“Aye.”

“You’re certain?”

“Well…” He shrugged at her befuddled expression. “Not precisely
in
Heartbreak Creek. But perhaps out on the grassy flats where the view stretches all the way to the sky. Not too close to the church, of course. I wouldn’t want the pastor dropping by too often. Someplace with enough room to breed a few horses—a man must do something useful with his life even if he’s an earl, so he should. And I could seek buyers when we travel about to make your photographs. Would that be all right with you, lass?”

She dinna answer because she was crying again. And laughing. And trying to pull his shirt over his head. It made no sense.

But he wasna complaining.

Maddie awoke to the sound of a shrieking cat caught in a trap. She lurched upright and looked frantically around until she realized it was not an injured animal, but the screech and wail of bagpipes coming from behind the hotel. Throwing aside the covers, she rose, wrapped herself in a blanket, and crossed to the window her husband insisted be left open at night.

Ash stood beside the back stoop, talking to Fain and Glynnis and the solicitor, while Fain helped him adjust the pipes under his arm. He was dressed in full highland garb as befitted an earl of the realm, and he looked utterly magnificent.

“Lass,” he called, catching sight of her in the window. “We’re piping Donnan to the cemetery. Will you come?”

It’s barely even dawn, for heaven’s sake
. “Of course.” Ducking back into the room, she quickly dressed. As she struggled to brush the tangles from her hair, Glynnis came in. Maddie rushed over and put her arms around her, as she hadn’t had a chance to do the previous afternoon.

“Oh, Glynnis, I’m so sorry about Donnan.”

“He’s at peace now,” the older woman said, brushing away a tear. “And all is as it should be. Here, I brought you this.” She held out a folded tartan. “As the Countess of Kirkwell, it’s yours now.”

“How lovely.” Smiling uncertainly, Maddie accepted the plaid. “What do I do with it?”

Glynnis grinned and shook her head. “You wear it, ye daft Englishwoman. And proudly. Here, I’ll show you.”

Draping the long length of soft wool under one arm, she pulled it back up to cross over the opposite shoulder then pinned it in place with the Kirkwell brooch. After fluffing the folds so that it hung evenly three-quarters of the way down Maddie’s shirts, she stood back to admire her work. “Och, lass. You look quite grand, so you do.”

Maddie felt grand, too.

By the time they came out the back door of the hotel, Lucinda, Pru, all the Brodies, Mr. Driscoll, both dogs, Doc and Janet Boyce, Mayor Gebbers and his wife, and even that rude Cal Bagley were standing in the street, while still more townspeople were arriving.

Seeing Maddie’s surprise, Glynnis whispered that Lucinda had passed the word that the Earl and Countess of Kirkwell were paying tribute to the earl’s deceased brother, then hosting a dinner at the hotel.

“Are we?”

“Aye.” Glynnis grinned. “You’re verra generous, so you are.”

Another bleat, then a long rattling sigh as Angus adjusted the bass drone and tuning slide on the pipes.

Maddie refrained from covering her ears. “I cannot believe you brought Angus’s bagpipes all the way from Scotland.”

“Those are Fain’s. He willna be without them. The man is more Scottish than Robert the Bruce ever was. But dinna fret, lass, we’ll be sending Angus’s pipes with his other belongings after we return to Northbridge.”

“Or we can get them when next we visit,” Maddie offered hopefully. “Angus said we’d be coming over every few years.” And perhaps by then, the dampness would have rotted the sheepskin bag.

“I doubt he’ll be wanting to wait that long. He loves his pipes.”

Maddie sighed. Then she would learn to love his bagpipes, too.

The procession lined up behind Ash, with Maddie first, followed by Glynnis, then Fain and the solicitor. The Heartbreak Creek ladies, Declan, and his children came next, then various other people fell in behind them.

Ash puffed into the blowpipe, the bag under his arm expanded, the drones coughed to life, and the pipe chanter emitted the first high note. And suddenly, the strains of “Amazing Grace” blasted the air.

Maddie winced. Birds fled. Somewhere a dog howled.

Then just as the sun burst above the frosted peaks, crowning the treetops with bright golden light, the procession marched forward toward the little church at the end of the canyon.

Ash was right, Maddie thought, watching the play of light on her husband’s tousled silver hair and the sway of the kilt above his braw legs—there was nothing quite like a Colorado dawn, especially when accompanied by the haunting strains of the pipes of Scotland.

Deep in her heart, she felt Mr. Satterwhite’s smile.

New York City, 1855

The first fire wagon raced past Father O’Rourke as he turned onto Mulberry Bend in the wretched Irish district of Five Points. Within minutes, two more rattled by, the horses blowing steam into the chill evening air, the men manning the sirens and bells pumping furiously.

Quickening his pace, the priest continued toward the reddish glow up ahead, partially obscured by swirls of dark, oily smoke.