Authors: Jo Goodman
Carr dismounted swiftly and knelt beside her. His eyes grazed her face, her hair, and her clothing. The assessment only lasted a few moments, but it was enough for the private to draw his conclusions.
From his saddle Rivers regarded Anna Leigh. Her hair was disheveled, matted to the crown of her head by a rivulet of blood. Dust streaked her face. The bridge of her nose and her cheeks were sunburned. Two buttons were missing from her blouse, and there was a rent in the seam of the sleeve. Even though her leather skirt was tan and meant for traveling, it was covered by a film of dust.
Private Carr raised Anna Leigh's hands and examined them. The manicured nails were broken and bloody. Carr glanced at Rivers. "Looks like the son of a bitch has more to answer for than we thought."
Davis Rivers said nothing. "Did he leave you here?" he asked Anna Leigh.
Her sob was wretched, but she managed to shake her head. She let Private Carr help her to her feet and leaned heavily against him. "He's over there." Anna Leigh pointed in the distance behind her. "In those boulders. He said they would shelter us." Her pale eyes darted pitifully between her rescuers.
"How did you get away from him?" Rivers handed her his canteen.
"The shots... they distracted him. I hit him with a rock." She shuddered delicately, causing Carr to hold her more tightly. "I was afraid after that... My horse bolted and Ryder's mare wouldn't let me mount. I didn't know what to do. I stayed there with him until it got quiet again, then I came looking for someone."
"Good girl," Carr said. He asked Rivers, "You want to stay with her while I check out McKay?"
Rivers shook his head. "I'll go. Wait here. We're going to need him to show us another way down. We'll never get these horses down by the route we took."
Anna Leigh nodded. "He told me that. He knows another route."
Second Lieutenant Rivers kicked his mount in the flanks. His mare was high-strung from combat, but she was still game. She covered the ground quickly in the direction of the shallow cave.
Ryder was lying on his side, knees drawn toward his chest. There was blood at the back of his head and there were scratches on his face and neck. His jacket was lying on the floor of the cave, but he still wore his shirt. It was open at the throat, and where the second lieutenant could see Ryder's skin, he saw evidence of claw marks.
"Looks like she got some of her own back," Rivers said with certain satisfaction. He saw Ryder move slightly. Rivers grimaced, took him by the wrist, and jerked him hard to his feet. Ryder came up, staggered, and dropped to his knees like a felled tree. Rivers yanked him up again, this time by a handful of Ryder's thick hair. Half-dragging, half-lifting, the second lieutenant got Ryder McKay to his own mount.
Ryder's vision was clearing at the edges, but his arms and legs still felt too heavy to move. He was aware of Davis Rivers, of the second lieutenant's intention to put him on his horse, but he couldn't cooperate. More importantly, he wasn't certain he should. "Where's Miss Hamilton?" he asked.
The words were slurred, but Rivers was able to make them out. "Carr's got her. She's going to be fine, no thanks to you."
Ryder tried to think what that meant, but he needed his concentration to help Rivers get him in the saddle. There was no time to explain about Anna Leigh and the canteens. Ryder wanted to see Lieutenant Matheson and warn him about the real danger.
He allowed himself to be pushed unceremoniously into the saddle and registered some surprise when the second lieutenant tied his wrists to the leather horn. "What—"
"You can ride like that," Rivers said tersely. "I've seen you sit a pony without any reins at all."
Ryder's struggle was to keep his head up. He didn't know how he was going to find the strength to guide his mare. And now Rivers was asking him a question about the route down to the canyon floor. He tried to think. It was important for him to get there... he had to tell Matheson... he had to—"Which route, McKay?" Rivers demanded again. Out of the corner of his eye Ryder saw Rivers raise one arm and make a gesture to someone in the distance. Ryder turned his head slowly, careful not to lose his balance, and saw Anna Leigh sharing a mount with one of the company privates. He said something unintelligible, but uncomplimentary, under his breath and nodded to Rivers. "This way," he rasped.
As he led them all by a longer, less dangerous route to the canyon floor, Ryder began to consider what he'd say to Matheson. His foggy mind still couldn't make sense of the ropes around his wrists when the one who deserved stringing up was Anna Leigh Hamilton. He planned to use words to that effect when he came face-to-face with the first lieutenant.
By the time Ryder's mind cleared enough for him to understand his predicament, he was already chained and under guard and on his way back to Fort Union.
* * *
New York City
At the knock at her door, Mary looked up from her reading. "Come in," she said quietly. Twenty-four hours had passed since she'd shared her news at dinner. Her mother hadn't spoken to her in all that time. In fact, Moira hadn't come out of her room. Mary knew whom to expect.
Jay Mac walked in carrying a tray. "Disappointed?" he asked.
"Disappointed?"
"In it being me here and not your mother."
Mary shook her head. She was wearing a nightshift and her robe. Her legs were curled under her on the chair. She put down the book and made room on the small end table for her father to set the tray down. "I don't anticipate Mama will have a change of heart any time soon," she said. "I'm quite happy to have you here."
Jay Mac took a seat in the large Boston rocker while Mary poured tea for both of them. "I've tried talking to her," he said.
"I know. I don't think she's ready to hear."
"I've been thinking the same thing."
Mary handed him a cup of tea. "You didn't go to work today."
"No. I thought I should be here in case she needed me."
"You mean you stayed in case Mama and I argued again."
Jay Mac didn't even try not to look guilty. He sipped his tea and enjoyed the peacefulness of Mary's company. Even in the midst of her own troubles she had a calming presence he had always appreciated. "I had a telegram from Rennie and Jarret today. A messenger brought it over from the office."
"Business or family?"
"Business this time," Jay Mac acknowledged. "I'm sure she has her hands full with the twins, but you'd never know it from her work for Northeast. She says Jarret's midway through the negotiations for a tract of land in Arizona."
"Arizona? That's interesting. Northeast Rail in the Southwest," she mused. "You might want to think of changing the name of the railroad, Jay Mac. It hardly fits anymore."
"I'm aware of that," he said. "But I'll keep the name just to remind me what a small thinker I can be at times."
Mary laughed. Northeast Rail was all over the country now, but in the beginning she knew her father hadn't had a plan so grand as all that. Northeast's expansion had been prompted in part by the war. The Union industrialists laid track at a rate they had never dreamed possible. After the war some predicted there would be a lull, even a decline. If it had happened to Northeast, Mary wasn't aware of it. Jay Mac's railroad continued to supply low-cost transportation for goods and people as the country's Western move enjoyed a resurgence.
Northeast had made a specialty of providing cheap methods of moving ore for small mining communities. Rennie had been responsible for several sidelines in Colorado, and she had linked Denver with silver mines in Madison, Queen's Point, and most recently, Cannon Mills. Jay Mac had worked hard to keep Rennie out of the business, but in the past few years he had grown quite fond of the taste of crow. Her expertise at knowing where and how to lay a track, coupled with her husband's ability to supervise the labor gangs and negotiate the deals, had pushed Northeast's profit margins beyond even Jay Mac's expectations.
"Are she and Jarret in Arizona now?" asked Mary. "I just sent her a letter yesterday, to Denver."
"Michael will send it on, but yes, that's where the telegram originated. I didn't know she was thinking about it. There's been so much trouble on and off with the Indians."
"Are the twins with her?" Mary asked immediately. "Are she and Jarret safe?"
"Yes and yes." He chuckled. "The Office of Land Management is conducting a survey for them now. Somewhere southeast of Phoenix. Fort Union, I think she called it. She and Jarret are waiting for news in Phoenix and planning another trip to the Holland Mines." He saw that Mary was still frowning. A small vertical crease ran between her feathered brows. "What's wrong? What are you thinking?"
"I don't know," she said. "Nothing really." But she was vaguely unsettled, and she felt her father looking straight through her. "There must be other places Rennie can go. What sort of ore is mined there anyway?"
"Gold." He refreshed his tea and added a little to Mary's cup. "Drink," he insisted. "It's good for whatever ails you."
She smiled because she was meant to, not because of any easing of her disquiet. "Is it an old mine?" she asked. Perhaps there was a chance it would play itself out before the negotiations were complete.
Jay Mac shook his head. "Your sister wouldn't be interested in it if that were the case, not without an extensive geo survey. Rennie's telegram indicates this one's about six months old. She must believe it will produce long enough to turn a profit for the railroad."
Mary's hands tightened slightly on her teacup before she set it aside. She forced a lightness into her voice that she didn't feel in her heart. "You know, Jay Mac, this is all very interesting."
"How so?"
"Well, I was thinking of leaving New York myself soon."
"Mary!"
She ignored him. "And I've considered Arizona."
Jay Mac had to use more than a little self-control to stay in the rocker. What he wanted to do was leap out of the chair, tower over his daughter, and shake a finger in her face. "What the hell do you think you're going to do in Arizona?" he demanded, red-faced.
Mary blinked once in reaction to Jay Mac's blustering then drew calmness around her like a cloak. "I thought I might teach."
"Teach?" he said dismissively. "You're not a teacher."
She went on as if he hadn't objected. "There are missions in the southern part of the territory that are always looking for help."
"You have no credentials."
"No one at the mission will care about that."
"But—"
"Jay Mac," she said firmly, meeting her father's probing eyes with a steady, level stare of her own. "I think I know enough to teach children how to read and write."
She knows that and a lot more, Jay Mac thought. Each of his daughters was uniquely accomplished, but it was tacitly accepted by the family that Mary's star shone brightest. This was one of the reasons Jay Mac had been so adamantly opposed to her taking vows as a nun. To his way of thinking she was burying her special gifts. "I don't like it," he said. "If you want to teach, then I'll send you to school as I did your sisters. You can get a position in one of the local colleges when you're through. You would be a good professor."
Mary didn't say anything for a moment. Her features never lost their trademark serenity, but inside she was seething. The effort not to scream showed in her hands, twisted tightly together in her lap. "I did not allow you to run my life when I was seventeen," she said evenly. "Why in the world would you think I'd give you permission now?"
Jay Mac put his cup and saucer aside. "Because," he said heavily, "you've finally realized I was right all those years ago. You should never have become a nun. I told you from the first it was a mistake." If she was going to teach children, he thought, then they damn well should be her own.
The vision of her father blurred as tears welled in Mary's eyes. "You still don't understand," she said quietly, sadly. "I thought perhaps that by now you'd—"
"What?" he interrupted tersely. He thoroughly disliked the impression that he was somehow being narrow-minded or obtuse. He hated it even worse that his daughter was crying. "What is it you think I don't understand?"
Mary used the cuff of her nightgown to swipe at her tears. The strain of remaining calm now took its toll on her voice, which shook slightly as she spoke. "It was never a mistake, Papa. I don't regret what I've done with my life. The years I've been in God's service haven't been barren and joyless. I became His servant gladly. That's what I don't think you'll ever understand." Mary's eyes were still awash with tears, and her tone became more earnest, more convincing. "But if I didn't leave now,
that
would be a mistake. I don't know if Mama will ever understand this."
Jay Mac thought about that. For once, he thought about it quietly. Mary's distress was very real to him, and he felt her pain as an ache in his own heart. He valued his daughter's courage in the face of his censure. She had brought his disapproval down on her head when she had joined the sisterhood, now she had to cope with Moira's rejection as she was going to leave it. Jay Mac firmly believed that he only wanted what was best for his daughter—for any of his daughters. How was it, he reflected, that there could be so much disagreement surrounding what was best?