Chapter Five
Cass
How was she so oblivious to her own perfection?
How was she unaware that even the mountains, majestic as they were, couldn’t compare to the soft curve or her cheek or the bow of her lips or the way sunset framed her hair and set it on fire?
He’d never be able to outrun her magic, or the claws it had in his soul.
No matter how far away he found himself.
“These hands have made a life. They may be changed, but they are still you. And nothing on earth could happen that would shake my faith in what you’re capable of, or the strength I see inside you.
That magic, strong enough to turn the world inside out and shape it to something of your own making, is why I fell in love with you, Wildflower. ”
She flushed. “I can’t deny the history between us, Cass. When you kiss me it feels like you never left. That I’m still seventeen and the summer night is full of promise. But I’m not seventeen. I’m twenty-four and a widow. I’ve known sorrows and burdens I cannot share. And winter is upon us.”
Cass watched as she pulled her shawl tighter, her expression hardening. He knew he shouldn’t blame her for donning the mask that now obscured her features. He knew she was passionate and warm beneath the grim line of her lips. Lips that had been kissing him only a moment ago.
“Winter isn’t just about the cold, Wildflower. Things can be born in that season too. Revived even if they’ve withered or been smothered beneath a mantle of snow.”
“Cass, we had our season. It has long since passed and neither one of us is what the other needs.”
When he opened his mouth to protest, she set the palm of her hand against it. “Don’t argue. You belong to those mountains now, and the wide open sky. Not to this tiny town. When you make your peace with your father, you should go back there.”
He wanted to cry in frustration. How could he make her see that the jagged peaks of the Rockies were nothing compared to the rugged hills behind them?
That the cries of the golden eagle didn’t make his heart sing like the call of the whippoorwill?
That he would be happy anywhere - as long as they were together?
He let the hand that had been clasping her closer fall to his side.
“What do you want to know about the wild west?”
She twisted in the seat and brought her knees to her chin, wrapping her arms around them to hold her skirts in place. “Is there truly a saloon on every corner?”
He laughed. “In every town. But towns can be few and far between. There are a lot of dance halls too - and places for a man to find feminine company if he’s so inclined.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Were you ever so inclined, Cassius?”
“I was tempted - but when you’ve had an angel in your arms, nothing else satisfies.”
“I cannot imagine you being celibate for so long,” she said in disbelief.
“Believe what you will, Wildflower. Company costs coin, and I never had any to spare. Not if I wanted a place to lay my head and food in my belly. I even took a chance at wrangling cattle.”
“You were always an accomplished horseman. I’m sure it was easy for you.”
His bark of laughter startled them both. “I was just the opposite. I hated being dirty and sweaty for that long, and cows have to be the stupidest animals on the planet. I only lasted as far as Colorado Springs. I knew I didn’t have the patience to help drive them all the way to Laredo.”
“Well if you weren’t wrangling cows or entertaining women, what were you doing for seven years?”
“I spent most of my time playing poker. Sometimes I won, sometimes I lost. I tried my hand in the silver mines but it was too dark and cramped. I’m too tall for those spaces and I walked around with a bruise on my forehead for months.”
“You always were the one my Ma grabbed to get things from the top shelf. But you were a lot more gangly then.”
Cass gave her a sidelong glance. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”
She swatted him in the arm and stroked his bicep appreciatively, a gleam in her eyes. He was happy to see she was thawing toward him again.
“I don’t want to inflate your opinion of yourself.”
“Ah,” he said with a grin as he stretched his arms over his head. “So it’s a compliment.”
“Now that I’ve done exactly what I said I wasn’t going to do, I think it’s well past time for me to retire. I have a hearty breakfast to prepare in the morning and two slugabeds who tend to wail about cold floors.”
“I shall take my leave as well. The house should be asleep by now.”
Cassius stood and bowed slightly in her direction. “Thank you for sharing your nightly repast.”
When she stood as well, he raised her hand to his lips. Her skin was chilled and he wanted to stand there forever, rubbing it between his own.
“Goodnight, Cass,” she said as she withdrew her hand and whirled toward the door.
“What about the labor I promised in exchange for the apple tart?” He stood, rooted to the spot, watching and hoping.
When she didn’t even glance over her shoulder, his hopes were dashed like a boat against the rocks.
“Consider setting my son’s arm payment enough,” she said as she shut the door behind her.
The streets were quiet as he walked home.
A part of him missed the raucous laughter and wild shots fired at all hours that was integral to Leadville.
A man was lonely in a different way there.
When he got home, every nerve ending was still alight from that brief exposure to the woman he’s always loved.
He decided a book from his father’s library would lure him to sleep.
He was reading a volume of Histories by Tacitus when there was a light knock on the doorframe.
When he lifted his head, his mother stood there, her skirts swaying, and her hands clasped in front of her.
“Cassius, why are you sitting in the dark?”
“I’m sitting here contemplating whether or not I want to snag your decanter of ratafia from the cabinet, Mother.”
“Surely that’s not what you want. Do you need something stronger?”
He opened one eye. “I’d like nothing more. But I’m sure this house is as dry as a bed of pine needles.”
He heard the swish of her skirts as she moved to the sideboard. “I keep some secrets from your father. Like this.”
She knelt and pressed her hand against one of the ornate carved cherubs.
A door swung open with a creak and she held up a bottle of whiskey.
“Will this do? I find myself in need of fortification as well. Your father’s been lecturing me about the evils of women’s suffrage and since I started attending your sister’s parlor meetings, I find I have quite the opposite opinion. ”
Cass doubted he’d ever been more astonished. “Then by all means pour us some fortification.”
She filled two snifters and handed one to him before reclining on the settee across from him.
“Tell me why you’re sitting in the dark pondering the dubious merits of ratafia,” his mother said around a sip of whiskey.
“I saw Deirdre.”
“Ah,” she pronounced and took a healthy gulp before setting the glass on the floor. “That certainly explains your moping. Men only mope like that when a woman does something unexpected.”
Cass smiled bitterly. “Or when she does exactly what he expected after seven years of separation and dashes all his hopes.”
His mother turned her head and gave him a shrewd, measuring look like the ones she’d often given him as a rebellious boy.
“If she’d surrendered easily, you wouldn’t have appreciated it.
Because you have that effect on people. You had to work to earn her affection - and even then it wasn’t guaranteed. ”
“I had to chase her. And once I caught her, I was the one ensnared.”
“You truly loved her. We all saw it. And I think you were better for it. The restless part of you I saw as a reflection of my once quicksilver nature became settled around her.”
“If you thought she was good for me, why did you agree with father’s ultimatum?”
“I didn’t. By the time I realized what he’d done, it was too late. She was wed to someone else and you were a thousand miles away.”
Adelaide Trenton was never this forthcoming and Cassius wondered what had precipitated it. Was it the whiskey? Her lack of fear because of his father’s swift deterioration? The realization that he was no longer a child?
“You’re telling me you would have intervened if you’d known?”
“Yes. Somehow I would have made him see reason. That if he wanted you to stay, he had no other choice.”
“It was you who sent the telegram, wasn’t it?”
She laughed. “Of course it was me. Your father has never been one to relent or admit his error. The two of you need to make amends.”
“He didn’t seem eager to see me because he missed me.”
His mother shook her head in frustration. “I know. He’s never been adept at showing his affection and it should’ve been obvious by now that berating you will get him nowhere.”
She stood and he closed his eyes at the familiar rustle of her skirts. When she laid her hand on his shoulder, that weight was familiar too. Every time he’d stormed off to wipe away his tears, she’d found him. It’s why he’d come home - the memory of that weight.
And the secret hope his wildflower would be there waiting.