Chasing the Sun (43 page)

Then with trembling hands, she folded the letter away, curled into a ball, and wept until Kate awoke and called for her.

Twenty-four

“I CAN’T BELIEVE SHE’S GONE FOREVER,” JESSICA SAID.

“I know.” Brady thought he’d prepared himself, but the finality of seeing Jack and Elena’s buggy pass under the high arched gate was like a blow to his chest.

Was it really forever?

He couldn’t fathom it. Elena had been a part of his life for so long he couldn’t imagine never seeing her again. But if that’s what she wanted ...

Beside him, Jessica gave a wobbly sigh. “First the horses, now Elena, and soon Daisy and Kate. I feel as if my family is breaking apart.”

Her grip on his hand was so tight Brady’s fingers tingled. “It’s not.” Leaning down, he pressed his lips against her temple, drawing in the flowery scent that was his wife’s alone. It calmed him. Just having her within reach restored his balance. Even as he straightened to watch the buggy roll over the last rise and out of sight, some of the emptiness of Elena’s leaving was already fading.

“Families have to spread to grow,” he told her. “We can’t keep everything the same forever.”

“I wish we could.”

“I know.”

His wife was a strong, forceful woman. In many ways, Brady figured she was stronger than him. But because her father had left when she was young, and her brother had abandoned her and her little sister and their dying mother for the gold fields of the American West, she still battled feelings of abandonment, which made her as tenacious about the family as he was about the ranch. So he understood the emotion behind her tears, and knew that for now he had to be the strong one.

“If I ever lost you—”

“You won’t,” he cut in. “I’ll never leave you. Ever.”

She turned her face into his arm. He could feel the dampness of her tears soak into his sleeve. A lesser man might have gotten weepy himself.

Instead, he waited stoically while she shed her tears, having learned over the few years of their marriage that there was nothing he could say or do to stop them. Like tick fever and blizzards, they had to run their course, and all he could do was offer what comfort he could and wait for them to pass. And sometimes, if he comforted her just right, one kind of soothing might lead to an even better kind, and he would find himself the lucky recipient of her lusty gratitude.

He wondered if this might be one of those times. He could use some soothing too.

“I love you so much.” Her voice was muffled against his arm. The hand in his felt small and fragile.

“I know.”

He felt her waiting, but didn’t speak. When she lifted her head and looked up at him, he was hard-pressed not to smile. She was so predictable.

“And you love me too,” she prodded.

“I know.”

“Then say it.”

Instead, he took her inside and showed her.

BY THE TIME THEY CLEARED THE GATE, ELENA HAD stopped crying, for which Jack was heartily grateful. It wasn’t that her leaving didn’t bother him. But his feelings for the woman riding beside him had changed drastically over the last few weeks. He still cared about her. Loved her, even. Just not in the way he had before. And it saddened him that he would probably never see her again. But that terrible sense of loss that had hounded him for the last three years had softened into acceptance.

He would miss her.

And worry about her.

But he was ready to let her go.

They rode for an hour without speaking. But it wasn’t the awkward silence that had persisted between them ever since he had come back. Now that the pressure was off, he was more comfortable with her, and more attuned to her feelings rather than worrying so much about his own. And he could see she was hurting.

As they rattled along, she seemed to be taking it all in like she was seeing RosaRoja for the first time. Or the last. He sensed she was saying her good-byes to this place where she had lived for most of her life. Jack understood the difficulty of that. How could you not love this wild and beautiful land? And even though both of them were reaching for something beyond this emerald valley, it was still hard to leave it behind. At least Jack could always come back. Elena never would, and there was sadness in that.

But he didn’t want to feel sad today. He was still flying high on memories of the most amazing night he’d ever spent. Just thinking about it sent blood pumping through his veins.

“I worry about you and Daisy,” Elena said after a while.

“Don’t.” Jack shot her a grin. “She’s coming around.”

“Is that why I heard her crying early this morning?”

Jack’s smile faded.
Crying?
Frowning past the horse’s ears, he wondered what Daisy would have to cry about. He’d said the words, hadn’t he? And he’d backed them up with some pretty astounding bedsport, even if he did say so himself. What could she possibly have to cry about?

Then he remembered the poster Brady had given him just before they’d left, and a feeling of dread dampened his cheery mood.

He and his brothers had been standing by the buggy waiting for the women to say their good-byes to Elena when Brady had pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. “Jessica gave me this an hour ago. Said Ashford had been waving it around when he was out here last week. I’m not sure what to do about it, but figure while you’re in town you can stop by Foley’s office.”

“Foley?”

“Rikker passed on a year or so ago. Foley—you remember him—used to be the Deputy US Marshal—anyway, he wanted to stay closer to his wife and kids, so after Rikker died, he took over as sheriff in Val Rosa. Apparently this came off the board outside his office.” He handed the paper to Jack.

Jack read it, then looked at his brother in shock. “Murder? They think Daisy is a murderer?”

“Keep your voice down,” Brady warned. “If Daisy sees you’re upset, she’ll get upset. Besides, they just want to talk to her.”

Hank craned his neck to read over Jack’s shoulder. “That thing’s over a month old,” he said, pointing to the date printed in the lower right-hand corner. “It might already be straightened out by now.”

“Probably,” Brady agreed. “But you ought to check with Sheriff Foley just to be sure.”

“Sure of what?” Jack challenged, his mind still reeling. “You can’t think Daisy had something to do with this.”

“Hell no. But you ought to check and make sure she’s in the clear, that’s all I’m saying. And if she’s not, find out what we have to do to take care of it.”

Thinking back on it now as they climbed out of the valley and turned onto the stage road linking Val Rosa to points east, Jack wondered if that was what Daisy had been crying about. But if she was that worried about the poster, why hadn’t she discussed it with him? Surely she wasn’t afraid he would believe such nonsense.

But when he remembered that odd, stricken look on her face when he’d climbed into the buggy beside Elena, an uneasy feeling crawled along his spine. He’d thought she’d just been caught up in the emotional good-byes to Elena. But maybe it was more than that. Maybe this murder was what was behind her insistence on leaving.

Fear trickled into his mind. Was she thinking to go back on her own to clear her name? And what if they didn’t believe her? What if they did more than just talk to her? What if they put her in jail and Kate—

The trickle became a flood. What would happen to Kate?

Jack slapped the reins on the horse’s rump, pushing him into a trot. He needed to get this over with so he could get back to Daisy before she did something foolish. He had to make her understand that there was nothing she couldn’t tell him, or discuss with him, or ask him. They were connected now, and not just because of sex or Kate or the past. They had found their way back to each other and there was nothing that could separate them now.

Elena’s hand on his arm pulled him back from his dark thoughts. “Do you mind going slower, Jack?” she asked, a strained look on her face. “The bouncing hurts my hip.”

Instantly regretful, he pulled the horse back to a running walk. “Sorry,” he said with an apologetic smile.

“Are your thoughts so troubling?”

He shrugged, unwilling to burden her with his worries. “It’s a sad day with you leaving, and all,” he hedged.

“But there were so many days that were not. Let us think of those instead.”

So they spent the next two hours reminiscing about the past and some of the scrapes he and his brothers had gotten into as kids, like the time Hank had built a flying apparatus that almost got the three of them killed, or how Elena’s first batch of chili had left them all gut-sick and blistered in unmentionable places. They didn’t talk about Sam or Sancho, or the pain both their families had inflicted on each other. Even now, some things were too painful to put into words.

Talking helped pass the time. But the worry festered in the back of Jack’s mind.

A few miles shy of Val Rosa, they came to the box canyon where Langley and a half-dozen hands were holding the horses until the Army sale was finalized. Jack still couldn’t believe Brady was selling off his whole herd. He had offered money from his San Francisco account, but being the prideful, hardheaded sonofabitch his brother was, Brady wouldn’t take it. Apparently he had as low an opinion of Jack’s money as he did of Jack’s help. Some things never changed.

The horses had overnighted well, and were contentedly grazing on fresh grass bordering a small creek. The three studs were in separate rope enclosures deeper in the canyon well away from the mares and foals, and their constant whinnying echoed along the canyon walls. After exchanging words with the men, Jack told Langley he’d send the Army fellow out that afternoon, then he and Elena went on into town.

The Army buyer was sitting on a bench outside the hotel, waiting for them. Major Billingsly. He seemed a straightforward, honest fellow with a decisive handshake and the stiff bearing and weathered countenance of a career soldier. His questions indicated he also knew his horseflesh, and when he said he wanted to see the herd before he made his bid, Jack gladly gave him directions to the canyon where the horses were being held. With assurances that they would talk later at the bank, Billingsly left and Jack escorted Elena next door to the Overland office to get her voucher.

They had an hour to spare before the westbound came through.

It was a long hour. They spent most of it over a quiet meal in the hotel dining room—with all the good-byes behind them, there wasn’t much left to say—and soon the awkwardness Jack had felt in the hilltop cemetery returned full force. He found himself checking the front window more often as the minutes passed, and was relieved when he finally spotted the telltale cloud of dust that signaled the stage had arrived.

They were still too early and had to wait on the boardwalk while the horses were changed for fresh teams. But when the passengers finally started loading, Jack felt a rush of panic, as if all those unspoken words had clogged up in his throat, and this would be his last chance ever to get them out.

Which it was.

Elena started toward the coach. On impulse, he reached out and grabbed her hand. “Elena,” he began, then couldn’t think of what else he wanted to say.

For a moment they stared at each other, then she smiled, tears glistening in her dark eyes. “
Yo comprendo, hermano
. I love you too.
Para siempre.
”

When she turned away, he said, “Wait,” and reached into his pocket for the silver cross she had given to him, and he had given to Kate, and Brady had given back after they had pulled him out of the canyon.

“Take this,” he said, thrusting it into her hand. “It protected me at sea, and it protected Kate and Daisy on the bridge. Hopefully it’ll protect you in Kalawao.” Leaning down, he put his cheek against hers. “When you look at it,” he whispered into her ear, “remember how much you mean to me. Always.”

Then she was gone.

Jack stood alone on the boardwalk as the dust of her leaving settled around him, then he whirled and headed to the nearest cantina for a drink. He felt like a part of his life had ended and the finality of that left him a bit shaken. Normally, neither the past nor the future greatly concerned him. But seeing Elena roll out of his life forever made him realize that changes happened all the time, whether he marked them or not, and even the richest life was no more than a long series of hellos and good-byes.

He was on his second drink when Langley came in. “The major’s working out his bid.” As he spoke, Langley motioned to the barkeep to bring another glass. “Says he’ll meet you at the bank in an hour.”

Jack curbed his impatience. Leaning his elbows on the counter, he shifted his weight to ease the ache in his leg, which was hurting like a sonofabitch from sitting in a bouncing buggy all morning. He was tired of waiting and wanted to get back to Daisy. Then he remembered the poster in his pocket.

Pushing away from the bar, he told Langley to find out where Blake was, then come to the bank in half an hour. “If you need me before then, I’ll be at the sheriff’s office,” he added as he limped toward the door.

“Expecting trouble?” Langley called after him.