Captive Heart (23 page)

Chapter 37

Thayne tossed uncomfortably on the settee and wished he were out in the barn.
Least the hay out there is softer than this thing.
But it was storming outside, and Emma had asked if he would stay close tonight.

Should’ve chopped this thing up for firewood long ago
, he thought, punching his pillow as he rolled to his back. Outside, wind whipped the bare tree limbs, and driving rain beat against the windowpanes. It was only the beginning of March—early to be having rain instead of snow—but this was the Dakotas, where the only thing certain about the weather was that it was varied and unpredictable.

Thunder echoed from the sky just after a flash of lightning lit the yard. Thayne hoped the animals weren’t too spooked out in the barn. He considered going to check on them but decided against it. Just now he had too many other things on his mind.

Yesterday, Marcus and Pearl had come by on the premise of delivering a letter to Emma. But while she and Pearl visited in the kitchen, Marcus had sought Thayne out in the barn, presenting him with the real reason for their unexpected call.

Such a little thing,
Thayne had thought as he looked at the envelope from Rapid City,
to
hold so much of my future.
Thayne ripped open the seal, scanned the documents, and saw the date printed at the top right.

April. Another month to wait. But then, it seemed, he’d be a free man.

“Free to go and get yourself hitched again,” Marcus said, chuckling.

“If I had it my way, we’d go the same day,” Thayne said.

“You’d best not have it your way,” Marcus warned. “You’d best do things right by Miss Emma. You need to tell her the truth and do it soon.”

Tell her the truth and do it soon.

Another particularly loud clap of thunder shook the house, and Thayne sat up, deciding to check on the animals after all. He swung his legs over the side of the settee just as Emma appeared in the doorway.

Lightning framed a quick portrait of her, feet bare beneath the long flannel nightgown Pearl had made for her. Emma clutched Joshua close, and tears streaked her face.

“What’s wrong?” Thayne stood and came to her quickly, placing his hand over Joshua’s brow as soon as he’d reached them.
Cool.
“He’s not ill?”

She shook her head. “No. Sorry to have worried you.”

He took her elbow, guiding her across the room. “Are
you
ill?”

“No—yes. The storm.” She shuddered suddenly, and Thayne remembered her irrational fear during the storm they’d encountered last September.

Taking Joshua from her, Thayne bent over, placing his sleeping son in the middle of the settee. Emma wrapped her arms around herself as if cold, and Thayne stood again and pulled her close. She turned her head to the side, her damp cheek pressing against his chest. He rested his chin on her head and rocked slowly back and forth, waiting for her to calm.

Though she was obviously upset, Thayne couldn’t help but enjoy the minutes as they ticked past on the clock behind them. The last time he’d held Emma this close she was trying to escape from him. Now her arms wrapped around his waist, and she clung to him as if her very life depended on it.

He wanted her to feel that way—protected and cared for. He wanted her to come to him anytime she needed assistance or comfort. He wanted to be the one she depended upon. He’d yet to tell her any of that.

“Thank you.” At last, she stepped back, wiping the moisture from her face with her hand.

“You want to tell me why storms upset you so much?” Thayne asked, wondering why he hadn’t bothered to find out months ago.
Because I didn’t want to get too close to her
.
I didn’t want to risk knowing any more than I had to.

She hesitated, fingers pressed to her lips as if trying to decide whether or not to trust him with her fear.

Why should she trust me with anything when I’ve lied to her from the very first day?

“Yes,” Emma finally said. “I would like to tell you. Maybe it will help.”

“Maybe I’ll be the one scared, then.” Thayne’s attempt at a joke elicited only a brief smile.

“I don’t think so.” She turned around, eyeing the uncomfortable parlor chairs. “Perhaps it should wait until morning.”

“You’ll change your mind by then,” Thayne said. “Just a minute. I’ll be back.” He ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and pulled the feather tick from her bed to haul it down to the parlor. “Hold Joshua, please,” he said when he returned.

Emma did as she was asked then watched as Thayne wrestled the feather mattress on top of the settee.

“You take my bed,” he said, indicating she lie down.

Emma bit her lip and made no move to comply.

“Here,” Thayne said. He took Joshua from her and placed him on the center of the mattress. “You stay with Joshua. I’ll be on the floor.” He pushed the table aside and moved his bedding to the rug. It’ll be just like last summer—all those nights we slept under the stars.”

“I miss that sometimes,” she said quietly, refusing to look at him as she spoke.

“I miss it all the time,” he confessed.

Emma swallowed, then stepped out of his reach. Holding her nightgown carefully, she crawled to the far side of the bed. Thayne lay on the floor. As he rolled to face Emma, thunder boomed directly overhead. She flinched.

“Have storms always frightened you?” he asked.

“I don’t think so. As a little girl, I liked the rain.”

“I’ve always liked it too,” Thayne said. “Unless, of course, I’m stuck out in a downpour, rounding up a stubborn cow. What changed your mind about storms?”

Emma pulled the blanket up higher and rested her arm on top of it. “When I was ten, my mother and I went on an outing. It was supposed to be a special day, just the two of us. I remember she bought me hair ribbons—much like those you purchased for me in Sidney.” Emma looked over at him, smiling in that way of hers that made his heart go crazy.

“That day at the hot spring . . . those ribbons, they unearthed a memory, made me recall things I thought I’d forgotten.”

“Was that a good thing?” Thayne asked warily.

“That day, yes. But later—”

Between them, Joshua stirred. Their eyes went to him, watching until he had settled once more.

This is how life’s meant to be,
Thayne thought. A
man, his wife, their child.
“Later, when?” he prompted.

She inhaled deeply, as if shoring up her courage. “When we ran into that storm on the way here, I couldn’t help but think of my mother . . . of the day she died.”

“Go on,” Thayne encouraged when several seconds passed and Emma had not spoken.

She looked up at the ceiling, her fingers fidgeting. “I’m afraid to tell you, afraid of what you’ll think of me.”

“What I’ll think of
you
?” he asked, stunned by her unexpected admission. “Do you have any idea of the things
I’ve
done in my lifetime?”

“Yes. And they’re all good.” Emma sat up suddenly, turning to face him. “You help
everyone
. The Lakota, Marcus and Pearl—you gave up a fortune with your mine.”

“Anyone can give money away, Emma. That’s not so hard.”

“But it’s so much more than that,” she said. “You’re kind, thoughtful, generous—the best man I’ve ever met, ever had the privilege of knowing.”

If she only knew the truth about me.
Thayne swallowed an uncomfortable lump forming in his throat. “Emma, there are things you don’t know. Things that might change your mind.”

She shook her head in adamant denial. “I very much doubt that. But . . .” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I fear you’ll see me different when you know what I’ve done.”

“You don’t know that,” Thayne said, unable to imagine anything that could alter his feelings for her at this point. The initial attraction he’d felt for her all those months ago had turned into something much more—a deep and abiding respect and gratitude for the fine woman she was. And love, heaven help him—feelings of affection so deep that at times it literally hurt to be around her. He’d never thought he could trust a woman that way again, but he did. She held his heart in her hands and didn’t even know it.

She stared at him now with such vulnerable pleading that Thayne could almost believe she understood his pain.

“Tell me,” he coaxed, hoping he could put at least one of them out of their misery.

“It was
my
fault she died,” Emma said softly. She turned away from him, staring out the window to her past. “I went out to play in the rain. Mother came looking for me. She couldn’t hear the thunder to know how close the lightning was. She went to my favorite tree, but I’d already run farther away.” Emma’s words tumbled out one after the other like a stream rushing over rapids. “Then the whole world lit up, and . . . I saw her fall.”

“Lightning?” Thayne asked, doing his best to make sense of what she’d just told him.

Emma nodded, then looked up at him, her face filled with anguish. “She was hit because she was out looking for
me
.”

“As any mother would have done.” Thayne ran his fingers through his hair as he searched for appropriate words of comfort. “You can’t blame yourself for something that happened when you were a child. And it was an accident, an act of nature.”

“You don’t understand,” Emma said, her voice choked. “I should have been in the house with her. I should have come inside when it started to rain. I should have taken more care.”

“You were
ten
,” Thayne reminded her.

“And my mother was deaf.”

Deaf.
Thayne let out a long, slow breath.
Deaf—like Joshua.
Once more, the miracle of Emma’s presence in his life hit him.

“A downright miracle,” Thayne said. “That’s what you are—what this is.”

“Wha—at?” Emma looked at him, some of the sorrow on her face replaced by confusion. “I’ve just told you how my mother died, how it was my fault, and you call me a—”

“A miracle,” Thayne reiterated. “What would have happened if your mother hadn’t come looking for you? Would you have run off, or would it have been
you
beneath that tree when lightning struck?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “It’s like I’ve been telling you all along. Just like
my
mother always taught me. There’s a bigger hand at work in this life than our own. Sometimes it reaches down and takes away. Other times it gives. Mostly though, it just knows—knows us and our sorrows and our needs.”

“For an outlaw, you’re sounding rather pious, Mr. Kendrich.” Her words were accusatory, but Thayne read hope in her eyes—hope for redemption from the burdens of guilt and fear she carried.

“For a believer, you’re being awful stubborn, Miss Madsen.” He imagined her as a frightened ten-year-old girl, alone in a storm, kneeling beside her dead mother. Compassion swelled in his heart. “It must have been awful to see her killed like that.”

Emma nodded, lips pressed together as she swallowed.

“I’m sorry,” Thayne said inadequately. What words were there for such a tragedy? He hurried on before the tears he saw in her eyes could fall. “But I’ve no doubt your mother would have chosen her death over yours. I’m not saying that’s how these things work. No girl should be without her mother.” He was the one rushing to get words out now, wanting her to understand what was suddenly so clear to him. “Just like no son should be without his father. And because you
lived
, because you’re
here
, Joshua and I are together again. And more than that, you’ve given him the gift of speech—something you learned from your own mother.”

“Yes,” Emma whispered. The hope in her eyes grew.

A corner of Thayne’s mouth lifted. “Can you imagine a girl from Boston—who knows
sign
language
—ending up in the backwoods of South Dakota with a little boy who doesn’t hear so well and needs to be taught to speak?”

Emma shrugged. “Possible—if an outlaw boards her train.”

“Exactly,” Thayne said. “Come on.” He stood and reached for her, pulling her off the end of the settee toward the doorway.

“Where are we going?” Emma asked.

“Outside.” Thayne stopped in the entry, took her shawl from its peg, and threw it around her shoulders. “You’ve helped Joshua and me heal. It’s time I do the same for you.”

“What do you mean—Thayne, it’s still raining.” Emma tried to pull back as he opened the front door. “You’re
insane
,” she hollered above the steady patter on the porch roof.

“Yep.”
About you, that is.
“You’ve got to overcome your fear of storms.” He tugged her to him then reached down, scooping her in his arms.

She shrieked with laughter—not fear—as the first drop hit her face.

“You’re gonna have to learn to like the rain again,” Thayne said seriously. “Storms, too. They’re a part of life in the Hills, and if you’re gonna spend the rest of your life here . . .” He stopped, looking down into her startled, questioning eyes. “We have to get rid of your fear once and for all.”

“What are you saying, Thayne? Don’t make me hope—”

“I’m saying we need you, Emmalyne Madsen,” he shouted, trying to be heard above the thunder. “See? That’s the Lord agreeing with me.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck tightly.

“
I
need you,” he said, quieter this time, holding her close to his heart while the rain continued to fall around them.

Chapter 38

Emma stood at the stove, stirring the porridge, when she heard Thayne come in. Unconsciously, her hand went to the ribbon tied in her hair, and she felt her face heat to crimson as she thought about their conversation last night.

She’d been grateful to find Thayne already out to do the chores when she awoke this morning, but now she had to face him. Behind her, she heard his boots drop, one at a time, followed by the rustle of his coat as he hung it on the peg. His footsteps were nearly silent as he came into the kitchen and walked toward her.

A second later, his hands were gentle on her shoulders. The spoon slipped from her fingers, and Thayne turned her around to face him. Thinking again of the impropriety of the previous night—
dancing in the rain in my nightgown—
she kept her gaze level with his shirt.

He would have none of that. “Look at me, Emma.”

She found she was powerless to disobey. Lifting her chin, she bravely met his gaze.

“About last night,” he said.

“Oh, Thayne. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come down, I shouldn’t have told you—”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “I decided some things. And the first one is—” He took a deep breath. “I’m breaking my promise to stay away from you. For months I’ve wanted to kiss you every day, and now I’m going to.”

Taking her face in his hands, he bent to kiss her. Emma pulled back, though it nearly killed her to do so.
How long have I wanted him like this? And he’s felt the same for months
? That knowledge both elated and infuriated her. So she wasn’t the only one who’d been feeling the attraction between them.
But why keep that from me this whole time
? And now what did Thayne expect?
Does he think he can just kiss me every day and—and . . . Perhaps it is time he knows
my
expectations.

“I’ll let you break your old promise, but only if you’ll make a new one.”

“Name it,” Thayne said, his lips still dangerously close to hers.

Emma plunged ahead. “I want to talk about marriage. I don’t want to live here as your cousin or friend. I don’t want to worry about ever leaving Joshua. I want to be his mother—and your wife.”

Thayne broke into a grin, then pulled her close, brushing his lips across the top of her nose. “Such demands,” he teased. A thoughtful look crossed his face. “I believe I’ve just been proposed to.”

Emma looked down at her toes, but she couldn’t conceal her smile.

Thayne took both her hands in his. He pulled her over to the table and held out a chair. When she was seated, he knelt down in front of her. The teasing had left his eyes.

“We will talk about marriage, Emma. Be certain, I want us to be a family. But first—” He held her gaze. “I’ve got to tell you about the past.”

“It won’t change things.” She wanted to offer him the same gift he’d given her last night, the same relief from a burden long carried.

He nodded. “That’s what I’m hoping, though I reckon you might feel different anyhow.” He squeezed her hands and gave a resolute sigh. “We have to talk about my—wife.”

“Your late wife?” Emma asked, not at all certain she really wanted to know about the woman he had loved before her.

Thayne swallowed, and the lines of his face creased with worry. Anguish filled his eyes as he met her gaze. “No, Emma. My wife. I’m married.”

* * *

The door opened on creaky hinges, and Thayne beckoned Emma to go inside ahead of him. Hesitant, she stepped into the room, though she really wanted to be running in the opposite direction, as far away as possible.

Walking along the edge of the floor, Thayne crossed to the window and pulled the curtain aside. Dust filled the air, illuminated in the shaft of sunlight struggling to come through the dirty window. Emma’s eyes widened as she took in the empty room—the charred walls, the bare, blackened floor.

“Careful where you step,” Thayne warned. “Since the fire, I don’t trust the integrity of those center boards. I’ll have to get in here and repair everything. This can be Joshua’s room. We will take the other.”

We will?
How can he say that with such confidence?
A few minutes ago, she’d practically proposed. But that was before Thayne had told her he was
still
married, that his wife was
still
alive. Emma had assumed Christina had died at least a year ago and that Thayne
legally
could be hers. It had been a good thing she’d been sitting down.

She wanted to cry or scream or kick something—possibly him—but she hadn’t recovered enough from the shock of his words to do more than stand there, feeling limp and tragic.

Emma wasn’t even certain how she’d been able to follow him up the stairs. Her feet felt leaden; there was a physical ache where her heart was. She wished she had the strength to run to her room, bolt the door, and throw herself across the bed where she could cry out the anguish she already felt. She didn’t want to know more, didn’t want to try to understand. Thayne was married. What else mattered?

The entire time I’ve known him . . .

“I can see your thoughts racing a mile a minute,” he said. He captured her hand and pulled her to a spot where the floor wasn’t as badly burned. He spread out the blanket he’d grabbed from the parlor and beckoned for Emma to sit down.

She did, making sure she was as far away from him as the blanket would allow.

Thayne joined her, keeping his distance. “I think it’s best I tell you these things in here. I’ve got my own ghosts that need banishing.”

She nodded.
Hear him out. Hear what he has to say. And then—run.

“What is her name?”

“Christina,” Thayne said. “I met her in ’75. She was one of the first girls that came up to Deadwood to work in the saloons. I was full of myself, and my pockets were full pretty soon after that. We hit it off well.”

“You married a
saloon girl
?” Emma asked, incredulous. She rallied enough to glare at him.

“Yep. Guess I shoulda known better, huh? But I didn’t, and I felt bad for Christina. Her boss wasn’t content with her working the barroom. Several of his clients wanted favors upstairs, and she was expected to meet those demands.”

Emma wrapped her arms around her middle, sickened by what Thayne was telling her.

“I envisioned myself the hero, taking her away from a hard life. So we got married and lived in a little shanty in Deadwood those first few months. I was busy mining and getting rich; Christina was busy spending my money and earning more of hers.”

“You don’t mean . . .” Emma began.

Thayne nodded. “I didn’t know at the time, but it wasn’t my house she was tending while I was at the mine all day.”

“That is—that’s awful,” Emma blurted. “How could she—”

“Don’t know. Don’t particularly care to think about it, either,” Thayne said. “’Bout this time, Christina got pregnant, and she was vicious and ornery. I’d go out and work my claim for days at a time, just to get some peace. It was during one of those spells that I came across the injured Lakota boy and his brother.”

Emma nodded. It was a story she’d never forget.

“As I’ve told you, I came back from that experience a changed man. Unfortunately, while I was gone, Christina had
really
changed. In my absence, she’d taken up with her old boss, and I was none the wiser. Needless to say, she wasn’t happy when I closed down the mine and moved us out here.

“The next four months we hardly spoke to each other. Joshua came early and was sickly. His care fell largely to me, as Christina said she still didn’t feel back to normal. I believed her and hoped things would get better between us if she recovered. I even drove her into Deadwood several times on the premise of seeing the doctor there. Had the wool pulled over my eyes a few more months.”

Emma looked down at her lap, unable to stop the swell of pity she felt for Thayne.
That’s what he hopes I’ll feel. Be careful.

“I finally figured out what was going on,” he continued. “And after that, I kept her here, wouldn’t let her go to town anymore. It was miserable for all of us. It seemed Joshua cried day and night—we
had
seen the doctor in Deadwood about that. He told us Joshua’s ears were infected, but the things he suggested doing to help weren’t things I’d allow.”

“Like
what
?” Emma asked. Her gaze flew across the hall to her bedroom where Joshua was still sleeping. Her heart twisted as she imagined him sick or in pain.

“Like puncturing his eardrum to let the fluid out,” Thayne said, his voice grim. “I wouldn’t allow the doc to do it, so Christina did it herself.”

Emma gasped. Though her stomach was empty, she felt like she might be sick.
How could—his own mother?

“I’d be out working, and if Joshua cried too long, Christina would shake him, hit him—or worse. After a while, young as he was, he didn’t cry anymore.”

Tears slid down Emma’s face, and it was all she could do to keep from running into the other room to pick up Joshua. For the first time, she understood why Thayne had brought his son to the Lakota camp for protection, why Joshua had been so reluctant to communicate.

Oh, Josh. You sweet little boy.
She felt her anger slipping away, replaced by grief and an overwhelming desire to protect him.

“I didn’t know until the end.” Thayne’s voice was gruff. “And then it was almost too late. We had a fight, and she ran upstairs.” He closed his eyes, pain evident in his features as he relived the moment.

Emma waited, suddenly wanting to comfort Thayne nearly as much as she wanted to go to Joshua.

A silent minute passed before Thayne composed himself, looked at her again, and continued.

“Christina brought Joshua to the top of the stairs. He’d been sleeping—” Thayne’s words were choked. “And she dropped him.”

“On purpose?”

Thayne nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he tried again to speak. “I ran to get to him, tried to stop his fall, but I wasn’t fast enough. When he landed, legs and neck all twisted, bone sticking out, I thought for sure he was dead. While I knelt over him, Christina went and got a gun she had hidden upstairs. I saw her coming and pulled my own gun out and shot her. Then I took Joshua and left to get help.”

“But you didn’t kill her.”

“No.”

I wish you had
. Emma clapped a hand over her mouth as if she’d just spoken the terrible thought.
I just wished Thayne had committed murder
.

“I didn’t aim to kill,” Thayne said quietly, almost as if he’d read her mind. “If I had, I’d be in jail—or dead. And then what would have—”

“What would have become of Joshua?” she finished in an equally quiet voice. Thayne’s actions in what must have been his most anguished moment—when hate and anger and revenge all had to have been coursing through him—told her much about his character.
Much I already
knew
. Somehow he had managed to push all else aside and think only of his son, his boy who might have already been dead.

Her eyes clouded with fresh tears.
Thayne
is no outlaw. He’s about as far from one as
possible
.

“Joshua was all that mattered,” Thayne said. “Until I met you.”

And what of me?
Emma wondered with her next breath. If Thayne
had
killed his wife, Emma realized she never would have met him.
This very moment I’d be teaching school in Sterling, none the wiser.
She felt a sharp pain in her chest as she imagined—for a brief moment—what her life would be like if outlaws hadn’t boarded her train, if Thayne had not been among them and chosen her as the one who could help his son.
And who will help
Thayne
if I don’t?

Thayne continued, seemingly anxious to finish the telling. “When I finally came back, Christina was gone, and what belongings she hadn’t taken, I set fire to right here in this room. I burned up the bed, the dresser—would’ve burned down the whole darn house if Marcus hadn’t stopped me. He hauled me outta here, threatened to knock some sense into me, kicked me out of my own house, and cleaned things up.” Thayne paused. “Since then, I haven’t been in here, and I haven’t spoken about it to anyone.”

“
She
is the one who should be in jail,” Emma said angrily. “She tried to kill her own son.”

“I know what she did.” Thayne reached across the blanket and took Emma’s hand. “I know what I did. Now you know it too. And I hope never to speak of it again.”

Emma’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded.

“Only one thing more I need to find out about now. And that’s if you’ll still marry me when my divorce is final next month.” His eyes sought hers.

Divorce. He is in the process of getting a divorce. An ugly word,
she thought
. For an ugly situation. Marriage
is supposed to be for life—isn’t it?
But was what Thayne had a real marriage?

Emma turned away, her mouth quivering as she tried desperately to get her own emotions in check. Anguish, confusion, pity, and sorrow all battled for the most prominent position in her mind. For the moment,
love
was banished to the back. She couldn’t think of her feelings for Thayne when . . .

No, that is
all
I need to contemplate
.

Had Thayne not pushed all else aside and acted purely out of love for his son?
Can I not
do the same?
The earlier hurt she’d felt at being deceived for so long had not completely dissolved, though she thought she understood, now, why Thayne had not told her of his—wife—sooner.
And even if I don’t understand
—she would never understand why he married a saloon girl—
what does it really matter?

I love him
.

A fierce, overpowering need to share that love with him and Joshua, to somehow make up for all they’d endured, swept over her. She turned, seeking Thayne’s gaze, but he was already rising from the floor.