Chapter Fifteen
Emily, push! Push as hard as you can!" Roni urged Emily Stafford, as the young women struggled to give birth.
Roni knew Emily's pregnancy had been a difficult one and now she'd gone into labor a month earlier than expected. Emily had been having contractions for hours now, and Roni feared the baby might not survive. She was worried about the mother's condition, too.
Emily let out a tortured scream, growing weaker by the minute, and Roni knew she had to do something to help.
"I'm going to use the forceps," Roni told her.
Emily was too shaken even to answer as Roni carefully set to work.
Out in the hallway, George Stafford paced anxiously up and down in front of the closed bedroom door. His wife's agonized screams tore at him, leaving him feeling helpless and frustrated. He'd started into the room several times, but stopped each time, knowing Dr. Reynolds was there and he would only be in the way.
When a loud, hysterical scream erupted from the bedroom, George stopped in his tracks and went pale. He stood there, staring at the door, waiting—praying—
It seemed an eternity passed before the bedroom door slowly opened.
Roni found George anxiously standing there and she quickly put his fears to rest with a smile. "I think you should come in and see your son, George."
"Emily—?" He looked questioningly past her into the room.
"She's going to be all right and so is your baby."
"Really?"
"Really," she assured him. "Go on—They're waiting for you."
"Thanks, Doc—" George rushed into the bedroom to see his wife and newborn child.
Roni was in a good mood when she returned to her office. The delivery had been difficult, but the baby and his mother were both doing well. Childbirth was never easy or simple, but seeing the newborn in his mother's arms was wonderful.
Roni had just started to settle in when she heard a knock at the door. She went to answer it and found Stacy and Jim there.
"Roni, we need to talk to you," Jim said.
"Of course, come in." She knew immediately something serious had happened, just by the tone of his voice, and she held the door wide for her friends to enter.
When she'd closed the door behind them, they faced her.
"Roni, there's been some bad news," he began.
Roni looked at Stacy and terror seized her heart when Stacy lost control and began to cry.
"What is it?" Roni asked as Jim put an arm around Stacy.
"It's Walker—" he began.
"Oh, Roni, Walker's dead—" Stacy choked out as she clung to Jim for strength.
"Dead? He's dead?" she repeated, stunned. "No, that can't be. It's got to be a mistake!"
Stacy went to Roni and put her arms around her, offering her what support she could, while Jim explained what they knew.
"But do they know for sure he drowned?" Roni challenged.
"According to the telegram—yes," he answered.
"Did they find his body?"
"Well, no, but—"
"Then Walker could have escaped. He could have gotten away—"
"He was on a chain gang at a lease camp," Jim said, taking out the telegram and showing her the message.
"This can't be," Roni stared down at it in disbelief. The thought of what Walker had suffered, caught up in a flash flood while he was in chains, sickened and horrified her. "Oh, Jim—Stacy—"
The two women clung tightly to each other as they grieved.
"I loved him so," Roni wept.
"I know."
"We all did," Jim added solemnly.
Roni went to Jim and hugged him, knowing he'd lost his best friend.
When the initial shock had worn off, they went upstairs to sit in Roni's parlor.
Roni was emotionally numb. "I always believed we'd find the real killer. I always believed Walker would be proven innocent and come back—"
"So did I," Jim said fiercely. "And I'm not going to quit looking for the man who killed Ben. He's the one responsible for all of this."
"We're still going to clear Walker's name," Roni swore.
"Thank you," Stacy said with heartfelt emotion.
They stayed together for a while longer, trying to understand how this tragedy could have happened, but they could find no answers.
"Do you want to spend the night here, Stacy?" Roni invited, knowing how lonely she would be back at the ranch.
"No, I have to get back. I had Zach send word to Chet, but I haven't had the chance to see him yet. He may be at the Dollar waiting for me."
"If there's anything you need—if there's anything I can do, just let me know," Roni offered.
"I don't think there's anything any of us can do now," Stacy said sadly.
Roni saw them out, and then went back upstairs to her bedroom. Her heart was aching as she gave in to her tears. She only wished she had had more time with Walker, time she could have spent showing him how much he meant to her. She sat down weakly on the side of her bed. A part of her wanted to believe it was all a lie, that Walker was alive and on his way back to her. Roni told herself it was wrong to give herself false hope, but she couldn't accept that Walker was lost to her forever. Lifting her gaze to stare out the window at the sun, low in the western sky, she wondered how she would go on.
Injured and exhausted, Walker forced himself to keep moving across the harsh terrain. It would be sundown soon, and he had to find shelter before darkness claimed the land. His ankles were bloodied from the metal cuffs he still wore, but the pain didn't stop him. When he came across a small watering hole, he made camp there.
His years among the Comanche had taught him how to live off the land, and he called upon those long-ago lessons now to survive. He found persimmons and dug up some Indian potatoes and wild onions to eat raw. He wanted to build a fire, but feared the guards were still tracking him. The desolation and loneliness of the night brought back memories of his vision quest. As he sought what comfort he could find on the hard ground, he remembered the warnings the spirit had given him about betrayal and hardship in his life, as well as the promise of love and friendship.
Walker knew he had found love with Roni, but the thought of the betrayal haunted him. He found himself wondering if someone close had set him up for the murder. He tried to figure out who would benefit from his arrest and conviction, but the only person who stood to gain anything from it was Stacy. With him out of the way, the Dollar would be all hers, but he knew his sister well enough to be certain she would never betray him.
There were people in town who disliked him, but none of them had anything to gain by framing him for murder. He thought of the hands at the ranch and wondered if any of them held a grudge against him, but he had had no run-ins with any of the men working for him. They had all seemed loyal and hardworking.
Walker thought of Chet then and frowned. Chet was the only other person who would benefit from getting rid of him. The Dollar would be Chet's once the rancher married Stacy, but even as Walker considered the possibility, he knew the idea was ridiculous.
Chet was the one who had rescued him and Jim from Ben and his men that night in the alley.
Chet was his friend.
Still unable to find an answer, Walker sought rest. At least in sleep, he would find peace—for a little while.
Chet had been out working stock and didn't get back to his ranch house until late. One of his hands had been watching for him and quickly went to speak with him.
"Zach, the foreman from the Dollar, rode in today. He left a note for you up at the house. He said to make sure you got it as soon as you returned."
"Did he say what it was about?" Chet was surprised. The last time anyone had ridden over from the Dollar had been the day Walker had been arrested.
"No."
Curious, he left his horse at the stable and went up to the house. He found the note on the kitchen table and quickly read it.
Chet— Jim brought word today that Walker has been killed in a flash flood. Stacy's gone into town with him to tell Roni.
Chet stared at the message long and hard, first with disbelief and then with a great sense of satisfaction. He couldn't believe how well things were working out for him. He couldn't have planned it any better if he'd tried.
Chet went to the cabinet where he kept his liquor and poured himself a glass of whiskey to celebrate. As he sat down at the table to enjoy his drink, he wondered whether he should ride for the Dollar that night or wait until daylight. He wasn't sure whether Stacy would make it back to the ranch tonight or end up spending the night in town. The last thing he wanted to do was listen to her sobbing and mourning about her dead half-breed brother, but he knew he had to play his role to the best of his abilities—until they were married.
With that final thought, Chet finished off the whiskey and went to get cleaned up. He would head out to see Stacy. The worst that could happen would be she wouldn't show up until the following day, and that was all right with him.
Jim and Stacy said little on their ride back to the ranch. Jim drove the buggy at a slow pace, wanting to spend as much time with Stacy as he could. She had been there for him when he'd been injured; he could do no less for her. As they drew close to the Dollar, he looked over at her and saw how she was struggling for control.
Stacy felt his gaze upon her and looked back at him. "Do you think Roni could be right? Do you think Walker is still alive out there somewhere?"
Jim understood her need to cling to what little hope they could find, but he also knew it would be cruel to give her hope when there was none.
"There's nothing I'd like more than to hear this was all a mistake, but the officials wouldn't have sent the telegram if they'd thought Walker had gotten away and was still on the loose. They would have gone after him and tracked him down. Prisoners don't escape from a chain gang."
Stacy had heard the horrible tales of what life was like in the convict lease system, and she understood why Jim was being so honest with her.
Reaching out, Jim took Stacy's hand in his in a supportive gesture. Her hand was small and felt delicate to him, and he realized just how fragile she really was. The love he felt for her caused his heart to constrict. A surge of protectiveness filled him, and he knew he would do whatever was necessary to help her through this hard time and keep her safe.
Stacy held his hand tightly, needing his strength.
It was almost dark when they drove up to the house. A few of the hands were still out by the stable and they waved as they passed by. Jim was expecting to find Chet, watching and waiting there for Stacy. He was surprised and, he had to admit, glad when they discovered the house was dark. Relieved that Chet wasn't there, he reined in and got out to help Stacy from the buggy.
Gentleman that he was, it was an innocent gesture on his part. He put his hands at her waist to lift her down, and she rested her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. But as he lowered her to the ground their gazes met, and, for that instant, as her body brushed against his, it was just the two of them, alone in the world.
Stacy gazed up at him. She had always thought Jim was good-looking, but in the shadows of the fading twilight, he looked even more handsome. She saw his inner strength and his gentleness. She saw his pain, and she saw something else in his eyes that left her momentarily breathless.
Jim was gazing down at Stacy, intensely aware of her nearness. He wanted to keep her in his arms forever, but he forced himself to release her and step back, distancing himself from the temptation she presented.
"Will you come in for a while?" she asked, feeling so very alone now that he'd moved away from her.
"Just for a minute," he answered.
He followed her inside and stood back, watching her as she went to light the lamp in the parlor.
"Are you all right?" He was concerned about leaving her by herself this way.
Stacy was honest as she came back to stand before him. "I don't know," she said wearily.
Jim couldn't help himself. Ever so carefully, he took her in his arms. It was meant to be a supportive embrace, to encourage her and help her be strong in her loss. The moment he held her close, though, she sighed his name, and he lost the last remnant of his self-control. Tenderly, he bent to her and claimed her lips in a gentle caress.
Stacy held herself stiffly for a moment. She told herself she was engaged to Chet. She told herself it was wrong to be in Jim's arms this way, but as his lips moved persuasively over hers, she gave herself over to his embrace. She lost herself in the thrill of his kiss.
It was heavenly torture for Jim to be holding Stacy and kissing her, and when he felt her response, it was that much more painful for him to end the kiss and reluctantly put her from him. He gazed down at her, seeing her flushed cheeks and the look of confusion in her eyes.
"Stacy, I'm sorry. That should never have happened," he apologized.
Stacy just stood there for a moment, staring up at him. She was stunned by her own reaction to his kiss, and by the way he had ended it so suddenly and was now regretting that he'd done it.
When she didn't respond, Jim figured she was upset with him and quickly excused himself, turning to leave. "I'd better go."
"Jim, wait." Stacy started to go to him but just then she heard someone ride up in front of the house. She glanced out the window to see Chet reining in by the buggy.
Jim heard him, too, and knew it was definitely time to leave. Stacy's kiss had been as wonderful as he'd always imagined it would be, but she was engaged to Chet.
"It looks like Chet's here," he offered. "I'll be in touch."
Jim hurried outside, and Stacy followed him. They found that Chet had already dismounted and was heading inside.
"I came just as soon as I got the message," he told them. He quickly went to Stacy and put an arm around her to draw her close to his side. "Is it true? Is Walker—"
Stacy nodded, unable to speak.
Jim answered for her. "The telegram arrived earlier today, and I brought it to Stacy as fast as I could."
"I appreciate your help, Jim," Chet said.
For some reason, his statement irritated Jim, but Jim didn't let his reaction show. He looked at Stacy and then back at Chet. "Take care of her."
"I will."
Seeing Stacy standing so close beside Chet troubled him, and he knew he had to leave before he did something rash. "I have to go."
"Jim—" Stacy felt even more devastated now that he was going. She left Chet's side and went to Jim, touching his arm. "Walker was blessed to have a friend like you—and so am I."
Jim covered her hand with his and gave a slight nod. With a quick glance at Chet, he turned away and strode off to the stable where he'd left his horse earlier in the day.
Chet had to admit he was glad to see Jim go. There was something about the way Jim and Stacy were acting that bothered him, something about the way they'd looked at each other. He frowned slightly. True, Jim had been the one to give Stacy the bad news and help her through the shock of it. He was glad about that, for it had taken a load off him not to have to worry about all her weeping and misery. It was going to be hard enough for him to keep up the pretense of mourning for these next few weeks, but he would do it. In the meantime, now that Stacy truly was alone and obviously in need of his protection, he grew even more determined to move up the wedding.
"Let's go inside," Chet said, guiding her to the door.
Stacy cast one last glance in the direction Jim had gone and then let Chet take her back into the house. They settled in the parlor to talk for a while. Chet wisely didn't bring up the subject of their marriage. He just played the role of the concerned fiancé, intent on helping her in any way he could.
"We're going to make it through this," he reassured her as he held her close beside him on the sofa.
She only nodded.
Chet decided to try to distract her, and he bent to kiss her.
Stacy accepted his embrace, but felt nothing.
It irritated Chet that she didn't really respond to him, but he controlled his anger as he broke off the kiss.
"You look tired," he told her.
"It has been a long day," she admitted, shifting a little away from him on the sofa. She knew he was trying to be considerate of her, but she found little solace in his nearness.
"Why don't you go on to bed?"
"I think I will. Are you going to stay the night?"
"Yes. I'll bed down out at the bunkhouse." He would rather have stayed in the house and shared her bed, but he knew this wasn't the time. He gave her one last gentle kiss and then got up to leave. "I'll see you in the morning."
She walked with him to the door.
"Good night."
When Chet had gone, Stacy went to her room and got ready for bed. She was drained, physically and emotionally, as she stretched out on the bed's welcoming softness. She expected to fall asleep right away, but sleep eluded her. The memory of Jim's embrace stayed with her. She had always liked and admired Jim. He was a kind man and a very smart one, but until tonight, during that one breathless moment when he'd taken her in his arms and kissed her, she'd never thought of him in any way other than as a friend, but now . . . The heat of his kiss and her own response to it had startled and unsettled her, especially when she compared it to kissing Chet good night.
Stacy realized she should have felt those passionate emotions in Chet's embrace.
Chet was her fiancé.
They were to be married.
The thought haunted her as she stared off into the darkness. She felt empty emotionally, and alone—so very alone.