White Dreams (17 page)

Thinking back on all Star had said, his mind focused on the steamboat, when she’d had the vision as they entered the city. She’d felt death there. That steamer had left St. Louis the same night Hattie said her husband and son were shipped out. Along with Charles’s servant, was his guess. Perhaps this all was related to today’s incident.

Determination hardened him. Without saying a word, he slid the material back down her arm. Calm blanketed the fury inside him as his military training took over. This was war. “No one will die.”

Star pushed away from him, using her fisted hands planted on his chest to hold herself away. “If it’s meant to be, no one can stop it.”

Her utter hopelessness strengthened Grady’s vow. He would best death this time around. He’d lost too much to it already. “If we have warning, we can prepare.”

“How do you prepare for death, Grady? How can anyone be ready to lose a loved one?” Her dark eyes swam with fresh tears.

The words hung between them, stark and raw. People died every day from illness or murder—even childbirth. Like Margaret Mary. And though the doctors had warned him, tried to prepare him, her death had devastated him when it came. Nothing and no one could have adequately prepared him for that moment.

Star dropped her head to his chest. Grady’s hands slid up her arms to cup it, to hold her to him. He rested his cheek on the top of her head for a moment before he gently forced her to look at his face. His lips once again grazed her brow. “By not accepting it. By doing all we can to prevent it. I couldn’t save Margaret Mary. No one could. I realize that now. And from what you’ve said, nothing you could have said to your husband would have prevented him from riding to war. But this is different. We have hope. We have time and warning. We’ll fight it, Star. Together.”

Her hands crept up his chest and wound around his neck. “Help me.”

Their heads moved closer. “I will,” he whispered, his mouth touching hers, her breath mingling with his.

Raw need exploded between them. Grady wrapped his arms around her, and Star gripped him hard, her fingers digging into the corded muscles along his shoulders. His lips slanted over her mouth. Hers parted, begging for his touch, his kiss.

Star felt herself swimming in a pool of desperate need. She wanted this man, craved his strength and iron will. He’d fight death for her. For the children. But could he change the outcome? She had no idea who would die. Not knowing both scared her and relieved her.

With a low cry deep in her throat, she put visions, hatred and death from her mind. Right now she needed life. She needed to feel. And kissing Grady brought to the surface passions she’d never known resided inside her.

Her senses swirled, hunger clawing through her despair. She moaned and slid her hands up the hard column of his neck, then along the outline of his jaw.

Grady’s hands roamed up and down her back, moved to her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. She aped his movements. She loved the feel of his hair, thick, soft and long.

Lifting her head, he leaned forward, holding her firmly as his mouth followed the line of her jaw and moved to her throat. Then he pulled away. For a long moment they stared at one another, their ragged breathing drowning out the sound of a ticking clock on the wall, each of their hands resting on the other’s shoulders, as if not sure whether to push away or come together in fury.

His eyes, soft and smoky with desire, devoured hers. Slowly, as one, they moved back into each other’s arms. This time, the kiss was hesitant; it was as if each was afraid of the turbulent emotions and the fiery possession that had swept them up in this burning desire. Grady again pressed his lips to her forehead, her eyes, the bridge of her nose, then hovered a breath away from her lips.

Star tipped her head to one side and leaned down to kiss his chin, her tongue dipping into the dimple there. He shuddered as she did. Planting tiny, soft kisses along his jaw, near his ear, Star trailed her mouth over the hard planes of his sculptured face before returning to his mouth. But she didn’t kiss him there. She waited.

Time stood still as they took turns exploring each other with their lips and tongues but their mouths stopped short each time. A brief lick here. A tiny nibble there. Until finally, Grady flicked his tongue along the corner of her mouth. Star bit gently and tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth. A brief touch followed, then a short parting to allow their breaths to mix and entice.

When they finally kissed again, it was slow and sweet. Star wasn’t sure which she preferred: this languorous melding of souls or Grady’s demanding mastery. Both called out to her. She yearned for all this man could give her.

That need grew and filled her. It frightened her. “Grady—”

“I know. I know.” He pulled her close and held her, her breasts pressed to his hard chest. “I shouldn’t have kissed you, but you’re in my blood. You’re my bright star. My
bright star.
You saved me and showed me life is worth living and fighting for. I won’t lose you.”

Something squeezed her ribs. Her heart ached under the pressure. She lifted her head and covered his mouth with her fingers. “No. Don’t love me, Grady.”

A pained expression crossed his features. His hand shook as he cupped her face and feathered his fingers over her features. “It might be too late.”

Star couldn’t breathe. She pushed off his lap and struggled to her feet, her limbs tangling in her long skirt and layers of petticoats. “I didn’t want this to happen. I can’t love. Not ever again. I won’t risk it.” Her voice rose, her lungs felt heavy, refusing to draw in air.

He couldn’t love her. She couldn’t love him. This couldn’t be allowed to happen. Death hovered on the horizon. Someone close to her was in mortal danger, and there was no guarantee that her visions could save them. It didn’t matter if it was her or someone else. If anything happened to her, then Grady would suffer another loss. In fact, both times that she’d felt the premonition of death had been in Grady’s presence.
It could be him. She might be in danger, and he could die protecting her.
“No!” she cried. More frightened than she’d ever been before, she ran from the room.

Grady followed Star to the doorway and heard her running up the stairs. Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder toward the mantel. In the waning afternoon light, Margaret Mary looked as sad as he felt.

“Don’t love me,”
Star had said.

It was too late—too damn late.

Sagging against the wooden frame, he glared over at the curving staircase. Margaret Mary was his past. Star was his future. She’d given him back his nights, chased away his nightmares and given him hope. She brightened his days, made him feel alive.

“Don’t love me,”
she’d said. He closed his eyes. Someone had to.
He
had to. His life had changed forever the day he’d met Star Dreamer. Like a vision, she’d woven her way into his life and bound him to her.

Straightening, he knew that neither of them was ready emotionally to make a commitment. Too much baggage had to be gone through and dealt with. Too much anger, despair and guilt still created a chasm.

“Papa?”

Grady glanced up the stairs. Two worried faces stared down at him. “Yes, Renny?”

“Is Star all right?”

“She’s fine, sweetheart. She needs to rest, though, so I want you and Matilda to play quietly. And, Renny…I’m going out for a while. I’d like you and Matilda to stay in the house while I’m gone.”

“Yes, Papa.”

Grady donned his hat, then went in search of the scouts. He ran into Zac in the kitchen. He wore new denim pants, suspenders and a flannel shirt. On his feet, he sported new boots.

“Well, well, well. You don’t look half-bad cleaned up.” Not only that, he looked fifteen years younger. Grady would bet the brothers weren’t that much older than he—maybe in their early forties, instead of their fifties, as he’d originally figured.

“Gots ta eat. That woman even took our clothes and burned them,” he announced, disgruntled.

Seeing disguised pride, Grady knew Zac was enjoying the attention. “Where are Zeb and Zeke?”

“Zeb’s out in the stable. Zeke is in there.” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the pantry.

Grady heard the other man talking to Hattie. “Get him and meet me at the stables. I need to speak to all three of you.” At Zac’s nod, he left the house.

Finding Zeb, Grady asked him to saddle his horse. He declined the use of a buggy. Waiting in the carriage house, he paced. In the far corner, Margaret Mary’s old phaeton sat, and next to it, also covered in a think layer of dust and spiderwebs, his Dearborn coach looked woefully neglected. Another thing waited for him to do: purchase a stable of suitable horses.

“What’s up, Colonel?” Zac and Zeke joined him.

“Is Mrs. Star all right?” Zeke looked worried. The three brothers had quickly adopted Hattie’s title for her.

Grady’s jaw dropped when he got a good look at Zeke in dark pants, a white shirt and a snug-fitting jacket. He wore white gloves on his hands too. He looked uncomfortable with Grady’s scrutiny.

Zeb entered, then, and that stopped Grady from asking the man what he was dressed up for. It was too early for a supper engagement. “She’s fine. But listen. I want one of you with her, Hattie or the children every time they leave the house.”

Zac scratched his ear. “What’s up, Colonel? What’s you afeared of?”

Pacing, Grady told the three brothers what had happened at the market and his suspicions that it was tied to Hattie’s kidnappers.

Zeke flexed his hands. “Ain’t nobody gonna harm any of them, Colonel.” With that, he left to return to the house.

Taking the reins of his horse from Zeb, Grady patted the animal and gazed thoughtfully after Zeke. “Where’s your brother going now?”

Zac smirked. “To take up his post.”

“Post?”

“As butler,” Zeb said. Pride shone in the man’s brown eyes.

Grady whistled. “Who hired him?” Zeke was not exactly butler material. His friends’ sudden silence cued him. “Zac, you and your brothers are not my servants.”

“Reckon we’d rather work fer you than anybody else, Colonel.”

Grady eyed the twins with curiosity. The idea of these men wanting to remain with him warmed and pleased him beyond measure. “And what positions have you two claimed?”

Zeb shuffled his feet. “I always did like animals and being outdoors.” He eyed the various means of transportation. “I figure it can’t be too hard to learn to learn to drive these—and Mrs. Star will need a driver. I figure I can do that and some other stuff ’sides, like making sure your grounds are just as fine as those of them neighbors of yours.”

Grady slapped the large mountain of a man on the back. “I accept your offer to be driver and head gardener. Zac?”

Zac’s face turned beet-red. “Heard you have need of a valet, Colonel?”

Grady wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the absurd notion of Zac pressing his clothing, but as with the other two, he accepted Zac’s offer with a slap on the back. He would deal with the situations as they came up. “Welcome aboard, men.”

Zac escaped back to the house, leaving Grady staring after him. Well, that was settled. With the exception of a few servants for the cleaning and upkeep of his estate, he had his main staff positions filled. Not a conventional staff, he admitted, but the only people he wanted. The corner of his lip twitched. Zac as his personal valet? That was downright hilarious. Yet there wasn’t a man he trusted more with his life.

A slight noise coming from behind the Dearborn stopped him from mounting his horse. Frowning, he scanned the area. He didn’t see anything. About to turn away, he saw a rat scurry out from behind a wooden crate.

A hand reached out to grab the rodent.

Grady straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. “Ranait O’Brien! Front and center!”

Covered with bits of straw and layers of dust, Renny emerged from her hiding spot with a wooden box cradled in her arms. She skirted him, staring up at her father with wary eyes. Her pet rats peered up at him too, from over the edge of the pocket in the girl’s apron.

“What do you think you’re doing? I told you to stay in the house.”

“I was just—”

“Disobeying as usual. When I give an order, you
will
obey, understand?”

“But—”

“But nothing! There is no excuse for this wanton display of disobedience. You will go straight to your room and remain there until tomorrow. As further punishment, there will be no ride in the park tomorrow.”

“Papa!” Renny’s lips trembled.

Grady felt anguish at punishing her, but he was tired of waiting and hoping for simple obedience. “Perhaps next time you will think twice before you disobey. Go.”

Tears streamed down the girl’s cheeks, but she didn’t argue further. She ran for the house, the box clutched in her arms and her hand over her pet rats to be sure they didn’t bounce out. Grady ran a hand tiredly over his jaw. He hated to be harsh with her, but she had to learn to do as she was told. Mounting, he left.

Clutching her precious box under her arm, Renny dashed into the house through the kitchen. She ran past Hattie, Zeke and Cook, wanting to reach her room without anyone stopping her. Tears blurred her sight, making her trip on the stairs. In her bedroom, sobs tore from her. “I hate him. I want to go back. I want Emma!” She threw the box that had gotten her into trouble onto the bed, reached down into her pocket to scoop up Anna and Bella and set them back into their cage. Then she flung herself facedown on her bed.

Morning Moon joined her. “What’s wrong, Weshawee?”

Renny lifted her head. “Father is so mean, and he broke his promise to take us riding tomorrow.”

“Why?” Morning Moon sat down and crossed her legs, resting her back against the footboard.

“’Cause I went to the carriage house.” Renny turned over and hugged a pillow to her chest.

“You disobeyed him? Why? He told us to stay in the house.”

“I only went out for a minute…and it was before he left,” she muttered. “I just wanted to get this box before he left, but before I could get back into the house, I heard him coming, so I hid ’cause I wanted to surprise him. Then Bella got loose. That’s when he caught me.” She sniffed and wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand.

“He didn’t have to be so mean! He wouldn’t even let me explain.” That bothered her more than being in trouble for disobeying—and he had said to stay indoors while he was gone. That made her mad too. He hadn’t left yet. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

She glared at the box lying next to her on the bed. Angry all over again, she shoved the box away. It fell onto the carpet with a muted clunk. “I was going to give that to him, but not now. I won’t give him anything, not ever again.” She flopped down onto her back. “I wish me and Emma never went to find him!”

Morning Moon tipped her head to the side. “But, Weshawee, if you and Emma hadn’t gone to find your father, Emma wouldn’t have married my uncle and we wouldn’t be sisters.”

Her friend’s words gave Renny pause. “Sometimes you’re real smart, Morning Moon. I am glad we got to meet. You’re my best friend. And my sister. I just wish he’d stayed away.”

Looking serious, Morning Moon objected. “It is good you found your father, Weshawee. He needs you, and so does my mother.”

Renny narrowed her eyes and slid off the bed. She stared down at her box, then kicked it out of sight beneath the bed. “Well, I don’t need him.” She ran out of the room, down the hall and around a corner to another set of wide but steep stairs. They led to the third floor, where there were three small rooms for servants. This set of stairs, used only by servants, joined the back ones. She climbed and stopped on the landing.

From the third floor, another set of stairs led to the attic. She glanced up at the dark area and debated. She needed to be alone, and the attic was one of her favorite places to hide. On her left, there were four small rooms, two in the front, two in the back, all for servants or storage. Keeping things symmetrical, the same space existed on Renny’s right. There, however, instead of four rooms, there was only one large chamber. She slipped inside what had once been her mother’s studio.

Closing the door behind her, Renny stood there. She loved this room, for it received both morning and afternoon light from windows installed along the front and back walls.

A thick layer of dust now covered the bare floor and the few pieces of furniture in the sparsely furnished room. There were two chairs, one small table and a long worktable, a paint-splattered stool and two easels, one with a half-finished painting on it. The servants were not allowed in this room.

Everyone must have forgotten its existence—except her. She wandered around, peering into the two small storage closets where her mother had kept her supplies. On one worktable, several stained towels lay where they’d been carelessly tossed, as if the painter had been planning to come back and finish covering the displayed bare canvas with soft, muted colors.

Tears trickled down Renny’s face and splattered onto the floor, sending puffs of dust upward. She moved and sat down, her back against the wall. In front of her, spread out by her own hand, beams of light poured over and illuminated the half dozen pictures.

Her mother’s paintings.

Unframed. Forgotten.

Renny drew her legs up to her chest, hugged them and rested her chin on her knees. One portrait was of Emma playing on the grass with two dolls. She looked to be about the same age as Renny, or younger. Those same dolls now lay on Renny and Morning Moon’s bed. Her gaze slid past painted scenery of the park across the street. There were several other canvases of trees, grass and flowers. Those didn’t interest her. Her forlorn gaze came to rest on her favorite work, one showing two horses.

Both animals were absolutely breathtaking. They frolicked across green, rolling hills. In the background, two riders on other mounts, a young girl and her father, sat in their saddles beneath a distant tree, its spreading boughs giving them shade from the bright sun as they watched the animals race for freedom beneath a bright blue sky. Dots of flowers added color to the lush painting.

Renny loved this work, wanted it for her own, but had always been afraid to ask. Still, if no one remembered this room or these paintings, then she could come up here and look at them whenever she wanted to. And she could pretend those riders were her and her father riding in the park together.

“But they weren’t!” she cried. They would never be her and her father. The thought that he would never come to like her, let alone love her, left her feeling terribly sad. She didn’t mean to be bad. She just wanted him to like her as much as he liked Emma.

“Renny?” Morning Moon poked her head into the room. “Do you want to be alone?”

“No.” She sighed. “You can come in. But shut the door so no one knows we’re in here.” Morning Moon joined her, sitting beside her, their shoulders touching.

“Did your sister paint those?”

“No. My mother. But Emma is a good painter too.” Renny was glad that her sister had never used this room. Renny hadn’t even known this room was up here until she had gone looking for a hiding place the day she broke Aunt Ida’s favorite flower vase.

Since that day, Renny had come here often. This room was all she had of her mother.

“I wish I could paint like my mother and Emma.”

“I know which one is your favorite.” Morning Moon pointed to the horses.

“Yeah.” Renny sighed. “I wish I could have it.”

“You have not asked?”

Wrinkling her nose, Renny snorted. “No.
He’d
say no, just to be mean. Then he’d take it and hide it so I could never see it again.”

Frowning, Morning Moon shook her head. “You let anger rule your thoughts, Weshawee. Your father is not a mean man. He loves you.”

“Yeah, and he needs me, right?”

“Yes.”

“What if I said I didn’t care?”

“You would lie to yourself?”

Renny scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hands. Sometimes having a friend as smart as Morning Moon was a pain. “No. But, I don’t want to need him. What if he leaves again?” She voiced her worst fear. “I’m not very good at listening and I break things. What if he gets sick of me and leaves?”

“He won’t.”

“How do you know?”

Morning Moon smiled softly. “He won’t,” she said simply.

Unconvinced, Renny drew circles in the dust on the wooden floor with her finger. “We’ll see. At least I have you and your mother. Star never yells.”

Remembering how unfair her father had been, how angry he’d been to find her in the carriage house, made her sad all over. If only her rat hadn’t gotten loose, he’d never have known she’d sneaked out. Then she could have given him her special gift—one she’d saved and waited her whole life to give him.

Through her anger and pain, she recalled what she’d overheard. Her father believed that someone had tried to hurt Star at the market. Was it true? If anything happened to Star, Renny wouldn’t have anyone.

“How much can you see of the future, Morning Moon?”

Morning Moon stared out one of the windows. “I see some things.”

“Like what?”

“I’ve seen my mate.”

“Yeah, you said that a long time ago.” Suddenly curious, Renny turned her head to look into her friend’s eyes. “Do you know yet what he looks like?”

“A little. He has black hair.”

“All Indians have black hair.” Renny slumped back against the wall.

“He’s Indian, but he’s not like my people. He dresses and acts different.”

“What about other things.”

“Like what?”

“Bad things. Like what your mother sees.”

Morning Moon reached across and took hold of Renny’s hand, strangely adult. “I cannot tell everything I see, Weshawee. Some things have to reveal themselves.”

But Renny wasn’t asking about that. She was more worried about Hattie or Star, but she didn’t ask. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know if anything bad was going to happen to Star. She eyed Morning Moon curiously. “It doesn’t bother you to see things?”

“No. My gift will someday serve my people.” She stood. “Come. Let’s go see if Cook will let us have some cake. I like cake. A lot.”

Renny hopped up, grinning. Then her smile faded and she slumped back down. “I can’t. I’m supposed to stay in my room.” Neither made mention that Renny wasn’t in her room now.

“I’ll sneak you up some.”

“Okay.” The girls exchanged grins. They were sisters. They’d always take care of each other.

Long after the household settled down for the night, Star returned to her spacious, plush bedroom and settled on the seat built in beneath the large window to await Grady’s return. She wrapped a quilt around her shoulders to ward off the slight chill. A spring storm was brewing, relieving the air of the hot mugginess that made it difficult to breathe. The coolness coming off the pane of glass actually felt good.

She stared at the strange-looking clock on the mantel of the fireplace. A brass statue of a woman formed its base. Balanced on her hand, the clock swung with the face on top and the part that made the hands go around on the bottom. She found the gentle pendulum motion soothing, even if she still hadn’t figured out how to use the machine to tell the time. To her, it was just a pretty piece.

A carriage coming down the street drew her attention. It passed the house.
Not Grady.
She yawned but fought her tiredness. She had to talk to him about Renny before she went to bed.

The poor child was so distraught over what she saw as an injustice, she’d refused to come down from the third floor. She’d also refused to eat from the tray Star had brought up to her. Star couldn’t leave the child on the cold floor all night. Though she knew if she’d demanded, not asked, Renny to return to her room, the girl would have obeyed. Star understood that Renny, at odds with her father, needed to feel close to her mother. That was why she was in Margaret Mary’s room. So Star would wait up for Grady. Unfortunately, that gave her time to fret and stew over their last kiss.

Resting her head against the wall, she wondered what she was going to do. She’d never anticipated falling in love with the colonel. Startled, she reared up.

In love?

It couldn’t be. She couldn’t love Grady.

How could attraction and respect and admiration have turned to love without her being aware of it? That it had happened at all frightened her very much. She’d never before felt this way, and that confused her more. She’d been married, had two children by a man who’d treated her well, valued her and protected her, yet what she felt with Grady was like nothing she’d ever known.

Her marriage to Two-Ree had been one of mutual respect and friendship, as many of her people’s marriages were. But that was all.

With Grady she felt different. She felt cherished and vulnerable, needed and needy—and stomach-churningly fearful now that she knew the true danger of loving, not only to her heart but to her sanity.

She’d warned him, down in the sitting room. His words,
“It may be too late,”
echoed in her mind and heart. Desperation made her jump up and pace. What was she going to do? She didn’t want to hurt him, but she could not risk love. The memory of the devastation of seeing Two-Ree’s death beforehand in a vision seized her, reminding her of the premonitions of death that had followed her to St. Louis.

The reality that it could happen to Grady frightened her. “No,” she moaned, cursing her gift. Why did it follow her and torment her so? Why was it growing stronger with each passing year, when before her marriage to Two-Ree, it hadn’t been nearly so potent?

Once more she experienced the sensation of standing on the edge of a cliff, a bottomless pit. One strong gust of wind would send her spiraling downward. Instinct warned her to step away and protect herself at all costs. Survival—her own—might very well depend on listening to that voice of reason.

She couldn’t afford to love Grady or allow him to love her. Wasn’t it bad enough to fear her parents’, brothers’ and sisters’ deaths? Or those of the children born into their family? Yet she accepted that she could do nothing to prevent visions of those closest to her.

“But no one else,” she whispered, hugging her knees to her tightly. “No one else.” Somehow she had to harden her heart and protect her soul from the pain of possibly losing this man she loved. This love had to be denied, banished, driven away.

Her eyes lifted to the glittering heavens. Her questions echoed back down at her.
How do I block the light in my soul or the joy in my heart? How can I turn away my soul mate?

With stunning clarity that had nothing to do with her gift of sight and everything to do with the longing of her heart, Star faced the truth. She’d known from that very first vision—that of flying with the eagle, of being one with the great bird—that she and Grady were meant to be. They’d merged, become one, as a man and woman did when they became husband and wife. She’d felt safe and cherished. The spirits had revealed her future in those visions. Grady
was
her soul mate; she felt sure of it. He was the one she was meant to love and live side by side with until death claimed them.