Breathe: A Novel of Colorado (37 page)

The deputy knelt and flipped one dead man to his back and then
the other. The sheriff pulled the handkerchiefs from their faces. "Any
of you know these men? Anyone recognize them?"

They all shook their heads.

"Do you know why they were so intent upon catching you, Miss
St. Clair? Or was it you they were after, Mrs. Anderson?"

Odessa put a hand to her mouth and shook her head, sudden
tears in her eyes, then she turned away, as if she couldn't bear the
sight of the dead men's faces any longer.

"Highwaymen, up to no good," the sheriff said in summary.

"Judge, jury, and executioner, all in one man," muttered
Dominic. Bryce glanced up at his odd comment. He could see that
Odessas brother was angry, disgruntled over something beyond the
trauma of the day. He looked about to the others.

The sheriff was moving to Mr. Thompson, shaking his hand,
ruffling the toddler's hair. Alexander Thompson came tearing across
the clearing, jumping into his father's arms. The two clung together,
and tears ran down the father's face.

But the deputy stood to one side, his expression vaguely wary.

Odessa had insisted she need not return to the sanatorium, and
remained at the cottage with her siblings. Doctor Morton and Nurse
Packard visited her twice a day.

"Honestly," she griped to Bryce as the doctor left on the third
day, "if I can survive a night like I did with Helen and not die of
a consumptive attack, what will strike me down here in our sweet
cottage?"

He watched her, admiring her lovely, stubborn curls, falling
from the bun atop her head, the new curve of her cheek, symbolic of
a few precious pounds regained. Today, her eyes seemed all the more
bold-a lovely deep ocean green. She turned to him, aware now that
he gazed upon her. The doctor had set off, and the street was empty.
They were alone on the porch.

Unable to stop himself, he took her in his arms and cradled her
face with one hand. "Odessa St. Clair, how did I ever bear to leave
you?"

She smiled up at him, a hint of sorrow in her eyes. "I don't know.
Some trifling thing such as a massive ranch and three hundred head
of horses needing attention."

He returned her smile. "I can't bear it. Not ever again. Come
back with me."

She frowned in confusion and pulled slightly away.

He went to one knee. "In the absence of your father, I've spoken
to your brother. He thinks your father will approve."

Odessa lifted one hand to her lips. "Of what?"

"Odessa St. Clair, will you be my bride? I've left you once. I've
pledged to never do so again. But I cannot remain here. I must return
to the ranch. You know that, right?"

"I know, Bryce," she said, pain in her voice.

He shrugged and cocked his head to one side. "Only one route
out of such a mess: Take you with me."

"You ... you are asking me to marry you?"

He smiled. "Are you stalling? Looking for a way to let me down
easy?"

"No. I mean yes! Yes, Bryce," she said, placing a hand to his
cheek. "I think I've always wanted to be your wife. From that first
day on the porch. And ever onward."

He rose and picked her up in his arms, spinning her around.
Gently, he let her slide back to the porch, and he felt the heat of her
lithe body. He bent low, then, and kissed her soft lips.

"Honestly, what will the neighbors think?" interrupted Moira,
suddenly at the front door. "Odessa, I'm surprised at you!"

"Let them talk," Odessa said, staring up into his eyes. And then,
with those three words, and a sultry, loving look in her oceanic eyes,
Bryce McAllan knew she was really going to be his.

They set off for Glen Eyrie in high spirits indeed. General Palmer
had wanted to honor the heroism of the Thompson family in saving
Odessa and Helen and had quickly organized this gathering. Dominic was planning to announce Odessa's engagement to Bryce. The ladies
were in exquisite gowns and tiny hats with feathers. Dominic was
in his new suit and Bryce had obtained his own from the local
mercantile-not with the fine fabric that Dominic's boasted, but a
dandy indeed.

"Have to sell a few horses for that one, Brother-to-be?" teased
Moira, straightening his lapel in her normal, flirty way. But Bryce
only had eyes for Odessa. He stared at her as she arrived from the
back room and pulled on her new black elbow-length gloves and
then straightened the teal silk about her. She met his admiring glance
with a grin. So handsome was her fiance! So tall, and stronger than
ever after these past weeks on the ranch. He'd lost a little weight even
as she'd continued to gain it. Either she would need to cook for the
men or find a good woman to do so for all of them. Ranch men
obviously needed food, and lots of it.

"I cannot wait to see your ranch," she said, coming near. She
loved how his hair curled at the ends, around his neck. It begged to
be cut and yet Odessa knew she couldn't bear to turn scissors upon
it. Instead, she longed to run her fingers through it.

"And I cannot wait to dance with you this eve," he returned,
bowing over her hand.

"I like the sound of that."

He offered her his arm, and Dominic and Moira followed behind
them. Moira had donned a new deep russet gown, a daring choice
indeed. But she looked stunning. The men helped them into the
carriage, rented for the evening, and then stepped to the front bench.
They stopped several blocks away to pick up Helen, and Bryce gallantly moved up the stepping-stones to her door.

She appeared in the doorway, every inch the lady. Odessa
gasped and grinned, offering her hand as the woman stepped up
and into the carriage. "My friend, I've never seen you look so ...
womanly!"

Helen grinned. "I shall take that as a compliment," she returned,
lifting a wry brow.

"What happened that day, up in the canyon?" Bryce asked his future
brother-in-law quietly, his tone barely discernible over the horses'
hooves. He didn't want to cast down the women's festive mood, but
he needed the truth, this night, before they faced others involved.
"Nic, why were you so disgruntled?"

Dominic stared at the road ahead of them for a few long
moments. "No one wanted those men dead more than I," he said at
last, leveling a gaze at Bryce. "But the third man, the one behind the
house ... he'd given up, tossed his weapon aside. The sheriff shot him
in the back. There was no threat. He just killed him."

The two men glanced at each other. "Why?" Bryce asked.

"I've asked myself a hundred times. Is the sheriff a vigilante? Was
it a way to manifest power?" He cocked a brow. "He was angry, very
angry. The night before, Moira had denied him, ended their courtship. The general told him to give up his quest. Maybe it was fury's
fire, needing to burn itself out."

Bryce absorbed that information, thought it over for a minute or
two. He glanced back. Helen and Moira were talking; Odessa stared
back up at him. "How'd she do it? Break up with him?"

Dominic let a subtle smile spread across his face. "She named a suitor, back in Philadelphia. A man the general would kill himself to
have come to town and stay."

"Who?"

"James Clarion Jr."

Bryce pursed his lips and nodded. He glanced over at Dominic.
"Sure your father will bless my union with Odessa with someone
such as that on the horizon for Moira?"

"I dunno," Dominic said in a teasing tone, grinning. "Maybe
saving Odessa from highwaymen will sway him." He paused for a
breath. "The big ranch won't harm your argument either."

They rode on in companionable silence for a while. "So do you
think the sheriff was somehow involved with those men? Shooting
to silence them?"

"I only know I don't trust the man," Dominic said. "You shouldn't
either. There's something wrong here. Something really wrong. And
I either need to find out what it is or make sure my sisters are far, far
from it."

A trio of strings was playing on the broad stone deck outside the
castle. Bryce escorted Odessa out of the carriage, his hand covering
hers upon his arm, as if he didn't want her to slip away, or was afraid
someone might try to pull her away. Odessa didn't mind. His arm
felt strong and sinewy beneath her glove-covered fingers. And it
was thrilling to be beside him, knowing she would always be beside
him.

A day after his proposal, she could still hardly believe it. She
glanced up at him, lean and handsome, a head taller than she. He looked fine in his new suit and she felt safe. Knowing he was steps
away, as she had once known he was just downstairs at the sanatorium, comforted her. Their experience in the canyon and at the
Thompson ranch had left her jumpy, ill at ease. Only Bryce's presence seemed to calm her nerves. It felt odd that Papa wasn't here,
that she hadn't heard from him that he approved of Bryce McAllan
and their impending union, but it was the nature of things here in
the West. In time, she would receive a letter from him, answering her
own. And she was confident he would approve.

Maybe as the new bride, as Odessa McAllan, with Bryce standing
behind her, she could also come clean with her father and tell him she
longed to write, to submit her work for publication. Or perhaps she
could simply leave that identity behind, put it to rest alongside Odessa
St. Clair and move on to embrace her new identity as Odessa McAllan,
writing as Helen had encouraged her to do-from her heart, for her
God, for herself, never worrying about who else might read it.

She looked about at all the fine ladies, watched as Moira flitted
about between them all, already the center of attention, dragging
Dominic along. She had always thought her younger sister would be
the first to marry.

Odessa's recovery thrilled Moira, made her more joyful than
she had seen her sister in some time. As much as she liked being
the belle of the ball, she didn't really wish to be the only St. Clair
woman. Some might dismiss her as shallow, self-serving, and there
was definitely a selfish nature to her sister, but she was mostly, simply,
young. There was much she had yet to discover, learn, many ways in
which she was yet to grow. And without their mother alive to teach
her, Odessa wondered where she would learn it.