Remembered (41 page)

Jack, however, didn’t even appear to be winded.

Véronique flexed her fingers. The palms of her hands had begun to sting.

Kneeling by the wagon, they had just started packing the fourth wheel when a deep rumble rolled toward them from overhead. It picked up momentum as it roared over the mountains. Véronique covered her ears as Jack’s arm came around her shoulders. From the corner of her eye, she saw a jagged burst of light shoot down from the clouds. An explosion sounded nearby, followed by a plume of flame that the rain swiftly extinguished.

“What was that?” she shouted.

He leaned close. “Don’t you have lightning in France?”

“
Oui
, of course we have it. But it is not like that.”

He pointed to the sky. “It’s because we’re up so high.” He studied the wagon wheel, then the storm. “That’ll have to do for now. I’ll grab some food from the back and we’ll take shelter.”

Famished, she nodded, thankful the rock work was done.

By the time Jack had retrieved the food and saw, and secured the cover over the wagon again, the last hint of daylight had disappeared behind the tallest peaks, and the darkness of night had begun to descend. Despite her coat, Véronique shivered, the rain having somehow sleuthed its way past the protection of the outer garment. Her shirtwaist was wet, as was her chemise beneath.

Jack handed her a sack of food and resituated the blanket over her head and shoulders. Rain trickled off the wide brim of his hat.

She reached up and flicked the edge of it with her finger. “It keeps you dry in the rain?”

“It does. My head anyway.” He cinched the blanket closer beneath her chin. “Stay here . . . please. I’ll see to the horses and come right back. If you hear thunder again, get next to the cliff wall and huddle close to the ground.”

He hadn’t taken six steps before the darkness and sheets of rain enveloped him.

Véronique stared at the spot where he’d disappeared and found herself thanking God again for this man and for what he was helping her do. If someone had asked her one year ago what she would be doing today, never would she have imagined being in such place, under such circumstances. Yet looking back, she could see the faintest shadow of a line connecting events in her life leading up to this moment. Though she had not seen it then, God had seen, and perhaps her mother too, and they’d been preparing her for this journey.

Something cracked on the ridge above her head.

She peered up. With the rain, she could make out only the edge of the overhang and roots protruding from rocky crevices.

Seconds later it sounded again, farther down. Perhaps Jack had found a passage to the top and they would have shelter for the night. With relief, she spotted him walking toward her. She squinted as he drew closer.

Only it wasn’t Jack.

And the man had a gun.

CHAPTER | THIRTY - FOUR

J
ACK HEARD
V
ÉRONIQUE SCREAM
his name.

He dropped the harness and grabbed his rifle. Panic gripped his chest. The wind whipped the rain sideways, and runnels of water channeled downhill. Twice he nearly lost his footing.

He spotted her, backed up against the cliff, and then made out the blurred outline of a man only a few feet away.

He raised his gun and took aim. “Come no closer!”

The man went stock-still, his rifle lowered at his side. He raised his other hand in a sign of truce. “I mean you no harm. I saw your wagon from above and came to see if I could help.”

Jack slowly approached him. “What are you doing out here, on a night like this?”

“I live just over the ridge. Shot a buck earlier and was on my way home.”

Both answers raised suspicion. Jack hadn’t seen any dwellings in this area since they’d left Sluice Box. “Where’s the deer?”

The man gestured behind him, never turning his head. “I left it up on the ridge before I came down.”

Likely answer. Jack wished he could see the man closer up, gain a glimpse of his face, get a better sense of whether he was telling the truth. But the storm had brought night on early and the man had his coat pulled up around his neck.

“Listen, friend . . .” The stranger slowly lowered his hand. “My family and I would welcome you and your wife in our home for the night, if you need a place to stay. I can stable your horses too. There’s a path on down the road a piece where we can lead them over the ridge. But if you’d rather stay here, I’ll walk back out just like I walked in. It’s your call.”

It didn’t add up to Jack that this fella just happened to be out wandering the forest. Not with the threats, both those spoken and otherwise, they’d had in their visits to the mining towns. But one thing was certain—Sol Leevy and his men wouldn’t walk in like this man had done, rifle lowered, offering a truce.

A quick glance at Véronique confirmed she was soaked clean through. If this guy was telling the truth, he offered a much better alternative to spending the night outside.

Relying on instinct, and hoping it was accurate, Jack slowly lowered his gun. “We’re much obliged. Let me unhitch the horses and get a few things from the wagon.”

His attention never leaving the man, Jack walked to where Véronique stood. She laid a hand to his chest, and he quickly covered it.

“Can we trust him?” Her voice was low, and he could feel her shivering. “And what of all your supplies?”

“My gut tells me we can trust him. And if it comes to it, everything in that wagon can be replaced, Vernie. Get what you need for the night. We’ll leave the wagon and come back for it in the morning.” He squeezed her hand before letting it go.

The stranger fell into step beside them as they walked to the wagon. “From up top it looked like you’ve got a pretty full load.”

Something about the man’s voice rekindled Jack’s suspicion. “We do. I run supplies to the mining towns. We were on our way up to Quandry but ran into some trouble.”

The man nodded, looking past the wagon. “I saw the tree. I’ll come back with you in the morning and we’ll get it cleared.”

“That’s kind of you, sir. I’m Jack Brennan” —he shook the man’s hand—“and this is Véronique . . . my wife.”

“Pleasure to meet you both.” Looking at Véronique, the man touched the rim of his hat. “I’m Larson Jennings. And my wife, Kathryn, will be more excited about me bringing you home, ma’am, than that buck up on the hill. She’ll enjoy the chance to visit with another lady.”

“We are grateful for your generosity, Monsieur Jennings, and I am most eager to meet your wife.”

A woman met them at the door of the rustic cabin and welcomed them inside. The first thing Véronique noticed about Kathryn Jennings was the way she greeted her husband. She kissed him full on the mouth and hugged him tight, despite his being soaked.

The next thing she noticed, as he turned toward her, was Larson Jennings’s eyes—and his face.

His eyes were a startling, piercing blue. But his face and neck were covered with scars. She made an effort not to wince when she first looked at him. Then she realized she’d been looking at him for the past half hour as they’d followed him home, only the darkness and his coat pulled high about his neck had masked the disfigurement.

It shamed her to admit, even to herself, that had she first met Larson Jennings in the daylight, she would not have been receptive to him.

Larson took off his coat and made the introductions, and Véronique accepted Kathryn’s outstretched hands. She glanced at Jack, expecting him to jump in and explain that they weren’t truly husband and wife, but he seemed oblivious.

“It’s such a pleasure to have you in our home.” Kathryn seemed as gracious as she was beautiful. “And your timing is perfect. I’ve been holding dinner for Larson, so we can all eat together.”

“Papa!”

A little boy ran from a side room, his arms outstretched. Larson grabbed him up and nuzzled the boy’s neck.

The boy squealed in delight, pushing against his father’s stubbled chin. “That tickles, Papa!”

Véronique laughed along with them until she caught Jack’s wistful expression. Beneath his smile lingered . . . longing. She recognized it only because it so closely resembled her own. His attention drifted, and she followed it to see a little girl toddling toward them in stocking feet. Her steps were new and unsteady, and too late, Véronique tried to reach out and catch the child before she fell.

The toddler’s sweet face crumpled when her knees hit the wooden floor.

Kathryn scooped her up and dusted her off. “Oh, sweetie, it’s all right. Look who’s home!” She moved closer to her husband, glancing back over her shoulder. “May I present our children—William and Katie.”

Larson set his son down and gave his dark hair a tousle, then reached for his daughter. Véronique noticed he wasn’t nearly so boisterous with her. He cradled the side of her little blond head and kissed her nose, whispering her name over and over.

The tiny angel tucked her head beneath her father’s chin, looked at Véronique, and smiled.

Véronique returned it, and felt her throat starting to ache. “How old is she?”

Larson pressed a kiss to the crown of Katie’s head. “She’ll be a year old in a couple of months.”

Véronique couldn’t stop the tears from welling. What would it be like to hear her father whisper her name with such tender affection? To be treated in such a cherished manner? “
Très belle
. She is beautiful,” she whispered, hoping her tears would pass for adoration.

She thought they had, until Jack slipped an arm around her waist.

“Are we ready to eat?” Larson pulled a chair back from the table.

Running a hand through her wet hair, Véronique saw the look Kathryn gave her husband.

“Men . . .” Kathryn rolled her eyes and took Véronique by the hand. “Larson, you and Jack help yourself to some corn bread. I’ll put a batch of biscuits in the stove in a minute. But first . . .” She gestured toward a room off to the side. “I’m going to help Véronique into some other clothes so hers can dry. Mr. Brennan, my husband can help you with whatever you need.”

After dinner, Kathryn excused herself to get the children ready for bed. “Would you like to help me, Véronique?”

Surprised at the invitation, Jack waited to see how Véronique would respond.

“
Oui
, I would like that very much.” Véronique reached out and made a pinching motion at William, who giggled and promptly ran into the next room.

“We’ll be back shortly.” Kathryn scooped up Katie and glanced at her husband. “Then we’ll have some pie.”

Larson pushed back from the table. “I need to see to that buck I shot back on the ridge first. That’ll take a while.”

“I’d be happy to help.” Jack stood and reached for his coat. “The work’ll go faster with two of us.”

“That’d be much appreciated, Jack.”

Thunder rumbled overhead as they walked out to the barn. Rain fell in thick sheets, and if the temperature dropped much lower, they’d awaken to snow. Jack winced just thinking about it. Snow would only further hinder their trip to Quandry—and anywhere else.

He helped Larson hoist the carcass of the deer so that it hung head up from a rafter. Jennings made a circular cut around the throat, connecting it with the cut made in the stomach during the field dressing. His movements were smooth and expert—surprising with the apparent injuries he’d suffered. The scars covering his face, neck, and hands bespoke an acquaintance with physical pain that Jack could not imagine.

They worked in silence as if they’d done this together a thousand times before. They removed the hide and cut the meat into slabs, then stored it in readied barrels, covering it with brine. They walked a short distance to the creek to wash up, and Jack’s hands were nearly numb when they finished. He figured Larson’s were too.

Arriving back at the cabin, they found the main room empty. A sliver of pale orange still glowed beneath the children’s bedroom door, and he caught soft murmurs of conversation.

Larson reached for the coffee pot still warming on the stove. “Kathryn doesn’t get the chance to visit with women much, so we might not see them for a while.”

Seating himself at the table, Jack wrapped his hands around his cup, noticing that Jennings did the same. “I sure appreciate you coming along when you did today, Larson. It would’ve been a miserable night out there for the two of us.”

“I remember a similar night years ago, when Kat and I were first married. We got stuck out in a storm like this, maybe not quite so cold. But I tell you, Jack, it wasn’t half bad.” Giving Jack a look, he smiled and sipped his coffee. “I wasn’t too sure then how Kathryn would do out here. But she’s done well. Better than I have in some ways. So don’t you worry.”

Jack caught Jennings’s meaning, and what he was inferring about Véronique. He also realized that Jennings and his wife still thought the two of them were married. “About that, I—”

The door to the side room opened and the women appeared, no children in tow. Véronique wore an odd expression on her face, and Jack got the feeling she wanted to speak with him privately.

“Katie’s asleep, but William woke up after dozing for a bit,” Kathryn said. “Larson, he said you promised him a story about a . . . wolf cat?”

Larson’s expression turned sheepish. “Something he came up with, Kat. I don’t know where he got it from.”

“Uh-huh.” Kathryn nodded, her brow raised. “Well, just see to it that the story’s not so scary he can’t fall asleep again.” She turned to Jack. “I was just telling Véronique that Larson and I will sleep in with the children tonight, and the two of you can have our bedroom. We just need to get a few things out of there first.”

Jack saw Véronique’s eyes go wide. “That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Jennings, I—”

“I’m afraid we insist on it, friend.” Larson slipped an arm around Kathryn’s waist and pulled her close. “You and your wife need a good night’s rest if you’re traveling up to Quandry tomorrow.”

Jack actually felt himself blush. First, for not having said something sooner. And second, because for a moment he’d imagined himself sharing that bedroom with Véronique. “I need to clear up something. Something that’s completely of my doing, I admit. But it was done with the best of intentions.” He caught Véronique’s eye. “Véronique and I are not . . . husband and wife.” He looked at Larson. “I introduced us that way at the outset because I wasn’t sure about who you were, Jennings. And because I figure it’s safer her traveling under the guise of being my wife, instead of as a single woman.”