My Heart Stood Still (Sisters Of Mercy Flats 2) (23 page)

“You know I don’t reveal my contacts.” Loyal glanced back to the doorway. “Where is that two-bit outlaw? I should have insisted that you put someone other than Cortes in charge.”

Goodman’s face clouded. “Relax. He’ll show up. He’s on to something, or he would have been here by now.”

Shoving out of his chair, Streeter tossed a coin on the table and reached for his hat. “Time’s running out, Goodman.”

Ferris nodded. “The South can’t hang on much longer without funds.” He paused, eyeing his companion. “You’re not thinking of doing anything crazy, are you, Loyal?”

Loyal paused. “Crazy? What kind of fool question is that?”

“Just wondering. You wouldn’t be thinking of pulling a switch, would you? I’ve seen the look in your eyes lately, that greedy look you get when you’re busy hatching a plan. I don’t know what you got in mind, but it’s a pretty safe assumption that the Confederacy isn’t going to see a single coin of that gold.”

Loyal’s voice tightened. “If you haven’t heard from Cortes by sundown, send someone out to find him.”

“I will—if he don’t show up before long.”

Striding across the saloon, Streeter shoved the double swinging bar doors open and left.

“Yeah,” Ferris muttered. “Whatever you’re up to Mr. Streeter, it’s a safe bet it stinks to high heaven.”

“You have family, Quincy?” Anne-Marie stacked another bag of gold. She was hoping that idle chatter would keep Quincy’s mind off his work.

“Got three younger brothers at home.”

“You said you were from Alabama.”

He nodded and then paused to wipe the sweat rolling from his temples. The cellar was cool, but the gold was heavy and he’d worked up a sweat.

She hefted another bag onto a shelf. “You said you hoped to marry one day, have children, settle down.” He had not looked up once, fixing his eyes on his work.

“That’s what I plan, if I live to see the day.” He strained to lift the bags of coins, taut muscles working in his corded arms.

“Got any particular woman in mind?” There must be a long line of willing candidates awaiting him back home. His tall, muscular frame, deep brown eyes, and molasses-colored skin were sure to attract women, but it was his good nature, his ability to make her laugh and want to choke him at the same time that had found its way into her heart. Her life would feel hollow when the three parted.

“If she’s out there, she hasn’t made herself known yet.”

“Guess you’ll be real happy when the war is over and you can go home.”

His tone turned wistful. “Yes, I sure will be.”

“How many children do you want?”

“However many the good Lord sends—I’d like to have a couple of sons, maybe a daughter.”

“I’m sure your family misses you.” Anne-Marie barely remembered her papa. She couldn’t have been much more than a toddler when she and her sisters were left at the mission by kindhearted neighbors when both of her parents were waylaid on the way to town to purchase supplies. When the sheriff came to inform the family he found her and her sisters alone and frightened. Their closest neighbor would have taken the girls, but they could barely feed their flock, so she and her sisters were taken to the mission. But she remembered Papa’s booming voice. Loud and spirited, Irish McDougal’s voice made everyone grin. Irish must have inspired many a winsome thought among women in his younger years, but it was Mary Catherine McCurdy who had won his heart.

Memories didn’t sadden her. The good Lord had provided shelter and food at the mission; the sisters were like mothers. Strict but fair.

“Creed thinks the war can’t last much longer,” she said quietly.

“Don’t see how it can last, but man’s got a stubborn streak. They’ll get their fill of death and bloodshed one of these days and the fight will be over.”

Anne-Marie paused to catch her breath. “You’re still worried about the gold, aren’t you?”

Quincy’s solemn gaze met hers. “I’d just as soon it was in the commander’s hands,” he admitted.

“It will be—the moment Creed’s able to travel.”

“Well,” Quincy tucked the last bag among the others. He didn’t have to say that he was mighty relieved to have the job finished; his strained features told Anne-Marie as much. “I hope you’re right.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? We outsmarted the outlaws, didn’t we? They haven’t a clue as to where we are right now.”

“Yes, ma’am—maybe it’s safe.”

She hated it when he “yes ma’amed” everything she said. His superficial answers meant that he didn’t share her optimistic view.

“What’re your plans once you and your sisters are reunited?” Quincy slid down the wall and stretched his long legs in front of him.

“Well… ” Anne-Marie thought before answering. Before their arrest, she and her sisters had planned another scam near Dallas County…but she was through with thievery. Never again would she take anything that wasn’t hers. “I guess we’ll return to the mission and help the sisters. They’re all very old now.”

“You ever thought about marrying, settling down?”

“No. No I haven’t.”

“Your sisters. Have they…”

“No.”

Quincy leaned back, smiling.

“What are you grinning about?”

“You’re downright funny.”

“I don’t mean to be.” And she resented the observation. Having a genial personality was one thing, but being the butt of someone else’s joke was another.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Old enough to know a lady never tells her age.”

Sighing, Quincy said, “I remember when I was your age. Nary a brain in my head.”

Anne-Marie focused on his earlier remark. “Is that why you think I’m funny? That I don’t have a brain in my head?”

He continued as though he was talking to someone else. “Pretending not to have an interest in men, pretending to be a nun. When are you going to tell him?”

Her heart leaped. “Tell who… what?”

“Creed. Tell him you’re in love with him.”

Denial sprang to her lips and she clamped her teeth on her lower lip. She’d promised God to never lie again. Did that mean she could skirt the issue? Lacing her fingers through her hair, she closed her eyes. “What a fine mess I’ve made of everything. Creed will never forgive me.”

“Forgive you for what? He’s a reasonable man and you’ve been more than cooperative.”

“Reasonable enough to forgive a foolish young woman for dragging him around the countryside, shooting him, demanding that he take me to Mercy Flats above his duties to his country?” She slumped against the wall, fighting tears. “What man in his right man would forgive a woman for driving him to complete madness?”

Silence filled the small room. She needed to get Quincy out of here and into the sunlight, but she didn’t have the energy.

Quincy finally broke the stillness. “He’s pledged to Berry Woman.”

“I am well aware of Creed’s… situation.” If she knew nothing else, she knew about Berry Woman. In camp, someone went out of their way to remind her everywhere she went. Her voice took on a small, soft quality. “Do you think he loves her? I mean, the way a man really loves the woman he’s going to marry?”

“Well, that’s hard to say. Creed never mentions her, but then, that doesn’t mean much. Creed doesn’t talk about his personal life.”

“Yes, I suppose men don’t talk about things like that—not the way women do,” she admitted. She and her sisters would sit up half the night talking, but men were different. But then… “Don’t you think if a man truly loved a woman that he couldn’t do anything but talk about her?” she persisted.

If she loved someone that much, it wouldn’t bother her one bit if the whole world knew it. She’d shout it from the highest hilltop; stop strangers on the road and tell them.

“You don’t know men,” Quincy said.

“I don’t. I haven’t been around men for any length of time. Tell me, why doesn’t Creed talk about Berry Woman?” Berry Woman’s life and his were so different now. They were both Indian, but Creed had learned the white man’s way. Was it possible he wanted to return to Berry Woman’s way of life? He and Bold Eagle were closer than brothers.

“You don’t know much about the Crow, either.”

“No,” she admitted. “Nothing.” She’d seen Indians all her life, and she had heard tales about how they not only fought each other, but also had to fight to protect their territory from a variety of enemies, including miners, settlers, and soldiers.

Quincy’s expression sobered. “A Crow’s marriage is also a treaty between clans. It’s not only about love. It’s about honor and duty. The Crow’s idea of an ideal marriage is one between a man with honor to his name and a girl who is no clan or kin relation. So it doesn’t matter if he loves her or not, he’ll marry her.”

Meeting his gaze, Anne-Marie couldn’t hide her emotions. “But why—if Creed doesn’t love her?”

“No one but Creed can say if he loves her, but he has given his word to his blood brother, Bold Eagle. Nothing”—Quincy’s eyes searched hers—“and no one can alter his pledge.”

“Then you admit that Creed may not be in love with this woman?”

Anne-Marie didn’t know why the speculation should make her so happy. Whether he loved Berry Woman or not, Quincy had just said Creed would marry her regardless.

Getting slowly to his feet, Quincy dusted off the seat of his breeches. “Won’t do any good to dwell on it, little sister. As soon as the war’s over Creed’s going to have to sort through this and find his answer.”

Anne-Marie stood up and stuck the lid back on the Wells Fargo box, refusing to face him. She couldn’t take her hurt out on him. He was only trying to soften the blow, but she didn’t want him to see tears. He didn’t need a stricken woman on his hands.

Resting a large hand on her shoulder, he made a final observation. “Nor will it do any good to brood about it, child.”

It was impossible for Anne-Marie to hide her feelings. After all, a woman’s eyes never lied. Tears spilled from her lids. “I wouldn’t waste time brooding about some man.” She turned away, snuffing back emotion. “Let’s get out of here.”

Creed shifted, finding the wound much less painful.

“See, it’s better today.” Anne-Marie studied the bandages the following morning, obviously proud of her handiwork. After only a few days at the mission the wounded leg looked much better, although he’d had to endure her reminders several times a day to keep his weight off the limb.

“We’ll need to leave soon,” she observed when her eyes centered on the dwindling pile of makeshift bandages. “I don’t have much petticoat left.”

Creed’s sober eyes focused on her when she wrapped the clean bandage neatly around his leg. Her hands were small and her touch was as light as a hummingbird. The past few days had revealed a different side of Anne-Marie McDougal. A softer, more vulnerable side he found very appealing. In the beginning he had thought her more man than woman with her rowdy ways and rapier tongue. Now he realized he had been wrong. She would bring honor to the man she chose to marry.

He had begun to think about the time he would take Berry Woman as his wife. The war could scarcely last any longer, and once those dark days were past Bold Eagle would be anxious for the ceremony to take place.

Creed had learned the white man’s ways, and many of those ways he found practical. Like the white man, when he married, he desired a woman of faith, gentle ways, and quiet strength. He would be her one weakness. This woman would come to him in her need when no other could comfort. To her husband she would give her deep and abiding love. Together, they would become one heartbeat, one soul.