Legacies (44 page)

"I agree." Absently, she traced the mark on his shoulder left by the bullet wound, his remarks starting her thinking about some of her own plans for rebuilding. "If you did that, we could use the blacks we have working for us to reopen the sawmill. People will need lumber to rebuild their homes."

"That's a good idea." He sounded surprised. "Did Parmelee suggest that?"

"As a matter of fact, no one suggested it. I thought of it myself." Slightly irritated by his attitude, Temple raised her head to look at him. "Who do you think has been running Grand View these last five years? Under the circumstances, I think I did a good job of it. At least you had something to come home to, which is a lot more than a lot of people can say."

"A lot more," he agreed soberly. 'To be truthful, Temple, I don't think I could have done better. Looking around, seeing all that you have saved—it hurts a bit to realize that you don't really need me."

"I do need you. I will always need you." Tenderly, she cupped his cheeks in her hands. "And I didn't really do all this alone. Eliza helped a great deal . . . and Susannah and Sorrel."

At the mention of his daughter's name, he frowned. "Sorrel wasn't exactly happy to see me, was she?"

Temple hesitated. It was wonderful lying here with him, talking about the future. She didn't want to spoil it by dredging up the ugliness of the past. But how could she not? He'd have to know sooner or later.

"What is it?" He watched her.

She laid her head back on his chest and pressed herself a little closer against him. "We know how Kipp died."

She felt his stillness, his chest ceasing its even rise and fall. Then he sighed. "Alex told you. I should have guessed." His arms tightened their circle around her as he buried his mouth in her hair and murmured, "Dammit, Temple, I
wanted to spare you that. You have got to believe that I didn't want it to happen. I tried to avoid it. If he hadn't pulled that gun—"

Stiffening, she raised herself up. "Alex said he wasn't armed."

"Kipp had a gun—a small pocket revolver—hidden inside his jacket. Alex was standing behind him." The Blade studied her with narrowed eyes. "When Kipp pulled that gun, I had no choice but to shoot him. Temple, you didn't really believe I killed your brother in cold blood?"

"I . . ." she looked down at his smooth bronze chest. "I kept remembering that Shawano wasn't armed either."

Tucking a finger under her chin, he lifted it. "No, my father wasn't armed, but Kipp was."

"I believe you," Temple whispered. "And Sorrel will, too, when we tell her what really happened."

"Why should she? She doesn't know me. She looked at me tonight like I was a stranger. After five years I suppose I am to her."

"But we can't let her go on thinking you are a murderer."

"Then tell her if you want. Maybe it doesn't make sense to you, Temple, but I want to let the past die. I am tired of the fighting, the killing, and the hate. It's finally over, and I want to leave it at that." He captured a lock of her long, black hair and fingered it idly.

"Yes, the war at least is over."

"Kipp is dead. Maybe the feuding is over for us, too."

"Do you think so?" A wistful note crept into her voice. "What about Alex?"

"It's over as far as I'm concerned," The Blade stated.

"I hope Alex feels the same way." But Temple was skeptical. "It would be such a relief for all of us."

"It would, indeed," The Blade said, ending on a heavy breath. "Like you, I would hate it if Lije was still faced with it after I'm gone."

Something in his voice sent a shiver through Temple. To banish it, she immediately sought to lighten the moment by teasing, "Gone? Just where do you think you're going now?"

"Nowhere," he told her. "Nowhere at all. I'm home, Temple. I'm finally home. And this time, I promise I'm not going to leave you again."

"No." She pressed her hand against his lips. "Don't make any promises. You're here now, and that is enough."

"I love you." He pulled on her hair, bringing her down to kiss him.

 

 

 

29

 

 

Grand View

Cherokee Nation

March 1867

 

Outside the sun blazed down from a crystal blue sky and the air was warm with spring. Inside the house, a throng of guests milled about, their numbers spilling through the rooms, their voices filling the entire house as they laughed, talked, and offered their congratulations to the new bride and groom.

"Susannah is such a beautiful bride, isn't she?" Eliza beamed proudly at her daughter.

"She is, indeed." Lije sipped at his punch and glanced in the direction of the newlyweds, but the image of Diane standing next to Susannah during the ceremony continued to preoccupy him. She'd worn a gown of sky blue, which accented the slenderness of her waist and the porcelain fineness of her skin.

"The ceremony was lovely," Eliza murmured, then sighed. "I wish Will could have been here." "He would have liked Rans."

"Yes." She brightened at the thought. "I know I have no say in it, but I do approve of her choice in husbands."

Lije simply nodded and took another sip of the punch, not tasting it at all. The endless chatter of voices, the crush of guests, and the strain of making polite conversation annoyed him.

"It's wonderful that so many people came," Eliza remarked, "although I do wish Jed and Diane had come sooner so we could have visited before the wedding. Have you spoken to her?"

Lije felt the probe of her speculating glance and stared into the glass cup. "No. We have nothing to talk about." He bolted down the punch and wished it was whiskey. Punch couldn't relieve the vicious tension that coiled inside him like a snake.

"How do you know that if you haven't talked to her?"

"Don't meddle, Eliza." With barely checked hostility, he set the empty cup on the refreshment table. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll step out and get some air."

The nearest exit was the front door. Lije made his way to it, dodging the tall vases of yellow forsythia sprays in the foyer and threading his way through the crowd, nodding stiffly to those who spoke to him, but never stopping. Outside, the restlessness pushed him to the far end of the veranda. From there he surveyed the collection of wagons and buggies that clogged the drive.

He loosened the knot of his striped silk tie and tugged at the throttling tightness of the boiled collar around his neck until he unhooked the top button. Taking a cigar from his pocket, he lit it, then leaned a shoulder against the corner pillar and gazed cheerlessly across the lawn.

The prattle of voices and tittering laughter from inside the house spilled onto the veranda. Lije blocked it out, not wanting to catch the sound of Diane's voice inadvertently. A breeze, soft as a breath, swept away the spiral of blue smoke from his cigar and made the tip glow. He lost himself in contemplation of the silver gray pattern of its ash.

Aboard creaked near him, breaking his reverie. Lije jerked his head around and saw Diane standing there, studying him. A brutally intense longing shot through him.

Abruptly, Lije broke eye contact and pushed away from the pillar, turning to leave. "I didn't know you were out here."

"I wasn't." Her simple reply, with its wealth of meaning, stopped him. "When I saw you here, I knew this was probably the only chance I would have to speak to you alone before Father and I have to leave."

"What is it you want?" His own insatiable needs made him short with her.

Her lashes lowered. Lije waited for them to lift, for her eyes to flash him one of her amused and provocative glances. But her gaze remained downcast, her head slightly bowed. At that moment, Diane looked fragile, breakable. Then she pushed her chin up and looked at him with a frankness he hadn't expected, a rigid pride holding her stiff.

"I had hoped you would come by the store to see . . . us," she said.

"The Creek Nation is out of my jurisdiction."

"Tulsey Town isn't far from Rans and Susannah's ranch in the Outlet. Rans often stopped at our store for supplies while he was building their cabin there. You could come by when you go to visit them."

"For what reason, Diane? What would be the point?" he challenged.

She started to answer him, then swung away to face the vehicles parked in front of the house. Lije looked away as well, but his gaze was drawn back to her, attracted by the sheen of sunlight on her hair. She wore it intricately twisted at the back of her head, a style that accented the slender curve of her neck.

"You have no idea how many times I have rehearsed this," she began, a light undertone of self-deprecating humor in her voice, "or how many clever and witty things I thought of to say. Now, they all seem foolish and phony."

Lije clamped the cigar between his teeth, then forced himself to relax and take a puff. The smoke burned his tongue.

"Say it in plain words, then." Impatient and annoyed, he tossed the cigar into the grass.

"In plain words—I want to make things right between us. I want this awkwardness to end. We have known each other too long—since we were children—"

"I can't be your friend, Diane. We went way beyond that."

"I know. But surely we can put the past behind us."

The uneven cadence of hoofbeats pounded across the afternoon air as a pair of riders cantered their horses toward the house. Lije focused instead on Diane.

"The past will always be with us," he told her. "It can't be changed."

"But the way we look at it can be changed," Diane insisted. "We can change. I have. I understand so much more than—"

The front door opened, distracting Lije. Sorrel rushed onto the veranda, then checked her headlong pace and proceeded with a fourteen year old's version of mature dignity. But her expression held a child's bubbling excitement. Lije's attention instantly shifted to the dismounting riders. He didn't have a clear view of their faces, but Lije was willing to bet one of them was Alex.

"Lije, don't shut me out," Diane said, a snap of frustration in her voice. "We need to talk—"

He cut her off. "Not now."

She started to argue, then noticed the way he pushed his coat aside and felt for his holstered gun. Only he wasn't wearing one. "What is it? What's wrong?" Looking over her shoulder, she saw Sorrel with two men. "It's Alex, isn't it? You think he's here to cause trouble, don't you?" Diane guessed, sensing the potential for danger.

"He is trouble." Lije gripped her elbow and steered her toward the front door. "Go inside and warn my father that Alex just arrived."

Diane moved quickly into the house while he approached the front walk where Sorrel stood with Alex and a man whom Lije didn't recognize.

Tall and whipcord lean, the stranger had chestnut hair and a smoothly chiseled face. It was too smooth, Lije thought, like a face carved from stone and given no expression. But the man's eyes never stopped moving, their glance darting here and there, taking in everything—the way an animal's did when it entered strange new territory. His dark brown coat hung unbuttoned, one side pulled back to reveal the holstered gun strapped around his middle. On the revolver's walnut butt were the joined initials
MB.

The initials on the gun immediately nagged at Lije. He'd heard something, read something about that. When or where, he couldn't recall.

"Well, Cousin Lije," Alex greeted him with a wide smile, but his eyes mocked. "How are you?"

Lije didn't waste his breath on pleasantries. "What brings you here, Alex?"

"He came for Susannah's wedding," Sorrel said in quick defense, her expression both determined and defiant.

"That's right." Alex smiled again. "But Sorrel tells me the ceremony is already over. I guess that means I'll have to be satisfied with congratulating the new bride."

"Susannah will want to know you're here. Why don't you go tell her, Sorrel?" Lije suggested, not letting his attention stray from either Alex or his companion.

Sorrel hesitated. "You are coming in, aren't you, Alex?"

"Shortly," Lije answered for him.

"All right. I'll go tell her." With a rustling whirl of her organdy skirts, Sorrel left them to go back inside.

Alex tipped his head to one side, his look cocky and taunting. "Was there something you wanted to tell me, Cousin Lije?"

"Who's your friend?"

"Didn't I introduce him? This is Mel Brandon. He's a cattle broker."

The pieces clicked. "Brandon, you say? That's funny. I read a flyer the other day on a man called Morgan Bennet, a known cattle thief. He's wanted in Missouri for robbing a bank and killing one of the tellers. He fits your friend's description— right down to the gun with initials on the butt."

"Is that a fact?" The man smiled, unconcerned.

Alex shook his head in mock amazement. "That is what you call a truly strange coincidence."

"According to the flyer, two other men helped this Morgan Bennet rob the bank. The descriptions of them were vague," Lije said. "It couldn't be that one of them was you, could it, Alex?"

Alex grinned, his eyes turning defiant. "And if it was, what then, Cousin? That bank was robbed in Missouri. You can't arrest me for that. I haven't broken any laws here in the Nations, so you can't touch me."

"No, by law I can't." Lije admitted. "But I can point out that you and your friend are overdressed for the party. Why don't you leave your gun belts on your saddles? I wouldn't want you to feel out of place."

Alex hesitated, then shrugged and unbuckled his gun belt. After a moment Bennet, alias Brandon, did the same. When both weapons were tucked securely inside their saddlebags, they faced Lije once more.

"Are you satisfied now, Cousin?" Alex grinned. "Sorrel's going to be wondering what happened to me."

"Keep away from her, Alex."

He laughed. "What can I do? She likes me. She'd be hurt if I ignored her. I can't be that cruel."
 

"You don't care how she feels."

"She'll never believe that." He grinned and glanced at Bennet. "Ready?" The man nodded. "Then let's go to the party. Lead the way, Cousin."