Deep as the Rivers (Santa Fe Trilogy) (36 page)

   
Samuel rubbed his chaffed wrists and looked from Johnstone to the quiet woman. Olivia stood staring at the bright molten ball of orange dipping below the uneven spikes of the post’s fence. The sun’s dying rays turned her hair to living flame and limned her proud patrician profile in gold. She was so beautiful she fair robbed him of breath. And possibly she was just as treacherous.

   
“Let’s talk to your priest, Johnstone,” he said grimly.

   
Father Louie was a slight dark-haired man with a hooked nose and shrewd black eyes. His face was swarthy, burned by the sun and seamed by wind. Deep grooves around his mouth gave the appearance of harshness until he smiled.

   
“
Bon soir
, Monsieur Johnstone. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Perhaps you are interested in taking instruction and being baptized at last,
mon ami
?” The merry glint in his eyes belied that he seriously believed such to be the case.

   
“You preachers jist never give up,” Micajah said with a grin as he reached out to envelope the diminutive man’s hand in his huge one. “Nope, I come on serious bidness though. Hit’s about these two tomfool young’uns.” He motioned to Samuel and Olivia. “They need ta git hitched.”

   
Father Louie looked at the handsome couple standing well apart from each other. They scarcely looked like lovebirds. In fact they seemed to be rather antagonistic at the moment, casting each other furtive, angry glances.

   
“This here’s Sparky, er, Mam’sel Olivia St. Et-tane,” he said, stumbling over her full French name as he shoved her forward to meet the priest. “She’s my ‘dopted daughter. ‘N this big buck is Samuel Shelby, an American soldier boy. A colonel he is, but sorty out o’ uniform fer the time bein’.”

   
“Charmed, Mademoiselle St. Etienne,” the priest said graciously. “I did not know this old rogue had such a lovely daughter in his charge.” He turned to Samuel. “Colonel Shelby. We do not get many Americans here save for an occasional trapper, but then if you wish a marriage performed, I shall be most happy to oblige.”

   
“Our wishes on the matter need to be discussed,” Samuel said in a measured voice.

   
“How so?” Father Louie inquired as Micajah growled a low warning.

   
“The lady and I don’t want to get married. We aren’t at all suited to each other.”

   
“Cudda fooled me when I seen yew rasslin’ ‘round on th’ ground like a pair o’ bobcats in heat. Yew fit together right well then,” Micajah interjected sourly.

   
Father Louie’s expression became grave as he turned back to Samuel. “Is what he says true, my son?”

   
“No;—well, yes,” he admitted grudgingly. “But we didn’t intend to let it get out of hand,” he amended lamely. “Anyway, he interrupted us before the act was consummated.” Samuel felt his face breaking out in a cold sweat.

   
“What he says is true. Micajah saved me from committing a terrible folly,” Olivia added, staring at the priest, giving no more than a scathing glance to Samuel.

   
Father Louie stroked his chin consideringly, looking from the murderously intent expression on Micajah’ s face to the nervously squirming young people. “And if Micajah had not so fortunately come along to insist on the proprieties, would you then have stopped before the act was consummated?” His shrewd black eyes moved between Olivia and Samuel. She blushed and looked away, shaking her head.

   
Shelby muttered an oath beneath his breath and returned the priest’s stare. After a moment he sighed dejectedly and admitted, “No, I wouldn’t have.”

   
“I see,” Father Louie replied consideringly. “You do know that God considers intent in sin almost as serious as the act itself?”

   
Was there the slightest bit of irony in those last three words?

   
“The point is that in fact I did not compromise Mademoiselle St. Etienne,” Samuel said tenaciously, refusing to be drawn into a theological debate.

   
“The point is I wouldn’t marry you even if you had!” Olivia replied furiously.

   
“How long have you known Colonel Shelby, child?” Father Louie asked gently. A woman of her obvious education and breeding scarcely seemed the sort to succumb to a handsome stranger’s casual blandishments.

   
There was something about the priest that made it impossible for her to withhold the truth from him. “We met in Washington last winter. Then again when he came to St. Louis in the spring.”

   
“So, you have been, er, acquainted for nearly a year and”—he turned suddenly to Samuel—”you followed the lady from the East Coast all the way across the Mississippi?”

   
What could he say without revealing his mission in the region? Damn and damn again! “Not precisely. I was posted to the Cantonment at Fort Bellefontaine outside St. Louis, but I did expect to meet her again while I was in the city.” He, too, found it impossible to lie with those fathomless dark eyes on him.

   
“Th’ two damnfool young’uns is too stubborn ta admit they got feelin’s fer each other—but when th’ chance comes, they ain’t too stubborn ta act on ‘em,” Micajah averred triumphantly.

   
“I cannot perform a marriage if you refuse, of course, but it would seem there are a great many reasons for you to agree. To what do you object?” he asked Olivia.

   
“To him!” she said, glaring at Samuel. “He thinks I’m—” She broke off, unable to repeat the hateful innuendoes.

   
“And you, my son?” the priest asked when Olivia was unable to go on. “A man who does what you have done has the moral obligation to put it right, especially considering the duration of the relationship.” He waited, patiently studying the unhappy young soldier while at the same time catching Micajah’s nod of approval from the corner of his eye.

   
Father Louie had been friends with the frontiersman for nearly twenty years, and he knew Micajah to be nobody’s fool. If Johnstone believed these young people to be in love and suited for each other, that was good enough for him.

   
Samuel struggled with his conscience. The very last thing on earth he wanted was another wife, especially one who might be involved in British espionage. But Micajah and Olivia had saved his life—she had in fact saved it twice. He owed them both a debt of honor on that count and he had behaved badly toward the woman, regardless of her provocation. Protecting her reputation would make Johnstone happy and he could offer Olivia a comfortable settlement to live on once he became established in the Santa Fe trade with Santiago. She would have her freedom from Wescott—if she truly wanted it—and he would not need to be encumbered with a second wife...or so he told himself.

   
“I have no further objections. I’ll marry her,” he replied stoically.

   
Olivia’s head jerked up and she stared at him in stunned amazement. “Well, I won’t marry you.”

   
“You’re behaving childishly, Olivia. Consider the alternatives,” he said, looking from the grave priest to the scowling Johnstone.

   
Of all the ways she had imagined her wedding day, this was certainly not one! This was a nightmare. But one from which she would not simply awaken.
He plans to annul the marriage
, she realized at once. Well, why not? She could certainly prove her virginity if it came to an examination! He would never learn the truth about her until it was too late...or so she told herself.

   
Without warning the pain clawed at her heart and a giant lump formed in her throat, making it difficult for her to say, “Very well. I will marry you, Colonel.”

   
They recited their vows in the small rude chapel made of mud-chinked logs. Neither of them could have said what went on during the ceremony as they walked through the motions, but soon Micajah was slapping Samuel on the back and hugging Olivia joyously.

   
“Father Louie here says they’s an empty cabin jest across th’ post, where th’ manager o’ th’ mercantile ‘n his wife lived till he up ‘n quit last month. Traders in St. Louis ain’t sent anyone to replace ‘em yet, so yew kin use hit fer tonight.”

   
“Where will you sleep, Micajah?” Olivia asked, refusing to consider how she and her new husband would make their sleeping arrangements in a small trader’s cabin.

   
“Shucks, I kin bunk with th’ good father here. I ain’t fixin’ ta waste any more time watchin’ out fer th’ two of yew. Don’t need ta no more.” He winked at Samuel and then patted Olivia’s hand gently. “Tamorah we’ll say our good-byes ‘n plan fer our next rendezvous. I ‘spect ta be bouncin’ a grandbaby on my knee afore th’ snow flies next year.”

   
She nodded and forced a smile to her lips. How could she bear to hurt him with the truth? When he and the priest bade them good night in front of the small cabin, she turned to Samuel, not knowing what to say.

   
Samuel. Her husband.

   
In name only
, she reminded herself. There would be no grandbabies for Micajah, no love for her. She would not humiliate herself further by crying. Her “husband” was not worth her tears. “Well, do you have a coin to flip? Heads I get the bed, tails you do.”

   
He looked down at her with an unreadable expression on his face. “You do understand we can reach an agreement? When I’m able to return to St. Louis I’ll make arrangements for your support. Although I’m not a wealthy man, I’ll have a comfortable living from my investment in my brother-in-law’s trading company.”

   
She was taken aback by his words which seemed to imply that he did not intend to end the sham marriage. “I don’t want your money, Samuel, living as your wife or your mistress.” She turned and walked through the open door into the cabin.

   
Father Louie had asked one of the clerks from the mercantile to prepare the place. A lone candle burned on the table in the center of the room and a cheerful fire crackled its welcome from the hearth. In the far corner, a modest-sized double bed had been made up with a patchwork quilt and the covers turned back. Suddenly the room seemed suffocatingly intimate. Her breath caught and she turned to face him, unable to stop herself from saying in a breathless rush, “Just have the marriage annulled and leave me in peace.”

   
Her angry denunciation startled him. “Why? I have no plans to ever marry again. We can live separately without any problems. My military career and my future business will keep me away from St. Louis most of the year. I’ll secure you a house of your own.”

   
How cold-blooded he sounded, patiently explaining a soulless, loveless arrangement to her while her heart shattered in a million shards. “I want the marriage annulled,” she gritted out.

   
He had been trying to be patient under such difficult circumstances, but her anger fanned the spark of his temper. “Might that not prove a bit awkward? To get an annulment you would have to prove the marriage had never been consummated.”

   
“Well, it sure as hell won’t be consummated!” she snapped before the implication of his remark sunk in. When it did, her hands curved into claws as she took a step toward him, itching to slap the insulting look of cynical disgust from his face.

   
“I wouldn’t try it,” he purred softly.

   
Suddenly an overwhelming rush of tears threatened to engulf her. Olivia turned away quickly lest he see the incriminating evidence of her stupidity.
How could I have fallen in love with such a black-hearted, mule-headed, cold-blooded...
“Leave me alone,” she said hoarsely, praying her composure did not crack.

   
As soon as he uttered the cruel insinuation, Samuel regretted it. Their situation was unpleasant enough without making a mortal enemy of her. They would have to learn to deal civilly together, at least until they got back to St. Louis. Making her killingly angry and ready to fly at him was stupid for a man who had always prided himself on his coolness in adverse situations. Why was it that he had lost his temper more times in the scant year he’d know Olivia St. Etienne than he had in all the rest of his life?

   
“Look, we’ve been through a lot the past few days,” he said placatingly. “Get yourself ready for sleep—you take the bed. I’ll take the settee. While you’re doing that I’ll go over to Father Louie’s kitchen and bring back that wedding supper his cook has supposedly prepared for us.”

   
“Fine,” she replied, looking dubiously at the rickety little settee by the front window, which surely could not accommodate a man of Samuel’s size. When she heard the door close, she turned around, almost as if she were hungry to capture his lingering scent on the chill evening air. “I really am a fool.”

   
She walked over to where her possibles sack lay on the table and opened the heavy leather pouch, rummaging until she found the simple cotton night rail she had sewn from a bolt of cloth Micajah had taken in trade. The fabric was yellowed with age but soft and comfortable. She held up the long-sleeved, high-necked sleepwear and wrinkled her nose. Hardly the sort of gown she had imagined wearing on her wedding night, but then this was hardly the sort of wedding night any woman envisioned.