Capture The Night (22 page)

Not that she ever was allowed to do much work. It quickly became obvious that when Victor Considérant had argued back in Antwerp that a woman alone on the frontier would face insurmountable difficulties, he had failed to take into account the economies of supply and demand. Single men, from wealthy Phalansterians to impoverished wagon drivers, all but came to blows over the opportunity to haul water, move trunks, build fires, or any other job Madeline might wish done. As her wagon driver; Mr. Johnston, took to saying, “Goldurn, Miz Madeline, you’ve done got the pick of whatever litter you want.”

And she’d been working at picking. Madeline’s top priority was finding a husband. Only this time, she intended to be more selective. If she searched for blue eyes or wavy black hair or a toe-tingling smile in every man she met, well, that didn’t mean anything.

All right, so maybe it meant a little something. But she was trying her very best to stop it.

Brazos Sinclair had touched her deeply, in a way she could not define. Was it because she’d given herself to him physically? Would she know this same sense of…depth with any man?

Whatever it was, it had caused great pain. Madeline hoped she’d never again experience the ache she had known the night he left her.

One week into the overland trip, Madeline rode in the bed of her wagon, cuddling Rose, who sniffled and snored her way through her afternoon nap. As she had so often since that night out of time in Galveston, she thought back over her weeks spent with Brazos and sighed. As badly as this had hurt, it could have been much worse. Imagine what it would have felt like if she had been in love with him.

It probably would have killed her.

Madeline didn’t know exactly what it was she felt for Brazos Sinclair, but it wasn’t love. She knew what love was. Love was the joy she knew in her heart when she’d watched Rose learn to crawl. Love was that warm feeling that filled her when she heard Rose’s laughter. Love was the tears that swam in her eyes whenever Rose lifted her chin for a kiss.

Madeline loved Rose. True, she’d never experienced the emotion before, but she recognized it in what she felt for her daughter. She prayed she would find the same sort of sentiments with a man—those feelings of warmth, safety, security. Not that dangerous, reckless, blood-pounding nonsense she experienced around Brazos Sinclair.

The wagon lurched to a stop, and Madeline sat up. After opening her eyes and staring up at her mother, Rose blinked, stuck her thumb in her mouth, and went back to sleep. Madeline smoothed the blanket over the baby’s back, pressed a kiss to her cheek, then left the wagon.

The wagon train had exited the great forest. She stared around her, and a delighted smile spread across her face. How wonderful to see so much sky once again! Before her stretched miles of rolling hills dotted with hardwood trees and covered with prairie grass and wildflowers of every hue. Upon checking with Lillibet, Madeline learned that Considérant had called an early halt to the day’s travel. In recognition of having traversed one-third of the distance between Houston and La Réunion, the colonists would hold a fête that evening. Lillibet had a gleam in her eye as she said, “Dearling, you must wear that blue rosebud-patterned silk. Mr. Litty will be blinded by your beauty in that dress.”

Madeline looked at her friend sharply. “Mr. Litty?”

“Now, Madeline, I am not a stupid woman. I know you want a man—as right you should. It’s the way of the world. Rose needs a father and you need a man to keep you warm at night. While I hate to give up on Mr. Brazos, I fear we’ve seen the last of him.”

“I certainly hope so,” Madeline said softly.

Lillibet tilted her head, giving Madeline a knowing glance. “After watching you aboard the
Uriel
, I know that none of our Frenchmen have caught your fancy. Am I wrong?”

Watching a hawk sail circles against an azure sky, Madeline shook her head and sighed. “You wouldn’t be speaking this way if I were a bachelor, Lil. It’s not fair—not equal—that an unmarried woman should be treated as though she wishes for nothing more in life than to have a man on her arm.”

Lillibet laughed and rested her hands on her stomach, now well rounded in pregnancy. “You are absolutely right, Madeline. If you were a man, I would never suggest the blue silk as an appropriate dress.” Madeline rolled her eyes as Lillibet continued, “Now, Madeline, I understand what you are saying, but I’ve also seen the wistful looks you send our way when André and I discuss the home we plan to make with Thomas and the new baby. You can’t deny that.”

“You’re right, Lil. I want to make a home and family for Rose. That is very important to me.”

“Well, then. You wear that blue silk this evening. I’m loath to admit it, but I’ve done a bit of snooping where our wagon master is concerned.”

Madeline refused to ask outright, but she would listen. Benjamin Litty was the nicest and most gentlemanly man among the Texans who had been hired by the colonists to lead the wagon train north. Without being a pest like some of the single men—and a few of the married ones, truth be told—Mr. Litty had managed to convey his interest in her through an occasional smile or significant look. They’d shared a number of pleasant, casual conversations over the past week. He was definitely the best prospect for a husband Madeline had met so far.

“He’s a widower, Madeline,” Lillibet allowed, a gleam of anticipation in her eyes. “He owns a ranch near Dallas, and he has two young children, both boys. He’s looking for a mother for them. Considérant was able to hire him to lead us because he had traveled to South Texas to meet a Yankee woman with whom he’d been corresponding. She was to have sailed to Galveston where they planned to marry. Only she sent a letter of regret instead.”

“He doesn’t seem the type of man who’d have told you all this,” Madeline commented suspiciously.

Lillibet nodded. “I received the information directly from Marie Deauville, who heard it from Michelle Louis, who learned it from Charley, the man driving their wagon. Charley was disgruntled because Mr. Litty wanted nothing to do with the wagoner’s sister, a horse-faced woman I myself met in the Houston mercantile. One cannot get information much more reliable, dearling.”

Madeline glanced across the camp to see Ben Litty assist the Deauvilles’ driver in fettering the oxen. He was a quite handsome man. With brilliant green eyes and sun-bleached hair, he was even more handsome than Brazos Sinclair, “You know, Lillibet,” she said, “I believe that blue dress is in the smaller of my trunks.”

THE BALLROOM’S walls were cedar trees, its ceiling the vast expanse of heaven. The luminous, full moon hung as chandelier, and the thousands of stars dangled, glittering crystals reflecting the light. The carpet was a rug of natural green, sort and sweet-scented and new. A lone violin accompanied an orchestra of trilling toads, chirping crickets, twittering birds, and the haunting whisper of wind through the forest at the colonists’ backs. The setting was as fine a salon as any ever visited in Europe.

The colonists and their Texan friends ate and drank and debated the politics of the time, from the Know-Nothing Party’s gaining strength across the country to the benefits of communal agriculture.

Madeline danced. She twirled and whirled almost exclusively on the arms of the handsome and attentive wagon master. A tall, rugged-looking man, Ben Litty had entertained her throughout supper with stories about a pet pig he’d owned while growing up on a farm in East Texas. She’d found herself laughing, really laughing, for the first time since Brazos had left her.

It felt wonderful.

Desiring a break from the dancing, Madeline allowed Ben to lead her away from the campsite. They walked in the meadow along the edge of the forest, watching the stars and talking. “I certainly enjoyed the stew you fixed, Miz Madeline,” he said, holding her elbow for support as she stepped over a fallen log.

Madeline shrugged. “The stew was edible, but I am sorry about those biscuits.”

“Not to worry, ma’am, the oxen’ll eat ‘em. You’ll find very little goes to waste on the frontier.”

The air rippled with the sweet, clean scent of pine, and Madeline found it a pleasing change from days of travel downwind of oxen. Mr. Litty took her hand.

Suddenly and without any outward change in the surroundings, Madeline sensed a sinister presence around her. Uneasy, she slowed her step. “Perhaps we should return to camp, Ben. Mr. Johnston has told me stories about the panthers that stalk the woods and prairies, and I’ll admit I’ve the strangest feeling that I’m being watched.”

Ben Litty turned to her, a half-teasing, half-serious look in his eyes. “Are you afraid I can’t protect you, Miz Madeline? That’s a hard blow to a Texan, ma’am. We’re terribly protective of our womenfolk, you know.”

“It’s not you,” Madeline hastened to say. “I’ll admit that after traveling through the forest day after day, I came to see things in the trees—things that weren’t there.”

Litty smiled in understanding. “It can be a little spooky, I know. But there’s nothing to worry about. I’ve got a gun, and the animals are truly more afraid of us than we are of them. I reckon, though, we ought to turn back. We have been gone a bit. I enjoy your company, Madeline. I wouldn’t want to hurt your reputation in any way.”

“Oh, Ben.” Madeline couldn’t help laughing. “Believe me, the colonists won’t think a thing of my spending time with you. I can see you’re not overly familiar with Phalansterian beliefs.”

From somewhere deep in the trees came a crashing sound, and instinctively, Madeline stepped closer to Litty. Chuckling, he rested a hand on her shoulder. “Come on, Madeline, I don’t want you to be afraid.”

She looked up at him and recognized the flash of desire in his gaze.
Well, Madeline
, she said to herself,
if you’re serious about replacing Brazos Sinclair you’d best be about it.

And Mr. Litty did have such a nice smile. And pretty eyes, such a deep green with little flecks of amber. As it turned out, his kiss wasn’t half bad, either. He brushed her lips with his, gentle and questioning at first, and when she offered no protest, he drew her closer and fit his mouth firmly against hers.

It was nice, Madeline thought, relaxing in his arms. Warm and comforting, peaceful. Not like that roaring, raging storm she’d felt with Brazos Sinclair,

Litty’s hands slipped to her waist, and Madeline knew it was time to call a halt to this experiment. She tugged her head away from his just as a feral scream sliced through the forest behind them.

“Eeek!” Madeline clutched at Litty’s shirt. In the blink of an eye his hand held a gun pointed in the direction of the noise. “What was that?” her voice quaked as tremors of fear slithered up her spine.

For a long moment, Litty stood totally still, and she could see his concentration as he listened. Then his features eased, and he said, “Well, Madeline, as best I can tell, it was a cougar with terrible timing.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly and added, “Funniest sounding cat I’ve ever heard, though.”

Walking back, Madeline heard the violin’s song drifting across the night. The cougar’s cry had long since died, but the sensation of malice that had disturbed her earlier remained even stronger. The tiny hairs at the back of her neck bristled.

As she and Ben joined the others back at the campsite, she looked over her shoulder and again searched for the source of her unease. She’d have been better off looking where she was going. As it was, she almost ran right into the new addition to the train.

A female figure garbed totally in black sat on the seat of a buckboard that carried a coffin in its bed. Madeline’s gaze drifted over the strange sight and stopped. The man standing beside the wagon bore the familiar face of Tyler Sinclair.

The crowd hushed. Madeline felt a distinctive chill sweep over her. Turning, she saw a form standing before the fire, a dark-haired devil with fire in his eyes, who said in a voice as cold as ice, “Hello, Madeline. I’m back.”

Chapter 11

HE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN she’d have a man with her. Brazos tried to tell himself he didn’t care, but the sick sensation in his gut suggested differently. As he watched Madeline’s face drain of color, some of the fury inside him eased. At least he wasn’t the only one affected by this scene. His wife wasn’t happy to see him. Not happy at all. In fact, she looked scared half to death. Good.

“What are you doing here?” she asked in a trembling voice.

The fellow Madeline was with scowled and stepped protectively toward her. André Brunet, bless his soul, laid a restraining hand on the man’s arm and mumbled something in his ear.

Brazos smiled a slow, predatory grin and advanced a step toward her. “Oh, I’ve got a number of reasons for showing up. If you think real hard, you can probably come up with one or two of them. I brought my lawyer with me, Madeline.”

She swayed on her feet, and Brazos almost felt sorry for her. Almost. A good, decent woman would have nothing to fear from an attorney. He said, “We have a bit of a problem, and it’s one reason Tyler’s here with me. You see, a lawyer is good for getting a man out of the trouble he’d never have gotten into in the first place if it weren’t for a lawyer.”

“Watch it there, brother,” Tyler warned.

Juanita, her features concealed by the widow’s veil, laughed huskily. In a Spanish-accented voice, she said, “Sin, how many times you resurrect this old argument! You must be nicer to Tyler.”

“That’s right, Brazos. You’d best not make me angry now; you need me.” He fixed his gaze on Madeline and added, “Badly.”

Madeline managed to appear hurt as Tyler stared at her, his expression totally devoid of sympathy. A twinge of compassion snuck right by Brazos’s best intentions, and that riled him all over again.

Why was he letting her get to him? She was a lying, thieving, child stealer! In a harsh voice, he said, “I’m afraid your new beau is gonna have to put his plans on the back shelf for a bit. It seems you and I are still married, Mrs. Sinclair.”

“What!” Madeline’s eyes went wide with shock.