Breathe: A Novel of Colorado (33 page)

A messenger arrived, asking Moira and Dominic to join the general
for a small supper soiree at the Glen that evening. After conferring
with Nic, Moira sent back her reply with the servant, gratefully
accepting.

For all her brave talk, Moira dreaded seeing Reid Bannock, feared
how he might react to her news. Every time the shop door opened
that afternoon, she glanced up, expecting the sheriffs large form to
fill the frame. But it was Mrs. Byrd, and then Mrs. Crandell, and
then a schoolmarm from Monument, and then Mr. Jewett. "Now,
why hasn't Reid come around lately?" she mused to herself.

Nic overheard her. "Maybe he's taken my advice and is giving
you some room to miss him. Or he's lost his feelings for you."

"That would be lovely. What do you really think is going on?"

Dominic shrugged and placed his pen back in the inkwell and
rose. "I have no idea."

Moira swallowed hard. "Do you think he'll be at the Glen?
Tonight?"

"Good chance of it," he allowed. "But then he could show up
anywhere." He reached out and stroked her arm in concerned, brotherly fashion. "Are you prepared for that? Do you know what you will
say to him?"

Moira glanced up at him and shook her head a little. "Not
quite."

Dominic crossed his arms and stared at her. "We both know that
the sheriff is a powerful man. He doesn't care to be trifled with. And
this news ... Moira, it will enrage him." He looked up to the windows, staring out toward the street, thinking. "We need to arrive a bit
early. Seek out the general. Get his blessing upon your courtship with
Clarion. With his protection, Bannock won't dare touch you again."

Moira smiled. "If I'm not mistaken, Brother, you're using your
brain as well as your brawn today."

"Yes, well ... don't spread it around," Dominic said, blushing a
bit at the jawline. "Go now and fish out one of the new gowns that
Father sent. How did you manage to wheedle it out of him?"

"It wasn't only for me, Dominic. There was a new suit for you
and a dress for Odessa."

Dominic smiled. "Look at us. I'm suddenly using my brain and
you're acting almost ... thoughtful."

They were halfway down the mountain, according to Helen. But
the Peak's long shadow had cloaked their progress for some time
now, and dusk was fading fast. "Keep moving," Helen said urgently,
searching the woods behind Odessa. "We can't stop."

"But we won't make it before dark."

"We can get closer anyway. We might make the Thompson
ranch. They'd keep us for the night, given the circumstances." She
turned and again pushed through the thick, low-hanging branches
of two trees, holding one aside for Odessa. As Odessa came through,
Helen's eyes widened and she pulled her closer. A shot came singing
through the tree branches, the sound like pebbles entering water.

They'd been found.

"Run, Odessa. Follow me!" Helen said lowly, and took off, strong
and nimble as a mountain goat among the rocks and trees.

They were making their way through a copse of aspen when
Odessa dared to glance back.

She paused.

A man was but twenty paces behind, his rifle pointed at her
head. "Stay where you are."

Odessa turned and ran, moving left and then right as more bullets passed perilously near. Helen was right. If they got to her, they'd
merely kill her after taking Sam's note.

"Can you swim?" Helen called over her shoulder.

"What?"

"Can you swim?"

"Yes, but-"

Helen suddenly stopped beside the river, arms casting about as
if to help her balance. Odessa came close to running into her. The
men, two now within sight, were just exiting the aspen grove. In
confusion, she glanced at Helen and then back to their pursuers,
slowing down now, relief and pleasure sliding across their faces when
they realized the women had stopped.

"It's a jump, but we can make it. Saw an Indian do it once."

"What?"

Helen gestured downward and for the first time, Odessa saw
what was down the cliff. A pool. Terribly small, and thirty feet down.
"No, I-"

"Keep your feet below you," Helen said, pulling her to stand
directly beside her. "Whatever you do, hit feet first."

"Turn around," yelled a man, horribly close. Maybe ten paces
behind them. "I've never shot a man in the back. Don't want to do
any less for a woman." Odessa could almost feel the gun in his hands,
wondered briefly what it would feel like for a bullet to pierce her
back. She wondered if it would hurt. If there would be much pain.

"You didn't seem to mind when you were taking shots at us on
the road," Odessa called, hands out, buying time.

"Turn around! Now!"

Helen's gray eyes covered hers. "Nothing to lose, friend. Only
opportunity here."

They could hear the second man arrive. Where was the third?

"Nothing to lose," Odessa repeated, feeling as if she were reading
a book about what was unfolding here, not living it. But then, as she
stepped into the air beside Helen and felt her skirts billowing up,
past her waist, around her shoulders, she knew she was living it. It was Odessa St. Clair who was about to die upon the rocks beside the
pool or plunge into its depths ... or be shot on the way down.

Water ran beneath the several arched bridges that led to the castle
of Glen Eyrie. Reid had told her that the waters came from high
above, in Queen's Canyon-named for the general's bride-fed by
snowmelt and deep springs that could meet the needs of the Palmers
and beyond. It was a fine piece of land, here in the glen. Tall, rugged
pines covered much of it in cooling shadow. A herd of big-horn sheep
frequented the red-hued cliffs all about them. A pair of bald eagles
nested on a ledge. This had been sacred ground to the Ute Indians,
and for good reason. It was idyllic, really, like a far-off dream in a
far-off land.

"Almost there," Dominic said lowly. "Ready?"

"Ready." Her eyes searched the carriage house and the castle
beyond it, worried that they had arrived too late to beat Reid here.
"We're an hour before the invitation. Will the general consider it
rude?"

"No," Dominic said. "I sent word that you needed a moment of
counsel prior to dinner. He's expecting us."

Moira glanced at him in surprise. "Papa was right."

"About what?"

"That being here in the West would be as good for you as it is
for Odessa."

Dominic thought on that as he pulled around in the yard before
the castle entrance. Despite the beating, the disappointment, the
worry, coming here had been good for him. "And for you?"

Moira straightened her hat, took her skirts in one hand and the
hand of a servant with the other. "It suits my purposes."

Dominic laughed. "Undoubtedly, Sissy. Undoubtedly."

She moved to take his arm and a servant opened the massive
front doors. Inside, a suit of armor decorated one wall, a historic relic
imported from England by the general, and their host moved down
the cascading staircase and toward them.

"Dominic, Moira, it's so good to see you."

"Thank you, sir," Nic said, "for accepting our call earlier than
invited."

"Not at all," he said warmly. "Come, my young friends. Let's discuss what's on your minds in the sanctity and warmth of my den."

Odessa plunged into the pool. She was breathless, in shock by the
time her boots met water. She sliced into the depths and opened her
eyes to look up to the fading light, high above her now. She cast out,
trying to slow her descent, knowing, as only a consumptive could
know, that she had mere seconds to obtain air.

A hand closed around her arm and she fought it off madly.
It took a couple of slow moments for her to recognize that it was
Helen, dear Helen, reaching for her, guiding her, already pulling her
upward, to the surface.

But she was swimming backward at the same time, at a diagonal.
Odessa frowned and tried to pull away. They had no time! She had to
get to the surface, directly! But the woman's hand remained clamped
upon her arm.

The thunder of the small waterfall filled her ears, louder and louder as they neared the surface. Helen was leading them toward it!
Was she mad? If Odessa didn't die from this plunge, the falling water
would drown her for sure.

She tried to pull away again, but at last, they reached the surface,
each gasping for air. Wordlessly, Helen hauled her backward toward
the cliff face, echoing her gasping breaths. All at once, Odessa knew
what she was doing. Sheltering them behind the veil of the falls, hiding them from their assailants. She wanted the men to believe they
had died, that their bodies were still deep below, held under by the
falls or the swirling current of the pools.

Black spots clouded Odessas eyes. Her breathing was ragged,
unsure. "Helen, I-"

"Shh," said the woman, reaching the cliff at last and pulling her
close before her, facing out. "Shh, I know," she said through chattering teeth. "Just rest. Catch your breath. We're not safe yet. But we
have to wait here for dark ..."

They entered the small, cozy den, and General Palmer sat down in his
chair before a roaring fire and stroked the head of his dog. He waved
to the couch beside the chair. "Please, sit. You've been so intent upon
your rehearsals, I've seen precious little of you, Moira."

"It is good of you to invite us again," Moira said, reminding
herself again to stop wringing her hands.

"Not at all, not at all. So, Mr. St. Clair, your note said you were
seeking counsel?" the general asked. He glanced at his pocket watch.
Clearly, the night's festivities were on his mind.

"Indeed. But I will let my sister speak."

"Very well. Moira?"

"Thank you, General." She paused and then plunged forward.
"Of late I have been receiving correspondence from a certain young
gentleman that I have known for some time, a man that courted me
right before I came to Colorado."

General Palmer stared hard at her, obviously disliking where she was
going. Plainly, to him, she was already as good as married to the sheriff.