His Brother's Bride (12 page)

“Why don't I take the boy back to our house?” Clay said. “You can come by at dawn and we'll head out again.”

Cade shook his head. “I'd like to talk with your wife tonight, if it's all right. She might know something helpful.” If she did, he could come back out by himself.

They mounted up and headed back for the Stedman ranch. Adam slept all the way and barely stirred when Cade swung him off Sutter and carried him up to a spare bed.

Mara had waited up, and her face broke out in a smile of relief when she saw Adam in his arms. But tears gathered in her eyes when Clay told her they hadn't found Emily.

After putting his son to bed, Cade sat in a chair across from Mara and her husband. “It was just too dark,” Cade said to Mara. “I was hoping you might know something. . .anything that might help us find Emily tonight.”

Mara put a trembling hand to her lips and shook her head. “I just know she was west of your house. She never said exactly where she was looking. What did Adam say? Is she hurt bad?”

Cade filled her in as best he could, and together the group prayed for Emily's safe return. It filled him with regret to think he might have lost the chance to tell Emily he loved her. Sorrow welled up in him like a big, black storm.

The prayer ended, and suddenly he remembered what Mara had said earlier about the stolen loot and something about his grandfather.

“I don't understand what you were saying earlier,” he said to Mara. “What's this loot Emily was looking for, and how was my grandfather involved?”

Mara closed her eyes briefly. He was asking her to betray her friend, but he knew she must be weighing out the benefits of finding some clue that might help find her. “Apparently your grandfather and hers robbed a bank years ago. Her uncle found a map that showed your farm as the burial spot. A note on the map indicated there was another map hidden at your house.”

“I don't know anything about this.” He wanted to deny his grandfather's involvement, but he remembered the man's absence and eventual disappearance. “What's Emily got to do with it?” An ugly feeling was stirring in his gut, and he almost didn't want to hear the answer, knew instinctively he wouldn't like it.

Mara seemed reluctant to answer, and the feeling of foreboding grew until his head swam with it.

“Her uncle forced her to come here,” Mara said. “She was supposed to marry Thomas, as you know, but then he died, and you asked her to marry you.”

“Forced how?” Cade asked.

“Has she told you about her grandmother back home?”

“A little.”

“Well, apparently her uncle is her grandmother's guardian, and she has some problems with her memory and such. I didn't get all the details. But her uncle is no gentleman. At first, he threatened he would put her grandmother in an asylum if she didn't go through with the marriage.”

He knew she'd written Thomas a letter originally, and that had started their correspondence. Had she done all that to finagle a marriage proposal? Just so she could get at the map and have access to the caves?

His heart sunk to his boots, and he felt like he'd swallowed a walnut for the ache in his throat. She'd wormed her way into Thomas's heart, tricked him into proposing? She'd wormed her way into
his
heart. Into
his
life. Into his son's life. All for the purpose of digging up some stolen gold?

“It's not what you're thinking, Cade,” Mara said. “She did it for her grandmother, whom she loves dearly. She hated having to do it.”

Hated being married to him? Hated having to pretend. . .

He rubbed his hands over his face to stop the stinging in his eyes. Had she pretended all along? Pretended to care for him, pretended to enjoy his kisses?

“She cares about you, truly.” Fervency shone from Mara's eyes. “I'm not explaining this well.” Tears escaped her eyes and coursed down her face. “She had stopped looking for the gold after you told her you didn't want Adam in the caves. She had written her uncle and told him she wouldn't do it anymore. She was starting to. . .care for you. She didn't want to deceive you anymore—”

“Then why didn't she just tell me?” His voice boomed louder than he'd expected.

“She was afraid she'd lose your trust. Can't you see, she valued that so much. Her uncle wrote her back that he'd put her grandmother in the asylum and wouldn't take her out until she found the loot. She felt trapped.”

His jaw clenched. “So she started searching again.”

Mara nodded, dabbing at the tears on her face.

He could hardly believe this. The lies she must've told, the deceit. Maybe she didn't care for him at all. Him or Adam. Maybe it was all just a giant ruse to get at that loot. The thoughts came quickly, each blacker than the one before it, swirling like a twister.

He got up and walked to the window. His temples throbbed with pain, his jaw clenched tightly. How could this be? When he'd thought he loved her?

“Please, Cade, you have to believe me.” Mara had approached and took hold of his arm. “She cares deeply for you. She was so afraid of losing your. . .trust.”

“So afraid she's lied to me all these months?” He set his hat back on his head. He looked up the stairs where his son slept. How would this affect his boy? He lay upstairs as innocent as a lamb. He'd been in tears over the thought of losing his ma.

Cade sighed. As hopeless as it seemed, as angry as he was with Emily, he would go back out looking tonight. For Adam's sake.

Eighteen

Emily heard a moan and tried to move. Her leg screamed with agony. Her eyes opened. At least she thought they did, but the darkness didn't recede. Her arms tightened with gooseflesh, and she felt damp.

She remembered now. She was in the cave, and she'd sent Adam home to his pa. But how long ago was that? The lamp must have flickered out sometime during the night, using up all the oil in the reservoir. There had been hours of light in the oil. Adam should've been back by now.

Please, dear God, let Adam be all right!

What if he'd never made it home? What if he was wandering alone in the darkness? Her eyes stung with silent tears.

What have I done? Oh, dear Lord, what have I done?

She'd endangered her son's life and her own too. A sharp
stab of pain shot up her leg, and she gasped. She cradled her
head in her arm, smelling the dirt and mustiness of the cave, tasting it in her mouth. Fear snaked up her spine and branched out to every part of her body. What if Adam never made it home? What if he died because of her? She deserved it herself; it was her own fault for going through with this awful plan. Her fault for deceiving Cade.

He would be worried sick by now and surely was out searching for them both. She struggled to think straight, in spite of the searing pain. Her brain seemed stuffed with fog, and she waited a moment until it passed.

How would Cade know where to find them? Perhaps Adam had found his way home but he couldn't find the cave in the darkness.
Oh, please let it be so!
If only Adam made it safely through, she would be ever so grateful.

What would Cade do if Adam couldn't find the cave? How would he find her? A thought sprung up, bringing with it both hope and despair. Would he go to Mara's? Would she tell him everything about her uncle and the loot?

At first she denied it. Mara was a loyal friend, and she wouldn't betray her confidence.

But Emily's life was at risk, and that changed everything, didn't it?

Her heart raced at the thought of Cade learning everything. She closed her eyes and buried her face in her arm. If he found out everything, it was all over. He wouldn't trust her. Wouldn't love her. How could he when she'd deceived and betrayed him so?

Lord Jesus, I was so wrong! Wrong to deceive my husband and wrong to sin against You. Forgive me, Lord.

She should have refused to do her uncle's bidding or confided in her husband from the beginning. Why was it always so easy to see wrong choices when it was too late to change them?

Another pain shot up her leg, and her head spun with dizziness. She fought the sensation, but the wave overtook her.

❧

Cade drew Sutter to a halt, letting the feelings he'd held back for hours come flowing over him like muddy river water. She'd lied to him about everything. Their marriage was a lie. Their life together was a lie.

Clay's horse drew up beside him, and Cade could feel his friend's gaze on him.

“It's time we call it a night.” Hadn't he tried his best to find the woman? It was useless looking in the dark. And even though his heart still longed for her, he knew she'd killed his love for her as surely as he sat here.

“Maybe she'll somehow make it home on her own,” Clay offered.

Or
maybe she'd never make it home at all
. Even though he was angry, even though he knew his feelings had been mocked, he couldn't bear the thought of Emily gone.

“Your boy told me something when I found him tonight. Seeing as how you're so angry right now, I thought you'd best know.”

“What is it?”

“You might not like what Emily's done; it's wrong, I'll give you that. But if you're questioning her love for the boy, or for yourself, I'd guess you're wrong about that.”

Tired as he was, angry as he was, Cade met his friend's gaze in the lamplight. “What are you talking about?”

“Adam told me what happened when the cave-in started. The boulder landed right where he was standing. . . . Emily pushed him out of harm's way, Cade.”

Cade's tongue wouldn't seem to move.

Clay ran his hand through his hair. “Rock that size would've killed the boy. Seems your wife risked her own life for the young 'un.”

The news made the anger stirring in his gut slow a fraction. Was it true? Had Emily thrown herself in danger to protect his son? His mind swirled with the thought.

“Don't know if that changes anything, but I thought you should know,” his friend said. “You can come by at dawn for me and Adam. We'll be saddled up and ready to go. Let's pray Adam will be able to find the cave in the daylight.”

Cade nodded. “Thanks, friend.”

By the time Cade reached the house, he was feeling tuckered himself, but his mind worked like a dog that wouldn't let go of a bone. Even after hearing what Emily had done for his son, anger ate at his soul. She'd still deceived him. Maybe she did cotton to his son, maybe she had saved his life, but that didn't change what she'd done.

As he lay in alone in Adam's room, he thought back to all the times he'd touched her, kissed her. She'd set his blood aboil with her tentative responses, but what had been going through that mind of hers? Had she been recoiling in disgust? Had she forced herself to respond?

No. He didn't want to believe it. His gut tightened painfully at the very thought. She'd seemed so genuine. Even Mara was convinced of Emily's loyalty. But with all the lies that had been told, all the secrets, how could he believe anything anymore?

He turned over and punched his pillow hard, trying to settle into a comfortable position. It was only a matter of hours before dawn, and if he wanted to be ready to search, he'd best get some sleep.

But try as he might, even though his body was weary, his active mind wouldn't oblige. He sat up in bed and ran a hand through his hair.

Emily.
Oh, Lord God, I love her.
No matter what she'd done, what she'd said or hadn't said, he loved his wife. And she was out there somewhere, likely suffering in pain while he cozied up in this warm bed.
If only there was some way of finding out where she—

The map. Mara had said she'd found a map here somewhere. Maybe it was in her room.

He tore off the blanket and ran to his old room, throwing open the door so it bounced against the wall. He scrambled in the darkness to light the lamp, then carried it over to the bedside. The top drawer of her night table turned up her Bible, stationery, and a book.

The second drawer held nothing of help, and he slammed it closed. What if she'd taken the map with her? He ran his hands over his weary eyes. She probably had, of course. He looked around the dimly lit room, watching the shadows flicker in the light. Maybe there was something else.

The letters. Of course, Mara had said she'd been corresponding with her uncle. Perhaps she'd kept them. He tore through her drawers, feeling only a smidgen of guilt at the invasion of privacy. This could be a matter of life and death, and if he could help it, his wife would live, never mind what she'd done.

He scrounged through her clothing, realizing she may have hidden them away.
From you.

He brushed the thought away. He needed to focus on more important matters right now. His hands searched, the lamp on top of the chest providing him a glimpse of articles of clothing he had no right to see. Suddenly, his fingers closed on something hard. He pulled it up through the filmy clothing. Two bundles of something. Letters. A book.

A rush of excitement buzzed through him, giving him a second wind. One bundle had a letter from Thomas atop the pile. The other stack was from Denver. He sat on the foot of the bed and tore off the ribbon. The letters scattered around him, and he saw they were all from the same man
. It has to be her uncle.
He opened the first one he grabbed.

Emily,

I'm advising you that I have put your grandmother in the asylum.

As you know, her health has continued to decline so I am no longer able to take care of her here. You have expressed interest in taking care of the old woman, but you have failed to fulfill our agreement. Until you find the gold, which I might remind you is the reason you were sent there in the first place, your grandmother will remain in the institution. As her legal guardian I will do with her as I see fit since she is not of her own mind.

If you will bring yourself to continue the search, I will consider handing over guardianship to you. Though, I must admit, I'm growing increasingly irritated by your games.

The gist of it is this: if you want your precious grandmother out of the institution, you must find the gold and quick. I'll not wait an eternity whilst you whittle away your days.

Uncle Stewart

Cade set down the letter, an ugly feeling growing in his middle at the words scrawled on the page. What kind of man. . . ?

The date was recent, and it fit with Mara's story. Perhaps Emily had been a helpless pawn in the whole mess.

He read the rest of the letters and felt such frustration well up in him that he realized he wanted to slug this Uncle Stewart. After he read the last letter, he picked up the hardbound book with a plain brown cover. Was it Emily's diary? His heart pounded heavily against his ribs. Did he want to know her innermost thoughts?

Fear sucked the moisture from his mouth. What if her heart was contrary to everything she'd said to him? What if inside she had laughed at his bumbling efforts to court her? Could he stand knowing it, if that were the truth?

He nearly laid the book aside, unwilling to face the possibility, but his friend's words played in his mind.

You might not like what Emily's done; it's wrong, I'll give you that. But if you're questioning her love for the boy, or for yourself, I'd guess you're wrong about that.

Slowly, he opened the book. The first page was dated almost a year ago, and he saw Emily's graceful handwriting slanted across the page. If this were her diary, he needed to see if there was anything that might hint of her location. Any clue what cave she was lying in.

He thumbed through until he came to a more recent date. It was dated the same day as the first letter he'd read.