Keeping Faith - Hannah Alexander Mills & Boon Love Inspired Historical

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      “I didn’t expect him to marry you after I left. Keep you in his employ, yes, but...you’re right, I was stunned when I found out about your marriage.”

      She turned away, barely hearing the voices of the others near camp. “I believe you expected that I would wait for you no matter what, even after I heard of your engagement.”

      Joseph was silent for a long moment. She looked over her shoulder at him and saw him staring toward the flooded creek, and she recognized the lines of self-recrimination in the square frame of his face.

      “Shouldering the blame can’t repair the past,” she said, gentling her voice. How hard she’d been on him these past weeks, avoiding him when possible. He’d been a perfect gentleman, treating her with respect and kindness while she’d remained reserved.

      “I thought my father needed me.”

      “Your father sold your closest friend. I’m sorry you had to endure so much.”

      Joseph reached for her hand, and to her surprise, she allowed him to raise it to brush his lips against her knuckles. “Leaving you in St. Louis was the most painful decision I’ve ever made.”

      “Good. I wanted you to feel the same pain I did.”

      “But maybe it was right for you at the time. Had we stayed together, you wouldn’t be a doctor now, and Matthew would never have had the wonderful experience of being your husband for those ten short years.”

      Victoria reminded herself to breathe. The intimate touch of Joseph’s hand affected her more than any touch she had received from Matthew, and the guilt of that discovery caused her to withdraw again. Joseph released her without a word.

      “Brown is planning to move later this year into Kansas Territory.” She hoped he didn’t hear the race of her heartbeat in her voice.

      “He’ll have my support. It could determine the balance of power in the whole nation.”

      She allowed the warm breeze from the south to dry the perspiration from her face, and she felt the warmth from Joseph’s nearness when he stepped up behind her.

      “No matter how many measures you took to get out of St. Louis discreetly, someone could have followed you. Someone who knew you were friends with Brown.” His deep voice, laced with concern, made her shiver.

      A crow cawed deeper in the woods and she gasped, jerking so hard she nearly toppled the bottle still open on the log.

      Joseph frowned. “Are you ready to tell me what’s had you so frightened these past days?”

      How tempting to place her faith in this man, to allow him control over her life so she wouldn’t have to stand on her own, but that wasn’t what she needed to do right now. She had left her parents in Pennsylvania, her husband in the ground by the Mississippi River. She was an independent woman now, and she didn’t need another man to bolster her. Joseph meant well, but despite the time they had spent together he didn’t know her intentions enough to direct her path.

      She turned to look up into his carved-granite face and intent regard. He didn’t know her most important secret, and that was something he especially needed to be aware of in order to protect his wagon train.

      Steeling herself against his discomfiting attention, she took a deep breath of rain-cleansed air, closed her eyes briefly and made the decision she knew would change everything. “Matthew...” The words caught in her throat. She swallowed and looked back at Joseph. “He was murdered.”

      Chapter Four

      Joseph might have been a copy of the wood carving outside the trading post door at the last town, where the wagon train had stopped to purchase supplies. Silence seemed to hum with the power of a beehive. The chatter of the others merged into a low echo in the distance. The wagon train had struggled through deep mud, broken wheels, lost wagons, illness and loss of livestock. Few things had disconcerted Captain Joseph Rickard these past weeks on the trail, but this definitely affected him.

      She wished it hadn’t been necessary to tell him, and yet he needed to know how dangerous it would be to follow the killer’s trail.

      “Who murdered him?” he asked at last. Was that a tremor she heard in his voice?

      She hesitated, bracing herself against the pain as she relived that day. “A slaver by the name of Broderick Thames.”

      “How do you know?”

      “I heard the shots on my way home from town, where I was purchasing medicines. I was out of sight.”

      “Or your life would most likely have been snuffed out, as well.” Joseph glared at the ground, his jaw muscles flexing with an obvious attempt to quell the effects of his fury.

      “Likely.”

      “Thames,” he said. “I don’t know the name, and I’ve been making an effort to learn more about our enemies.”

      “Oh, Joseph, believe me when I tell you that this man is an enemy.”

      “Are you sure he wasn’t a robber?”

      “He didn’t rob us of goods, only of a good man with a heart of pure kindness.”

      “Was there laudanum missing? I’ve heard of doctors being attacked for their supplies.” Joseph’s tone was clipped with anger. She knew his ire was not directed toward her, and she was touched deeply by his outrage.

      “No.” Tears stung her eyes. “Matthew was a specific target. His killer rode away before I could get my rifle sights on him, or I’d have put him on the ground instead of grazing the side of his neck and staining his silvery hair.”

      “You’re the one who did that?”

      For a moment she couldn’t take a deep enough breath. Joseph knew of that wound? “What do you mean? What do you know about Thames?”

      “Only what I overheard at one of the trading posts.” Joseph nodded as if her confession seemed to have made some puzzle pieces fall into place. “A dour man with a long, silver braid and a deep red scar along his neck and jaw was asking questions about abolitionists in the area.”

      “The red scar was from my weapon.”

      “Good. You do, however, seem to shoot squirrels better than you do retreating murderers.”

      “Joseph, I’ve seen evidence of him on this trail. He rides a red horse shod uniquely, as if part of the right front hoof is missing.”

      “You’ve tracked him?”

      “Of course. What would you expect? I know where he’s headed. That much I was able to discern from Matthew’s final words.” How she grieved those moments. Though she’d never been able to love her husband the way she knew a woman should, Matthew Fenway’s heart had been that of a true healer, kind and strong. She’d always honored him as her husband, and he’d honored her on a pedestal of his own making.

      Joseph gently touched her arm. “Where did Matthew say this Silver Braid was going?”

      “Kansas Territory, and if he’s going the same direction we are, that might mean he’s caught wind of our movements, possibly of the town you’re building. You’ve been through here several times, and I don’t care how cautious you are, people talk.”

      “Then we’ll have to change our route. I’ll talk to McDonald, but I still worry that Thames will know what you look like, Victoria.”

      “He couldn’t have seen my face that day. I was wearing a kerchief over my nose and mouth because the road was dusty. My hair was braided behind me and I wore a hat.”

      “But wouldn’t he have known who you were, especially if Matthew was a target already? He may well have observed you when you weren’t aware. He likely discovered your connection with John Brown.”

      Victoria

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