Authors: Phoebe Conn
"Do I look dead to you?" Beau responded angrily. He quickly crossed the large room to face Cabrielle as he rushed through a hurried explanation. "I was swept so far down that damn river I was lost for days. Had it not been for the kindness of an old trapper by the name of Sam Willis, I most certainly would have died of exposure and hunger, but obviously I didn't!"
"But your uncle thought—" Cabrielle tried to speak, but Beau interrupted her with an impatient oath.
"Blast my uncle! I've not seen the man since the day I plucked his children from the river! Even with Joe's help I couldn't catch up to the wagon train, and there's no trace of my relatives here in the Willamette Valley so he must have taken
the cutoff to California. But I care little about them, what are you doing here and how did you become that man's wife?" He gestured accusingly toward Jason as though he were some sort of hideous troll whom she could not possibly have wed willingly.
Having heard enough to satisfy his initial curiosity, Jason excused himself from their reunion scene, knowing they'd much rather have some privacy. "Stay and chat as long as you like, Mr. Ramsey. I know my wife is delighted to discover the report of your death was in error." With that bitter farewell, he walked out the door, saddled Duke, and hurriedly rode away from the farm, hoping they'd think he'd gone hunting. He wiped away the hot tears which stung his eyes, ashamed to display such weakness even in the solitude of the fields, but he loved his wife dearly and could not bear to think that after only one week of marriage he'd already lost her.
"Well?" Beau demanded. "How did you get here and why did you marry him?" He was nearly shaking with rage and if she did not reply quickly, he meant to shake the truth out of her. He took another step forward, his intention clear in the fierceness of his dark gaze.
Cabrielle was exasperated because Jason had left her to deal with such a terrible misunderstanding all by herself. She needed his calm as well as his strength, but having no choice but to handle the matter alone, she straightened her shoulders proudly and gave the only response she could. "A year passed before I left Liberty. Had I received even one brief letter from you in that time I would have been overjoyed to learn you were alive and I would have waited forever for you to come back for me.
"Forever?" Beau snarled. "It looks to me like you got yourself a husband with remarkable speed if you were so heartbroken by the news of my supposed death!"
"You're not being fair. Beau. I was heartbroken, so thoroughly wretched I didn't even want to go on living without you. What saved me were my memories and my dream of
making a home in Oregon as we'd planned to do."
The fire in his eyes did not subside as she spoke, and she recalled that he lost his temper as easily and as often as she lost hers. SheM never criticized him for that fault, but now it frightened her to recall how uncontrollable his anger had often been. The home from which he*d come had not been a happy one. Perpetually short of money, his parents had had frequent and bitter arguments which had, on more than one occasion, led to an exchange of blows. She'd never thought Beau would ever strike her though, but she'd never done anything to provoke great anger in him either. She backed away, moving closer to the fireplace until the poker was within easy reach. She didn't want to hurt him, but if he dared to lift his hand to her she meant to hit him right back. She knew she'd need a weapon to convince him of her sincerity.
"One year is considered a respectable length of time for a widow to wait to remarry. I was not even a widow and it was closer to a year and a half after I'd been misinformed of your death before I married Jason."
"Was it no more than one week ago?" Beau cried out, his pain at that thought causing his voice to break.
"Yes, we were married last Sunday afternoon." That fact revealed little of their story Cabrielle realized, but it was all she cared to admit to Beau.
"You can have the marriage annulled—a divorce is difficult for a woman to get—but you're coming with me now. Get your things and we'll go," Beau commanded firmly.
Taken aback by his demand, Gabrielle attempted to stall for time. She hoped to be able to reason with him. "Where is your \ farm? Is it far?"
It was Beau's turn to search for a lucid reply this time. Suddenly put on the defensive, he hesitated a moment too long before beginning his reply. "I've been trapping. There's still money to be made in furs, if not a fortune like Astor's. I've been too busy to claim land, let alone do any farming as yet. I've been trying to earn enough money to provide for our
future before I settle down. If this winter is a cold one, the beaver will have thick pelts and Til have all the cash I need come spring."
"I see." Gabrielle swallowed the angry retort which filled her throat and asked calmly, "When did you plan to return to Liberty to marry me? In another year, perhaps, or two? In all the time you've been here, you did not think I deserved such a slight consideration as one letter from you to let me know I was still in your thoughts?"
"Damn it, Gabrielle, I knew you'd wait for me! At least I thought you would," he added hastily. "How was I to know you'd think me dead and marry somebody else?"
Too hurt to argue that question any further, Gabrielle turned away. 'That I believed you dead is one tragedy, that you did nothing yourself to prove otherwise is another. I'll not apologize for marrying Jason and I've no intention of leaving him either."
Beau reached out to grab her shoulders, spinning her around to face him. "You can't mean that! You love me, you always have, and you always will!" He lowered his head to kiss her, but she turned away, avoiding his lips deftly as she struggled to break free.
Gabrielle could scarcely believe the distraught young man who held her in such a painful grasp could be the boy she'd loved. Apparently he'd not thought she'd fight him, and when she did he released her with a forceful shove that sent her stumbling back against the mantel. Recovering her balance, she tried to make him see her side of the situation. "I know finding me here today has been as great a shock for you as seeing you riding down the street was for me but—"
"What? You saw me and did not call my name? You did not wave or give me any sign you were nearby?" Beau shouted his accusation, furious with her for disregarding his feelings so completely.
Things were getting worse, not better, and Gabrielle silently cursed Jason for leaving her in such a difficult situation.
Where had the man gone? Since he wasn't present, she unleashed her anger on Beau. "Stop yelling at me. That won't help anything." She clenched her fists at her sides and waited a moment to make certain he'd not interrupt her. "When I caught sight of you riding by I was so shocked I fainted. When I awakened I thought I must surely have been mistaken, that I'd seen a stranger who resembled you. It did not even occur to me that it really had been you."
"Well, now you know, don't you?" Beau answered sarcastically. "This is a fine mess you've created, but I'll forgive you for marrying Royal if you truly thought me dead. Now let's quit arguing about it and go. Your husband recognized my name so you must have told him something about me. He'll understand why you've left him."
"I am not leaving him!" Gabrielle insisted, stamping her foot defiantly. "Have you heard nothing I've said? You should have written to me, a dozen times at least in the months you've been here. Now you say you thought I'd simply wait in Liberty, for years perhaps, until you finally got around to going back. You've done nothing about starting a farm as you promised, not even claimed land let alone built a home for us. Just where would you take me? To live with that rowdy group of trappers with whom I saw you today? Well, do you have any type of a home for me to share?"
Beau's cheeks burned with an angry blush as he tried to think of some way to refute Gabrielle's barrage of accusations, but he just stood there and took the abuse he knew he deserved. He'd justified his actions to himself, but he'd been so confident of Gabrielle's love he'd never even considered he might lose her. "If it's a home you want, I'll go and buy one!" he finally shouted. "I'll be back and then I won't take no for an answer, Gabrielle. I may not have been your first husband, but by God, I'll be your last!" He pulled her into a rude embrace, his mouth crushing hers with an assault so brutal he tasted blood before he drew away. He left her then as swiftly as he'd come, riding away at a furious pace as if he meant to fulfill his
promise within the hour.
Shaken to the marrow by the fury of his farewell, Gabrielle gripped the back of the rocking chair tightly and willed herself not to faint for a second time that day. Finally she gathered enough strength to cross the room and rinse out her mouth with cold water, but she knew her lips were badly bruised and she feared Jason would think Beau had struck her. His kiss certainly had had the force of a punishing blow; the inside of her lower lip had been cut. Needing fresh air to clear her mind she left the close confines of the house and sat down upon the back porch, hugging her knees tightly to keep from shaking. She felt as though she were suffering from an acute attack of chills. She tried to breathe deeply, to begin counting backward from one hundred, to concentrate upon the movement of the leaves in the trees as the wind caressed them gently. She tried to distract herself from the searing pain she felt. Her aunt's dire predictions thundered in her ears. Over and over the woman had called Beau no more than a handsome dreamer who'd never give her anything but grief. She'd been a fool not to heed that warning! He was no closer to owning the farm they'd planned to have than he'd been the day he'd left Liberty. She doubted he had twenty dollars to his name, let alone a sufficient sum to purchase a farm and provide for a wife. She raised her hand to her eyes and wept silently. She'd adored him, but in well over a year he'd not even taken time to sit down and write one letter to her. He seemed so terribly young now. Actually he was only twenty, just out of his teens. Had the confidence she'd always admired been no more than the arrogance of a selfish boy? She wept bitter tears for her own folly, wept until darkness fell, and then, not wanting Jason to find her in such a sorry state, she hurried inside to prepare his supper. She lit the fire in the fireplace and stirred up the coals in the stove, but she was too distracted to cook. She paced up and down in front of the fire as she waited for her husband to come home. When he did not soon appear, she ran out to the barn to see if he'd taken Duke, and finding the animal gone, she
returned quickly to the warmth of the house. He might have gone hunting and had an accident. He could have been thrown. That was an unlikely possibility but it could have happened. His rifle might have discharged and he could be severely injured. She couldn't search for him until dawn and he might have bled to death by then. She was terrified that he'd suffered some dreadful mishap, yet she was unable to do more than agonize over the horror of that possibility. She continued to pace distractedly until she was so exhausted she fell into the rocking chair. Covering herself with the soft quilt, she finally fell into a troubled sleep, tormented by dreams of Beau's hostile farewell and of her husband's maddening disappearance.
Jason spent the afternoon seated beneath the oak tree which marked the southern corner of his property. Leaning back against the gnarled trunk, he had no plan to hunt unless a stag happened to wander by, which was an unlikely eventuality. It would have been interesting to see the harvest his fields would produce, but he'd completely lost interest in being a farmer now. He brushed away a small beetle which had strayed up his pants leg and tried to force himself to face the obvious consequence of Beau's sudden appearance. Gabrielle would want to leave him, he had no doubt of that. But what would she do if he refused to divorce her? No. That idea was absurd. She'd despise him for that and just run away with Beau the fir^t time he left her alone. She was not the type of woman to be intimidated, but he'd not offer her her freedom. He'd bide his time and wait for her to ask for it; she owed him that much.
Only that morning he'd given a most favorable opinion of marriage to John Randolph. Now his optimistic words came back to haunt him. Apparently one short week of wedded bliss was all he would have. He rose wearily as the sun began to set and rode into town. It was Saturday night. The atmosphere in his favorite saloon was a lively one, and he proceeded to get
quite drunk in the company of some men with whom he'd once been very friendly. When one of them made the mistake of asking him why he was there rather than home in bed with his beautiful bride, Jason dragged him to his feet and knocked him unconscious with one blow. The proprietor of the bawdy estabhshment didn't object to an argument or two, but he drew the line at fist fights. Fearing Jason would start a brawl, he ordered him out of the place.
The chill night air helped to clear Jason's mind, but he could not readily decide where to go. Home was out of the question. There were several attractive women who would welcome him if he appeared on their doorsteps, but spending the night in another woman's bed would only compound his torment not end it. Clayton would take him in, but then he'd have to explain what had happened. He didn't want to reveal the depth of his anguish, even to such a close friend. Finally, deciding it was the best alternative, he made his way to the hotel and took a room for the night. He left Duke in the stable, went straight to bed, and slept until late the next morning.
The rooster's incessant crowing awakened Gabrielle before the first glimmer of dawn had begun to fill the sky. He was a feisty bird, intent upon declaring himself master of the territory in the most vocal manner possible, but she could not fault him for that. He obviously considered it his duty to greet the new day and took his obligation very seriously. "Damn bird," she moaned softly. Then, realizing she'd spent the night alone in front of the fireplace rather than in bed with Jason, she came fully awake in an instant. The house was too still, deathly quiet, but she laid logs and kindling upon the ashes in the fireplace and built a fire to disperse the night's chill. Next she built up the fire in the stove and brewed coffee. She had routine chores to do, but first she fortified herself with several hot cups of strong coffee. The cut on the inside of her lip had barely begun to heal. It caused considerable pain when she