Page 24 of Prince Charming
Victoria was standing in the corridor. Taylor could barely hide her disappointment. She invited her friend in, then ushered her over to the seating arrangement in front of the windows.
âAre you feeling ill, Taylor?â she asked. Her voice was filled with concern.
âIâm fine, really. Why do you ask?â
âYou look all flushed.â
No wonder, Taylor thought. In an effort to keep Victoria from asking embarrassing questions, she changed the subject. âWe canât shop this afternoon,â she announced. âMr. Sherman wishes to meet with you in the lobby downstairs at four oâclock. You have to sign some papers, Victoria.â
âWhy?â
âI told you I was opening an account in your name. Heâll need your signature so you can withdraw funds, of course.â
Victoria nodded. âI would thank you again. Your generosity is . . . overwhelming.â
Taylor accepted the compliment with a nod, then told her about her plans for the afternoon. âIâm going to write down instructions I wish you to give Mr. Sherman, then Iâm going to go see my nieces. I had planned to see them yesterday, but Mr. Ross didnât leave for his appointment until after eight. He would have wanted to know where I was going if I left before he did, and once heâd gone along to meet his friend, it was too late. The little ones were surely already in bed for the night. I canât wait to hold them again. Itâs better that we go shopping after Iâve seen them so that Iâll have measured their sizes for the amount of cloth Iâll need to buy. Theyâre going to need plenty of heavy winter clothes,â she added.
âBut it isnât even spring yet,â Victoria protested.
âWe must think ahead,â Taylor advised. âWe wonât be able to get everything weâd like living in the wilderness, and so we must go as prepared as possible. I believe you should start your list as well.â
Victoria agreed with a nod. âYour enthusiasm is contagious. Redemption means a brand-new start for me and my baby. I, too, feel Iâll be very safe there. What a contradiction that is. There will be wild animals, harsh weather, hostile Indians, and heaven only knows what else, and honestly, Taylor, I cannot wait to get started. I believe Iâll go back to my room and start my list immediately after luncheon. Will you go up to the Ladies Ordinary with me? I could use a biscuit to settle my stomach. I seem to have become afflicted with morning sickness in the middle of the day.â
Taylor was happy to accompany her friend. They spent another hour together, and as soon as they finished eating, Taylor told her about the route they would take to reach their destination. Victoria was surprised to learn they would go most of the way by riverboat up the Missouri.
âWe must remember to purchase maps when we go shopping,â Taylor suggested.
âWill you explain something, please? Does your great-uncle Andrew . . . He is your grandmotherâs younger brother, isnât he?â
âYes.â
âDoes he know you intend to raise the babies as your own?â
Taylor shrugged her shoulders. âIâm not certain if he knows or not. Uncle sometimes forgets things.â
âHe would forget his great-nieces?â
âPerhaps.â
âDid he read all the dime novels you read about the wilderness?â
Taylor smiled. âOh, yes, he was almost as taken as I was by all the stories about the wild, savage land. We used to argue about living there. I told him I would someday, and he said he didnât know if I had enough gumption.â
âAnd that is why he built the soddie?â
âYes. We had both read that settlers often lived in mud soddies, and so he had his servants build one for me. They put it right on his front lawn. He directed his staff. I didnât think he would really insist I live in the thing, but he did,â she added with a laugh. âAnd so I moved in and stayed almost a full month. It was horrible at first. Every time it rained, mud would lop down from theââ
Victoria interrupted her. âDo you mean to say the ceiling was made of mud?â
Taylor nodded. âThe entire roof was fashioned out of sod. The floor was dirt too, unless it rained. Then it turned to mud. I had. a single window without any covering. Anything could fly inside.â
âIt sounds dreadful,â Victoria replied. âWill we have to live in a soddie do you suppose?â
âNot if I can help it,â Taylor promised. âBut if we have to for a little while, then we will. I learned how to make a soddie into a home. Now that I reflect upon it, I learned quite a lot. After a while, it wasnât completely horrible. By late June, the roof had turned into a garden of lovely pink and purple and red flowers in full bloom. They spilled down over the sides like vines of ivy. From the distance, the soddie was breathtakingly beautiful. Inside, however, was a bit like living in a flowerpot.â
âI do hope weâll have wooden floors and a real roof someday. I wonât complain if we have to live in a flowerpot though. I promise I wonât say a word.â
âYou wonât have to,â Taylor replied. âIâll do enough complaining for the both of us.â
The two friends continued to formulate their plans for several more minutes. Then they went back to their rooms. Victoria was eager to start her list. Taylor wanted to write a letter to Mr. Sherman, outlining her instructions. Everything had to be settled before she left for the wilderness. She labored over her letter a good long while, and when she was satisfied with the content, she affixed her signature, and then reached for a second sheet of paper. She knew she needed to be as clear and concise as possible. The document would have to stand up in a court of law, she reasoned, and it therefore had to be completely understandable. There couldnât be any nebulous requests or explanations.
Taylor let out a sigh. She didnât relish this task. She found herself imagining she was attending a fancy ball in London and almost burst into laughter. What a different direction her life had taken. She sighed again, then got down to the business at hand and put her daydream and her past behind her. She picked up her pen, dipped it into the ink well, and began to write her last will and testament.
10
The fearâs as bad as falling.
âWilliam Shakespeare, Cymbeline
Lucas fell asleep waiting for Taylor. He thought about walking down to Victoriaâs room and dragging his wife back to their bed, then changed his mind. She knew what time it was, and if she wanted to stay up half the night talking to her friend, he shouldnât mind.
He did mind though. Taylor needed her rest, and he wanted her to sleep next to him. He liked the way she cuddled up beside him. He liked holding her in his arms and falling asleep inhaling her sweet fragrance. Yet there was more to his need to have her close than the mere physical comfort she offered. When he was sleeping, he was vulnerable. In the past his nights had been as predictable as thunder following lightning. The same nightmare would grab hold of him and squeeze until he felt as though he was being ripped apart. He would wake up with the shout trapped in his throat and his heart feeling as though it were going to explode.
The nightmare never varied. Each night was the same as the night before. Until Taylor, he qualified. Lucas didnât know how it had happened, but she had become his personal shaman. His dreams didnât have any demons sneaking into them when she slept close to him. If he were a foolish, fanciful man, heâd believe her goodness and her purity of soul kept the nightmares at bay.
He shook his head then, trying without much success to push his thoughts aside. Only a fool would let a woman hold such power over him. If he didnât start guarding against her, sheâd have him believing he would have it all. He might even start thinking he could be like other men and grow old with a family surrounding him, wanting him, loving him.
Lucas was a realist. He knew better than to embrace such hopeless thoughts. He let out a weary sigh. Maybe Hunter was right after all. Perhaps there had been a reason why heâd been spared. His friend was the only one Lucas had ever confided in after the war. Hunter knew all about the murders of the men in his unit. The other so
ldiers had all had families waiting for them to come home. Lucas hadnât had anyone waiting for him. Of all the men, he was the most unworthy. Heâd been born a bastard and lived like one for most of his life. He shouldnât have survived.
And yet heâd been the only one spared. Hunter insisted there was a reason and that time, and God, would eventually let him know what it was. Time Lucas understood. But God, well, he wasnât so certain about that notion. He believed in His existence, but he couldnât even begin to understand His reasoning. And in a corner of his mind, he still harbored his childhood belief that God had forgotten all about him.
If his own mother couldnât love him, how could God?
Lucas refused to think about the matter any longer. The past was the past. It couldnât be undone. And just where in thunder was Taylor? It was after midnight now. She needed her sleep, he thought again, and he wanted her rested in the morning. And that, he told himself, was the only reason he was worrying about her. The two of them were in dire need of a long discussion about their future. They needed to make plans. He couldnât just leave her alone in Boston, for Godâs sake, without knowing what was going to happen to her. She told him she had relatives living here. Where the hell were they? Why hadnât they met her at the dock? One question piled up on top of another. Lucas decided he was going to insist upon meeting these relatives. He was going to make certain Taylor would be safe with them before he left her in their company.
He needed to leave Boston soon. The walls of the city felt as though they were pressing down on him. The longer he stayed with Taylor, the more difficult it would be to walk away from her. God, she was making him crazy. She put thoughts into his mind he knew were impossible. Dreams, he thought. Impossible dreams.
Lucas drifted off to sleep thinking about his wife. Heâd taken his shoes off, his jacket as well, and had fallen asleep on top of the covers.
He was wide awake the second the key was slipped into the lock of the door, but he kept his eyes closed. A few seconds later, the door was slammed shut. He frowned in reaction. Taylor wasnât being considerate, and that, he realized, wasnât at all like her.
Something was wrong. He sat up in bed and swung his legs over the side just as she came tearing around the corner of the alcove. One look at her face told him something godawful had happened. She looked frantic. Since sheâd spent the evening with Victoria, he assumed something had happened to her friend.
Taylor didnât give him time to ask questions. âDo you have your gun with you?â
He couldnât hide his surprise over the bizarre question. âYes. Why?â
âYou have to go back with me. Hurry, Lucas. Put your shoes on and get your guns. Iâve got one in my valise. Thank God I didnât pack it in one of my trunks.â
She turned and ran to her wardrobe. She found the weapon at the bottom of the case. The small box of ammunition was on top of the gun. Taylor stood up, but she was so rattled, she dropped both her valise and her gun. She picked the weapon up first, shoved it into the pocket of her coat, then reached for the box of ammunition. She dropped that, too. Bullets went flying everywhere. Taylor knelt down again, swept a handful up, and put those into her other pocket. She left the rest of the bullets and the overturned valise on the carpet.
Lucas stood next to the alcove watching her. She was muttering something, but he couldnât make out all the words. Something about vermin . . .
âTaylor, what is going on?â
âPut your shoes on,â she ordered once again. âYou have to hurry.â
He wasnât going anywhere until she started explaining. She was obviously beside herself with fear. He needed to calm her down and find out what had caused her panic. If someone had hurt her, he wouldnât need his guns anyway. Heâd kill the bastard with his bare hands.
He walked forward, intent on catching her in his arms and demanding some answers. She evaded his grasp, however, and went running across the room. She was determined to get him to do what sheâd ordered.
She spotted his jacket on the foot of the bed, swept it up in her hands, and threw it at him. âDonât just stand there. For Godâs sake, get your guns. You might need two. Heâll tell you where heâs hidden them. Youâll make him tell you. We canât let him get away. Iâll never find them.â
Her words were tripping over each other. Lucas had never seen her behave like this. She acted as though sheâd lost her mind. The look in her eyes showed her terror. She was sobbing now and pulling at his arm, whimpering one word, screaming the next, demanding and begging at the same time.
She knelt down and tried to put his shoes on him. He grabbed hold of her and pulled her up.
âTry to calm down, Taylor,â he ordered. âWho wonât you be able to find?â
He kept his voice soft, soothing. She shouted her answer. âMy babies. Heâs hidden my babies. Please, Lucas. Help me. Iâll do anything if only youâll help me.â
He put his arms around her and held her close. âListen to me. Iâm going to help you. All right? Now calm down. You arenât making any sense.â He couldnât quite contain his exasperation when he added, âYou donât have any children.â
âYes, yes, I do,â she cried out. âI have two babies. Heâs taken them away. My sister . . . sheâs dead now and Iâm, oh, God, please trust me. Iâll tell you everything once weâre on our way. I know heâs going to run away. We canât take the chance.â
She was tearing at his shirt while she pleaded with him. He finally caught her urgency. He didnât waste any more time trying to get the straight story out of her. He collected his weapons, checked each to make certain the chambers were fully loaded, then strapped the gunbelt around his waist. He knew his jacket wouldnât cover the guns, and so he went to his wardrobe and put on his black rain duster. The length of the coat, well below his knees, would conceal his weapons from anyone watching as they passed through the lobby of the hotel.
Taylor ran after him carrying his shoes. He put them on at the door, then took hold of her hand and started down the corridor.
âYou better start making sense once weâre on our way, Taylor.â
He sounded as menacing as he looked. The somber black coat echoed his mood. The collar was up around the lower part of his face.
He suddenly looked very much like a gunfighter. Taylor began to have a glimmer of hope. The coldness in his eyes and the mean expression on his face comforted her.
And all because he was on her side. She needed cold and mean now. Lucas, willingly or not, had just become her avenger.
âPlease walk faster,â she begged.
She was already running to keep up with him. She was still too terrified to realize what she was saying. She was so shaken, she didnât even realize she was crying until he told her to stop it.
He didnât say another word until they were outside the hotel. Taylor gave the address to the cabbie waiting at the entrance.
âFort Hill? I ainât taking no fare to that part of town,â the driver announced. âToo dangerous,â he added with a nervous nod toward Lucas.
The muscle in her husbandâs jaw flinched when the driver denied the request a second time. Taylor promised to triple the fare, but it was Lucas who finally gained the driverâs cooperation. He reached up, grabbed hold of the manâs jacket, and almost tore him off his perch.
âYou drive or I will. Either way weâll all be leaving in ten seconds flat. Taylor, get inside.â
The driver was quick to recognize his tenuous position. âIâll take you,â he stammered out. âBut once I get you there, I ainât waiting around.â
Lucas didnât debate the point. He didnât waste any more time on the man. He got inside and took his seat across from his wife.
Taylor had her gun out. It was a Colt, he noticed, and as shining and unblemished as a new one in a showcase. He concluded sheâd only just purchased the weapon.
The bullets were in her lap. While he watched, she deftly flipped the cylinder to the side, loaded the chambers, and then flip
ped the cylinder closed again. Then she put the gun back in her pocket and folded her hands together.
Lucas was astounded. The fact that she even owned a gun surprised him, but it was the way she handled the weapon that stunned him. She had the gun loaded and ready in less than half a minute . . . and with hands that were almost violently shaking.
âYou know how to shoot?â he asked.
âYes.â
âYour uncle Andrew taught you, didnât he? You werenât jesting when you said he taught you how to shoot and how to play the piano. I remember now.â
âNo, I wasnât jesting. Heâs a gun collector. He takes them apart and puts them back together. Iâm awkward and slow with six shooters, but Iââ
He didnât let her finish. She was going to tell him she was extremely accurate, and that certainly made up for speed in her mind. Her uncle told her she had the eye of an eagle, and it really didnât matter how long it took her to get ready. Men, heâd instructed, needed to be quick, for they liked to engage one another in gunfights. Women only needed to be accurate.
âGive me the gun, Taylor. Youâll end up killing yourself by accident. You donât have any business carrying a loaded gun around.â
âCanât you get the driver to go any faster?â
Lucas leaned out the window, shouted the order, then leaned back in his seat again. He stretched his long legs out, crossed one foot over the other, and folded his arms across his chest.
He looked relaxed, but she wasnât fooled. The anger was there in his voice and his eyes when he spoke to her.
âI take it you were in Fort Hill instead of Victoriaâs room tonight.â
âYes.â
Even though he knew she was going to admit to the atrocity, he was still infuriated by her answer.
âWho went with you?â
âI went alone.â
Heâd already guessed that answer, too, and now he suddenly wanted to throttle her. He tried to block the image of her strolling around in the cityâs most threatening area. Picturing her in Sodom and Gomorrah would have been easier to accept.