A Promise to Believe in (19 page)

Gwen’s expression turned confused. “I don’t still mourn him. I mean, I wish he hadn’t died, but that was a long time ago. At least, it feels like it now. I know Harvey is safe in heaven, and it comforts me to know that.”

“Then why remain single? If you aren’t still in love with my brother and are able to let go of your sorrow over his loss, why did you say you planned to remain a spinster?”

Gwen straightened and squared her shoulders. Hank watched as she seemed to steel her emotions. “Because I’m dangerous for others, Mr. Bishop. When I love someone, bad things happen. It’s just the way things are.”

Lacy was making her way back with an armful of wood; otherwise, Hank might have asked Gwen exactly what she meant. Sooner or later, when they were alone, he would ask. He needed to know exactly what she meant.

Gwen could scarcely draw breath. She wanted to scream, to shout out a warning to Lacy, but it was too late. The rowdy cowboys circled her little sister and pointed their revolvers at her while Gwen was frozen in place.

“We’re gonna see you dead, just like your pappy,” one of the men said. He grinned to reveal yellow, rotting teeth.

It seemed that invisible arms held Gwen in place. She tried to move, but her legs felt like they were made of stone.

“Lacy!” she tried to yell. Her mouth formed the words, but no sound came out.

Just then one of the cowboys fired his gun. Gwen screamed, but again nothing could be heard. She watched Lacy sink to the ground, clutching her bleeding abdomen.

“No!” Gwen moaned. “No!”

“It’s all your fault,” one of the cowboys declared. “If you weren’t cursed, none of this would be happening. It ain’t us that killed ’em.” She looked across to where there were now several bodies laid out beside Lacy’s. She could see her father, Harvey, Beth, and even Mr. Bishop.

“It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have gone,” she cried.

Someone took hold of her. Perhaps they meant to shoot her next. She used all of her strength to fight back. The arms only tightened around her.

“Wake up. Miss Gallatin, wake up.”

She heard the voice, but nothing registered in her mind. She fought and then he whispered against her ear, “Gwen. You’re safe. It’s just a dream. Wake up.”

“I shouldn’t have gone,” she moaned, her head flailing from side to side.

“Gwen.”

She opened her eyes and found herself in Hank Bishop’s arms. His face was only inches from hers, and he cradled her like a mother might a babe.

“Why are you . . . what’s happened?” She suddenly went very still as the images of her dream—her nightmare—came back to mind. “Oh,” she whispered.

“Are you all right? You were crying and screaming. I thought maybe Lacy would come to wake you, but she slept on.” He smiled. “So much for being a light sleeper.”

“What are you talking about?”

He laughed. “She told me she was a light sleeper—that I’d better mind my ways.”

Gwen smiled groggily. Sleep still tried to hold her captive. “Lacy’s like that.”

“So I gathered.”

He reached up and pushed back long strands of hair from Gwen’s face. His touch against her cheek felt warm and pleasant. Gwen felt mesmerized. She couldn’t draw her gaze away from those steely blue eyes.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Hank asked, his voice soft and reassuring.

“There’s really nothing to tell. It was just a bad dream.”

“I get the impression it was more than that. You said something about it being your fault—about how you shouldn’t have gone somewhere. Tell me about it.”

Against her will, Gwen found herself confessing. “When I was nine, just three weeks before my mother’s death, there was a fair in town. Pa took us, but Mama wasn’t feeling up to it. She did, however, warn us about doing anything we knew was wrong. She told us not to go into any of the saloons, not to play cards or go off with strangers, and definitely not to see the fortune-teller. I was fascinated, however, when this old woman told me she could tell me my future. When you’re young, that seems most impressive.”

Hank smiled and nodded. “Go on. What happened?”

Gwen relived it as if it were yesterday. “I told the woman I only had a nickel. She said she’d make an exception for me, because she felt certain I needed to hear my future. I gave in. I went into her tent and listened to her tell me I was cursed—that death had marked me to be his companion—that most everyone I loved would die, while I would live. Three weeks later my mother died, and I just knew it was my fault.”

“That’s nonsense. I don’t believe in curses,” Hank said firmly.

“There are plenty of examples of people who were cursed in the Bible,” Gwen countered defensively.

“Yes, but isn’t there also something about Jesus becoming a curse for us? Seems to me your faith in God would cancel out any gypsy curse.”

“There’s a verse like that? Are you sure? I mean, you aren’t . . . you don’t even . . .”

He laughed. “What? You think that just because I’m cynical about God that I don’t know anything about Him? Believe me, I’ve looked into it. I grew up with a mother whose faith was quite strong. And my grandfather completely put his trust in God.”

“But you couldn’t?”

Hank shrugged and touched her cheek once again. “I wanted to. I wanted to know a father’s love—the security that comes in belonging. I wish I could have your kind of faith, Gwen.”

Hearing him call her by her given name caused Gwen to tremble. He was too close—too gentle and kind. Realizing that he still held her, she pulled away.

“I’m sorry. I . . . ah. . . . I’m sorry.” She got to her feet and could see a faint hint of light at the edge of the mountains. It would soon be light. The air still held a taste of snow, but thankfully the ground was dry.

“I think we should wake Lacy and get going.” She went to where her sister slept and reached down to shake her. To Gwen’s horror, however, Lacy wasn’t there. There was nothing more than her bedroll fixed to look like a person was beneath.

“She’s not here!” Gwen looked around, anxious to see something that would ease her growing concern. “Her horse is gone.”

“Gone?” Hank was on his feet, looking to where his black stood alongside Gwen’s mount. “Where could she be?”

Lacy knew it was later than she’d planned as she hurried her horse back toward camp. Hank and Gwen would soon be waking, and it would do her little good to be found out.

Her investigation had proven fruitless. She hadn’t really expected that anyone would confess to her, but she had hoped someone would at least talk to her. While in Virginia City, she learned of a cattle drive. Some of the men from the Rocking K were moving cattle south. She knew that some of their men had been at Rafe’s the night her father had been killed. Learning approximately where they were, she had waited until Gwen and Hank were asleep before heading out to intercept the group.

Sneaking into camp had been easy. The night rider was asleep in the saddle, and the cattle were unconcerned with her presence. Once she was there, Lacy realized she hadn’t really come with a plan. She didn’t want to stampede the cattle by firing off her revolver, but she needed to get the men awake as quickly as possible if she was going to question them and get back to her own camp before dawn.

“Wake up, you bunch of no-goods,” she had called out.

One man had come quickly awake and was reaching for his rifle, even as Lacy anticipated his move. “There isn’t any call for weapons. I’m here peaceably.”

The man had looked at her a moment, then growled in anger. “What are you doing here?”

Lacy had explained her situation, but none of the men were very cooperative. She thought they might have dragged her from her horse to give her more trouble than she wanted, until she pointed her revolver at them and announced her intention to leave.

All she wanted was some answers, but they scoffed at her and taunted her.
If only Dave Shepard would do his job, I wouldn’t have to risk my life.

She approached the camp where she’d left Gwen and Hank sound asleep. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the same state she found them in now. Gritting her teeth, she urged her mare toward the other horses.

“Where have you been?” Gwen demanded. She rushed to Lacy as she dismounted. “I was terrified when I found you gone.”

“I’m sorry. I just couldn’t sleep. I needed to ride and clear my head. I didn’t mean to worry you.” She looked at her sister with a smile. “But look—I’m fine.”

“You may be fine, but you’re also pretty thoughtless,” Hank threw in.

Lacy eyed him with contempt. “You stay out of it. You have nothing to say about my welfare or actions.”

“Stop it!” Gwen declared.

Lacy wasn’t used to her sister’s sharp tone of voice and instantly went silent. She looked at Gwen and shook her head. “I didn’t mean to worry anybody. I’m sorry. If you hadn’t awakened so early, you wouldn’t even have known I was gone.”

“That’s hardly the point,” Gwen said. “I trusted you to be here. If something would have happened to you out there in the dark, we wouldn’t have had any idea of it until it was too late.”

Gwen’s voice was laced with fear, and Lacy felt really bad for having scared her. “I won’t do it again. If I can’t sleep tomorrow night, I promise to wake you up and make you talk to me.” She smiled. “Please forgive me.”

“Of course I forgive you.” Gwen pulled Lacy into her arms and hugged her tight.

Being taller than her older sister, Lacy was able to look over her shoulder to where Hank Bishop stood shaking his head. He obviously wasn’t as easily convinced that nothing was wrong or that Lacy’s indiscretion should be overlooked.

“Let’s break camp,” Gwen said. “We can eat on the trail.”

“Sounds good,” Lacy agreed.

Gwen went to pack up her things while Lacy tethered her horse with the others. She hadn’t realized Hank Bishop had come up behind her until he spoke.

“She may buy into all of that, but I’m not so easily sold. Someone ought to turn you over their knee,” Hank said in a hush.

She whirled around and met his very serious expression. “And I suppose you think you’re just the man?”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t even attempt the job, Miss Gallatin. But someday, someone will. And you’ll deserve it.”

By the time they headed out of Norris, Hank was thoroughly discouraged. Gwen felt sorry for him. The tiny mining area where they had lived offered nothing. Even the small house her father and Harvey had put together was gone—burned to the ground during a forest fire.

She wanted to say something to encourage him, but little came to mind. Finally Gwen settled on the only thing that seemed logical.

“Mr. Bishop, I am sorry that we weren’t able to locate any information about Harvey and the stock certificates. I have a thought, however. The First National Bank in Bozeman was where my father banked. It closed down last year, but the men who owned it are still in town, as far as I know. Why don’t you ride over there and ask if Harvey had an account at any time? He might have kept it from me, as he apparently did everything else.”

She tried not to sound bitter, but it was so hard. Even now, as the realization of who her husband had been and all of the pretense and lies he had allowed between them sank in, Gwen found her anger rising. How could Harvey have done that to her? Why would he have thought it necessary to lie?