Margaret Brownley (35 page)

Embarrassed, she tried to act pleased to see him. “What brings you here this time of day?” He would normally be at the mines.

He dismounted and tied his horse to a bush. “I have good news I thought might cheer you.”

“Oh?”

“Word is that the stage will resume its regular run at the end of the week.”

Libby pressed her fingers into her palms. “Really?”

“He studied her face. “I thought you’d be happy about that.”

“I am,” she assured him, and since his face was dark with skepticism, she tried to sound more enthusiastic. “Of course I am. It’s just hard to believe. I’ve been trying to get home to Boston for so long.” Much to her surprise, she burst into tears. “Oh, dear. I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”

Thornton handed her a clean linen handkerchief and wrapped his arm around her. “Don’t apologize. I’m sure you’re just overwhelmed with the prospect of going home.”

Grateful for his understanding, she wiped away her tears. It occurred to her that he was probably the only man in California who had a clean handkerchief.

“I feel better now. Thank you.” She lifted her chin and handed his handkerchief back. Something in his face made her step away from him. She considered Thornton a good friend, but the look he gave her went beyond friendship.

Not knowing what to say, she pulled one of Noel’s wet nightgowns from her basket and shook it out.

“I didn’t tell you all the good news,” Thornton said, watching her closely. “At least, I hope you’ll think it’s good news. I’m thinking about returning to Boston with you.”

“Really?” She flung the nightgown over the line. “What about your mine?”

“As you know, I’ve been fairly successful. But most of the easy stuff has already been mined. To mine any more would require us to blast away solid granite. That would require far different equipment than is presently available. I need to return to Boston to make arrangements for such equipment to be transported out here, along with men trained to handle it.”

“I see.”

“Then you won’t mind having me as a traveling companion?’

Traveling alone with an infant was something that Libby had dreaded. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

He shot a finger across his mustache. “It’s my hope that you would also allow me to pay my respects to you and your family in Boston.”

Libby blushed. “Why, Thornton, I would be most honored.”

Thornton looked pleased. “Perhaps you could do me the honor of attending a play with me. I know how you love the theater.”

“I would like that,” she said, trying with all her might to sound enthusiastic. But her voice was flat and she knew she fooled no one.

Thornton smiled, but she could see the hurt in his eyes and she felt

guilty. She pulled a wet garment out of her basket and hung it neatly next to Noel’s nightgown.

“Then it’s agreed? We leave Friday.”
“Friday?” She mustn’t think, she told herself. She mustn’t think of Logan. Mustn’t think of leaving him. Of never seeing him again. Mustn’t think. ”So soon?”

“Do you need more time? We could go the following week. But keep in mind that the longer we postpone our trip, the less chance we have of reaching our destination before bad weather sets in.”

“Of course, you’re right. Friday will be fine.”

He looked pleased. “I shall make the necessary arrangements.”

Moments later Noel awoke from his nap. She walked over to his cart and picked him up. She held him close, pressing his warm little body next to her chest and dropping a kiss on his velvet-soft brow. His hair felt soft and silky to her touch. “We’re going home, little one.”
Yes, yes, I must concentrate on thoughts of home.
“And won’t your grandparents be happy to see what a big boy you are?”
Concentrate.
“Oh, Noel, we’re going home.”

*****

For the next two days Libby tried to find the right moment to break the news to Logan that she would be leaving town Friday. Perhaps knowing that she was leaving would make it easier for him. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about her safety should Flint return. Maybe if he knew she was leaving, he’d leave too. Then they’d both be safe from Flint.

Her chance came late that afternoon when she glanced out her window just as Logan returned home. She picked Noel from the floor, wrapped him in a blanket, and carried him to Logan’s cabin.

The door flew open and Logon looked pleased to see her. “Come in and have some of my terrible coffee.” He took Noel and placed on the rug.

She sat at the table and watched him pour two cups of coffee. She tried not to think of the time spent with him in the past. The nights she lay in bed watching him, monitoring his breathing, feeling the warmth of his presence. She tried not to think of a lot of things.

“The reason I came today is I wanted to tell you before you heard it from someone else.”

His face grew still. It was obvious that he’d guessed what she’d come to tell him.

Still, she had to follow through. It was the only way she knew to maintain control. “I’m going home. We’re leaving Friday. Thornton is going with me.”

He stared into his coffee cup. A silence stretched between them. It was as if he, too, were holding on for dear life. When at last he spoke, his voice was strained. “It’s best, Libby. You know that.”

She swallowed hard. “I wish things could be different. That you would come with me.”

He regarded her with dark troubled eyes. “I’m a trapper. How many trappers do you know in Boston?”

“Then I’ll go north with you.”

“No! I lost one wife to the wilds. I’m not about to make that mistake again.” His voice grew husky. “We always knew this day would come, Libby. Let’s not make it worse than it already is.”

“Nothing could be worse than this!”

“Libby…” He stood and pulled her to her feet, taking her into his arms, but she pulled away.

*****

Miserably, Logan watched her bundle Noel in her arms. It pained him to think he would never again lay eyes on the boy, lay eyes on her.

Holding Noel she froze in place, her back toward him, and he sensed her fight for control. When at last she turned, she looked composed but the sheen in her eyes gave her away.

“It’s best,” he said again so there could be no further argument. He loved her too much to say what he wanted to say, was desperate to say. Didn’t dare. For he knew how fragile her composure—his own composure—was.

The hurt increased to a point of torture as he watched her walk away. She never looked back as she crossed the street and disappeared into her house.

But even after both doors between them had been shut, he feared she would hear the silent cry of his less than noble heart,
Don’t go, Libby. Don’t leave me.

The decision to leave Calico Corners without saying a final good-bye to Libby was the most painful, most difficult thing he ever had to do. It was also the most necessary. Leaving town meant he wouldn’t have to watch her go.

His only hope was that she would understand why it must be this way.

It was still dark when he fought his way out of his tangled bedclothes. Not bothering to light the fire, he quickly dressed, picked up his saddle and stepped outside.

Jim Bridger nudged him with a soft nose. Logan threw the saddle over the horse, then loped back to the house for his bedroll and other supplies.

The last thing he grabbed was his shotgun. But before mounting the horse, he walked out to the middle of the street and stood for one last time in front of Libby’s house. How long he stood in the dark shadows he couldn’t say. But he stood long enough for the mist to seep through his clothes, long enough for the faint glow of dawn to touch the horizon.

He might have stood there forever had Noel not cried out, snapping him out of his reverie.

He knew every one of the child’s distinctive cries by heart. The particular one was the full-fledged lusty cry before each mealtime. The cry stopped abruptly, telling him that Libby had gathered him in her arms.

Logan squeezed his lids tight to hold back the moisture that blurred his vision. Groaning, he mounted his horse and rode out of town.

Every inch of him was filled with an excruciating pain that ate away at his core. No sooner had he skirted past the last building than he rode his horse hard in a desperate attempt to put as many miles behind him as possible. In a way it worked, for eventually the pain began to diminish and a bleak, empty void took its place.

Only then did he dare to stop his frantic pace and let his horse rest.

He traveled all day and all night. He ignored his tired muscles and painful leg cramps until he was convinced that he was so exhausted that nothing, not even memories of Libby, would interfere with his sleep. It was almost midnight when he finally dismounted and set up camp.

He slept little, if any, and when at last the first sliver of dawn touched the peaks of the mountains that loomed over him, he felt a sense of relief that the long night was over.

Overhead the sky was still dark and studded with stars. Shivering, he buried himself deeper into his bedroll. The pain in his leg had gone from a dull throb to a piercing ache. It was a painful reminder that his days as a trapper could soon end.

He rubbed the circulation back before standing, then walked slowly until the stiffness was less pronounced. But it wasn’t his leg that gave him pause. It was a sense of foreboding that came out of nowhere.

Alerted, he tested the air around him. After identifying even the softest of sounds and the faintest of odors to his satisfaction, he scanned the rocky cliffs ahead, his eyes quick and sharp. He found nothing to suggest there was danger lurking nearby.

Still, he kept a watchful eye as he tied his bedroll to the saddle. He reached into his necessary bag for some of the beef jerky he’d packed. After biting off a mouthful, he dug deeper into one of the pockets of his leather bag for the willow bark. He drew out a rectangular piece and as he did so, something fell to the ground. He bent to pick it up.

It was a gold locket. Libby’s gold locket. He released the catch with his thumb and studied the cluster of hair. He thought of Libby cutting a piece of her dead husband’s hair so she would have something to give Jeffrey’s son. He knew how much the locket meant to her.

He snapped the lid shut. Of all the blasted luck. How did the thing get in his necessary bag? He considered mailing the locket back to her at some later date. But by the time he reached a town big enough to have a post office, she would have already left Calico Corners. He knew her married name but not her maiden name. He had no way of tracking down her family in Boston.

As he considered his options, he lopped off a piece of rough bark with his knife and popped the square piece into his mouth.

He couldn’t go back.

But the locket means the world to her.

He couldn’t trust himself to go back.

But Libby was saving the locket for Noel.

If he went back he would do something he had no right to do. Drat! He dare not go back. Not even for his godson’s sake. Not ever!

But how could he not?

*****

Libby stood in the center aisle of the general store and stared at Hap in disbelief. “What do you mean, Logan’s gone?”

Hap glanced at Sharkey and Big Sam, but when neither stepped forward to answer Libby’s question, he gave a sigh of resignation. “He came in here for supplies day before yesterday. Said he was going up north.”

“But that’s not possible!” Libby protested. “He wouldn’t leave without saying good-bye.”

She didn’t want to believe it was true, not even after she left the general store and headed straight for Logan’s house to see for herself.

Much to her alarm, she discovered that although the crude furnishings remained, including a pile of valuable pelts, his personal belongings were gone.

Still not wanting to believe he could take off without as much as a good-bye, she lay Noel in front of the darkened fireplace and tried to control her emotions. But she was hurting too much to keep the tears at bay. “Oh, Logan, how could you?’

She stayed in his house all that day, absorbing the essence of him that still lingered in the room to taunt her.

It was nearly dark when Big Sam and Sharkey arrived and found her sitting on the pallet, her face buried in one of the buckskin shirts Logan had left behind. Between the two of them, they tried to persuade her to go back to her cabin.

Big Sam regarded her with eyes filled with worry, “If you don’t get your sleep, Miz Libby, you ain’t gonna be fit for travelin’ tomorrow.”

“Big Sam’s right,” Sharkey agreed. “That stagecoach is due in early.”

“I’ll be ready,” she whispered. There was no reason to stay any longer, now that Logan was gone. “I’m going to miss you both.” She hugged Big Sam and wrapped her arms around Sharkey. “If you ever come to Boston…”

They hugged and cried and hugged some more. Finally, Big Sam scooped Noel into his strong dark arms and he and Sharkey escorted Libby home. After they left, she took off her calico dress and put on the buckskin dress Logan had made her. She wanted to surround herself with reminders of him and nothing reminded her of him more than the warm soft dress he’d made with his own two hands. She was still dressed in buckskin when she fell exhausted and depleted onto the bed.