Wolf Shadow (30 page)

Smiling broadly, she ushered them inside. “Sit down, make
yourselves to home.”

Rosalia took a place on one of the benches. Removing her
gloves, she placed them in her skirt pocket, then unpinned her hat and placed
it on the table.

Teressa sat down on the opposite bench and stared out the
window.

“Can I get you some cold buttermilk?” Mrs. Morganstern
asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Rosalia replied politely.

Teressa shook her head.

“How about a sarsaparilla?” Mrs. Morganstern offered.

“I…I don’t know what that is.”

“Land sakes, child, you’ll love it.”

The woman hurried off, only to return a moment later with
two mugs.

Teressa accepted the mug the woman offered and took a small
sip of the contents. She smiled, pleased by the faintly sweet taste.

Mrs. Morganstern beamed at her. “I reckon you ladies are
right hungry. Well, supper’s just about ready. You just rest yourselves, and
I’ll be back directly.”

And so saying, she disappeared through a doorway that
Teressa guessed led to the kitchen.

She glanced around the room. There wasn’t much to see. A
long plank table with wooden benches on either side. A well-worn overstuffed
chair covered by a faded blanket, a lumpy sofa. A rifle hung over the fireplace
mantel. There was a small picture of some flowers tacked to one wall. A pair of
oil lamps hung from the ceiling. Dusty yellow curtains covered the single
window.

With a sigh, Teressa ran her hand over her hair, then took
another sip of her drink, wondering if they had sarsaparilla in San Francisco.

A short time later, Mrs. Morganstern reentered the room
carrying a tray laden with chipped, mismatched dishes, mugs, and flatware. She
smiled at Teressa as she set the table, then went back into the kitchen. Several
more trips put dinner on the table.

Mrs. Morganstern stepped outside and rang the dinner bell.
Minutes later, Jacko entered the station followed by a tall, skinny man wearing
a pair of baggy overalls over a chambray shirt.

Mrs. Morganstern introduced her husband and then they all
took their places at the table. Mr. Morganstern said grace, then dug into the
bowls placed in the center of the table.

Dinner was roast beef, potatoes, tinned peaches, and
biscuits hot from the oven.

Jacko and Mr. Morganstern ate with a great deal of gusto.
Mrs. Morganstern’s manners were considerably better. She made small talk during
the meal, remarking on the weather and how difficult it was to keep the house
clean with all the dust in the air.

Rosalia made polite replies. Jacko and Mr. Morganstern
grunted from time to time.

Teressa paid no attention to the conversation at the table.
Keeping her gaze on her plate, she ate in silence, her thoughts centered on
Wolf. She couldn’t shake off her disappointment that he hadn’t come after her.
Doubts plagued her. Maybe he didn’t love her. Maybe she had misunderstood what
had happened between them. Maybe it had meant more to her than to him.

It was that depressing thought that followed her to sleep
that night.

* * * * *

They reached Crooked River three days later. It was a large
town, larger than Buffalo Springs, but getting there had been the longest, most
uncomfortable journey of Teressa’s life. Long days on bumpy roads. Long nights
spent in crude way stations. She was glad that that part of the journey was
over.

When they went to the station to buy tickets, they learned
the train had been delayed a day due to a tree that had fallen on the tracks.
Looking at the train schedule, Teressa noted that if the train had not been
delayed, they would have missed it altogether. Had that happened, they would
have had to wait two weeks for the next one.

Teressa was glad for the delay. It meant being able to bathe
in a tub, being able to sleep in a real bed. It meant one more day to hope that
by some miracle Wolf would arrive.

* * * * *

Teressa glanced over her shoulder one last time before
boarding the train. She had been so sure Wolf would come for her. So sure. Though
it had taken them four days by wagon to reach Crooked River, she knew he could
have made it sooner on horseback.

“Come, Tessa.”

“Yes, Mama.”

With a sigh of resignation, Teressa climbed the last step
into the passenger car and followed her mother down the narrow aisle to a pair
of vacant seats near the near of the car.

Teressa sat down near the window and stared out, a tiny part
of her still hoping that Chance would ride up and steal her away. She searched
the faces of the people gathered on the platform to bid goodbye to friends and
loved ones, but she didn’t see a tall man with long black hair and copper-hued
skin.

“We’ll be there soon,” Rosalia said, taking the seat across
from Teressa. She smoothed her skirt, patted her hair. “It will be wonderful to
be home again, to be back among civilized people.”

Teressa said nothing, just stared out the window. The people
in San Francisco wouldn’t think she was civilized. She remembered very little
of what she had learned in school, but her mother had assured her that didn’t
matter. Once they returned home, a private tutor would be hired for her. She
would have a new wardrobe, they would redecorate her bedroom, introduce her to
polite society.

The fact that Teressa had no interest in any of those things
mattered not one whit. She was the daughter of a wealthy businessman; she was
expected to be a credit to her family, to marry well and raise a family. Her
father already had a list of men he considered worthy suitors.

With a sigh, Teressa pressed her hand to her stomach. She
could be pregnant, even now. Closing her eyes, she imagined a baby growing
inside her. Wolf Shadow’s baby. None of the suitors her father thought so
highly of would want to marry her if she was carrying another man’s baby,
especially if that baby was part Lakota.

Her eyes flew open as a shrill whistle pierced the air and
then, with a great grinding of wheels, the train lurched forward.

People on the platform waved to their friends. Horses
snorted and shied as the train moved down the track, picking up speed as it
went.

Teressa glanced back one last time, felt the hot sting of
tears in her eyes as the platform, swathed in a great cloud of hazy gray smoke,
slowly faded from view.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Teressa stared at the huge, three-story house located at the
top of a high hill. She counted five chimneys as the hired hack carried them
ever closer to their destination.

Tall trees lined both sides of the winding road that led up
to the house. The sight stirred memories. Once, she had pretended that the
tree-lined road was a path to an enchanted kingdom where a wicked witch kept
her imprisoned, waiting for a handsome prince to come and rescue her.

Teressa sighed. Her fairy tale hadn’t ended the way she had
planned. Instead of rescuing her from a wicked witch, her handsome prince had
taken her away from the only life she truly remembered. Who would rescue her
this time?

The carriage halted and the driver opened the door and handed
Rosalia out of the carriage.

Teressa offered him a shy smile and a word of thanks as he
helped her alight. For a moment, she could only stare at the house as memories
flooded her mind. She recalled her last Christmas here. Mama had given a party
and the house had been ablaze with lights and people and presents. She wondered
if her pony was still alive, if Mrs. Rochefort still made gingerbread men, if
fish still swam in the pond in the backyard, if her runaway kitten had ever
come home.

She smiled faintly as she followed her mother up the wide
stone steps. Such childish thoughts and memories but then, she had been a child
when she lived here before.

The massive front door opened and Hart stood there, looking
much as Teressa remembered him, except that his hair had turned gray and he
seemed shorter and heavier than she recalled.

“Miss Teressa!” A huge smile of welcome spread over his
face. “Welcome home!”

“Thank you, Hart.”

He beamed at her and then, to her complete surprise, he
embraced her. Moments later, Mrs. Squires and Mrs. Rochefort and Marie were
there, too.

“My dear, oh my dear,” Mrs. Rochefort murmured as she gave
Teressa a hug. “How beautiful you are!”

Marie kissed her on the cheek. “Welcome home,
mademoiselle
.”

Tears rolled down Teressa’s cheeks as she hugged them all in
return. “I missed you,” she said. “All of you.”

“Tonight, all your favorite foods,” Mrs. Rochefort said, and
then looked over at Rosalia to make sure it was all right.

Rosalia nodded. “That is a wonderful idea, Mrs. Rochefort.
Would you please heat some water? I should like to bathe, and I am sure Tessa
would also like to clean up after our journey.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mrs. Rochefort said.

“Marie, please light the fires in the bedrooms. There’s a
bit of a chill in the air.”

“
Oui
, madam.”

“Come, Tessa.” Rosalia moved toward the wide curving
staircase that led to the upper floors.

Teressa followed her mother up the stairs. Ten years since
she had been in the house, she thought, and yet it was all so familiar. How
could she ever have forgotten this place? Her mother turned left at the top of
the stairs. Teressa smiled as they passed the tiny alcove where she used to
hide from her father.

She took a deep breath when they reached her room, and then
she opened the door. Her room was just as she had left it.

“We will have to buy you a new bed,” Rosalia remarked,
entering the room behind her.

Teressa smiled faintly as she looked at the narrow bed she
had once slept in, with its frilly pink canopy and matching spread.

“We shall go shopping tomorrow,” Rosalia said. “Tonight, you
can sleep in one of the guestrooms. I will have Marie make up the bed for you.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Rosalia came up behind her and gave her a hug. “I am so glad
you are back home,
la mia piccola ragazza.”

Teressa wandered around the room after her mother left for
her own chambers. Everything a little girl could have desired was in this
room—no doubt she’d had every toy and doll and game known to man.

She ran her fingertips over the bedspread, smiled at a doll
that had once been her favorite, ran her hand over the back of the small
rocking chair in the corner, picked up a favorite picture book.

She paused at the window that looked out over the backyard.
She wasn’t sure what she had expected to feel when she got here, was surprised
to find that she had missed the house and its people and yet, even amid a sense
of homecoming, she was lonely for Chance, for the vast rolling plains, for the
smell of smoke and sage, the sound of the Lakota language in her ears.

She didn’t know if Wolf Shadow would come for her or not,
but she knew she wouldn’t stay in San Francisco long. She would be eighteen
soon, old enough to do as she wished. Her parents couldn’t force her to stay
here if she chose to leave. Even if she didn’t go back to the Lakota to stay,
she would go back. She had roots there, too, deeper in some ways, than the ones
she had here.

A knock at the door scattered her thoughts. “Yes?”

The door opened and Marie stepped into the room. “Your bath
is ready.”

“Thank you, Marie.”

With a smile and a curtsey, the maid left the room.

Teressa glanced around the room. She was home again, in her
own room again. And all she wanted to do was cry.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chance tossed his hat on the rack, shrugged out of his
jacket, ran a hand through his hair. He had spent ten hours in the saddle and
he was tired and hungry and angry enough to drive his fist through the wall.

For the last two and a half weeks, he had tried talking
himself out of going after Teressa and into going after Finch. Finally, three days
ago, he had decided he couldn’t live without her. His decision made, he had
been packed and ready to go when Dreesen had come in with a report that two
hundred head of cattle had been rustled off the east range.

Chance had taken Dreesen and four of the ranch hands and
ridden out to the east range. At first glance, it looked like the cattle had
been stolen by Indians. Had that been the case, Chance would have let the
matter drop. Granted, losing two hundred head would have cost him a good deal,
but he couldn’t blame the Indians. Thanks to white hunters, the buffalo weren’t
as numerous as they had been.

Chance had been about to turn back when some inner prompting
urged him to follow the trail a little further. They had ridden about five
miles when he found it, a Bull Durham sack, the remains of a hand-rolled
cigarette, and the imprint of a boot heel. It wasn’t much in the way of
evidence. Indians liked tobacco, too, and there were a dozen ways some warrior
could have gotten hold of a sack of tobacco, or a pair of boots, but deep in
his gut Chance knew it wasn’t Indians who had stolen his beef.

Chance and his men had ridden hard. It hadn’t been hard to
overtake the rustlers, slowed as they were by the herd. Chance and his men had
waited until nightfall, taken out the nighthawk, then thrown down on the four
men huddled around the campfire. The rustlers must have all had loved ones
waiting for them because they had surrendered without a fight.

Dreesen had been all for hanging the lot of them on the
spot. Chance had to admit the idea was tempting but, in the end, he had sent
Dreesen and the rest of the hands back to the ranch with the cattle, and he had
taken the rustlers into town.

He swore softly as he ran a hand through his hair. After
dropping the rustlers off at the jail and signing the necessary papers, he had
stopped by the hotel, only to find out that Rosalia and Teressa weren’t
registered there. He knew they hadn’t left town by coach, since the next stage
wasn’t due for another couple of days.