Cheyenne Wife. Judith Stacy

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      “But, Papa—”

      Augustus’s eyelids sank.

      “Papa? Papa!”

      Chapter Three

      Lily stood beside the mound of fresh-turned earth and the wooden casket that would be her father’s resting place for eternity, cold despite the heat of the midafternoon sun that bore down on them.

      Augustus had passed away peacefully in his sleep during the night, just as Oliver Sykes had predicted, with Lily at his side.

      Hiram Fredericks had made the funeral arrangements; he seemed to be in charge of such things, much like everything else at the fort.

      Oliver Sykes, who had worked diligently to heal her father, had arranged for his casket to be built, then had laid him in it. Lily didn’t know who’d dug the grave, here among the other wooden markers outside the fort.

      Fredericks read from the Bible, the thin pages rattling in the breeze, his white hair undulating on the unseen current. About a dozen men—most of whom Lily didn’t know—gathered there also. She wondered if they wanted to pay their respects, or simply craved a diversion from their daily routine.

      Jacob Tanner, the young man who worked in the kitchen and had brought meal trays to her and her father, stood near the back of the gathering, his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes lowered respectfully. Lily appreciated his presence and felt his intentions were honorable.

      Not in attendance was the Nelson family, the people her papa had paid to drive their wagon and assist them in their journey. Nor were the men from the wagon train, who’d come with them to the fort, present for the service.

      Lily sniffed, choking back tears—bitter tears. Augustus deserved so much more at his passing. The presence of his friends and business associates in Saint Louis who really knew him and would have truly mourned his death. A carved, marble marker befitting a man of his stature, rather than a simple wooden cross. Men—knowledgeable men—who would have stepped in.

      Someone who would tell Lily what was to become of her now.

      She touched her finger to the corner of her eye, catching another tear. In the plain wooden casket lay her father. More of a stranger to her now than she’d ever imagined. She’d thought she knew what sort of man he was, but after his deathbed confession last night, she obviously did not.

      Could it be true? she wondered as Fredericks’s reading of Bible verses droned on. Had Augustus really lost their entire family fortune?

      Sitting at his bedside last night, hearing his confession, Lily had thought it was simply more of his nonsensical fevered ramblings. He’d been incoherent for days. He’d talked to people who weren’t there, flailed his arms against unseen foes. Surely something in his dying mind had prompted this delusion, fabricated the loss of his business empire.

      But didn’t the mere fact that they were here in this forsaken wilderness give credence to his confession? Her father had lived his entire life in a large comfortable home, waited on by a number of servants, his every need catered to by others. When he’d told Lily of his dream to go West and explore new lands, she’d thought it odd. So unlike him.

      Yet it made perfect sense if he’d indeed lost all his money and wanted to start over in Santa Fe.

      It also explained why he’d been so reluctant to have Lily accompany him on this trip.

      Other thoughts floated through Lily’s mind as the men, gathered around her father’s gravesite, sang a hymn.

      Last Christmas she’d wanted to travel to Memphis to spend the holiday with her friend’s family. Augustus had told her no. When she’d asked for funds to commission several new gowns, he’d never sent the money; she thought he’d simply forgotten. Just before her graduation, he’d appeared unexpectedly at her boarding school and met privately with Madame DuBois. Now Lily wondered if there had been a problem with her tuition; that would explain why some of the other girls had whispered behind their hands as Lily passed them in the halls.

      Fredericks gently touched Lily’s arm and she realized the service had ended. The men nodded toward her, putting on their hats, respectfully touching the brims, then drifted away. Jacob lingered a moment as if he wanted to say something to her, but finally he wandered away after only a respectful nod.

      “Thank you,” she managed to say, her voice tight, barely more than a ragged whisper. She fought off another swell of emotion. “Thank you very much, both of you, for arranging everything.”

      Oliver Sykes, standing on the other side of her, nodded. “It was a nice turnout.”

      “I thought the Nelsons would be here,” Lily said, gazing around as if she might see them. “They helped us all along the journey. We’d gotten to know them quite well, I’d thought.”

      “Oh, they left already,” Sykes said.

      “Left?” Lily looked back and forth between the two men, an odd feeling tightening her belly. “What do you mean they left?”

      “Gone on to Santa Fe,” Sykes explained. “Them and those other fellas from the wagon train who drove in with you. They all left at dawn.”

      “But…” Stunned, Lily just gazed at the men. They’d gone? Left her behind? Abandoned her in this place? Without so much as a farewell wave?

      “But my father paid the Nelson family to look after us,” Lily said, desperation creeping into her voice. “They’re supposed to do the cooking, drive the wagon, take care of the horses.”

      The two men exchanged a troubled look that squeezed Lily’s stomach into a tight knot.

      “This isn’t hardly the best time, right here at your father’s funeral, but I guess you’ve got to be told.” Sykes pulled at the back of his neck. “I mean, you’ll find out, sooner or later.”

      Lily pressed her lips together, afraid to ask what he was talking about.

      “Last night…” Fredericks cleared his throat. “Well, last night, your horses were stolen.”

      “Stolen?”

      “Yeah, and your wagon was looted.” Sykes shifted uncomfortably. “Pretty much everything you had in there is gone. The wagon was torn up, too.”

      Her horses were stolen? Her belongings stolen? Lily pressed her hand to her forehead as the world suddenly pitched sideways.

      She was penniless—and stranded?

      “Who—who did it? Who’s responsible?” she asked.

      Fredericks shrugged. “Don’t know. Sam Becker—he’s the blacksmith—he saw what had happened to your wagon this morning, then went to check on your horses and realized they were gone.”

      “Shouldn’t we report this to someone?” Lily asked, spreading her hands.

      “Well, Miss St. Claire, it’s not like we got a real lawman here at the fort,” Sykes said.

      “Me and the boys, well, we just take care of things СКАЧАТЬ