The Witch of Tin Mountain(76)

Relief floods through me. “I’m glad for that. Caro?”

“Feisty. That girl has a mouth on her, don’t she?”

I grin. “The only thing she got from her mama, ’sides that shock of red hair.”

“Val’s gone plumb crazy. Out hollerin’ on the square, preaching louder than Bellflower.”

I roll my eyes. “Figures.”

“I got something for you.” Abby squats and pulls something from her shoe, fast as lightning. “Seth Cornelison came up to the lighthouse. Him and his family are moving out west. To Montana. He drew that star map he promised you, and said he wanted you to have it.” She hands me the rolled-up paper she showed the deputy, but now there’s something inside it. I sneak a quick glance. It’s a carpenter’s nail set, sharpened to a point. That must have been what she had in her shoe. I furtively stash it inside my brassiere just before Adams turns around.

“You’ve had enough time, girl,” Adams barks.

I reach through the bars and grab Abby’s hand. “I love you,” I whisper.

“Me too.” Her eyes spill over again. “Just . . . be careful.”

Abby turns away and I watch her go, my heart thudding in my chest. She just took a big risk doing what she did. I’m so filled with love and longing I could cry. But I ain’t got enough water left in me for crying.

I sit down on the narrow cot and unroll the star map. Seth labeled everything neatly, but some of the names of the constellations are off. Where the Big Dipper should be written, he’s got Billings. And where Orion is, Ranch. And finally, above Cassiopeia, MD Safe.

Realization dawns over me. Morris Doherty. Safe. It’s a note, letting me know that Morris made it to Billings. Of all the things going wrong in my world, something is finally going right. Maybe in Montana, Seth and Morris can be free to be themselves. I lay down on the cot, flattening out as my bowels gripe again and a wave of dizziness washes over me. The metal shank rests cold against my breast. I’ll have to be careful to keep it hidden until the time is right. But for the first time in days, I have hope.





TWENTY-EIGHT

DEIRDRE





1881




Deirdre arrived at the depot in Rogers, tired from the long journey. She was stunned by how quickly the new town had sprung up around the rail line. There were shops and a stagecoach stand, and the beginnings of new houses all around. Pa had told her many times of the power the railroad held—to build new cities and destroy old ones—but she’d never seen it for herself. It was astonishing.

Famished and thirsty, she walked to the café near the station for a cup of tea and a pastry. She was hurriedly finishing her meal when she caught a glimpse of Robbie outside the window. Deirdre’s heart soared. She left a dollar on the table and rushed outside.

“Robbie!”

He turned, his eyes lighting with recognition. “Deirdre Jane? Is that you?”

She picked up her hem and ran toward him. He caught her in his arms and picked her up, laughing. “Why, I hardly recognized you. You sure are a sight for these sore eyes! I just came to get some roofing nails for Pa. Lands, this place has grown, hasn’t it?”

She buried her face against his chest and sighed. She was home. Home, and in her husband-to-be’s arms. If it weren’t for the circumstances, she could have laughed for joy. “Oh, Robbie. I’ve missed you.”

He chuckled warmly. “I’ve missed you, too. I thought you weren’t coming home until later this fall, though.”

“I got a telegram from Pa, telling me I needed to get home. Mama.”

He nodded. “I can take you, if you like. I don’t have a wagon, just my horse, but as long as you don’t have much in the way of luggage . . .”

“Just my bag! I left it inside the café. I’ll just be a minute.”

Deirdre rushed inside to get her bag, and Robbie met her at the corner, where he sat astride his handsome Appaloosa mare, Georgia. He offered his hand to her, and she lifted her skirts and swung up to sit in front of him, hanging her bag from the saddle horn.

He nudged Georgia with his heels, and they were off at a trot. Deirdre sighed and leaned back against Robbie, his warmth and strong arms a sturdy support. Before long, his hands began to wander, and though Deirdre’s mind had been far from lovemaking when they’d first reunited, his touch soon sent an undeniable flare of desire through her. When they reached the covered bridge that stretched across Ballard Creek, freshly repaired after the floods, Robbie abruptly pulled Georgia to a halt.

“Why are we stopping?” Deirdre asked. “I should get home, Robbie. Mama—”

“Just for a few minutes, Deirdre,” he whispered against her neck. “A few minutes won’t change a thing, I promise. The stage would have taken twice as long.”

He dismounted and helped her down. They walked beneath the bridge, hand in hand. Once they were well hidden in the shadows, Robbie kissed her, his mouth searching and soft. She sighed, her hands tangling in Robbie’s hair. His kisses had improved by a mile.

He pressed her against the wall of the bridge and began undoing the buttons on her shirtwaist. “I need you so much, Deirdre.”

“Here?” Deirdre asked nervously, clutching her blouse closed. “What if someone passes by?”