Claim: A Novel of Colorado (The Homeward Trilogy) (24 page)

“It’s a fine sight, isn’t it?” asked Billy. “The ladies all swoon at such a thing. The back rooms are filled with a hundred seamstresses, ready to make a replacement for those that are purchased today or to tailor anything you purchase.” He studied her a moment. “Would you rather go to another shop?”

“No, no,” she said, finally rising and accepting his hand. She climbed down the step and let go when she was on the walk. “You’ll wait for me here?”

“I won’t leave this spot. Unless you wish for me to accompany you in there,” he said, frowning.

Moira smiled. “I doubt they allow men inside. Out here will be fine, Billy.”

She turned and strode to the door. A young woman opened it for her. “Welcome to Madame Champlain’s,” she said in a thick French accent.

o

In two hours’ time, Moira had been given tea and delicate sandwiches and had tried on more than twenty gowns. She quietly mentioned her pregnancy to the female tailor assigned to her, and the young woman neither glanced at her ringless finger or mentioned it again—she merely steered her toward one fine gown and then another. The dresses, with full, gathered skirts and Empire waists, would disguise her burgeoning belly and yet flatter her slender arms and narrow shoulders. After fitting her for each of the five she eventually chose—and carefully averting her eyes from the scars on Moira’s leg, shoulder, neck, and head, then helping her dress again—the seamstress guided her toward a rack with several corsets, especially made for pregnant women.

Moira shook her head. “I think not,” she said. She couldn’t imagine compressing her baby, making the child fight for breath. On the ranch, no one wore such things. Her own mother, in Philadelphia, had scorned the use of corsets, especially for anyone pregnant. The seamstress frowned in disapproval.

Moira glanced back at the rack. Undoubtedly, the gowns would look better on her with a corset beneath, but she would wear her own underclothes, regardless of what the young woman thought. “No,” she said firmly.

After making arrangements for the shop to send the gowns to the hotel, Moira moved out of the store and through the massive doors to the busy street again.

Billy started when he saw her, immediately pulling the grain bag from his horse’s head and moving to set it in the back. “Find what you were looking for, miss?”

“Yes,” she said in delight. “Five of them. It will be lovely to receive them.”

“Indeed, indeed,” the man said, helping her into the carriage. “Where to now, miss?”

“Oh, uh,” she paused, then slipped open her purse to pull out a piece of paper. The seamstress had given her the name of the finest wig shop in the city. She handed it to Billy, hoping he knew how to read. He nodded and handed it back to her. “Right away, miss.”

They were pulling out into the flow of traffic again when Moira’s eyes locked on a man in the shadows across the street. A large red coach drove between them then, and when it passed, the man was gone.

But it had been the brown-haired man from the hotel lobby. And the train. She was sure of it. She turned in her seat and searched the far walk in vain. There were simply too many people, too many wagons and coaches and men on horses.…

“Everything all right, miss?”

Moira sat back in her seat again with a sigh. “I appear to have someone following me,” she said to his back.

He straightened and glanced over his shoulder. “Want me to set him straight, miss?”

“No. He disappears as fast as he appears. But I’ve seen him several times.”

“Do you know who he is?”

“No,” she muttered, “I have no idea.”

Billy scanned one side of the street and then the other. “Want me to take you back to the hotel?”

“No,” she said. “We shall see to this next errand. After that, perhaps I’ll take you up on that turn around the park. I am in need of a dose of … nature, I believe.”

“As you wish, miss.”

o

Moira unwound her veils with some trepidation. The older gentleman ignored the scars above her ear, much as the seamstress had ignored the scars on her leg and shoulder.
Why is it that I can let these people see them, but not Odessa, or … Daniel? If only they could look upon my scars with the same distance.

She closed her eyes for a moment, missing Daniel so much it shot a physical pain through her. She opened her eyes and stared at Mr. Tennesen, fighting to keep her composure. She tried to swallow but found her mouth too dry. Mr. Tennesen was focused solely upon his business. With swift hands that belied his age, he tucked the remains of her shorn hair in a net, then reached for the first wig. “Now this, this is the fine auburn you chose.” He settled the front of the wig on her forehead, then swiftly tugged it down the back. He moved to settle the long curls about her shoulders. “My, you were right, Miss St. Clair. The color is beautiful on you.” His eyes widened as he stared into her face. “I’ve never seen eyes as beautiful as yours. Truly.” Part of the wig swept up in a knot, part of it remained down. “You see how nicely that covers your neck and ear?” he asked.

He was referring, of course, to her scars. She nodded. There was something comforting, familiar in the dark red hair. It was as if she were again on the stage, and a costumer was giving her various options for her character. She blinked several times, staring at her visage, the relief of being hidden, even more so than when she was in her veils. But it felt … wrong, somehow. False. Truly like a costume. And wasn’t she ready to be embraced as Moira St. Clair, now? At least to a certain extent?

“Might we try that one?” she asked, pointing to a subtler blonde wig that closely matched her natural hair color.

“But of course,” Mr. Tennesen said, reaching for the next. He pulled it atop her head, settled the coils around her shoulders and stepped back, head cocked, to study her image along with her. Chin in hand, he lifted a brow and nodded. “It is a lovely match.”

Moira slowly smiled. It was as if the fire had never occurred. As if her hair had miraculously grown back. It would take several extra coils on one side to cover the scars on her neck, but once he had showed her how it would look, she was convinced that it would do the trick nicely. As much as she loved the auburn, this,
this
was more her.

“This is the one,” she said to Mr. Tennesen, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

“A fine choice,” he said. “I’ll wrap it up immediately.”

“No,” she said. “I’d like to wear it out, please. And might you make me another? It would be good to have two.”

“Certainly.”

She rose, paid him for the two wigs, then hurried out, aware that the sun was growing low in the sky. Had she really spent hours shopping in only two stores?

She slowed as she reached the exit. Outside, a man stood looking into the window display. Beyond him, just three paces off, was Billy, staring hard at him.

The brown-haired man’s eyes slid toward Moira, a curious look of accusation in them. Then he turned and walked down the street.

It was him. Fury rushed through her. Emboldened with Billy standing right there, she rushed after him. “Hey! Hey, you! Stop!”

He glanced over his shoulder, but not at her. He kept walking, picking up his pace.

Catching up to her, Billy grabbed her arm. “Miss St. Clair—”

“What do you want?” she cried after the spy, as the crowds swallowed him. “Why are you following me?”

She fought the urge to jump, to see over the heads of the others. “Do you see him?” she asked her much taller guardian. “The man who was just here?”

Billy shook his head and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “He’s gone, miss.”

The brown-haired man had disappeared again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

As soon as Nic heard that Peter’s killer was being held at the jail in Westcliffe, he knew the time had come at last to go and see Odessa.

Now that they were there, at the entrance of the Circle M, on the verge of seeing her, Nic hesitated. He whistled lowly and cocked his head. “Well, this is about the prettiest ranch I’ve ever seen,” he said. Still dotted with snow at the very top, the towering mountains were a crimson-purple in the early evening. The valley grasses were turning brown, and with autumn soon upon them the sagebrush was becoming dry and brittle, but there was a sense of lush abundance within the shadowed hills and wide, fenced patches of land before them. In the distance, a huge herd of horses set off running across the field, making their own horses prick their ears and shift in agitation.

“Easy, easy,” Nic said, bending low to pat Daisy’s neck. He looked over at Sabine and Everett, and said, “Ready?”

“Are you?” Sabine asked.

“I think so. Hopefully Odessa will forgive me my long silence.”

“She will when she learns what has happened for you these last months,” Sabine said, reaching out a hand shyly to him.

Nic smiled and squeezed it. He hoped she was right.

He was about to urge his horse forward when he saw someone galloping down the road toward them, from the direction of what he assumed was Westcliffe. They had just come through a small fledgling town called Conquistador. Was the man heading there? But as he neared, he began to slow as if he meant to turn into the Circle M gates too.

Again, their horses shifted nervously, with the other horse’s approach. The animals were weary from the journey, clearly eager to be relieved of saddles and the burden of human weight, free to run in the fields before them.

The man pulled up. He was a large, striking man. A star on his lapel caught the soft sunset glow. The sheriff. “Hello,” he said, nodding toward Nic and tipping his hat toward Sabine. “I’m Sheriff Daniel Adams. You folks heading into the Circle M?”

“We are,” Nic said, reaching out a hand. “I’m Dominic St. Clair. This is my fiancée, Sabine, and our son-to-be, Everett.”

“Dominic St. Clair.” The sheriff smiled and reached over to take his hand, slowly shaking it, while looking him over in delight. “Though I could’ve picked you out in a crowd, with eyes like that,” he said. “Remarkable that all three of you share the color.”

“You know my sisters?” Nic asked. They all started moving through the massive Circle M gate and down the lane.

“I do.”

“Moira? She’s
here?”
Nic said in excitement. Last he’d heard, she was in Paris.

“She was. She left a little over a week ago.” A shadow passed over Daniel’s face that made Nic wonder if he carried more than a passing interest in his sister, but Nic didn’t press him. Another sheriff? Nic would’ve guessed she would’ve sworn off lawmen forever after Reid Bannock. “Odessa is going to be some kind of glad, seeing you again. She’s worried about you.”

“I know. I’ve done a poor job keeping up with correspondence.” It was enough, to admit that.

Daniel said nothing. His eyes shifted over to Sabine, Everett. “You folks been on the road long?”

“A few days. We had joint properties, up past Buena Vista. Just sold them to a mining company. Figured it was time to look for a new place to settle. But I couldn’t move on before checking on my sisters.”

Daniel nodded. He had an easy way about him, quiet, contemplative, that Nic immediately liked.

In a few more minutes they crested a hill and Nic could see the grand, main house, with stables and other outbuildings stretching beyond it. His eyes widened.

“First time at the Circle M?” Daniel asked, surprise in his wide brown eyes.

Nic nodded. “Last I saw them was their wedding. They married up in the Springs. I never got down here.” He looked back over the ranch and then to Daniel again. “I knew Bryce had enough to provide for Odessa. Didn’t know his ranch was the size of Montana.”

Daniel smiled. “Come. I know just where to find your family this time of day.”

They rode down the lane and straight to the house. He shot an encouraging look at Sabine and Everett, though his own heart pounded. Would Odessa embrace him? Or slap him? Laugh or cry? He inhaled, calming himself. His sister couldn’t remain angry with him for long. They were blood. Kin.

He hoped.

Bryce came out on the porch first, to see who had arrived. “Daniel,” he greeted the sheriff with a nod, then glanced with some curiosity at the others. But then his eyes shifted back to Nic. “Dominic?” He rushed down the stairs as Nic dismounted and wrapped him in a big bear hug, pounding his back. “Nic, brother, your sister is going to be so glad to see you. Let me go and get her—”

But then she was there, at the top of the stairs, her arms around a small towheaded boy who looked to be about a year old.
She has a baby. Odessa has a baby.
He grinned and his heart flew with exhilaration as he slowly climbed the stairs, eyes on his sister. “Dess,” he said, sweeping off his hat. “I’m so sorry it’s been so long. Will you—”

She let out a little cry, as if she finally believed her eyes, and crossed the remaining distance between them. She wrapped her free arm around Nic’s neck and clung there until the baby started to squirm and complain. “Nic, Nic,” she said. “I’m so happy you’re here.” The baby squawked, and she backed away and touched his cheek, tears in her eyes. “Oh, you are well. And here. At
last
. You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.”

“Me too, Dess. And who is this?”

“Why, this is Samuel McAllan, your nephew,” she said, jostling the baby. His frown eased into a smile, punctuated by a few widely spaced baby teeth.

“And this is my family-to-be,” Nic said, turning to gesture toward Sabine and Everett, who had quietly followed him upstairs. He proudly introduced them all. Sabine and Odessa stood together for a moment.

“A new sister,” Odessa said, taking Sabine’s tentative hand. “Oh, Nic, she’s beautiful. And a son!” Her eyes moved to Nic, but blessedly, she didn’t probe further. He’d fill her in later. “Aren’t you a fine young man,” she said. “I bet you’re hungry.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, let’s go in and get you something to eat. There’s plenty left over from supper.” Bryce headed in and Odessa waited at the door, watching as Sabine and Everett filed past.

“Where’s Moira off to?” Nic asked. “She coming home soon?”

Odessa’s elation left her eyes as they shifted to Daniel. Daniel hesitated before her, and Nic looked back. “Dess?” Nic asked.

“Moira left over a week ago,” she said, glancing at Daniel again with reproach in her eyes.

Nic frowned, worried over the unspoken conversation happening between his sister and the sheriff. Why the concern? “Where’d she go?”

“To New York,” she said. “She heard from the family of Gavin Knapp, a former beau. They wanted her to come and meet them.”

Nic turned back around, alarm surging through him. He didn’t like how either of them were acting. Moira had been in Paris and London for years, why were they so worried now? Surely, she could make her way around a city on her own. And who was this Gavin Knapp?

o

Daniel shifted, uncomfortable in the face of Nic’s obvious agitation over Moira. It brought up everything he himself was feeling.
Moira, Moira, where are you?
She had not answered his telegram. Why? To punish him? Or was she in some sort of trouble?

“You folks have a lot to catch up on,” he said, hat in hands. “So I’ll get along. But I wondered … Have you received word from Moira?”

Odessa’s expression softened. “Just one telegram. The day after she arrived.”

Daniel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. So she was safe. She just didn’t feel compelled to send a telegram to him. Not that he blamed her.

“You sent a telegram to her?” Odessa guessed.

“Yes.”

“I’m certain she’s been busy since she arrived. You’ll probably hear from her soon.”

“Yes,” he said, feeling the emptiness of the word. He didn’t anticipate a telegram. Not really. “Odessa,” he said, before she could turn away and join the others. “Why did she go?” he asked quietly. “What does she want with the Knapps?”

“I’m not certain,” Odessa said after hesitating. “I think she wanted a glimpse of her old life. Perhaps so she can more fully embrace this chapter. Gavin—because it ended so poorly …” She shook her head, as if she were sharing too much. “I think Moira is seeking healing. In many ways. Hopefully, in New York, she can find a portion.”

Daniel nodded and turned his hat in his hands again. “I’m going after her. I shouldn’t have ever let her go.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Daniel. Maybe it’s best you let her return on her own.”

“I let her go before,” he said miserably. “Back when I had no claim on her. Back when she was with Gavin. If I’d stepped up, done what I needed to …” He shook his head. “So much might’ve been different.”

She gave him a look of compassion and reached out to place a hand on his arm. “It might’ve been different. But you might not have discovered that you loved my sister. Truly loved her. Nor that she loved you.”

He stared at her, hard. Love.
Love
. He’d let love slip from his fingers. Let her go, to New York, where she might face danger, unprotected …

Daniel set his hat on his head. “Nonetheless, I’m going after her. I’ll be on the morning train.”

Odessa frowned. “She might not be ready to come back, Daniel. You know how Moira is.”

“I know how she is. I’ll let her see her business through. But I want her to know she won’t be alone. That I’m there for her, whenever she needs me, however she needs me.”

Odessa’s frown moved into a smile. “Then God go with you. I hope you return soon. Both of you.”

He squeezed her hand and then turned to go. He was out on the front porch and walking down the steps when the door opened behind him again. “Sheriff?”

Daniel paused and turned. It was Nic.

“Sheriff, may we come and see you tomorrow?”

Daniel hesitated. “Certainly. But I’m heading out on the morning train. Going to New York. After your sister.”

It was Nic’s turn to hesitate. He closed the door and walked to the top of the stairs. “You have intentions when it comes to my sister.”

“Intentions, yes. But bigger than that,” he said, a smile spreading across his face. “Dreams. Hope.”

Nic smiled then too. “Those are good things.”

“Indeed.”

“Well, I’ll look forward to getting to know you better upon your return, then,” Nic said, reaching out a hand. Daniel shook it. “But we have some official business with you before you leave. Everett, back there,” he said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “Sabine and I intend to adopt him, once we’re married. But he’s Peter Vaughn’s boy. I think you have his dad’s murderer in your jail, right?”

Daniel paused and turned fully around to face him. He’d heard from Sheriff Nelson that the boy and his guardians were heading down to Westcliffe to identify him.… His eyes widened in surprise. “That I do. Maybe once he gets a look at Everett, he’ll start talking. He’s been stubborn. Refused to speak other than to ask for a lawyer, who said to wait for the judge. Judge is due in any day now.”

A muscle in Nic’s cheek twitched. “Perhaps Everett identifying him could move him to confess. Can you take a later train?”

Daniel paused before saying, “First thing tomorrow?”

“We’ll be there.”