Spirit's Song (27 page)

Chapter Thirty-Six

Elizabeth stared at her daughter, unable to believe her ears. “What did you say?”

“I think I’m pregnant?”

A slow smile spread over Elizabeth’s face. “Why, that’s wonderful, dear. How far along are you?”

“I’m not sure.” It couldn’t be more than a month or so. Maybe it was too early to tell. Maybe it was just a stomach upset. But it wasn’t, and she knew it. She was pregnant with Jesse’s child.

“Does Alan know?”

“Alan?”

“Yes, Alan. Your husband.”

“No. No, he doesn’t know.”

“Did you two have a quarrel?”

Kaylynn stared at her mother. A quarrel? With Alan? The thought was so ludicrous, she laughed. You didn’t quarrel with Alan. He said jump, and you said, how high? He said go, and you said, where?

“Kaylynn? Kaylynn, are you all right?”

She stared at her mother, unable to stop laughing, while tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Kaylynn!” Elizabeth shook her daughter’s shoulder, her expression worried. “Kaylynn, stop that!”

Kaylynn shook her head. She couldn’t stop laughing. Couldn’t stop crying.

Elizabeth went to the door and opened it. “William! William, come here!”

Kaylynn took a deep, calming breath as her father rushed into the room.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m…I’m in the family way,” Kaylynn said.

William Duvall smiled, and then, seeing the worried look on his wife’s face, he frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“Alan doesn’t know,” Elizabeth said.

“So, we’ll send him a wire and tell him.”

Kaylynn took a deep breath. The time for truth had come. “It’s not Alan’s.”

“What?”

Kaylynn looked up and met her father’s gaze. “It’s not Alan’s.”

“Whose is it?”

“Jesse’s.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened in horror. “The bounty hunter’s?”

Kaylynn nodded.

“Kaylynn Elizabeth, how could you?”

“I love him.”

“I’ll kill him!” William roared. “Where is he?”

“He moved out,” Kaylynn said. “He’s leaving town.”

“Like hell.”

“Father, don’t. He doesn’t know about the baby, and you’re not to tell him.”

William began to pace the floor. “There’s only one thing to do,” he said.

“What’s that, dear?” Elizabeth asked.

“Let people think the child is Alan’s, of course.”

“Is that fair to Alan?” Elizabeth asked.

“I’m not worried about Alan,” William replied. “I’m worried about Kaylynn’s reputation.”

“I left Alan, Father. That’s why I came home.”

“Left him!”

“Yes.”

“But why, dear?” Elizabeth asked.

Kaylynn took a deep breath. “I lied to you before. I didn’t come home for a vacation. I ran away.”

“Ran away?” William said. “I think you’d better explain.”

She told them everything, how Alan had beaten her, how she had run away, how the stage had been attacked by Indians. She told them about Ravenhawk and Jesse. Told them everything.

“And so,” she said, “I’m getting a divorce.”

“Divorce!” Elizabeth exclaimed. She looked at her husband. “Divorce, William. There’s never been a divorce in our family.”

“Perhaps we can avoid a divorce,” William said. “We’ll just tell people you came home to be with your mother, that you wanted her near you when the child was born. There’s nothing unusual about that.”

“Of course,” Elizabeth said. “No one has to know the child isn’t Alan’s. You can live here, with us. Lots of couples don’t live together. Look at Flo and Roger Littlefield. She lives in France and he lives here.”

“Do whatever you like,” Kaylynn said. What did it matter, now that Jesse was gone?

* * * * *

William thought they should cancel the party, but Elizabeth protested, saying a party was just what they needed. Besides, the invitations had gone out, and replies were pouring in. It would be rude to cancel now.

The day before the party, Kaylynn went to visit her grandmother again.

“Good afternoon, Miss Kaylynn,” Effie said, smiling warmly. “How nice to see you again.”

“Hello, Effie. Is Grams awake?”

“Yes.” Effie said. “Come in. She’s been hoping you’d stop by. She’s out back, taking the sun.”

With a nod, Kaylynn walked through the house toward the back entrance. She had always loved her grandmother’s house. She remembered playing here when she had been a little girl, holding a big ball of yarn while she watched Grams knit, standing on a chair in the kitchen while Grams baked gingerbread men.

She found her grandmother sitting on a padded bench in the grape arbor, reading a copy of
Harper’s Weekly
. In spite of the warmth of the day, Grams wore a lacy black shawl over her shoulders; a light woolen blanket covered her legs. Her big gray cat, Theadosia, lay curled in her lap.

Grams looked up as Kaylynn approached, a smile of welcome lighting her face.

“Kaylynn, I had a feeling you’d come see me today.”

“Did you?” Bending, Kaylynn hugged her grandmother.

Theadosia, never one to share her mistress’s attention, made a soft, angry sound in her throat.

“Hush, Thea,” Lynn Dearmond admonished. “Have you ever seen such a possessive creature?” she said, fondly stroking the cat.

“Never,” Kaylynn agreed.

“Go along with you now, Thea,” Lynn said. She nudged the cat gently off her lap, then smiled at Kaylynn. “How’s the party coming along?”

Kaylynn shrugged. “Fine. Everything’s fine.”

Lynn Dearmond studied her granddaughter’s face. Kaylynn had always been a lovely child, with a winning smile and laughing brown eyes. She was still lovely, but…

“What is it, child? What’s troubling you?”

“I never could keep a secret from you, could I?”

“Never,” she replied. Closing the magazine, she put in on the table beside the bench and patted the seat beside her. “Sit down and tell me what’s wrong.”

Kaylynn sat down beside her grandmother, the whole story pouring forth in a torrent of words and tears.

“And now he’s leaving,” Kaylynn said, sniffing. “I love him, Grams.”

Lynn Dearmond smiled faintly as she patted Kaylynn’s shoulder. “Yes, I can see that you do.” She shook her head. “I just can’t believe what you told me about Summers. Oh, I never cared for the man myself, but he seemed a decent sort.”

“Father doesn’t think I should divorce him. Mother is worried about the scandal. They don’t seem to care about how I feel.”

“Of course you should divorce him. And I shall tell your father so the next time I see him.”

Kaylynn smiled through her tears. Grams had always taken her side.

“I wish I had told Jesse about the baby,” Kaylynn said, sniffling. “Maybe he would have stayed.”

“You did the right thing.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Listen to me, child. I’m an old woman, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that a man stays with a woman because he can’t live without her. You might trap him into marriage by telling him about the baby, but he’ll never be happy, and neither will you.”

“I thought he loved me.”

“How do you know he doesn’t?”

“He’s leaving! If he loved me, he’d stay.”

“Look around, child. From what you’ve told me, he wouldn’t fit in here, in your world. Some men aren’t made for ballrooms and the like,” Lynn said, her voice suddenly wistful. “Some men have to live wild and free. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t love you…”

“Did you ever know a man like that?” Kaylynn asked, her own troubles momentarily forgotten.

“Yes, indeed. Before I met your grandfather, I fell in love with just such a man. He asked me to go West with him, but I was afraid. I didn’t want to leave my comfortable house and my friends. I was afraid of the kind of life he led.”

“Are you sorry now that you didn’t go with him?”

“I’ve been sorry every day of my life.”

“Maybe I should go with Jesse…”

“Did he ask you to go with him?”

Kaylynn shook her head. “No.”

“Then let him go, child.” Lynn Dearmond took Kaylynn’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I know it’s hard, but let him go. If he loves you, if it’s meant to be, he’ll be back.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The train pulled into New York City late Friday afternoon. The city was unlike anything Ravenhawk had ever seen. It was quite a change for a half-breed Lakota who was used to miles of endless prairie, and dusty little cow towns. Tall buildings lined both sides of the street. There were horses and carriages and people everywhere, all of them in an itching hurry. He saw women in fancy dresses and big hats adorned with flowers and feathers and colorful ribbons. Men in city suits and black bowlers. A Chinaman with a long black queue decked out in something that looked like baggy silk pajamas.

Ravenhawk followed Alan down the street toward the hotel, aware of the curious stares of the men he passed, the lingering glances and smiles of the women. He tipped his hat to a pretty dark-haired young woman, laughed out loud when an older woman, obviously her mother, took the girl by the arm and ushered her across the street.

When they reached the hotel, Ravenhawk opened the door for Alan, held it for a rather buxom blonde woman wearing a dress in an eye-popping shade of pink. She paused in the doorway, her deep-blue eyes gazing at him as if he were a banquet and she hadn’t eaten in weeks.

“Have me met?” she asked.

“No, ma’am,” Ravenhawk replied.

She smiled up at him. “Perhaps I can arrange it.”

“I’d like that,” Ravenhawk drawled.

She tapped his shoulder with her fan. “Then I shall see what I can do.”

She granted him another smile, then swished out the door in a rustle of silk and satin.

Ravenhawk watched her sashay down the street, then walked across the floor to join Summers, who was standing at the desk.

“I’ll be needing another room, as well,” Summers was saying. “Preferably one adjoining my own.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Summers.

Alan signed the register with a flourish and handed the pen to the desk clerk. “Any messages for me?”

“Yes, sir.” The man pulled a folded sheet of paper from under the desk. “This arrived last night.”

Alan took the paper and read it quickly, a slow smile spreading over his face. With a nod, he folded the paper and slipped it in his coat pocket.

He glanced at Ravenhawk. “I signed for you, too. Let’s go. I want to clean up before dinner.”

Ravenhawk nodded. Being a bodyguard was the best job he’d ever had. It was certainly the easiest. Except for dispatching the train robbers, he hadn’t done anything except follow Summers around. He glanced around the hotel again as he followed Summers up the stairs. Yes, sir, he was living high on the hog now.

* * * * *

John Porter took a puff on his cigar. “Yes, sir, Mrs. Summers is here. I’ve seen her several times. She looks well. The Duvalls are giving her a welcome-home party tomorrow night.”

“Is that so?” Alan smiled, thinking of the welcome he had in mind.

“Yes, sir. I overheard her talking about it with her mother just yesterday afternoon.”

Ravenhawk stood near the window, his back to the room. He had little interest in Summers’ wife. He was more concerned with John Porter. Unless he was very much mistaken, Porter had been a passenger on the stage out of Red Creek. Porter hadn’t recognized him when Alan introduced them, although he’d asked if they had met before. Since then, Ravenhawk had been aware of John Porter’s gaze on him more than once. Sooner or later, the man was going to remember who he was. Ravenhawk grinned at his reflection in the glass. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t wanted for anything in this part of the country.

He ran a hand around the inside of his shirt collar. Summers had insisted that he get rid of his buckskins while they were in the city. A quick trip to a tailor shop, and Ravenhawk found himself wearing a pair of fashionable black trousers and a white linen shirt. He regarded himself in the mirror. Even though he was aware of his good looks, he’d never been particularly vain. Still, he had to admit he’d never looked better. There was a new suit of evening clothes hanging in his room, together with a pair of shiny black shoes. He had argued that he didn’t need any new duds, but after seeing himself in the mirror, he had changed his mind. Maybe clothes did make the man. He had to admit he looked damn good in his new suit. Little wonder Porter hadn’t been able to place him. He doubted if his own mother would recognize him now.

“Well,” Porter said, rising, “if you won’t be needing me for anything else, I’ll be heading back for Frisco.”

Alan nodded and the two men shook hands.

It was with a sense of relief that Ravenhawk watched Porter take his leave. It could have proved embarrassing if Porter had recognized him and mentioned it to Summers.

“Here.”

Ravenhawk turned around at the sound of Summers’ voice.

“What’s this for?” he asked as Summers handed him a glass of bourbon.

“We’re celebrating,” Alan said.

“Oh?” Ravenhawk took a sip, savoring the smooth taste of the whiskey. Never, in all his life, had he tasted anything so fine.

Summers nodded, a satisfied grin playing over his face.

“Tomorrow night I shall take back what is mine.”

Ravenhawk nodded. Summers had been rather closemouthed on the train, saying only that he was going East to meet his wife.

“Taking back what is mine” sounded ominous somehow, leaving Ravenhawk to wonder if the reunion was going to be a happy one.

But that wasn’t his problem. He smiled as he emptied the glass in a single swallow. The pay was good and the whiskey was smooth. What more could he ask for?

* * * * *

Jesse sat in a far corner of the saloon, a glass of whiskey in one hand. Tomorrow was Saturday. The day of Kaylynn’s homecoming party. The day he was leaving town.

Three days had passed since he had last seen Kaylynn. They had been the longest three days of his life. Time and again, he had left his hotel room, determined to go to her, to tell her he loved her, and every time he had turned back. She deserved better than a worn-out bounty hunter. She already had more than he could ever give her, more than he could ever hope to give her. He lifted the glass and drained it in a single swallow. “Be happy, darlin’,” he murmured. Picking up the bottle, he refilled his glass. Maybe, if he got good and drunk, he’d be able to forget her.

And maybe pigs would fly.

A clock chimed in the distance. This time tomorrow, he’d be on his way back where he belonged.