Defiant Heart (12 page)

Soon, the moment she had dreaded was upon her, and she stood face-to-face, alone with Blake. She'd avoided him for two weeks. It hadn't been hard to do, as immersed in work as she'd been. But now he stood in front of her, staring down from his six-foot-tall height, eclipsing her easily. “You-uh-got a haircut,” she said, then felt like an idiot.

“Sadie did it.”

“She did a fine job.” Why was Blake suddenly giving her
a moment of small talk? Why was he treating her like he wanted to be around her?

“Good. I figured she would.”

Blake seemed just as uncomfortable as Fannie. He had obviously called a truce for the sake of the brides and grooms, so Fannie decided to let him off the hook. “Well, I suppose I'll go help the women with food.” She couldn't resist a grin. “We've cooked that cow Mr. Markus finally got fed up with.” The animal had run away six times in as many weeks, and his owner had decided to shoot it and offer a feast for the happy couples' celebrations. The gift was much appreciated for more than one reason. The mischievous animal had broken through the wagons and caused damage each time, and everyone's mouth watered for the roasted meat, of which there would be plenty to go around. Fannie had her own reason for wanting the cow dead after it had almost gotten Kip killed.

“Wait, Fannie.”

A worried frown creased his brow, and Fannie braced herself for a new fight. “Yes?”

His brown eyes searched her face intently. Fannie drew a breath and held it. What was he thinking? This didn't seem like the same old fight. This was…different.

“Blake?”

“I was just wondering, uh, if you would do me the honor of a dance?”

Fannie's eyes grew wide. She slapped her palm to her flushed cheek. “I-I don't think the dancing is starting until after supper.”

His own face grew pink. “I meant would you save me one?”

“A dance?”

He scowled. “Well, what do you think I meant? Of course a dance.”

“Well, fine, Blake Tanner,” she said, raising her voice to match his. “You don't have to get all grouchy about it.”

“Fine,” he growled back. “I'll see you when it's time for our dance.”

“You do that,” she snapped, and swung around.

“Fannie, wait.”

She stopped in her tracks and looked over her shoulder. “What?”

“You look real pretty in that dress.”

Blake stalked away in search of a place of solitude. What was wrong with him? He certainly hadn't planned on asking for a confounded dance. As a matter of fact, he'd wanted to talk to her about Sam's grim news, but seeing the smile on her face as she spoke about the cow took all the thunder from him. And seeing her wearing a dress that brought the blue out in her beautiful eyes had just about made him forget his own name. This just wasn't the time to tell her the bad news. Not before the dance. Not when she was finally letting down her guard even a little.

 

Fannie tapped her foot in time to a fiddler playing a lively square dance. She refused to give Blake the satisfaction of finding her waiting for his promised dance, so she put on an expression of studied boredom and pretended she wasn't
longing to join the dancers in the center of the circle.

Flushed and laughing, Toni flew by in Hank's arms. Fannie envied her. Where was that blasted Blake Tanner anyway? Or was his invitation nothing more than a way to mock her? Tired of feeling conspicuous, she spun around, preparing to stomp off, when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

Relief flooded her, and she turned, expecting to find Blake, apologetic and ready to swing her around the dance floor. Instead, she discovered Willard James. Disappointment nipped closely on the heels of surprise. “May I have this dance, Miss Caldwell?” he asked, bowing gallantly. Behind him, Fannie spied Blake striding her way. A wicked sense of glee rose in her chest. She tucked her hand through his proffered arm. “Nothing would give me more pleasure, sir.”

Blake reached her just as Mr. James was leading her to the dance floor. “Evenin', Mr. Tanner,” he said, tipping his hat.

“Mr. James.” Blake inclined his head. His eyes were stormy as he turned them on Fannie. “Miss Caldwell.”

She jerked her chin upward. “Mr. Tanner,” she replied with a proud lilt. It served him right to find out she wasn't a woman to be left waiting through three full dances. Let him wait this one out.

The dance, a waltz, began slowly, and Fannie closed her eyes, losing herself in the rhythm. “You dance very well, Miss Caldwell.”

Alarm slammed into her at the smell of liquor on his breath. That smell, associated with Tom, always meant trouble. Where had he gotten it? Alcohol was prohibited in the wagon train. Still, she swallowed down her anxiety and tried
to keep her voice steady. “Th-thank you. My pa taught me when I was a little girl.”

“Ah, the lessons of childhood. You must have had a good upbringing.”

Uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, Fannie said nothing. Willard tightened his hold on her and pressed her close—too close for propriety's sake.

When she tried to pull away, he squeezed her tighter. Anger shot through her, eclipsing fear. “Excuse me, sir. I'm afraid I've become breathless and must sit out the rest of the dance.”

“I don't think so. Smile and pretend you're enjoying this as much as I am.”

“I insist you turn me loose before I call for help.”

“You don't want to do that, Fannie.” His smile remained fixed on sensuous lips, but his eyes glittered cold and black as onyx.

Something in his tone told her to heed his warning. This was more than a drunken lecher wanting to dance with a young woman. He had something up his sleeve. “Now, be a good girl and give us a smile. Blake's looking over here like he's about to cut in and rescue his little woman. And I'm not ready to relinquish you just yet.”

Fannie painted on a smile as she looked up at the man. “What's this about?”

“I'll tell you in good time, I assure you. For now, I want to enjoy the feel of a pretty girl in my arms.”

Recognizing his method of trying to scare her by drawing out the suspense, Fannie tried to relax and form a plan of es
cape in her mind. She darted her gaze to Blake, but his gaze was fixed on Mr. James and he didn't see the split-second action.

“You don't want to do that,” Mr. James said with a cold tone, the smell of alcohol on his breath beginning to turn her stomach.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

“You'll know soon enough. Now, smile at me like you're enjoying our dance.”

Accustomed to keeping herself out of trouble through obedience, Fannie showed her brightest smile.

“Good girl.” Mr. James gave a short laugh devoid of humor. “We're going to get along just fine.”

His prediction seemed dire, and Fannie's heart twisted with dread.

Blake walked by Sam, trying to gauge his reaction to the situation developing in front of them. He purposely avoided staring at Mr. James with Fannie on the dance floor.

“You watching that, Blake?” Sam said in low tones.

“What do you think?” he growled.

“Is she in trouble?”

“I'm not sure what kind, but I think so. I'm trying to decide whether or not to cut in.”

“I wouldn't yet. Give him time to hang himself.”

As much as Blake hated to admit it, Sam was right. And he wanted the man to go too far. Give him a reason to throw him out of the wagon train. He felt badly for Mrs. James and their children, but the man was bad news, and he had to go.

The waltz finally ended. White-faced and trembling, Fan
nie left the circle with Willard. The man dropped her back where he asked her to dance in the first place, bowed, and walked off, staggering slightly as he did so. Blake followed him with his gaze. Had the man been drinking? It would be so much easier if he had. That in and of itself would be grounds for dismissal from the train after the incident in Hawkins. And better for Fannie's reputation if she wasn't associated with the scandal in any way. He nodded to Sam, and the scout walked after Willard while Blake went to Fannie. Blake watched her struggle for control, trying valiantly without success to compose her face into a pleasant smile.

“Leave me alone, Blake,” she said around a poorly disguised sob.

“You owe me a dance, Miss Caldwell,” he said softly.

“Why couldn't you have been here on time?”

“I'm here now.” Without waiting for an invitation, he led her to the circle of dancers, slipped his arms around her, and led her in another waltz.

“Do you know what I especially like about you, Miss Caldwell?”

She looked up at him with suspicion. “I didn't realize there was anything you liked about me.”

Besides those enormous eyes, now luminous as two pools of pure blue water, there was something else. “Well, you're wrong. There is something.”

“What then?”

“I like that you're not one of those women a man has to guess what she's thinking. Your face is as expressive as a child's. And I can always tell what your mood is.”

She scowled. “Are you trying to ask me something, Blake? Because skirting around my dance with Mr. James is insulting to my intelligence.”

The woman never failed to surprise him. “Fine. What did Willard say to upset you so badly?”

She gathered a shaky breath. “Let's just say, you're about to get your wish.”

“My wish?”

“I'll be gone by morning.”

Toni knew something was wrong the second Fannie left Blake standing alone while dancing pairs flew past him, skirts swirling and boots kicking up dust. Thankfully, Hank had just left her to grab something to drink, so she took advantage of the first moment of peace she'd had all evening and went after Fannie.

When she got within earshot, she called out. “Fannie! Wait for me.”

Fannie stopped. Even in the pale light of the night sky, Toni could see that her face was drained of color except for her ever-present freckles. She grabbed the girl by her arms and demanded her gaze. “What happened? Did Blake say something to upset you?”

A short laugh erupted from Fannie's lips. “No. For once, Blake was sort of making an attempt at being charming.”

“Then, what's wrong?”

“That's what I'd like to know.” Blake walked up behind them. “And what have you been told about wandering
around camp alone, at night? It's not safe.”

“We're not alone,” Fannie retorted. “We're together.”

“Have it your way. That's not something I'm eager to argue about at the moment.” He walked closer, and Toni dropped her hands from Fannie's arms. “What did you mean, you'd be gone by morning,” he demanded.

Toni couldn't hold back a gasp. “What? Fannie, what's he talking about?”

“We're wanted for murder and stealing, Toni.”

“How did you know?” Blake's tone betrayed the fact that he already had the information.

The thought must have occurred to Fannie because she slapped her hands firmly on her hips and stared up at him. “How did
you
? Are you planning to turn us in?”

“That remains to be seen,” he answered, coolly. “And to answer your first question, Sam found the poster when he went to check out the town ahead of us.”

“Poster?” Toni's heart sped up as the answer became all too clear even before Fannie's next words.

“We're on a wanted poster. Both of our pictures, and there's a reward. Mr. James promised me he'd leave you be if I came back to Hawkins with him, quiet-like.”

“The reward is five hundred dollars each,” Blake said. “Why would Willard agree to such a bargain when he could get double if he took you both?”

“How should I know?” Fannie said with a shrug. “Maybe he doesn't think he can handle the both of us.”

Toni still tried to get her mind around the fact that she was a wanted criminal. An outlaw, more or less. “Who are
they saying we murdered? And stealing? What is this?”

Blake looked at Fannie for the answers too.

“The wanted poster doesn't give those details,” Fannie said. “But I assume they found Arnold's body in that barn. And you and I both took money that Tom and George don't think they owe us.”

“Wait,” Blake said, stepping closer to Fannie. “Are you saying, you two killed a man and stole from the men you're running away from?”

“No and…yes,” Toni replied for her. “But George owes me a lot more than I took. He's been spending my money for years while I thought my cut was put up for the day I decided to leave.”

“So you weren't there against your will?” Blake asked, a sneer curling his lip.

“Not until I figured I had enough saved to buy some land and start over,” Toni answered honestly. “When I told George I wanted to leave about a year ago, he broke the news that I wasn't going anywhere, and, what's more, he never had put back a dime for me.”

Blake swung around to Fannie. “What about you?”

“You already know the twins and I were with Tom against our will. For the last year, I've been taking what I figure Tom owes me and the twins for the work we do.” Fannie's voice rose with conviction. “I paid us a fair wage but only after the two years of indentured service that our stepfather got paid for were over. I didn't steal a dime.”

“What about the murder charge?” Blake asked. “You ad
mitted to knowing about a dead man in a barn.”

“The last time we saw him, he was alive and standing on his own two feet,” Toni insisted. “Neither Fannie nor I harmed him. I give you my word.”

By the skeptical look on his face, Toni could see just how little her word did in convincing him of their innocence. But when he turned to Fannie, his heart was in his eyes. And one thing Toni knew was how to read men. Blake had fallen for Fannie. Head over heels if Toni had to bet on it.

 

Sam only had to look Willard James in the eye to suspect that he'd been drinking. The stench on his breath pretty much took away any doubt. He had followed the man to his wagon, where Mrs. James had already retired to put her younger children down for the night. Now Willard and Sam stood face-to-face, Willard smiling his false smile and trying to worm his way out of the mess he most certainly had to know he was in.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Two Feathers?”

Sam scrutinized him, unwilling to even pretend to be charmed by the man. “Where'd you get the liquor, Willard?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

Unmoved, Sam remained calm. “I think you do.”

The man's expression turned from friendly to threatening in a flash. “You calling me a liar, breed?”

“Yes.”

Willard blinked in surprise, then a smile spread across his face once more. “Well, I guess you caught me. I promise I'll never let it happen again.”

Sam nodded. “That doesn't tell me where you got the liquor in the first place.”

“Persistent, ain't you?”

Folding his arms across his chest, Sam waited, past the point of being willing to exchange pleasantries with this man.

A scowl marred Willard's face. “All right. I went into town this afternoon. A man needs a drink when his oldest daughter is about to get married. While I was in town, I ran across something real interesting.” He reached into his jacket pocket. Sam's hand was on his Colt before Willard could react. “It's not a weapon,” he said. “Can I take it out? It's a wanted poster.”

Sam's stomach sank. “It's not necessary. I've seen it.”

“Ah, so you and Mr. Tanner already know about Miss Caldwell and the whore she's traveling with.”

Sam knew the man was baiting him, but he refused to take the bait. “I saw the poster. Whether it's true or not remains to be seen.”

“Oh, I see.” Willard's face broke into a knowing grin. “Which one are you sweet on?”

“You have two hours to clear out.”

“You don't have the authority to make that decision even if you are friends with Blake.”

“Talk it over with him if it makes you feel any better, but he sent me to find out if you've been drinking, and he made his position clear. You've been warned before, this is the last straw.”

“Fine. I'll clear out first thing in the morning.”

“Two hours.”

“You can't turn us out in the night,” he whined. “What about my youngsters?”

Sam knew the man was simply buying himself more time, but he did have a point. He wouldn't be known as the half-breed that threw a passel of kids out into the night. “Be gone by sunup.”

“I will.”

 

Blake posted two guards, including Hank, to stand watch in case anyone tried to sneak into Fannie's wagon and make off with her or any of the others. After making sure they were settled in, he reluctantly turned his footsteps toward his own campfire. He'd prefer to be one of the men standing watch, but as wagon master, it wasn't appropriate. He was responsible for more than just one wagon. From experience, he knew that people would murmur against him if he gave one wagon too much attention.

Sam had already informed him that Willard James would be moving out before sunrise. He knew they'd have to be on their toes for a while, until they had put plenty of miles between themselves and the farmer.

He was just about to spread out his bedroll when the sound of footsteps caused him to finger his Colt as he turned toward the sound. He relaxed his grip at the sight of Mrs. James. Her face was streaked with tears. Blake braced himself against what was sure to come. Obviously, Willard had sent her to plead their case.

“Mr. Tanner?” she said, in a tone barely above a whisper. “May I please have a word with you?”

“I'm afraid I can't change my mind, Mrs. James. Your husband has broken the same rule twice, now. He knew the consequences.”

She nodded in understanding. “Yes, sir. I know. You're right. Willard should be punished for breaking the rules over and over again.” Her pale face seemed even paler against her black hair, which hung in two braids over her shoulders. She had apparently been preparing for bed when Willard joined her and gave her the news. “I-I want to request that you not punish my children or me for something my husband did.”

“What do you mean, ma'am?”

Stepping forward, she grabbed his arm in a viper's grip. “I want to stay with the wagon train and take my children to Oregon.”

“Without your husband?”

She gave a vehement nod, her braids bouncing with the movement. “I know you have a policy against women alone. But I have two strong boys who take care of the animals. My girls fetch water for several wagons, and I'm strong.”

“I'm sure that's true, Mrs. James, but…”

“Please,” she pleaded with a hoarse whisper. “I'll do anything to stay. M-My daughter just got married and is heading west. If I leave with Willard, I'll never see her again.”

“What's Willard going to say about this?” Blake felt for the woman, he truly did, and he'd like nothing better than to allow her to stay on with the children. But the fact remained that Willard was the rightful owner of the oxen, horses, wagon, and all the supplies. He couldn't force a man out alone on the prairie without his provisions. He'd
be as guilty in the eyes of the law as any thief.

She looked down. “He took a horse and left already. Took every cent we had locked away in the false bottom of the wagon. I'll have to take in laundry or find some other way to make money once we reach Oregon. But I don't mind. I'm not afraid of a little hard work.”

Blake admired the woman's spirit, but he was focused on the first part of her announcement. Willard had cut out taking everything and leaving his wife and children behind. Anger burned white-hot inside of him. “Mrs. James, you're welcome to stay on.”

“Thank you, Mr. Tanner. You won't be sorry. I promise.”

“Good night, Mrs. James.”

Blake watched her go, reserving judgment. She seemed sincere. But it was just as likely that Willard had orchestrated her request to stay and planned to join her later. One thing he knew for sure. He hadn't seen the last of Willard James.