A Love Forbidden (11 page)

Even from the distance separating them, he could tell something was wrong. His instincts were confirmed when Shiloh turned back to the freight driver, appeared to thank him, then urged her horse around and galloped back to them.

“Oh no,” Josie whispered, moving closer. “I fear it must be bad news.”

Jesse didn’t reply, fixing his gaze on Shiloh as she rode ever nearer. Now, he could make out her pale, panic-stricken face and overbright eyes. His gut clenched. Whatever it was, it likely involved one of her family.

“What is it, Shiloh?” Josie immediately demanded when her friend reined in her horse before them. “Tell me, before I die of worry.”

For a fleeting instant, Shiloh’s tear-filled eyes met Jesse’s. Then she looked down at her friend.

“It’s a telegram. A telegram from home. My sister is gravely ill and m-may not live.” She stopped and swallowed hard. “They said for me to get home just as soon as I can.”

6

Jesse never thought he’d find himself sitting at the dining room table of the Agency boardinghouse. What made the experience seem even more unreal was the fact that Nathan Meeker and his wife sat opposite him, with Shiloh beside him and Josie on her other side. To add to the oppressive sense of crowdedness he always felt indoors, several of the Agency workers hovered in the background, most likely to keep an eye on him.

It seemed almost like a social gathering, perhaps after a Sunday dinner. A social gathering he felt out of place in, and decidedly uncomfortable in the bargain. Only Jesse’s concern for Shiloh kept him planted in his chair.

She had barely learned of her sister’s dire condition when she began making plans to pack a few belongings, borrow a rifle, and head south on her own. Only Josie’s quick intervention and strong encouragement that Shiloh discuss her departure first with her father convinced the distraught young woman to pause and reflect on her impulsive decision. But only for a very short time.

“I appreciate your concern, sir,” she was saying, gazing resolutely across the table at the Indian agent that afternoon. “But it’s a six-day trip back up to Rawlins, and if I miss the train, another few days before the next one comes through. And then it’s a two-day trip to Denver on the train, then another day to Colorado Springs then Pueblo, and then another three days’ ride from there to our ranch. Under the best circumstances—including good weather the whole way—I wouldn’t make it home for nearly two weeks. On horseback, heading south instead, I could maybe make it in about a week. And time appears to be very much of the essence.”

Meeker sighed, glanced briefly at his wife then back to Shiloh. “I understand that, Miss Wainwright. But it’s far too dangerous for you to go alone, and I can’t spare any of the men right now. So the safest course is to accompany Mr. Collum back to Rawlins on his freight wagon. He said he’d be happy to head out first thing tomorrow morning, just to get you there as quickly as he could.”

From his position, half-turned in his chair toward Shiloh with one arm resting on the table, Jesse could see her jaw clench in stubborn determination. As a girl, she had always been headstrong and mule-headed, especially when she made up her mind. And Jesse sensed Shiloh had already made her decision. Nothing anyone could say would sway her. If she couldn’t convince them of the rightness of her plan, she’d just wait until they weren’t looking and do exactly what she wished.

He inwardly sighed. Meeker, for once, was right. It was indeed far too dangerous for Shiloh to head for home alone. But she was just crazy enough to attempt it.

“I’ll go with her,” he heard himself saying, wondering even as he spoke who the crazy one really was. “I know these mountains like the back of my hand, and the quickest way to her ranch. At the very least, she’ll be safer with me than with any of your men.”

With a cry of joy, Shiloh swung around and clasped the arm he had laid on the table. “Oh, Jesse. Thank you. Thank you so much!”

Despite his resolve not to let her touch his heart ever again, he felt himself drawn into her overbright eyes, floundering helplessly in the warm gratitude shimmering there. An answering warmth flared deep within him. A reluctant smile touched his lips. For an instant, it seemed as if they were the only people present in the room.

Then Nathan Meeker harshly cleared his throat. “An admirable offer, to be sure,” the older man said, “but also unacceptable. Miss Wainwright needs a proper escort, or I’ll never hear the end of it from her family.”

Jesse went taut, then turned an icy gaze to the Indian agent. “ ‘A proper escort’?” he asked, carefully enunciating the words in his rising anger. “One that isn’t of Indian blood, I presume?”

The other man had the good grace to blush. “I’m not saying this because I doubt your honorable intentions. But I also have a responsibility to see to Miss Wainwright’s reputation, and her family might take offense—”

“I assure you, Mr. Meeker,” Shiloh cut in just then, “my family will take no offense if Jesse accompanies me home. He used to work for us, so he’s well known at our ranch. And no one there doubts that he’s a good and honorable gentleman.”

If the situation wasn’t so tense and Shiloh’s desperation to get home as quickly as possible so evident, Jesse would’ve laughed out loud. Likely some folk still remained at Castle Mountain Ranch who remembered the terrible day of his whipping. And if Jordan recovered from whatever ailed her, fairly or not, she’d be the first to dispute his being an “honorable gentleman.”

But no one present—save Shiloh—apparently knew that story. And he wasn’t about to contradict her claims. Indeed, the more he thought about it, the more Jesse liked the plan. In making certain she’d get safely home, he might also manage to get her to reconsider returning to the White River Agency. It seemed the perfect solution to everything he’d wanted.

“There’s still the issue of a chaperone,” the agent said at last. “I wouldn’t feel right sending you on such a long journey alone with a man not any relation to you. As a properly reared young lady, I’m sure you’d at least agree with me on that.”

Shiloh paused, then nodded. “In most circumstances and places, yes, I would agree with you, Mr. Meeker. But Jesse is known and approved by my family; this is an emergency, and women living in the West aren’t as bound to societal strictures as they are in cities out East. We can’t be, or we’d never get anything done, much less survive very long out here.”

“Nonetheless—”

“Sir,” she politely but firmly interjected, “I had no chaperone when I first rode out here with Mr. Collum on his freight wagon. Why is this any different?”

For a long moment, Meeker didn’t reply, evidently struggling to formulate some tactful response. Jesse locked gazes with him. “Let me help you,” he ground out at last. “Mr. Collum was a white man, and that made all the difference in the world. Didn’t it?”

“Mr. Collum is a married man,” the agent finally replied. “You, young man, aren’t.”

The barely controlled anger flared hot and bright. “I still would be,” Jesse snarled, half-rising from his seat before Shiloh grabbed his arm and pulled him back down, “if my wife hadn’t used a blanket given to her from this very agency! A blanket that gave her smallpox!”

Nathan Meeker’s eyes widened. He drew in a shaky breath. “I-I regret the death of your wife. Truly I do. But it isn’t fair to blame me for something that happened before I arrived. I would’ve never allowed such a thing to happen.”

Shiloh’s fingers dug into his arm. Jesse knew she was cautioning him to get control of his temper. He inhaled several long, slow breaths and willed his anger-taut body to relax.

“Likely you wouldn’t have, if you’d known.” He managed a wan smile. “And it’s entirely possible the other agent didn’t know he’d been sent contaminated blankets either. It’s just when you claimed Mr. Collum was a better escort for Miss Wainwright because he was married, and I was found lacking because I wasn’t . . . well, you touched on a sore spot.”

“It’s quite understandable.” The older man sitting across from him actually looked contrite. “Please forgive my insensitivity to your loss.”

Though Jesse was surprised Meeker would humble himself to apologize to any Indian, he decided it best to take the apology at face value. He still didn’t trust the man or his intentions for the People, but nothing was served acting like an arrogant boor by refusing to forgive him.

“It’s already forgotten,” he softly said.

“So, it’s settled then.” Shiloh apparently decided to seize the opportunity that the embarrassing little aside with Meeker had given her. “Mr. Blackwater will accompany me back to our ranch.”

Jesse watched the indecision slowly transform itself into resignation in Nathan Meeker’s eyes. Though not for one minute did he imagine the agent truly approved of him escorting Shiloh home, Jesse knew the man probably also suspected he’d not win the argument. Shiloh always was one to wear her heart on her sleeve, and Meeker likely guessed she’d leave with or without someone to accompany her.

“I suppose I can accept your assurances, Miss Wainwright, that your family would find this man”—as he spoke, Meeker indicated Jesse—“a suitable companion. Once you arrive home, you will keep us apprised of the situation, won’t you, and your expected date of return to the Agency?”

“Of course, sir. It’s the very least I can do. And I promise I’ll return just as soon as my sister’s safely on the way to a full recovery.”

Beside him, Jesse could see Shiloh visibly relax and smile in apparent relief. She was an attractive woman in any circumstance, but when she smiled . . .

He expelled a soft breath, already wondering what he had just gotten himself into. A week or more alone with Shiloh Wainwright promised to be fraught with complications, the least of which was keeping an emotional distance. He recognized that very clearly now.

His first impulse to offer to escort her home hadn’t been very well thought out. He had reacted to her distress, wishing to protect her and diminish her pain. The consideration that this might finally be the way to get her to leave the Agency as well as to permanently assure she never returned had been much slower in coming. So slow, in fact, that Jesse recognized the danger he was in.

He cared for Shiloh. Cared for her as a grown man for a grown woman. Yet even as he admitted his feelings, Jesse knew there was no hope for them. For all practical purposes, he was an Indian. And she was a white woman.

No good could come of a relationship between them. No good at all.

As the first rays of dawn crept over the mountains east of the wide river valley, Shiloh and Jesse set off for Castle Mountain Ranch. Their saddlebags were laden with food, ammunition, and additional warm clothing. Bedrolls were tied to the back of their saddles, and each had a rifle in a scabbard and two canteens full of water hanging from their saddle horns. They were as prepared as anyone could be for the long trek ahead of them.

Jesse chose to wear his buckskins and fur-lined coat. Shiloh, however, to Mrs. Meeker’s consternation and her husband’s overt disapproval, donned a warm flannel shirt, denims, and boots, topped off with her wool coat and a wide-brimmed hat. She wasn’t about to brave the mountain wilderness in long skirts, no matter what anyone thought of the propriety of the action. They were in the West now. And there were times when one had to set aside what might be considered unladylike comportment for what was not only practical but sensible.

Shiloh had left a hastily written note in Josie’s custody, to be telegraphed from Rawlins just as soon as Mr. Collum arrived back there. It might or might not reach the town of Ashton, and subsequently her brothers at the ranch, before she and Jesse made it back there. Everything depended on the amount of delays they might encounter in their journey south, the very least of which might include the unpredictable late-spring, Rocky Mountain weather.

It seemed nearly all the inhabitants of the boardinghouse saw them off, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Meeker. Shiloh was surprised at the tears that sprung to her eyes as she and Jesse headed their horses away from the Agency toward the White River. Somewhere, in the past three and a half weeks, the Agency and most of its people had begun to feel like family.