Ned stormed up the steps to Declan’s cabin and didn’t bother with knocking. His years of hard, devoted labor had given him a strength in his body that he usually didn’t need to call on when he wasn’t working, but this was one of those times when his muscles burned for exertion of some kind. He kicked in the front door of Declan’s cabin with one swift motion, then barged through the door without waiting.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he roared, coming to stand over Declan where he sat at the table. The young man looked up, almost in a daze. “What are you doing just sitting here on your rump when that kind young lady is nursing a broken heart?”
“A broken heart? Why? From what?” he asked, blinking as he tried to clear his head.
“From you, you dolt! Clara’s already told me how you didn’t even have the good manners the Lord gave a donkey, letting that girl tell you she’d marry you—although why she’d want to, I’ll never know—and then not even having the right mind to answer her! It’s no wonder she’s been crying all afternoon!”
“Margaret’s been crying? I don’t understand…”
Ned stopped and looked at Declan closely. He couldn’t be sure, but the boy almost had the look of one who’d taken to drinking. He decided he knew better, knowing Declan as he did, which meant there was no excuse for his empty replies. He’d finally had enough, and grabbed both of Declan’s shoulders and gave him a solid shaking.
“Have you not heard a word I’ve said? She’s heartbroken, and you’re the reason! Now what are you gonna do to fix this mess you made?”
“Why is she unhappy? And what do you mean, I had something to do with it?” Declan asked, his voice growing louder in his anger and confusion.
“Of course you did! The girl told you she wants to marry you, and you don’t say one word in reply! She’s thinking you don’t want to get married to her!” Ned yelled, perplexed that he had to explain it any further.
“Why would she think I do naw want to be married to her? Why else would I have brought her all the way to Montana?” Declan asked, raising his hands as though the answer was obvious. “I do naw know why she’s unhappy.”
“That I don’t know, son, but you’ve got about five minutes to figure out what you’re gonna do next. You’ve done her wrong and you’re gonna go make it right. You’re gonna get up outta that chair and go talk to her.”
“But you are the one who told me to keep her only at arm’s length, to not be so quick to marry her! I listened to your advice about her, and you were the one who told me that she might be covering up for something. This whole mess happened because I listened to you! So if she’s as unhappy as you say, why would she speak to me? I need for you to talk to her!” Declan said, finally standing up and realizing how grave the situation was.
“Oh no! I done that once, and it didn’t do a bit of good. I got the whole thing straightened out for you and had Miss McGreggor all happy to see you again, and what do you do? You clam up like a school boy at lessons and make her think you don’t like her none! No, this time, you’re on your own. Now, go act like a man and make this right!”
Declan nodded slowly, then went to the door to follow Ned’s advice. He opened it to find Clara standing there breathlessly, one of Ned’s horses standing in the yard.
“Clara? What are you doing here?” Ned asked, coming forward and pushing past Declan.
“She’s gone! Miss McGreggor, I mean… she’s gone! Her trunk is still at the house but her bag is gone, too, and I can’t find her anywhere. Did she come here, by any chance?” Clara leaned in the doorframe to see if she could spot Margaret, but Declan and Ned stood mute. “Come! We have to look for her. The sun’s going down and she’ll catch her death of chill, if the animals don’t get her first!”
Clara turned and raced down the steps, then threw herself up in the saddle with a deftness that made both men look twice. Ned finally smacked Declan’s shoulder and told him to get moving.
“Saddle up your horses, son! We’ve got to find that girl!” Ned called out before running back into the cabin for supplies. He threw food and water in a sack that hung from a nail, then joined Clara in the front yard.
By the time Declan had the horses ready to go, Ned had questioned Clara about Margaret’s disappearance. He turned a fierce eye on Declan and growled, “If we don’t find that girl, if something ill-fated has befallen her, I will hold you accountable. I will see to it that the lawman seeks justice for her.”
“There’s naw a need for that kind of talk,” Declan insisted as he swung up into the saddle. “If we don’t find her, I’ll save you the trouble and throw myself in the river.”
They rode out across the open distance between Declan’s home and Ned’s, then made plans to split the territory. Clara was to return to the house and wait in case Margaret changed her mind, venturing out in different directions like the spokes on a wagon wheel before returning to the house to check once again. Ned would ride in the direction of the creek to see if Margaret had tried to follow its direction. Declan would ride in the direction of town, hoping that she’d tried to reach the train.
Declan struck out from the Jacksons’ house in the direction of town, slapping at his horse’s neck with the reins to spur it on. His mind raced with worry for Margaret’s safety, just as much as it raced with the thought that he might have lost her forever even if he did find her.
He rode on, calling her name out over the prairie, his hoarse cries carried by gusts of wind. The whole time he rode he watched the sun, aware with each passing hoof beat that the light was fading, the temperature falling some. He scanned the road ahead as he called out, looking right and left to see if Margaret had tried to cross the distance by connecting the bends in the path.
Before he knew what was happening, his face was wet with tears from both the stinging air rushing past and from the thought that she might really be gone. Surely, she couldn’t have covered the distance in such a short time, but if a coach or wagon had come by, she might have been given passage. If so, there was no way of knowing where she may be now.
Declan rode on for some time, unaware of how much time was passing. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he was racing farther and farther from home and had no means of lighting the road ahead of him, but he didn’t care. It could grow black as pitch out for all he cared, he wasn’t going to stop until he knew where Margaret might be. If she never wanted to speak to him again, then so be it. He deserved it for taking others’ bad advice instead of listening to his own heart.
A dark shape in the road caught his eye and he slowed his horse so he could climb down and investigate. He left his horse to stand and catch her breath for a moment as he walked closer. When Declan bent to retrieve it, his heart stopped for a moment. It was a tapestry bag, one of its handles coming loose from its stitching. It looked as though it had torn suddenly. He felt like an intruder peeking inside, but he had to know if it was Margaret’s bag.
The contents confirmed that it was indeed a lady’s bag, but when he saw the hair comb that she’d worn the day she’d arrived, he had to grab his middle to keep from heaving the contents of his stomach. He walked rapidly in circles, scanning the landscape to see if he could find any sign of where she might have gone. He looked for wagon tracks or hoof prints to see if someone had possibly taken her, and looked to see if she’d possibly found a spot to rest.
Finally, at the edge of the path, he saw the grasses broken down in a way that looked like someone might have passed by there. His eyes followed the direction where here and there the grass had been crushed down until, at the bottom of a low hill, he saw her lying in the grass, not moving.
Chapter Eleven