Sagebrush Bride

chapter NINETEEN





Crossing the Grand River proved easy enough. As shallow and narrow as it was, the spot in which Elizabeth had laundered and bathed could have easily been forded on foot. Both horses crossed without hesitation, though Cocoa seemed less inclined to the task.

Suffering Cutter’s surliness and her own keen sense of loss, on the other hand, was the greater trial.

It seemed to Elizabeth that ever since their argument, Cutter never spoke to her unless absolutely necessary.

He seemed to hate her.

And he hadn’t been too pleased to see her dressed in men’s britches, either, though he still hadn’t uttered a word against them. Yet she could tell by the way he stared at them. When she caught him looking, he would shake his head and turn away in disgust.

“I wouldn’t have to wear them if you hadn’t thrown away my skirt!” she told him defensively.

Still, he didn’t respond. Only his eyes gave away his disapproval.

And whereas he’d made it a point to avoid civilization in the past, he led them directly into Fayette late the next day, securing a single room.

When Elizabeth started to protest, he narrowed his eyes at her and said sharply, “What makes you think I plan to sleep here with you tonight, Doc?” Near black circles had appeared beneath his eyes almost overnight, making them appear sunken above the high contours of his swarthy cheeks. The look in his dark eyes was unmistakably hostile and kept Elizabeth from uttering another word.

And keeping to his promise, Cutter did not share her room, nor did he attempt to when they rode into Fulton City the next day. He left her that night, as he had before, and she didn’t see him again until morning.

The knock came early. Elizabeth opened the door to find Cutter leaning against the frame, his shoulders set stubbornly even in his casual stance. In spite of himself, her heart quickened at the sight of him.

He was dressed in his denims, but the black shirt he wore was new and crisp. His beard, though not quite full, had grown considerably, making his face appear lean beneath, while the shadows under his eyes had deepened.

“Henry Elias Bass the man you’re looking for?” He swept his hat from his head, raking his sweat-dampened bangs from his face. “Had a son by the name of John?”

In spite of his haggard appearance, it seemed to Elizabeth that Cutter grew more startlingly handsome every time she set eyes on him. She nodded, acknowledging the facts as those she’d already given him, her heart aching.



Cutter eyed her britches, and then, with a shake of his head, he leaned harder against the doorframe, reached into a pocket, setting his jaw against the pain in his foot, and withdrew a handful of bills. “Then I suggest you get out today and buy yourself a new getup. Seems he’s not in St. Louis, after all. Lives just another thirty miles east of here, though I hear he has business in St. Louis.”

He nudged the door open a bit to get a better look at her. Those damned pants she was wearing swallowed the hell out of her. He couldn’t honestly say which was worse, the pants or the skirt he’d thrown away. Still, there was no mistaking her sex. Not with hair like hers. She wore it down, the soft cascades flowing about her shoulders like liquid gold, and her cheeks were sun-flushed. The outdoors and sunshine suited her, he decided as he pressed the money into her hand.

“We’ll stay here in town tonight... head out tomorrow. If that suits you?”



Elizabeth nodded, wishing so much that there were not such an awkwardness between them suddenly.

“If we leave early and ride hard, we should get there by early afternoon at the latest.”

“Fine,” Elizabeth replied softly. An impenetrable silence followed as they simply stared at each other. At last Elizabeth averted her gaze.

“Well,” Cutter said, shifting abruptly, “reckon I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

Again, Elizabeth nodded, at a loss as to what to say to make things right between them. Something was missing, she knew, but she had no idea exactly what it was. He’d been angry with her before, but not like this.

“See y’, Doc,” Cutter said tersely, and then he willfully pulled the door closed between them, as though he couldn’t stand to see her face any longer.

With a sigh, Elizabeth leaned her cheek against the inside of the doorframe. Seizing the rattle suspended from her neck into her fist, she shook it once, and then listened to the echo of Cutter’s boots against the wooden floor. When they faded finally, she moved away from the door.

Despondently she fell back onto the bed and contemplated weeping. Not since her father’s death had she felt so empty. But weeping would accomplish absolutely nothing, she knew. And there was too much to be done before tomorrow.

With a weary sigh, she rose and began to plait her hair, studying her reflection in the mirror. The woman who faced her now was so different from the one she remembered. Her head tilted suddenly and her expression turned wistful as she recalled Cutter’s whisper. I like it down.

Almost absently, she began to arrange her hair loosely about her shoulders. Would it be so wrong to pretend—while she could—that she was his wife?

Cutter’s wife.

How wonderful that sounded.

She made a sound that was part sigh, part groan, and then, shaking her head at her own foolishness, she recommenced braiding her hair. It did sound wonderful, but she couldn’t afford to dream. Not since she had been a child in her mother’s arms had she dared. And her mother was long gone... her sister... her father...

Only Katie remained, and she wouldn’t lose her, too, she determined. Not if she could help it.

Haven’t I gone out of my way to prove to you that you can trust me? Damn you... have a little faith...

Elizabeth started at the little voice in her head, and for a moment, instead of her own reflection in the mirror, she saw Cutter’s, the earnest appeal in his shadowed eyes.

Reckon you’re the one with the problem, Elizabeth, and not Elias?

Elizabeth stared at the mirror a long moment, horrified by the pain she saw in those accusing eyes, and cried out suddenly, tearing the braid free. It just couldn’t be!

This, she resolved, her expression determined, was going to be the most convincing performance she could muster. If Cutter thought he could do it... then by God, she would stand by him while he tried. He knew how much this meant to her, and she felt instinctively that he wouldn’t let her down.

It was, after all, a matter of trust.

As Cutter had predicted, the ride to the Bass spread took most of the morning and into early afternoon.

During the ride out, Cutter’s manner was less abrupt than it had been, though he still appeared jaded somehow, and the dark circles remained. But at least he was speaking to her, Elizabeth reflected.

“And so Katherine’s husband was killed in the war?” Elizabeth asked, trying to ignore the ache that was growing in her rear. Cocoa, in her weariness, had fallen into a gait that was absolutely brutal upon the posterior.

Tapping his hat up out of his eyes, Cutter nodded, and uncharacteristically refrained from remarking over her grimace of pain.



“Seems so,” he said, raking his fingers through his beard. Had he been in the mood to smile, the sight of her sweet little butt bouncing off the saddle would have had him grinning from ear to ear. As it was, he was amused, but wouldn’t show it. “As far as I can tell, Elias had only one son.”

“When?”

“Petersburg,” Cutter replied. His eyes met hers, then traveled the length of her admiringly. She was wearing her new outfit, a turquoise-colored riding skirt and matching shirtwaist. Her hair was loose and shone like yellow sunshine down her back. A few shorter tendrils curled appealingly around her face, framing it beautifully.

Elizabeth nibbled her bottom lip a moment in thought and then announced, “I can’t believe Mr. Bass would worry me as he did. In his letter he wrote that they’d both been killed—killed,” she stressed, her tawny eyes seeking out Cutter’s. There was a peculiar sheen in them, as she asked, “Can you imagine how that made me feel? He had me thinking that both Katherine and her husband had been in an accident—or that they had been murdered, even!” She shook her head with disgust, her expression growing gloomier by the second. “Elias bass a lot to learn about the phrasing of his words.”



She couldn’t help but speculate that her sister might still be alive today... that her little daughter might not be orphaned... if only their mother hadn’t taken Katherine away... if she hadn’t been so terrified of being scalped alive that she’d run off to St. Louis without so much as a good-bye. She glanced up at Cutter suddenly to find that he was watching her. How right he was; life wasn’t fair! “How did you happen to discover so much in such a short time, anyhow?”

He lifted a brow. “Ain’t much a few drinks and the right questions can’t ferret out.”

Elizabeth’s brows knitted as she remembered the night they’d first met, and the drinks he’d plied her with. It seemed to be a favorite ploy of his—this getting people lushed so he could have his way with them. Against her will, she suddenly found herself wondering whether he’d gleaned his information from some jezebel like Bess. “While you were at it... you didn’t happen to discover how it was that Katherine died, did you?”

Cutter sighed. “Nope,” he said, “but it won’t be long before you can ask Bass yourself. Looks like we’re here.” He tipped his head.

Turning, Elizabeth caught the dazzling reflection of the afternoon sun on the distant windowpanes. They glittered like jewels.

The ranch and its accompanying buildings were surrounded by cottonwoods and oaks. As they neared, the big house began to take shape, and Elizabeth thought it was the most beautiful place she had ever seen in her life.

So this, she marveled, was the place Katherine had called home.

With its double stories and whitewashed brick facade, it was also the grandest place she had ever laid eyes upon. Yet there was a lonesome beauty about it, too, emphasized by the fact that there was no one bustling about with chores, no one rushing out to greet them. The lawn, with its tall, unkept grasses, hinted of defection, and was infiltrated with wildflowers of every color. To Elizabeth it looked more like a meadow than the manicured lawn it was supposed to be.

Two cottonwoods sat, one on either side of the walkway, the lush green of the leaves contrasting with the white of the house. The effect was striking. Adding to it were the white-painted trellises built high against the brick. Red roses in full bloom climbed askew. Some of the branches grew free of the trellis and fell forward untrained, the leaves spotted and yellow, while other branches were completely bare but for the thorns, and a cluster of red blooms at the extremity. The thought that came immediately to mind was that the war had taken its toll here, as well. It was obvious that someone had once cared very much for the place... and that now no one seemed to bother.

Nor were there servants about to work the small vegetable garden off to the right of the house—or to paint the small picket fence that surrounded it. The whitewash was chipped and peeling. At their approach a small black and white spotted dog perked its ears and then barked succinctly, as though the effort were more than he should have been expected to give. Again it barked, swaying on its feet, as though battling the urge to flop lazily to its belly.

“Dat’s Shifless,” a child’s voice called out as they neared. “But don’ worry... he won’t hurt you none!”

As though in affirmation, the dog squatted, keeping its ears perked and its eyes fixed on the trespassers.

Startled by the voice, Elizabeth felt her heart vault. She reined in, her eyes searching frantically, desperate for a glimpse of the child who had spoken. It would have to be Katie, she knew intuitively. And it seemed as though she’d waited and waited and thought of this moment for an eternity.

What would she look like now?

Who would she look like?

What was she like?

Where was she?

“We call him Shifless ‘cause my papa said so,” the voice revealed sweetly.

Again, Elizabeth whirled about on her mare, searching. At last she spotted the small girl perched precariously upon a windowsill on the second story, and her heart leapt within her breast.

As tiny as she was, the tree limbs had completely concealed her from view until now. As Elizabeth stared, bewitched, her heartbeat accelerated, beating into her throat. In that instant she felt near to bursting with pride... and so many other emotions, she couldn’t begin to understand them all. As she watched, the child rocked forward, coming alarmingly close to losing her balance, and Elizabeth’s breath snagged. She froze in the saddle, wholly terrified that the child would fall to her death right before her eyes.

“Well... you seeee...” The girl shrugged matter-of-factly. “He usa be called Smiley,” she said smartly, “but my papa said he was too shifless to smile.” She proffered a dainty upturned hand, pausing, as though remembering, and then her expression screwed pitifully. “My papa’s gone now,” she revealed, with the innocent bluntness only a child could possess. “He went to heaven in the war.”

Elizabeth was too shaken by the child’s near fall, and too taken aback by her revelation, to reply. She wasn’t even aware that Cutter was no longer beside her on his horse until she spotted him on the trellis, climbing swiftly upward as though he were born to it.

“Who are you?” the little girl asked bravely, tilting forward a little to see better.

Elizabeth cried out in panic, finally discovering her voice. “Please—sit back for me!” she instructed, on the brink of hysteria. Immediately she slid from Cocoa’s back to the ground, hurrying forward, until she stood just below the child’s window, looking up. She struggled to focus her vision.

All at once she was stricken dumb, blinded to everything but the child above her. The most beautiful, if somewhat blurry, little face looked down at her where she stood... small, pert nose, it seemed—like Katherine’s, she thought with melancholy. Dark hair, a mass of ringlets—perhaps her father’s? And the eyes? At this distance, she couldn’t tell.

As Elizabeth stared, transfixed, hot tears pricked at her own eyes. Her throat constricted.

“My name is Katie Lizabeth,” the child declared impulsively, her voice precious.

And again Elizabeth’s heart leapt. A sob escaped her tightening throat as she whispered the name reverently. Katie Elizabeth. Katherine hadn’t forgotten her, after all. Against her will, her vision began to cloud. It had never bothered her much that her vision wasn’t perfect, but at the moment, she loathed that fault in herself.

Elizabeth gulped down the knot that rose in her throat. “Katie Elizabeth?” Elizabeth repeated hoarsely.

The child nodded once, with fervor, smiling. “What’s your name?” she asked boldly.

“My name?” Elizabeth’s voice broke with emotion. “My name... is... is Elizabeth, too,” she answered slowly, her eyes stinging and raw.

“Oh,” Katie replied thoughtfully. She wrinkled her nose prettily, considering that fact a moment. “Well... ” She wagged a finger down at Elizabeth brashly. “But I bet you din’t know I hadda aunt named Lizabeth, and she’s coming to get me—my grandpapa says so.” Suddenly her eyes widened. “Oh! Are you my aunt?” she asked hopefully. And then, with a bit of skepticism, she added, “You’re not my aunt, are you?”

Elizabeth’s heart welled with emotion. Yes! she wanted to shout. Yes! Oh, yes! “Well,” she began slowly, her stomach fluttering wildly. She attempted a tremulous smile. “Yes,” she said, at last, choking back her tears. And then, with more force, she repeated, “Yes, Katie, I am.”

With a shriek of delight, Katie surged forward, clapping her hands, and kicking the brick at her feet.

“No, Katie! Sit back before you fall! Where’s your grandfather?”

“Don’ worry,” she boasted to Elizabeth, “I never fall!” But in that moment, Cutter caught her attention. She peered down at him curiously, teetering further.

Elizabeth bit her lip as she watched Cutter quicken his pace, only to slip when a rotten slat gave way. Feeling blindly with the toe of his boot, he regained his footing and began the climb once more. Silently Elizabeth urged him to hurry.

“Is that my uncle climbin’ up the house?” Katie wanted to know. “I climbed up and up, before, but my mama spanked my butt,” she said gravely, nodding. And then her eyes widened in speculation. “I bet you’re gonna spank his! Aren’t ya?”

Elizabeth heard Cutter’s soft chuckle, but had no idea how to respond, even had she been able to. Her thoughts were focused only on Cutter’s ascent. The higher he climbed, the slower he seemed to move, the more the trellis swayed.

“I bet you din’t know that I was this many!” Katie exclaimed suddenly, meeting Elizabeth’s gaze once more. She held up what appeared to be five fingers, and then struggled to get down the fifth. Failing miserably in the endeavor, she thrust her thumb down forcefully with her other hand, releasing the sill in the process... losing her balance.

“Katie!” Elizabeth shrieked, but just as the child toppled forward, Cutter reached her, placing a steadying hand to her small chest.

“Easy there, little gal,” Elizabeth heard him say.

“Oh, but I never fall!” Katie exclaimed indignantly. “I never do!” she insisted at the rise of Cutter’s brow.

“Well, I do,” Cutter imparted. “Fell out of a tree once when I was just a mite bigger’n you. Been scared of heights ever since,” he swore with so much emphasis that Elizabeth found herself smiling.

Katie gasped. “You’re not scareda heights?” Cutter nodded slowly, and Katie giggled, as though it were a ridiculous notion. “Not me!” she boasted, her hands going to her hips. “I bet you’re scared now. Aren’t ya?”

“Reckon so,” Cutter admitted soberly.

“Ohhhh, you pooooor thing,” Katie said with so much parental concern that Elizabeth had to giggle. Nodding gravely, Katie added, “Do ya want me to pull ya in? Do ya? I can save ya!” she declared solemnly.

“Can you really?”

“Oh, yes!” Katie swore with vigor, her eyes sparkling. “You just watch me and see! Give me your hand,” she demanded.



“Oh... I dunno,” Cutter said, resisting the urge to do just that. His foot was hurting like hell, and standing out on the trellis wasn’t helping any. “Maybe you should get in and pull? I believe I’m too afraid to give you my hand unless you’re safe inside your room. That is your room, isn’t it?”

“Uh-huh... but why?”

“ ‘Cause we might both fall,” he explained, “and I sure wouldn’t wanna break my arm again.”

“Oh!” Katie exclaimed. “Dat mussa hurt! Good idea!” She scrambled down from the sill. “And know what? I think I will be stronger in my room. But why did ya climb up if you’re so darned scared?” she wanted to know.

“Darned?” Cutter reproved.

“Uh-huh. My granpapa says it all the time,” she explained somberly. “Din’t ya never hear that word a’fore? People say darned when they’re reeeeal mad, you see, and sometimes they even say...” She whispered a word.

“You don’t say,” Cutter remarked, managing to sound only mildly amused. He glanced down at Elizabeth and sent her what appeared to be a wink.

“Oh, sure,” Katie said matter-of-factly. “Din’t ya never hear that one, neither?”

“ ‘Fraid not,” Cutter lied.

Katie chatted incessantly, but with Cutter’s help, she was soon standing safely within her room. Once inside, she thrust out her hand.



Astounded at the scene unfolding before her, Elizabeth watched as Katie held out her little wiggling fingers for Cutter to grasp. And she couldn’t help but giggle as Cutter pretended to let Katie pull him within, grunting and moaning. Feeling a sense of wonder, she stared at the pair in the window. When Cutter was on his feet inside, he spoke to Katie softly, patting her head. And still Elizabeth stared, feeling an affection in her heart that startled her in its intensity.

From what she could tell, Katie looked much as she remembered Katherine had looked at that age. And Katherine had been a beautiful child. The only difference she could discern in them was the hair. Katherine’s had been as rich a gold as wheat before the harvest, and as straight as her own.

It wasn’t until Cutter had been inside a full moment that she began to wonder if he didn’t intend to come back out. Her expression turned suddenly disbelieving.

“Cutter?” No reply. There was only the blur of an open window. “Cutter!” she hissed. The dog barked behind her, but Cutter never reappeared.

“Cutter!”