Now and Forever (8 page)

B
ailey wiped her eyes and studied Shannon. “What is all over you?”

“There was coal in that cave. Burning it helped light our way and most likely saved our lives.”

Five men now gathered around them.

Shannon noticed one wore a parson’s collar and a black hat with a broad flat brim. She tried to remember the last time she’d gone to church. There was a church in Aspen Ridge, but she avoided town as much as possible.

Maybe this was the man who’d married Kylie and Aaron.

“We survived falling into the Slaughter, Shannon,” Tucker said. “I do believe that makes us legends.”

“That it does, Tucker, that it does.” Caleb gave his wild laugh. “It’s a tale that’ll be told all through these mountains for years to come. Every time it’s repeated it’ll get shined up and retold bigger and better.”

Tucker laughed. Shannon joined in.

Then Tucker started talking, beginning with getting
knocked off the mountain by the grizzly. He was doctoring up the story to make Shannon a hero. Like she’d saved him by throwing them to almost certain death into a river known as Slaughter. A name well known by everyone present apparently, except for her and Bailey. That’s when she noticed Nev Bassett was with the group. Five of the men were dressed like Tucker, but not Nev. What was he doing here?

Caleb left Tucker and came over to Shannon and hoisted her into his arms so that her toes dangled. “You saved our boy, Miss Wilde. I kindly thank you.”

His hug almost crushed her, yet it wasn’t unpleasant. Two hugs in the space of a few minutes. This wasn’t how her life normally went.

Caleb flung an arm around her shoulders and hauled her over to Tucker, who was sitting on a boulder while one of the men fussed with his leg.

“How’s his leg, Peever?”

The man, kneeling, looked up at her. “You did a fine job tending it, miss, and with precious little at hand to work with.”

Tucker snaked out an arm and dragged her away from Caleb. He gave her a kiss right on the lips in front of everyone and smiled. She knew he was teasing, so she didn’t let it bother her overly.

“She took good care of me. I used her as a crutch while we hunted for a way out. She helped keep a fire burning day and night for the whole time we were in there.”

“Five days,” the parson said.

Nodding, Tucker added, “And to have been in there,
in the complete dark for five days, we’d have never found our way.”

“She stayed right with you at all times.” The parson sounded less like he was complimenting Shannon than the other men had. “For five long days . . . and nights.”

“That’s right.” Tucker patted Shannon on the back, then turned to the parson, clearly struck by the somber tone.

“You were together both waking and sleeping?” The parson arched a brow.

A stretch of silence followed, broken only by the gentle sigh of the mountain breeze.

Finally, Bailey said, “You’re trying to make some kinda point, Parson. So make it.”

The parson looked Bailey in the eyes and didn’t flinch. Shannon was impressed, because Bailey could make a lot of people, men included, back off.

“My point is I’m here right now, and nothing will do but that I perform a wedding ceremony.”

“I don’t see as we have much choice but to give up our claim, Mr. Stewbold. The barn fire cost us everything. Our crop was stored in there and, meager though it was, it would have seen us through. And our cow and calf and the team, they’re gone. The fire caught enough of the corral, it fell down and they ran off. We searched for hours, but we can’t find a sign of them anywhere. If we hadn’t lost the livestock, we’d’ve been all right. Now we’ve lost everything.”

The man and his wife looked defeated. He spoke with
his head bowed low. Hiram Stewbold held them in contempt. Men with such weak spines shouldn’t try and settle the West.

“I’m the land agent here, Barton. I make a modest salary. But I hate seeing good folks suffer. There’s a freight wagon leaving town within the hour for Denver. The mule skinner will take passengers, but he charges for it.”

“We have no cash money, Mr. Stewbold, and we haven’t packed. Our few belongings are still out at the house. We don’t even have a change of clothes or food for the journey.”

“I can stand you the price of the trip and a bit for food. It should take you as far as Denver.”

John Barton shook his head. “But we’d end up in Denver with nuthin’. We have no family there. If we could just wait a few days. Surely another freight wagon will come. And the stage . . .”

“I can’t afford the stage, and certainly you can’t.”

“We’d welcome the help. Maybe there’s something in our cabin we could sell . . . furniture, the wagon?”

“I just got paid today, Mr. Barton, and I’m feeling generous. I may have other homesteaders in need, my money may be gone by the time another freighter is pulling out, and you can’t get to your homestead and back before this one leaves.”

“We can’t pay you back, Mr. Stewbold.”

“In exchange for my generosity, I’ll sell what I can from your place. I doubt I’ll break even, but I’m willing to risk that in order to help you out. Make your own decision, Barton. There are no jobs in Aspen Ridge. If you don’t
go now, you may find yourselves freezing and hungry through a bitter-cold winter. But perhaps someone will take you in and show you charity. If not, I doubt you and your wife will survive it, and certainly a baby won’t.”

John looked at his wife, round with a baby that would be born near Christmas.

“We have to go, Mildred.”

“But my mother’s quilts. The clothes I’ve sewn for the baby.” A tear ran down the woman’s face.

The weakness irritated Hiram. He did his best not to let that sound in his voice. “I’m sorry.”

The woman nodded her head silently.

“If you’ll just sign this document rescinding your homestead claim, so that anything I take from your property is legally mine, I’ll go arrange a ride for you.”

Barton barely glanced at what he signed.

“Feel free to wait here in the land office.” Rolling up the paper, Hiram stuck it in his pocket and took it with him. He left quickly, so his smile didn’t show. This was the first homestead title that had changed hands since he’d taken over two weeks ago. He’d learned to make a decent profit on weaklings while doing work as a land agent by spotting those giving up and getting that information to land buyers . . . with a bit of profit for himself.

Masterson seemed to think he needed to instruct Hiram on how to do his job, but Hiram had been working land offices for years, all through the Civil War while fools wasted their time fighting each other.

A quick visit with the freighter secured a ride for the Bartons, and by the time Hiram was back at the land office,
he’d resumed the solemn expression. No sense letting the couple know how pleased he was with them moving on without going home. It was surprising how many valuables a family would leave behind.

He didn’t wish them ill. He hoped they found a place to live in Denver before the baby came.

He watched them ride out of town, their only possessions the clothes they wore on their backs. Once they were gone, he didn’t bother controlling his smirk.

He did his day’s work, making sure to go about his business in an open manner, before he turned his attention to the more profitable side of being a land agent in a part of the country with very little law.

A
wedding ceremony!” Bailey exploded.

Shannon gasped.

Sunrise shook her head. “That is not called for. This could not be helped.”

Tucker said, “Let’s do it.”

Shannon turned and glared at Tucker, who smiled at her and stole another kiss.

“Stop that.” She didn’t say it until they’d kissed quite a while.

“We have spent many nights in each other’s arms, Shannon Wilde. What’s more, we enjoyed it. And I’d like it to continue. In fact, I don’t like the idea of ever spending another night apart from you.”

Shannon crossed her arms. “We don’t even know each other.”

Tucker leaned forward. “Oh, I think we know each other pretty well.”

She thought of how it felt to wake up with him. His strong arms around her. How much she wanted to tend his leg and make sure he was healed up. “But you live in the mountains. I have sheep to take care of.”

Tucker winced. “I hate sheep.”

He took his arm off her waist, and that was the first she’d noticed he was still hanging on to her. And she noticed how much she missed it.

Caleb said, “Sheep ain’t all bad, Tuck.”

“They’re not?” Tucker looked away from Shannon, which gave her a moment to clear her head. And for some reason she wished Caleb would say something that would convince Tucker that sheep were wonderful and a man could be very happy raising sheep.

“Nope, especially the little ones.”

Shannon smiled at the old-timer. He seemed so tough, but he obviously had a softer side.

“Yep, the real young ones roast up real nice on a spit. Mighty tasty.”

Shannon inhaled so hard it turned into an inverted scream. “Nobody’s going to eat my sheep.”

Everyone turned to stare at her, even the parson.

Bailey said, “Then what are they for if not to eat? The ewes can have lambs and increase your herd, but what are the males for? House pets?”

Shannon didn’t know how this had gotten to be about her farming practices. “I’m not marrying Tucker.” The sheep-eating savage.

“No.” Bailey jammed one finger straight at the parson’s chest, like she was aiming a pistol. “She is most certainly
not
marrying Tucker. It’s out of the question. She doesn’t even know him. They only met five days ago.”

“Five days and
nights
ago.” The parson didn’t even act angry, more like helpless—which made Shannon feel helpless. “She has to. What’s gone on is beyond the pale. Far beyond just improper. It might be overlooked because we are far from civilization and it couldn’t be helped and no one would have to know—if they weren’t both exchanging intimacies right in front of a large crowd of people.”

Shannon probably shouldn’t have kissed Tucker—twice. Nor let him pull her into his arms.

“
And
they are standing right here, talking about sleeping together.”

“It was five days. We had to sleep,” Tucker said, sounding calm and not all that upset for a man being cornered into marriage. “And it was cold. We needed to hold each other.” He looked at her, and she didn’t look away. “Hold each other close. Real close. All night long. Every night.”

The parson snorted, which helped Shannon break the gaze. “Your sister is ruined, and she’s openly discussing her ruin in front of a crowd of men, none of whom is known for discretion.”

“I resent that,” Caleb said. The man who’d just promised to exaggerate Tucker’s story into a legend.

“In fact, they’re widely known for taking a story, and I quote, ‘Every time it’s repeated it’ll get shined up and retold bigger and better.’” The parson looked at Shannon with eyes that seemed to glow with the kind of fire that made a person repent even if they already had, just to get the man to quit staring. “There is no way to keep your
name out of it, Miss Wilde, because you are the hero of it. You threw him over the cliff to save him from the bear.”

“As quick thinking and graceful as a . . . as a . . .” Caleb scratched his beard while he searched for the right word. Then his eyes lit up. “As a doe in full flight.” He smiled, finding poetry in the story. Clearly rehearsing how he’d retell it.

The parson narrowed his eyes at Shannon as if to say
I told you so
. “You dragged him unconscious out of the water and into a cave no one knew existed.”

“No one knew there was a way out of that endless, killing river. No one had survived it before. It was the stuff of miracles,” Caleb said. “As if you’d been touched by the hand of God, brought right to that cliff to save our Tucker.”

“With almost supernatural strength no woman could possess, and the . . . and the . . .” Rupert paused.

Peever, the man who’d examined Tucker’s leg, finished the thought. “And the courage of a lioness.”

The parson looked like he might start growling like a lioness. “You saved him and quite clearly bonded deeply with him.”

Peever looked off into the distance and rested a hand solemnly on his chest. “And she nursed him with the skilled hands of a ministering angel.”

“There they were,” Rupert added, “swallowed into the belly of the earth with a wounded man she’d already saved twice, with only the might of her delicate spine . . .”

“I like that,” Caleb interjected. “That’s real perdy.”

Rupert went on, “With only the might of her delicate spine and the wits in her pretty little head, she bore his
weight as they fought their way out of the deepest, darkest pit.”

“Actually I walked. I mean, I leaned on her, but it’s not like she carried me over her shoulder or nuthin’.” Tucker scowled, apparently not liking that part of the story.

Rupert said, “Why, it’s like, together, with love giving them the strength to go on, they found the . . . the . . .” Rupert tapped his foot, clearly lost for words.

“Grit.”

“Pluck.”

“Mettle.”

“Spunk.”

Then someone said, “Fortitude.”

“Yep, that’s it.” Rupert smiled, then regained his serious expression. “Together, over five long days, holding each other close both day and night, they found the
fortitude
to fight their way straight out of the depths of hell.”

Caleb inhaled quickly as if awestruck.

Peever clapped his hands. “That is plum bee-yoot-iful, Rupert.”

Shannon dragged a hand over her face and groaned.

“Tucker with his leg broke, held tight in the loving arms of a woman of uncommon spirit.” Caleb had a gleam in his eye, as if he was deliberately making things worse for the pure fun of causing mischief.

“And then she married him,” Neville said dryly, “a wounded hero who proceeded to eat all her sheep.”

Shannon remembered Aaron had a chance to shoot Nev and passed it up.

“And all your help and heroism,” the parson said with
none of the grandeur or teasing of the others of this group, “is a wonderful thing that can’t possibly be hushed up. If you don’t marry Tucker, you can expect to bear the reputation, for the rest of your days, of little more than an epically brave soiled dove.”

Shannon looked at the men gathered around her. A couple of them looked a bit guilty, but their eyes were lively, and some looked through her into the distance as if they were adding more to the tale to entertain men around a campfire. Maybe they liked the part about her being an “epically brave soiled dove.” Maybe no one who heard their stories would need to read between any lines. Maybe these galoots were writing those lines right now, making those five nights into something they most certainly had never been.

“They might not exactly want to make you out to be such, but a man needs to do his share of the talking.” The parson watched her with narrow eyes.

“That’s only polite,” Caleb said.

Rupert shrugged, acknowledging it as though a simple truth. “And sometimes the night is long and the truth is kinda short and boring.”

Peever said, “Tucker, Slaughter River, and the soiled dove sent by God to save his life.”

“God wouldn’t make me a soiled dove, now, would He?” Shannon asked through clenched teeth.

“Five days and nights in the belly of the earth . . . that’s too good to keep quiet. You understand that, right, Tucker?” Caleb said as if apologizing for his part in future storytelling.

“I can think of a few things to add myself.” Tucker nodded. “We found coal down there to light our way. Coal burns like the lights of Hades.”

Rupert said, “That goes mighty nice with the notion of you walking out of hell.”

Peever nodded happily. “It shore enough does.”

“And last night,” Tucker continued, “I looked up and saw starlight through the roof of a cave where there should have been only solid rock. It was as if the very eye of God winked down at me and guided us to safety.”

All four mountain men gasped. Shannon wouldn’t have been surprised to see them taking notes. Except of course they probably couldn’t read or write, nor did they own paper or pencil. More than that, if they wrote it down, then they’d be stuck with it. With the story only in their heads, they could add details galore.

“So . . .” Tucker turned to Shannon and grinned. He’d never washed his face, and his teeth shined like white fire in the darkness of a coal mine. The man was filthy. “You can see we have no choice but to get married.”

“It’d make a fine ending to the story,” Caleb said, as if that were the most important reason for doing it. The idiot.

“You could marry him,” Bailey said in a voice just above a growl, “and then we could shove him back over the banks of the Slaughter River on the way home. Reputation saved, problem solved.”

It was an idea with merit.

“I’ll perform the ceremony right now. Step just a bit closer to him, Miss Wilde.”

Sunrise sighed. “You will make a terrible husband, Tucker. Why do this to the girl?”

That struck Shannon as a mean thing for a ma to say, even a ma that wasn’t really a ma.

Tucker’s smile faded. “Ma, I’ll be good to Shannon.”

“You will be good to her when you wander by, I know that. But you will only do such a thing once or twice a year. Perhaps you will come down from the peaks and stay the winter. You were on the way up-country when you ran afoul of that bear.”

“But I didn’t take my horse, so you know I wasn’t going to stay long.”

Sunrise snorted. “Will you marry her today and stay until your leg is healed and then go? I have heard you say you’d never marry because you did not want that life for a woman you cared about. Are you saying you will stay with Shannon? Or are you saying you do not care about her? Or are you saying you have changed your mind, and even though you care, you will leave her?”

It was the longest speech Sunrise had ever given. It told Shannon a lot about the life she’d lived with her now-dead husband, Pierre.

“And each time you leave, will you leave her with a child to bear by herself, raise by herself, support by herself?” Sunrise turned to the parson. Her words were spoken with complete respect. “Parson Ruskins, you are a good man and you mean well, but there are more ways than one to ruin a woman.” She looked at the men gathered around. “How many of you have wives you never see? Children you do not know and take no part in feeding or caring for?
You abandon your families to a hard life. That is nothing to take pride in, yet you are all proud men.”

The men didn’t meet her eye.

All but Tucker. His smile was gone, but not his determination. “I’m planning on being a better man to Shannon than Pierre was to you, Ma. I won’t leave her to a lonely life. You have my word.”

He reached out and took Shannon’s hand and turned her to face him. “Marry me, Shannon. I was heading for the high-up hills because I saw a cap of dark curls on the roof of a house.”

Shannon knew what he spoke of. Their eyes had met only for a moment. She knew Kylie had told him that the two people he saw, the two people who immediately ducked out of sight and left, were her “brothers,” Shannon and Bailey Wilde.

But Shannon had felt that connection. “You were leaving because of that?” she asked.

“I knew what I saw, and I knew how badly I wanted to see you again. And I knew I didn’t want to tie a woman to me. Ma’s right that I don’t want to put a woman through the life I’ve seen her live with Pierre. He was a good man in his way, but he was a poor excuse for a husband and father. I won’t do that to any woman. And because I didn’t want to settle down, I was clearing out. But I knew when I woke up in your arms that my fate was sealed. I knew it when you admitted you were Kylie’s sister.” He smiled again. “I knew it before we hit the water.”

He leaned down and kissed her long and hard. “Marry me, Shannon. I’ll be a good husband to you. You have my solemn
vow. I understand what Sunrise worries about. I promise you, I won’t give you reason to be sorry you’ve said yes.”

She wished he’d go take a good long bath and then ask again, but that wasn’t going to happen. She could stand to take one herself. With a mental shrug, because she felt certain her fate was indeed sealed, she said, “Yes, Tucker. I’ll marry you.”

He kissed her once more.

His kiss made her think of something she wanted to make very clear, so she leaned right next to his ear. “We may speak vows now that are forever, but you’ll not have the rights of a husband until we know each other much better than we do now.”

She straightened so she could see how he reacted.

The man looked very surprised. And so disappointed she couldn’t help but be a bit flattered. Which didn’t change her mind one whit. Honestly he was the next thing to a complete stranger. What little she knew of the intimacies of marriage were unthinkable anytime soon.

“Agreed?”

The man was outright pouting. Then he shrugged. “I suppose.” He sounded glum.

She patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s get married, and then get you home so you can get cleaned up. And I need to see to my sheep.”

He flinched, then his eyes narrowed into a considering kind of look. She might even go so far as to call it a
hungry
kind of look.

She’d have to watch him like a hawk, especially come mealtime, or he’d start thinning her herd.

“Wool, Tucker. I’m raising sheep for wool, not meat. I’ve made some good money selling wool.” Truthfully, not all that much money, far less than she’d hoped. But that didn’t matter. Those sheep were her friends, and
nobody
would be killing and eating them.