through those sudden surprising moments when they'd each known they were seeing the world in the same way. And she'd fallen in love with him through the deep, secret hours of the night when he'd stretched her and filled her and created the precious new life inside her.
How she wished she could do it over again. If only during those times when he'd softened toward her, she'd opened her arms and met his softness with her own. Now he was gone, and she'd never spoken the words of her love. But neither had he. Maybe because his feelings didn't run as deeply as hers.
She wanted to go after him, to start all over again, and this time she'd hold nothing back. But she couldn't do it. She was the one responsible for the pain she'd seen in his eyes. And he'd never pretended he wanted a wife, let alone a wife like her.
Tears ran down her cheeks. She hugged herself and accepted the truth. Cain was glad to be rid of her.
But there was another truth she needed to accept. The time had come to get on with her life. She'd been mired in self-pity long enough. She could cry in the privacy of her bedroom at night, but during the day she needed to keep her eyes dry and her head clear. There was work to be done and people who depended on her. There was a baby who needed her.
The baby was born in July, four years almost to the day since the hot afternoon Kit had arrived in New York City to kill Baron Cain. The child was a girl, with fair hair like her father's and startling violet eyes fringed with tiny, black lashes. Kit named her Elizabeth and called her Beth.
Kit's labor had been long, but the birth had gone without complications. Sophronia had stayed by her side the entire time, while Miss Dolly had fluttered about the house, getting in everyone's way and shredding three of her handkerchiefs. Afterward, Kit's first visitors had been Rawlins and Mary Cogdell, who seemed pathetically relieved to see that a baby had finally been produced from the Cain marriage, even though it had taken twelve months.
Kit spent the rest of the summer regaining her strength and falling deeply in love with her new daughter. Beth was a sweet, good-natured baby, happiest when she was in her mother's arms. At night, when she would awaken to be fed, Kit would tuck her close in bed, where the two of them would doze until dawn-Beth content with the milky-sweet breast of her mother and Kit full of love for this precious infant who'd been God's gift to her when she'd most needed it.
Veronica wrote her regular letters and occasionally visited from Charleston. A deep affection grew between the two women. Veronica still spoke outrageously about wanting to make love to Cain, but Kit now recognized her statements as none-too-subtle attempts to prod Kit's jealousy and keep her feelings for her husband alive. As if she needed anything more to remind her of her love for her husband.
With the secrets of the past swept away, Kit's relationship with Sophronia deepened. The two still bickered out of habit, but Sophronia talked freely now, and Kit took comfort from her presence. Sometimes, though, Kit's heart would ache as she watched Sophronia's face soften with a deep, abiding love when she caught sight of Magnus. His strength and goodness had laid to final rest the ghosts of Sophronia's past.
Magnus understood Kit's need to talk about Cain, and in the evenings while she sat on the piazza, he told her all that he knew about her husband's past: his childhood, the years of drifting, his bravery during the war. She took it all in.
The beginning of September found her with renewed energy and a deeper understanding of herself. Veronica had once said that she should decide which things in life were temporal and which were everlasting. As she rode through the fields of Risen Glory, she finally understood what Veronica meant. Now it was time to find her husband.
Unfortunately, that proved easier in theory than in practice. The lawyer who handled Cain's affairs knew he'd been in Natchez, but hadn't heard from him since. Kit learned that his profits from the sale of the cotton mill were lying untouched in a bank in Charleston. For some reason, he'd left himself virtually penniless.
She made inquiries throughout Mississippi. People remembered him, but no one seemed to know where he'd gone.
By the middle of October, when Veronica arrived from Charleston for a visit, Kit was in despair. 'I've inquired everywhere, but no one knows where he is.'
'He's in Texas, Kit. A town called San Carlos.'
'You knew where he was all this time and you didn't tell me? How could you do this?'
Veronica ignored Kit's temper and took a sip of tea. 'Really, my dear, you never asked me.'
'I didn't think I had to!'
'The reason you're so angry is because he wrote me instead of you.'
Kit wanted to slap her, but, as usual, Veronica was right. 'And I'm sure you've been sending him all sorts of seductive messages.'
Veronica smiled. 'Unfortunately not. This was his way of keeping in touch with you. He knew if anything was really wrong, I'd tell him.'
Kit felt sick. 'So he knows about Beth, but he still won't come back.'
Veronica sighed. 'No, Kit, he doesn't know about her, and I'm not certain I did the right thing by not telling him. But I decided it wasn't my news to share. I couldn't bear to see either of you hurt any more than you have been.'
Her anger forgotten, Kit pressed Veronica. 'Please. Tell me everything you know.'
'The first few months he traveled the riverboats and lived on what he won at the poker tables. Then he moved on to Texas and rode shotgun for one of the stagecoach lines. A beastly job, in my opinion. For a while he herded cattle. And now he's running a gambling palace in San Carlos.'
Kit ached as she listened. The old patterns of Cain's life were repeating themselves.
He was drifting.
21
Kit reached Texas the second week of November. It was a long journey, made all the more arduous by the fact that she hadn't traveled alone.
The uninhabited space of Texas was a surprise to her. It was so different from South Carolina-the flat east Texas prairie and then the rougher country farther inland, where twisting trees grew from jagged rocks and tumbleweed chased across the harsh, hilly terrain. She was told that the canyons flooded when it rained, sometimes washing away entire herds of cattle, and that in the summer, the sun baked the earth until it hardened and cracked. Yet there was something about the land that appealed to her. Perhaps the challenge it posed.
Still, the closer she came to San Carlos, the more uncertain she became about what she'd done. She had precious responsibilities now, yet she'd left the familiar behind to search for a man who'd never said he loved her.
As she climbed the wooden steps that led to the Yellow Rose Gambling Palace, her stomach twisted into tight, painful knots. She'd hardly been able to eat for days, and this morning not even the mouthwatering smells that drifted up from the dining room of the nearby Ranchers Hotel had been able to tempt her. She'd dallied while she dressed, fixing her hair one way and then another, changing outfits several times, and even remembering to check for any unfastened buttons or hooks that might have escaped her notice.
She'd finally decided to wear her dove-gray dress with the soft rose piping. It was the same outfit she'd worn on her return to Risen Glory. She'd even added the matching hat and veiled her face. It comforted her somehow, the illusion that she was starting over again. But the dress fit differently now, clinging tighter to her breasts as a reminder that nothing remained the same.
Her gloved hand trembled slightly as she reached for the swinging door that led into the saloon. For a moment she hesitated, and then she pushed hard against it and stepped inside.
She'd learned that the Yellow Rose was the best and most expensive salon in San Carlos. It had red-and-gold wallpaper and a crystal chandelier. An ornately carved mahogany bar ran the length of the room, and behind it hung a portrait of a reclining nude woman with titian curls and a yellow rose caught between her teeth. She'd been painted against a map of Texas, so that the top of her head rested near Texarkana and her feet curled along the Rio Grande. The portrait gave Kit a renewed kick of courage. The woman reminded her of Veronica.
It wasn't quite noon, and only a few men sat inside. One by one, they stopped talking and turned to study her.
