Page 86 of Hidden Fires

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“Yes, Mother. You might say I took the afternoon off.”

She chose to ignore his bantering tone as she did his holding Lauren close to him with an arm firmly around her waist. She could feel her control over him slipping and it both angered and terrified her. “You have some mail, Lauren,” she said tightly.

Lauren looked at her with questioning eyes and took the white envelope that was extended to her. A tiny gasp escaped her lips when she read the return address. “It’s from the Prathers,” she said. “My guardians,” she clarified to Jared, who was looking curiously over her shoulder at the letter. She glanced up at him significantly. He knew the story behind her leaving North Carolina, knew why she would be surprised to receive the letter.

“Open it,” he said gently.

She inserted her finger under the flap and withdrew the two sheets of white paper. Lauren had read enough of Abel’s sermons to recognize his neat, careful handwriting. Eagerly, somewhat apprehensively, her eyes scanned the page.

“They don’t know of Ben’s death. They send him their regards.” Her eyes roved lower on the page. “Oh!” she exclaimed. Her hand flew to her throat. “William Keller is dead!”

“Good. How did he die?” Jared asked harshly.

Stammeringly she explained as she read, “A big scandal. He was murdered… a woman’s husband shot him… she confessed to their being lovers.” She paused in her recitation to read more. The words blurred on the page, seen through a lake of tears. “He… they are sorry now for not believing me.” She folded the paper and looked up at Jared. “They beg my forgiveness and say that I have a home with them if I ever want to come back.”

Jared was looking at her, but he was thinking of the fate of William Keller and not the sentiments of the couple who had condemned Lauren. “That bastard! I wish I had killed him.”

“Someone from Lauren’s past?” cooed Olivia, who had watched the whole scene with growing interest. She was ignored.

Lauren grabbed Jared’s sleeve and shook him slightly. “Don’t say that, please.”

At her touch and remonstration, he snapped out of his temper. His gaze was warm and compelling as he looked down at her. “In a way, I guess I have Mr. Keller to thank, don’t I?”

She smiled, understanding his meaning. Shyly she murmured, “I guess maybe I do, too.”

* * *

Lauren would remember that afternoon and evening in the weeks that followed. She treasured those hours with Jared in the seclusion of the office. For after that day, everything changed.

The next night was the first time the men came to the house. Jared had left early that morning and didn’t come in until after Olivia and Lauren had shared a silent and tense meal.

Jared’s mood was surly and rude. He ate little of the food Rosa had kept warm for him, but drank incessantly. When the men began to arrive, Olivia suggested that Lauren might be more comfortable in her room upstairs. Lauren took the hint. She looked toward Jared, expecting him to intercede, but his back was to her as he poured himself another drink at the sideboard.

She watched from the front windows of her bedroom as more and more men arrived. They came in groups of twos or threes, but they all had the same characteristics. They looked mean, disreputable, and vexatious. These were the mercenaries who had been hired to excite trouble in Pueblo, trouble that would be blamed on the inhabitants of that community.

Loud, ribald talking and laughter came from the rooms below. Lauren saw Parker and Kurt Vandiver when they arrived, and a cheer rose to greet them as they entered the parlor.

That was the only occasion when the mercenaries all came at once. As the weeks went by, a few of them would come to the door almost nightly asking for Jared. He would leave with them and Lauren would hear him return to his room in the early-morning hours. Sometimes he would ride out alone late at night and be gone for hours before she heard Charger galloping up to the stables at the back of the house. Was he holding meetings to plan the attack on Pueblo?

To help relieve her anxiety and alleviate her boredom, Lauren took a more visible role in the projects abetting Pueblo. Her frequent trips to that community filled her committee workers with renewed zeal. The townspeople soon grew accustomed to seeing Pepe drive her down their dusty streets in a buggy. Some of the less shy even presented her with handmade gifts. She accepted each one graciously and with a gratitude disproportionate to its value. If Olivia or Jared knew of or cared about her work in the Mexican settlement, neither said so.

Just as dawn was breaking one morning, Lauren awakened to the heavy thumping of Jared’s boots in the hallway. Excitement welled in her breast when the footsteps neared her door. There they stopped. Expectantly she sat up in bed. Long moments passed. Once she even thought the doorknob rattled slightly. But she was crushed with disappointment as Jared’s tread retreated toward his room.

Flinging the covers aside, she flew out of bed, grabbed her wrapper, and dashed to her door. Opening it, she called faintly, “Jared.”

The large silhouette halted abruptly. Dejection and weariness were etched along every angle on his body. He turned toward her slowly. “I’m sorry I awakened you, Lauren. Go back to sleep.”

She clung to her door frame, her knuckles white with anxiety. “D… did you want, need, anything?” She hated the pleading sound of her voice, but she longed for that closeness they had shared for even a brief time.

“No,” he said harshly. “Go back to bed.” He took a step away from her.

“Jared,” she said with more force. “Tell me what you’re doing, where you’re going. Tell me you’re not having anything to do with—”

“Lauren,” he barked, cutting her off. His voice echoed through the still house. In agitation, he whipped off his hat and slapped it against his thigh as he stared at the floor. Finally he raised his head. His tone was softer, almost apologetic. “You’re my wife, but don’t expect me to account to you for everything I do. Some things you’ll either have to overlook or… or accept on trust. Do you understand?”

Trust? Could she trust him? She wanted to. Never had she thought Jared could carry through with Olivia’s plot. She wanted to believe that still. “Yes,” she answered softly. “I understand.” Silently she begged come to me.

“Then we won’t speak of this again,” Jared dismissed her, entering his room alone.


Tags: Sandra Brown Historical