Mary Connealy (37 page)

It was a long time before the pangs came again. But they came. Belle prayed for her little unborn daughter, whispered that God would keep them both safe.

The cool spring air gusted around her and the horses kept up their fast walk, the clomp of hoofbeats echoing in the sunset.

The three hours she had estimated shrunk to two. The contractions kept coming, a bit closer each time. Belle saw the rise ahead, the long, treacherous curve of the trail climbing up into the gap that led home. In another hour she’d make it. Not home, but through that gap, on her own land. That was home enough for her. She just might unhitch the wagon at that point, if the pangs hadn’t gotten too hard.

As she struggled to move her horses along, she heard something behind her. A rider. She turned back to see Anthony coming at a fast lope. Belle’s spirits lifted to know she wouldn’t be out here alone any longer. Even Anthony would be better than being alone.

As he drew near, she turned. “Anthony. The baby’s coming. Thank goodness you’ve come. I need help.”

Anthony pulled his horse to a walk as he came up beside her. “What can I do?”

“You can just be with me. I’m a long way from home. I’m scared.”

“Belle Tanner Svendson O’Rourke Santoni scared of something? I doubt it.” He kicked his horse and picked up speed.

“Wait!”

Anthony turned to glare at her, as if she’d asked him to help with chores.

“I need you to stay with me. What if the baby comes before—” A pain hit, cutting off her speech. This one was stronger than the others. She knew her body. She knew how it felt as the birth came. She still had time, but what if she couldn’t drive the team any longer? It would be hard to keep going when the time drew near. She’d need to ride the brake hard all the way down the other side of the gap.

“You’ve never needed me, Belle. Why should you start now?”

Belle couldn’t answer until the pains faded. “Anthony, I have
always
needed you. You’re the one who refused to be part of this family. I could use your help every day.” She thought of how much he could help. She saw him, sitting straight and strong on his horse. His
back
was fine. But they’d been all through that a hundred times. Repeating it wasn’t of any use.

“Oh, you’ve maybe wanted to make me help on
your
ranch. You’ve maybe wished for another cowhand you could work like your daughters. But that’s not
need.
You don’t
need
a husband, Belle. You need a
slave.
I’ve got too much pride to work as your slave.” His voice went beyond contempt and anger. He sounded as if he hated her. His eyes told her that he definitely did. He kicked his horse and tore off at a gallop.

Yes, he’d always been lazy.

Yes, he’d always been a cheat.

But why would he hate her? Would he really be so cruel as to abandon her in pain on the trail? “At least send one of the girls!”

Anthony laughed, his voice carrying back to her on the wind. “If I see one of your little slaves, I’ll send her.”

Would he possibly refuse to send help? She’d kept him fed and in spending money for a year now. Belle’s spirit felt crushed as if the pains were at work on her soul. She felt the tears come again, the tears that had tormented her on this long ride home. But she didn’t let them fall. She had no energy for them.

She clicked to the horses and pushed them on.

God, please have him send the girls.

Her girls would help her.

Did she really work them too hard? Did she treat them like slaves?

She began slow, constant prayer, stopping only when the agony cut her off from her thoughts. When she ran out of prayers, she began reciting all of the Bible verses she knew, and they were many. The Bible was the only book the Tanner family owned. Why, she’d taught her girls to read using it. They took turns memorizing verses during their Sunday services.

The pains came faster. She began the slow uphill climb toward the mountain gap. She remembered Seth’s words about divorce. No, never. Surely Anthony would die soon and save her the shame.

Nearly another hour passed as she made the twisting trip to the crest of the hill. The trip back down would be much faster.

The pains came harder. They hadn’t yet entered that horrible constant stage she knew to expect near the end. She could make it. She could get home.

She thought of the tortuous trail that descended into her valley. She had to ride the wagon brake hard all the way down to keep from overturning on the sharply winding trail. She wasn’t sure she had the strength.

The wagon descended. Belle pulled hard on the wooden brake handle to keep it from running away and harming the horses. Her hands threatened to slip off the brake when a pain was upon her. She went down and down, the trail narrow, snaking. Her hand clutched the brake. She threw her body across it, hoping her weight would do what her normally strong hand couldn’t. She made the first turn only a bit too fast. The wagon clattered. The horses snorted, complaining about the dangerous wagon forcing them forward at a pace that scared them.

She passed several more treacherous turns without incident, but it took all of her strength to keep the buckboard under control. Nearly a third of the way down, a spasm hit so hard she nearly collapsed. She slipped forward. If she fell between the horses and the wagon, the wagon would roll over her and kill her.

She clung to the brake as her body seemed intent on tearing her in half.

Picking up speed as her strength waned, the horses whinnied in fear at the clattering wagon now shoving them at a dangerous pace.

A shout pulled her head up.

Someone came around the sharp curve ahead toward her. Lindsay.

Anthony had sent help.

Belle didn’t have the strength to pull the horses to a stop. They rolled on past Lindsay. Too fast.

Lindsay drew off to the trailside as the wagon passed her. “Ma, what’s wrong?”

Though she asked, Lindsay didn’t pause for an answer. She quickly dismounted, lashed her horse’s reins to the back of the moving wagon, and sprinted to jump up on the seat. She grabbed the brake, gently moving Belle aside. With Lindsay’s strong hand on the controls, the wagon slowed, but it still moved too fast for safety.

“It’s the baby. Didn’t Anthony tell you?” The wagon seat had no back. Belle struggled to sit upright.

“No.” Lindsay bore down on the brake. The last turn was dead ahead, and it was as tight as a hairpin. The wagon couldn’t get around it at this speed.

The horses whinnied in fear. Lindsay fought a quiet desperate fight between herself and the mountain and that brake. The wagon slowed a bit. The tight curve ahead came nearer.

Belle’s stomach contracted again. There was hardly time to breathe between the pains now.

The brakes squealed in protest. The horses began throwing their weight on their back feet under Lindsay’s skillful handling on the reins. Lindsay’s shout even galvanized her own horse to pull against the wagon from behind.

They turned into the curve, still going too fast.

“Lean up the hill, Ma. We can make this, but I need your help.”

Belle obeyed. Years of taking charge, doing what had to be done despite the difficulty, were too ingrained to ignore. Belle leaned away from Lindsay.

The wagon tilted. Two wheels came off the ground.

Lindsay yelled at the nervous horses and threw even more weight against the brake.

They rounded the corner and the trail straightened. The wagon banged down onto four wheels.

Still going too fast, Lindsay now could at least make the horses move a bit more briskly and stay ahead of the wagon. She began winning her fight one second at a time.

Finally, the brake caught firmly ahold of the heavily laden wagon. Seconds later they reached the bottom of the mountain trail.

Belle suspected Lindsay normally would have pulled over and given herself and the lathered horses a chance to calm down, but she was a canny girl and she’d already figured out Belle needed to get home. “What did you mean about Anthony telling me?” Lindsay asked.

Belle gasped as the pain let up. “He came past me on the trail. He wouldn’t stay. I asked him to send help. When I saw you—” Belle lost her ability to speak again as another storm swept over her beleaguered body.

“He came in the cabin. He served himself supper in front of all of us without saying a word.” Lindsay threw Belle a look of such fury that Belle regretted saying anything about Anthony’s part in this. “I just knew it was time for you to be coming, so I rode out to keep you company.”

Belle’s heart broke at Anthony’s cruelty. But she set that aside as another pain threatened to tear her apart. A sudden spate of moisture told her the baby had broken through. It wouldn’t be long now.

“What can I do to help you, Ma? Can you ride my horse to get yourself home faster?”

“No, it’s too late. I wouldn’t be able to sit on the horse.”

Lindsay slapped the horses with the reins and yelled. They picked up the pace to a trot.

Belle knew they still had a long way to go. The gap was miles away from the cabin. She didn’t think she’d make it, but she held on, her fingers white against the buckboard seat.

Lindsay reached her left arm to support Belle’s back, holding the reins in her right hand, now that the brake was no longer needed.

“The horses can’t keep up this pace all the way home.” Belle wouldn’t harm her team to save herself. She’d give birth along the trail first. “Not with the wagon loaded.”

“We’ll go as long as we can. I’m watching ’em. I won’t let them overdo. We’ll deliver the baby out here if we have to.”

Belle focused on the team, trying to keep her weight off Lindsay, trying not to be any more of a burden to her daughter than necessary.

Slave labor. Was it true?

The pains were nearly constant when the cabin finally came in sight.

“Emma!” Lindsay’s shout brought Emma and Sarah out of the cabin at a run. Lindsay pulled within inches of the door.

“What’s the matter?” Emma came around the back of the wagon, her eyes on Belle.

“Ma’s having the baby. Help me get her down.” Lindsay wrapped the reins around the brake with lightning movements. Emma threw herself up beside Belle. Lindsay and Emma eased Belle sideways.

Belle did her best to help. The baby pressed to be born.

The girls, including Sarah, nearly carried her into the house.

The commotion brought Anthony’s head up from where he lay on his narrow bed. He smirked at Belle then sauntered outside.

The girls lowered her to her bed, and they were in time. Barely. The baby slipped into the world, into the gentle hands of her big sister. It was a girl.

Belle was home. She’d made it home.

But her marriage made it a sad, pathetic excuse for a home.

F
or the first time since Susannah’s birth, Cassie kept something from Red.

She’d been going whole hog, spouting off her ideas and feelings, and it had seemed to suit Red fine. She surely loved doing it. But now she couldn’t forget the threat she’d seen in Wade Sawyer’s eyes and the cowardly way she’d acted the last time he’d threatened her. She still had nightmares about that cold, wet crevice where she’d cowered. Cassie was determined to never be so helpless again.

Cassie started practicing with her gun.

Red always left the rifle, loaded and ready, hanging over the door. She didn’t fire any bullets. Red never left the ranch yard long enough or went far enough for her to believe she could practice without his notice. And he would have missed the bullets. Griff had always been careless about details like that.

But she’d gotten good before. Now she just practiced grabbing it and aiming quick. The gun started to feel comfortable in her hands. She loaded it while she walked, while she ran, while she lay on her belly in the dirt. She studied the yard for shelter should she be caught out, away from the house.

She knew she should tell Red what she was doing, but she didn’t want him to make her quit. And she didn’t want to listen to him talk about the right and wrong of shooting a man who hadn’t made peace with the Lord…because she was ashamed of the cowardice driving her.

She was prepared for trouble when she was alone, but as she scratched in the dirt planting a garden, she knew Red was close by and felt perfectly safe.

Safe turned out to be a luxury she couldn’t afford, any more than she could afford black silk dresses.

“Cassie honey, stand up slow,” Red said stiffly.

Cassie turned to see what had caused the harsh tone, expecting to find him hurt and bleeding. She froze so solid her heart had to struggle to beat.

Red stood in front of Wade Sawyer. Blood trickled down Red’s forehead, and his knees wavered slightly as he walked. Cassie saw a noose snared around Red’s neck.

Wade held the end of the rope in one hand and his revolver in the other. He sneered. “It’s movin’ day, china doll. Go fetch your things and come along with old Wade.”

Cassie didn’t take her eyes off Red’s battered face. She slowly got to her feet. Cassie glanced at the house, and Red blinked his eyes and made a nearly invisible move with his head. He seemed to be asking her for time. Maybe time for his head to clear or time to come up with a plan to get them out of this.

Cassie sent a thousand silent prayers for help in the space of a single breath. Then she spoke with quiet authority. “Wade, untie him and quit this nonsense.”

Wade didn’t react. He seemed to be processing her words, and Cassie decided he was drunk again. Surely if they could bide their time, he’d sober up enough to know what he was doing was madness. Then Wade jerked on the rope he held, nearly knocking Red off balance.

Red staggered slightly to remain standing.

Wade yanked it again.

Red fumbled for the rope tight around his neck and held it in both hands. Cassie noticed him discreetly try to loosen the rope.

Wade was focused on her and seemed oblivious to Red’s efforts. Wade cocked his pistol with a sharp
crack.
“Do it, china doll, or Red dies right now.” Wade rested the muzzle of his six gun on Red’s temple. “How about it? You in the mood to bury another husband?”