The trunk wouldn’t close even after the third try, and Chase swore as he threw it open to find the obstruction. A slim book that had fallen out of the lining in the top of the trunk now stood on end to keep it from closing. Was that the problem? Chase tossed it back in and tried once again to get the damn thing closed. Why women had to travel with so many clothes was a mystery to him. It was just as well Jessie was determined not to travel with him, he grumbled to himself. He couldn’t see himself going through this trunk-closing business every time they went someplace. Now, if he were rich and had servants to handle such things—oh, hell.

The trunk still wouldn’t close. That book again. He hadn’t tossed it far enough into the center. A corner was sticking out of the trunk. He tried shoving it in without opening the lid all the way, but the clothes were too tightly packed. He was tempted to take the book out and let Rachel have a fine time wondering what had happened to it when she got to Chicago.

Chase looked back at the door to be sure he wouldn’t be caught in the act, dropped the book on the floor, and was about to kick it under the bed when the word journal caught his eye. He stared hard at it for several seconds. He couldn’t. Not a journal. That was something Rachel couldn’t replace. He’d thought it was a novel. Funny, but he wouldn’t have figured Rachel for the kind of woman to keep a diary, not Rachel.

Chase closed the trunk at last and carried it out to the front porch, where Jeb was waiting with a wagon.

“Any more like this one coming?” Jeb grumbled as he shoved the trunk onto the back of the wagon.

Chase grinned. “I doubt Billy’s will be quite so heavy. You be sure and get someone to help you unload them when you get to town.”

“Humph. Show-off is what you are. As if I could heft that thing by myself! If that woman don’t get a move on, it’ll be night ‘fore we get there.”

“Have you seen Jessie by any chance?” Chase asked him.

“Are you blind, young feller? You just passed her in that fancy parlor.”

Chase whirled around, delighted for Rachel and Billy’s sake that Jessie was going to put in an appearance.

Halfway through the door, Chase stopped short. The girl sitting demurely in a chair by the crackling fire was only barely recognizable. It was Jessie all right, but a Jessie he’d never thought he’d see. She wore a dress of rose velvet and lace. Her hair was swept up off her neck and entwined with white ribbons, striking against her rich jet tresses. He was speechless. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Rachel entered the room just then with Billy. Both were stunned.

“Boy, oh, boy!” Billy grinned from ear to ear. “You would put all the girls back East to shame, Jessie.” He rushed over to Jessie, and she stood up. His arms slipped around her waist. Jessie wanted to pull Billy closer and squeeze him like she’d never squeezed anyone before, but she was looking at Rachel over Billy’s head, and her arms wouldn’t move. She felt choked. She shouldn’t have come. She should have stayed shut up in her room till they were gone.

Billy didn’t even notice that she wasn’t returning his embrace. “I’m going to miss you something awful, Jessie. Can I come to see you again?”

A sound escaped her, but no one heard except Billy. She bent down and whispered, “If you don’t I’ll never forgive you, kid.”

Her lips grazed his cheek as she straightened up. Billy stepped back with a beaming smile and let out a whoop of delight before he ran out of the parlor, nearly knocking Chase over.

Rachel came forward, hopeful. “Jessica, I—”

“Good-bye, Rachel.”

Jessie’s features were set. She had lost control, but now that Billy was out of the room, she had her control back.

Rachel let her eyes travel over this daughter who was lovelier than she ever dreamed she would be, and so entirely removed from her.

“Thank you for that,” Rachel said, indicating Jessie’s dress.

Jessie only nodded before she turned away.

Rachel stared at her unyielding back for several seconds. “Whatever else you may believe, Jessica, I love you.”

The sound of Rachel’s footsteps crossing the room, the closing of the door, reverberated in her head.

Breathing was difficult. She groped for the edge of the chair, and when she found it, eased herself down. Jeb was shouting at the wagon team, and the wagon was rolling out of the yard. She could still hear it, still hear it, still hear it... she heard it no more.

“You’re something else, Jessie.”

How long had he been there? How long had she been sitting there since the wagon left?

“What?”

“You heard me,” Chase said as he came forward to stand next to her. “You can show the kid you care, when you don’t even believe he’s your brother, but not your mother—your own mother!”

“Because I don’t care,” Jessie said softly.

“Liar!”

She shot out of the chair, but he caught her arm, pulling her back to face him. “You can’t stand it that you’re wrong, that you’ve been wrong all these years.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“Don’t I? Kate is gone, you know. Or didn’t you know?”

“Gone?” Jessie repeated.

“It kind of confirms what Rachel said, doesn’t it? Kate probably heard you shouting at your mother last night about her.”

“What if she did?” Jessie retorted. “That doesn’t mean she’s left. She’s around somewhere.”

Chase forced himself not to shout at her. He dragged her to the sofa and shoved her down onto it.

“Stay put,” he commanded sharply. “I’ve got something I want you to see.”

He was back in a moment, and tossed a slim book down beside her on the sofa.

“I have no idea what’s in that,” Chase said. “I took it out of your mother’s trunk after she left the room, and I forgot to give it to her. It may just be nonsense—or it may not. Look through it, Jessie. See for yourself what a woman like Rachel would have to write about.”

Chase walked out of the room, leaving Jessie alone. She picked up the book, then angrily tossed it away. She didn’t care. It would be nothing but lies, anyway. No, Rachel wouldn’t write lies, not to herself, not in a diary. The book was meant for her eyes only.

Jessie stared at the book, then quickly picked it up.


Dec. 12,1863. I never dreamed my fingers would heal as well as they did. When Dr. Harrison suggested writing as an exercise for them, I laughed. I have no one to write to. It was good to find I could still laugh, though. My jaw doesn’t hurt anymore. And Dr. Harrison assures me that since my pregnancy was only two months along, the baby shouldn’t be affected. I won’t believe that until I feel it kicking.


Dec. 13, 1863. I still can’t write about what happened at the Rocky Valley. I don’t think I ever will be able to. Dr. Harrison said a journal was an excellent idea, and he thinks I should write about what Thomas did to me. I can’t.


Dec. 23, 1863. I have forgotten what it’s like to have a full belly. I never should have left Dr. Harrison’s care and moved on with the little money he gave me. God bless him for trusting me to pay him somehow. But I can’t find work. My body is still too tender for hard labor.


Dec. 27,1863. I got a job finally. I’m in a little town I’d never even heard of. It was as far as Dr. Harrison’s money would take me. Waiting on tables would be a lot easier if the hours weren’t so long. With every penny I can save, it will still be another three weeks before I have enough to get me to Jessica.


Dec. 30,1863. How can I write about this? But why not? What is being raped by a drunken old man compared to being beaten nearly to death by the man I love? This man was one of the customers, at least I think he was. He was waiting for me outside the restaurant. Thank God it was over so quickly. Am I becoming immune to pain?


Jan. 18,1864. It is taking longer to leave here than I’d anticipated. The baby’s first kick startled me so that I dropped a stack of dishes. I have to pay for them. But the baby kicked! Thank God Thomas didn’t kill his son!


Jan. 26,1864. God help me, but I’m beginning to hate Thomas. It wasn’t enough that he beat me and kicked me out for no reason, not caring whether I lived or died. But now he’s taken Jessica from me. The only thing waiting for me at her school was a letter from Thomas that he’s divorcing me and he’ll kill me if I try to see Jessica, ever. He took her out of school more than three months ago. Jeb must have told him I survived the beating. He would have left Jessica in school otherwise. What can I do now?


Feb. 8,1864. I think Jonathan Ewing may have saved my life. I’ve never met such a kind man. With no work available for a woman in my condition, I had resorted to begging. Thomas had made sure that the few friends I had left would not help me. What happened to the man I loved? Will I ever understand why Thomas turned against me? Did he lose his mind?


Jessie ran from the room with the journal clasped to her breast.

Chapter 39

THE Union Pacific was late. Otherwise, Rachel and Billy would have missed the train. Their trunks were loaded, and boarding had begun. Rachel was waiting on the platform while Billy had a few last words with Jeb. She was trying not to think about leaving the ranch, leaving the Rocky Valley again.

“Mother!”

Rachel froze. That wasn’t Billy’s voice. She saw the Appaloosa halting at the end of the platform, and recognized the rider. Jessie sat on her horse and stared at Rachel for a moment before jumping down from Blackstar.