Authors: Beth Williamson
Near the end of the day, when the sun hung low in the sky in front of them, Frankie’s eyes watered from the brightness of the sunset. She told herself they weren’t tears of self-pity, but that was a lie. She had no one to blame but herself for the situation she was in with John. He had offered himself to her and she needed to accept him.
Right now she couldn’t.
Each day they rode hard and each night they slept. Apart. The dog somehow managed to keep up with them, arriving during the night and departing with the dawn behind them. They were a trio of ragtag travelers, weary, exhausted and on edge.
Frankie was at fault for all of it. The confusion, the uncertainty and most of all, the misery. She was conflicted, torn between what her heart wanted and her head refused to allow. Her world had been in such turmoil for the last year, the future scared her and she hid from it. The cowardice would cost her the man she loved, mile by mile, inch by inch.
The dog slept beside her, between them, at night. She woke each morning to find the furry warm body and the sympathetic brown eyes. Each day they grew closer to the wagon train and John was further away.
The only positive outcome was her horsemanship. She had become adept at riding Liberté and her soreness had diminished. Frankie also learned to take care of the horse, how to saddle and unsaddle her, rub her down and feed her. It gave her a sense of accomplishment to become responsible for another living being. Different than helping with her sisters because the horse needed her as much as she needed the mare.
They crested a hill in the evening after many days of riding and saw the wagons forming a circle. Her throat tightened with emotion. Frankie didn’t cry often, but they filled her eyes and rolled slowly down her cheeks unchecked.
“Frankie?” John’s gruff voice sounded from beside her. “You okay?”
He didn’t push her to ride hard or to stop weeping like a foolish girl. No, the man she loved cared for her, loved her, and offered nothing but support. She was the one who pushed him away and kept him at arm’s length.
Frankie wiped away the tears and shook her head. “No, but I will be.” She managed a weak smile. “I can hardly believe we made it.”
“I told you it would be a hard ride, but I knew the trail and I knew you’d make it.” He sounded so confident in their abilities, but she’d had doubts. She was a city girl, not made for the rugged west, or so she thought. Perhaps she’d been wrong.
He waited, not speaking or pushing her to move. She had to gather her courage and her words before they rode the last half a mile to the wagon train. By now someone had spotted them and they had little time before they had to move.
Do something, Frankie. If you don’t, the moment you ride forward, you’ve lost him.
She shook with emotion unsaid and swallowed the tears of regret that had been building for a week. Frankie opened her mouth, ready to confess her love for him, to ask him to build his life with her.
“John, I have something to say—“
“Mr. Malloy, is that you?” Tom Avery’s voice echoed across the open landscape. A lone rider galloped toward them, his gangly gait confirmed who it was.
Damn. She turned her gaze to John, finally looking at the man who owned her heart. Sorrow mixed with love swirled in the depths of his beautiful blue eyes. She had seconds before Tom reached them, seconds to finally steer the course of her life without thought to anyone but herself.
“I am sorry all this happened.” She could have bitten her tongue off for being so stupid. He reared back as though she’d slapped him, and she truly had. “
Merde
. That is not what I meant. John, please, I—“
“I cain’t believe it.” Tom reached them and kicked up a cloud of dust that had them all coughing and waving their hands to clear the air. “Buck said you was a good tracker, but golly, you found her.” He barely glanced at Frankie, the hero worship for the older man evident.
“I found her and we made it back.” John’s voice was rough and she wanted to believe the dust caused it.
She’d be lying to herself.
“Well, let’s head on over. Folks are gonna be so surprised!” Tom practically danced in the saddle, his youthful face alight.
Frankie wanted to turn around and ride anywhere but the wagon train. She wanted to escape to the sweet spot John had selected for his ranch and live there with him forever. Most of all, she wanted to be with him, to wake up with him every day and go to sleep with him every night. She wanted to stop being a coward and make a choice for herself.
Before she could say a word, John had kneed his mustang into motion and left her sitting there with the smiling Tom and the dog. She barely swallowed the lump of regret, nearly choking on her own stupidity. The man she loved, the only man for her, had ridden away because of her inability to do what she knew to be right.
She’d lost him.
John’s gut twisted into a knot the closer he got to the wagon train. The time alone with Frankie was over and she’d never once mentioned, or responded, to his declaration of love. He wanted her to love him, needed her to love him, but she hadn’t given him the words he craved. Maybe he misjudged her, his heart foolishly waiting for something that would never happen.
Tom’s untimely appearance had ruined whatever she was going to say. John had stupidly had hoped she was going to tell him she loved him and wanted to be with him always. She hadn’t, though. In fact, all he heard was regret that any of it happened. If he were a lesser man, he would have found a dark corner and puked, then wept for what he could never have. However, John had steel in his spine and he wrapped it around his heart. One day he wouldn’t feel the pain but it sure as hell wasn’t today.
He rode on and reached the small crowd of people waiting for them. The Chastains were all there, faces alight with joy as they watched the woman behind him ride closer. Mrs. Chastain wept openly while Mr. Chastain kept swallowing, keeping his tears on the inside, no doubt. Frankie’s sisters alternated between happy and anxious.
A few others stood around watching as the lost sheep was brought back into the herd. Buck stepped forward and met John.
“Malloy. Nice work. I sure am glad to see you back.” The big man leaned closer. “Between you and me, Tom ain’t ready to be in charge.”
John shook his head. “I figured that might happen.”
Buck laughed. “He’s learning, though. Miss Enid has been asking after you every damn day. Tom couldn’t pick her up, so I’ve been doing it night and day. That old woman is relentless.”
This time it was John’s turn to chuckle. The old woman definitely had ideas about how things should be done and she wasn’t afraid to let everyone else know.
“Anything I need to know about Miss Chastain?” Buck spoke low enough for only John to hear.
“She and Mr. Callahan had a misunderstanding, but we found peace between them. We left on good terms, though.” John didn’t want his agreement with Declan to be known. However, he didn’t want to spread rumors about Frankie’s adventure either. The details were no one’s business.
“So did he kidnap her or not?” Buck didn’t need to know—he was being a gossip.
“No. Like I said, it was a misunderstanding. It’s all taken care of now.” John looked at Frankie, at her in the bosom of her family, hugging and smiling. She was exquisite, a perfect picture he would tuck away to hold in his heart for the lonely days and nights to come. He ruthlessly reminded himself that Frankie hadn’t accepted his love or what he could offer her.
He hadn’t given up entirely, but there was little chance he would convince her now. He would have to find a way to change her mind in the months ahead, before they reached Oregon. After she arrived there, the lumberjacks would snatch her up as a wife quicker than they chopped down one of the damn big redwoods.
There was no chance he’d give her up to a tree chopper. She was his whether or not she admitted or accepted it. John would make it his mission to help her see their lives were meant to be lived together.
“We had a group of men ride in a few days ago. Said they were headed to the forests to make their fortune in trees.” Buck shrugged. “One of them has money for sure and the others seem okay. I’ve had Tom watching them.”
The hairs on the back of John’s neck rose at the mention of more strangers. “Who are they?”
“The rich man’s name is Derek Bushel. The others are three brothers who tagged along with him, ah, John, Peter and Paul, I think. They keep to themselves and more or less ride drag.” Buck pointed to a tent in the distance, set up at least twenty feet from the wagons. “They ride ahead and set up in a likely spot for the night. It’s been helpful, truth be told, to have them scouting, especially with you gone.”
John’s instincts were on full alert and he didn’t trust any strangers, not anymore. “Let’s keep Frankie’s, I mean, Miss Chastain’s ordeal quiet. Mr. Bushel and his men don’t need to know anything and neither do any of the other settlers. That okay by you?”
Buck held up his hands. “I don’t want to do anything that’ll harm the poor girl. But you know how people like to gossip.”
Yes, he did know, but if he had anything to do with it, Frankie would not suffer from the old biddies who stuck their noses into everyone else’s business. He was so focused on what Buck was saying, he almost missed the slender man stepping from the shadows.
Frankie didn’t.
Her entire body stiffened and her face blanched. She stared at the man, a good-looking, well-dressed man with blond hair and a fancy round hat on his head. He smiled at her, his neatly trimmed mustache lending an air of manliness to his otherwise small frame.
John couldn’t hear what the man said, but he could see Frankie’s reaction. He was moving before he realized his feet had started toward her. Within seconds he ran, seeing the terror on her face had scared the hell out of him.
“It is lovely to see you, Francesca.” The stranger’s voice was melodic and cultured, a man who had lived in high society, no doubt. He also used her given name. “I look forward to renewing our acquaintance.”
John reached her side in time to hear her whimper. He moved her sisters aside and pulled Frankie under his arm. She was freezing cold, shaking and stiffer than a piece of steel.
“Who the hell are you?”
The stranger’s gaze moved to John’s and the smile remained. However, it was what John saw in the blond man’s eyes that made his heart kick into a gallop. Pure rage.
“I have come to retrieve my fiancée, Francesca.” He held out one smooth-skinned hand. “If my property is returned to me, there shall be no trouble.”
Oliver Peck
.
“Mr. Bushel, hm? Don’t you mean Mr. Peck? Or is that Prick?” John was pleased to see the smaller man’s eyes flicker at the taunt. “Frankie is going nowhere with you. Get your ass out of here before I hand it to you.”
John’s own anger grew, knowing what this man had done to her, to the woman who had more courage, integrity and goodness inside her than anyone he ever met. She’d described him as a monster and she hadn’t exaggerated. Despite his size, Oliver Peck was a dangerous man.
“
Francesca
is indeed mine and unless she wants to see your blood on the ground, I suggest you unhand her and return her to me. She is my lotus blossom and will be mine for always.” Peck gestured behind him and three very large men appeared from between two wagons. They had to be the apostles following this bastard around. “My men will be sure you give me no further trouble.”
“My name is John Malloy and I’ve got nothing but trouble for you.” He put his hand on the pistol hanging low on his hip. “Cut the head off the snake and the body dies.”
“Touché, Mr. Malloy.” Mr. Peck turned his attention to Mr. Chastain, whose jaw was clenched tight enough to crack teeth. “Francesca’s father owes me, and his daughter rendered payment for his debt. Unfortunately, she seems to have lost her way. I am here to fetch her home. I sent a lackey to retrieve her, but I suspected he failed before he even left New York. I will retrieve my own property my own way.”
The air crackled with fear, anger and tension. John’s hands curled into fists as he watched the woman he loved treated like a lost dog. He leaned down and whispered in her ear.
“You are the strongest person I’ve ever met. Don’t let him win. You can fight him. I love you, Frankie.” He hadn’t thought what he was going to say, and he only hoped it was enough.
John threw the first punch at Peck and all hell broke loose.
Frankie shook with fear while her stomach crawled up her throat. John’s whispered confession of love snapped her out of the spiraling dark she’d been falling into.
I love you, Frankie
.
She loved him too and she hadn’t told him, coward that she was. Now he was in a fight with the man who had nearly destroyed her. Oliver Peck wasn’t even a man—he was a hideous fiend in the guise of a human being. Now his selfish brutality could kill John.
He’d gotten one punch in before Peck’s men jumped in the fray. Tom and Buck Avery tried to get the three men off John but without much success. The muscled behemoths from New York were trained to fight to the death, like fighting cocks, drawing blood until their opponent was dead.