Separate Roads (41 page)

“That’s him! Don’t let him get away!” she was yelling. Then Brenton felt arms around him. “Brenton,” she said. “Are you all right?”

“Did they get him?” he panted.

“Yes!”

Brenton looked up, and in the blur of several figures surrounding him, one was obviously being held by two others. Damon was struggling mightily, screaming and cursing.

“How could you do this to me . . . to us?” he cried.

Jordana just silently shook her head and seemed to grip her brother tighter. Brenton lifted his hand and gently patted hers.

“It’s over now,” Brenton said.

“It was so horrible!”

He heard the tears in her voice rather than saw them spilling from her eyes. He didn’t often catch his sister crying. He knew this had been an ordeal, and he feared Damon had done more to her than merely hold her captive.

“Jordana, you are all right, aren’t you? He didn’t . . . well, hurt you?”

“I’m fine. He didn’t harm me. But . . . I’ll tell you about it later. Can we just go home?”

One of the men in the search party informed them that they were taking Damon off to jail and offered Brenton and Jordana a horse to use to get home. He also said he would see that word was sent to the other parties to call off the search. Thanking him, Brenton retrieved his spectacles which were a bit bent but still serviceable. He then returned his attention to his sister.

Jordana was shaking and Brenton was sore and bruised, but, helping each other, they managed to mount and soon enough were riding up to the house that had become their temporary home. Never before were they happier to see a house.

——

Jordana smiled as she watched Caitlan fuss over Brenton. She did not begrudge him the extra attention at all. He was as much a hero in her eyes as in Caitlan’s, not to mention everyone else’s in the family. He had never been in a fight in his life, yet he had fended off Damon’s brute force bravely, even without his spectacles.

They now sat around the kitchen table with tea and a hot but slightly overcooked supper. Jordana wasn’t hungry. She was still in shock over what had happened. It was hard to believe that Damon Chittenden had been so deranged and that she had somehow managed to be placed at the center of his insane delusions. She feared that somehow her rebuffs had sent him over the edge. Perhaps she could have been gentler back in Omaha. But then she shuddered at the thought that she
could
have given in to his pressure months ago. Many girls would have. He had seemed like fair husband material.

She thanked God for directing her away from him and for keeping any other unsuspecting women from falling prey to his charms.

“So, Jordana,” Brenton broke into her thoughts, “have you had enough of adventure for one lifetime?”

She laughed, and it was almost a completely sincere gesture. “For now at least,” she said. Then she looked around the table, amusement for a moment fading in her eyes. “I hope you don’t think me selfish. I truly don’t wish to be. But . . .” She let her words trail away. She didn’t quite know how to put what was on her heart.

“But you deserve to have your dreams just like anyone else,” Brenton finished for her, his tone full of deep sincerity. As when they were young, he still seemed to know best what was in her heart.

She smiled.

Later, when she and Caitlan were in their room undressing for bed, she told her friend a bit more detail about her ordeal.

“I’m so sorry I left you,” Caitlan said. “It would never have happened—”

“Pshaw!” Jordana waved her hand carelessly in the air. “Then both of us would have been kidnapped.” She paused, then grinned. “On second thought, I don’t think Damon would have had a chance against both of us. But, Caitlan, you mustn’t blame yourself. I won’t hear it!”

A small, sheepish smile bent Caitlan’s lips. “I know God was with ya, Jordana. Ya see, when ya were missing I was terribly afraid, and . . . well, I prayed for ya.” Her smile broadened. “Then that wee prayer turned into so much more, and before I knew it I was makin’ me peace with God.”

“Oh, Caitlan!” Jordana flung her arms around her friend. “I knew it was only a matter of time.”

“Seems everyone did but meself.”

“It was almost worth getting kidnapped, then,” Jordana beamed. “But then, God does have a way of turning bad things to good.” As she spoke, the joy of her friend’s newfound faith helped Jordana let go of some of the horrors of her ordeal that day.

Jordana returned to the dressing table and picked up her hairbrush. “You know, Caitlan . . .” she said casually, “with all that has happened to you, there is very little now standing in the way of you and Brenton getting together.”

Caitlan’s cheeks immediately reddened. “I’d truly like to believe such a thing were possible.”

“All things are possible with God,” Jordana replied. “And don’t forget, He has brought us this far, hasn’t He?”

37

Brenton wandered out to the laundry shed, though he realized his action wasn’t as aimless as he hoped it appeared. He knew Caitlan would be there.

He paused at the open door before making his presence known. Caitlan was working at the washbasin, her back to him. She was humming a jaunty tune and scrubbing a shirt against a board. She had tried to put her hair up in a chignon on top of her head, but wayward curls had slipped from their bonds and were falling like licks of flame against her face. She raised her wet, sudsy hand to shove one from her eyes. The small, insignificant gesture made Brenton’s heart clench. How he enjoyed watching her every movement!

Could it be possible that there might finally be a chance for them to be together? He had spoken to Jordana after breakfast, and she had revealed to him that last night, after her rescue, Caitlan had shared that she had given her heart to God. Brenton had thrilled at the news, but he still feared that might not be the only barrier between them, despite Jordana’s assurances that Caitlan was not about to reject him.

Finally, feeling a bit guilty for observing her unannounced, Brenton, making a fair amount of noise, stepped into the shed.

She turned sharply, obviously startled. The shirt was still in her hand, and a stream of water flew across the small room, splashing his coat.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Brenton!”

“It’s nothing.” He smiled reassuringly. “I hope you don’t mind my bothering you out here.”

“And why should I? I’m only working.” She dropped the shirt back into the tub, then dried her hands on her apron. “Did ya want something?”

“Do you like doing this kind of work, Caitlan?” he asked, ignoring her question because he wasn’t quite ready to forge ahead with what was truly on his mind.

“I like to work. Well, I like to keep me hands busy.” She glanced at her hands. They were mottled and a bit shriveled from the water. “I’m supposin’ there’s some things I enjoy doing more than others. Why did ya ask that, Brenton?”

“I don’t know. You were humming and seemed content. Are you, Caitlan?”

She shrugged. “I’m here with me brother at last. Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Yes, of course . . .” Shuffling from foot to foot, Brenton tried not to look directly into her eyes, though he wanted to. He wanted to know if she truly was content or if she was just saying it to brush him off. He knew he was being ridiculous. It was time he was direct with her. “Did you like working with me, Caitlan? At my photography?”

“Oh yes!” she said without hesitation. “Unlike this”—she nodded toward the washtub—“yar work was the kind that both kept me hands and me mind busy. It made me feel useful in a way I had never felt before. If I wash a shirt or clean a house, it just gets dirty again, but what ya were doing, Brenton, was somethin’ that is going to last forever. I know cleanin’ is necessary, but having a part in preserving a way of life, and in passing it on to the future . . . it made me feel important. Not in a vain way, I don’t think, but more like I could touch others, even people I did not know. It makes me tremble just to think of it!”

“You are important, Caitlan.” He now ventured to lift his eyes and found hers, wide and green, staring at him in wonder.

“Yar kind to say so,” she replied with a self-deprecating shrug.

“I’m not being kind. I’m being truthful. With or without the photography, you are important. And you have touched
my
life, Caitlan. I know it isn’t much—”

“I have?” she broke in, her tone soft and unbelieving.

“Of course you have.” His tone was edged with the tiniest bit of impatience. “Do you think I could have fallen in love with you otherwise?” He gasped when he realized the words were out.

“What?” she said incredulously.

“Why else do you think I kissed you that day in Omaha?”

“That kiss . . .” she murmured.

He could not read her tone. Dreamy? Regretful? “Yes, that confounded kiss! I don’t blame you for despising me afterward.”

“I could never despise you, Brenton.”

“But—”

“I was afraid afterward, yes,” she said hurriedly. “But mostly I let meself think ya were just caught up in the moment, tryin’ to comfort me and all. I could not see how one such as yarself could mean the kiss in any other way.”

“What does that mean?” He was suddenly defensive. “Do you think I am not a man that could feel love and passion for a woman?”

“No, ’tis not that at all!” She was truly distressed. “I only meant that I thought it impossible for a man such as yarself to feel love for a girl of my station.”

“Confound your station!” he burst out harshly. “I am sick to death of hearing that. You are in America now, and such ideas are ridiculous. Look at your brother! That alone should show you that Baldwins, at least, don’t give a fig for such things. Not that Jordana and I haven’t preached to you about this over and over.”

“I’m supposin’ I’m a mite thick.”

“A mite?”

“Quite a lot, then.”

“You have the thickest, hardest head I have ever seen—you make Jordana seem like a lump of clay! Let me see if I can get this through that thick, beautiful skull of yours. To me, Caitlan, you are a noble woman of highest quality. I see you as a princess, and you make me feel like a prince, a man of value and worth. If I could but worship at your feet I’d be content.”

She merely stared at him.

After a long, silent minute, he spoke up again. “Say something, Caitlan.” Even rejection would be better at this point than simply not knowing what she was thinking.

Her lips moved and her mouth opened, but still no words came out. He wanted to shake her. Or embrace her. But he just stood, staring, his arms dangling uselessly at his sides.

She lifted her hand to brush an errant curl from her eyes. She licked her lips and opened her mouth again. “I . . . I don’t know w-what to say.”

“You don’t?” All his world suddenly seemed to crash in.

“’Tis true, as yarself and Jordana have always said. God does give good and wonderful gifts. And I have not even asked Him yet. I don’t know if I would have had the nerve to ask Him for you.”

“Would you have? I mean, if you had the nerve?”

“Do ya know that I made me heart right with God yesterday?” When he nodded, she went on. “He is helping me to see that I am good enough.”

“And?”

“You truly see me as a princess?”

“I do.”

She smiled. “And I have always seen you as a king, the finest, noblest man I know. I feared loving ya, Brenton. Not only yar rejection, but worse, that you might return me love and I’d drag ya down to my level.”

“That would be impossible, since we are on the same level . . . well, you are a little higher than me, but I won’t quibble—” He stopped suddenly and blinked. “Did you say you loved me?”

“And now who has the thick head?” Her lips curved in the prettiest grin he had ever seen. “I love you, Brenton! I truly do.”

“Oh, my . . . !”

Now, instead of crumbling, his world turned bright and clear and crisp. And he looked with wonder at the woman who had made it so and who was so much a part of that world. And in two quick strides he shortened what was left of the distance between them and gathered her into his arms. He kissed her with the tenderness a princess deserved, though fired by the deep passion in his heart. And she responded as he never thought possible. Their worlds became one, and Brenton knew, in the core of their beings, they would never be separated again, not by ill-perceived stations nor by differing faith. In that single embrace they each gave to the other what they both so needed, what they could only give to one another—a deep sense of their self-worth, their value to each other and to God.