Never Look Back

  ‘We’d better go back now,’ she said, feeling that she might just break her own rule and cry in public.

  ‘No, not yet,’ he said, catching hold of her arm as she turned back to her mare. ‘I can’t just let you go again, you kissed me as if you wanted me. We can’t leave it like that.’

  She knew as she looked into those vivid blue eyes that she should deny any feelings, brush him off as if he was just one of many would-be lovers. But she couldn’t.

  ‘I do want you,’ she said simply. ‘But if you are married then there can be nothing between us. We must go back now, and try to forget the past.’

  They rode back to town slowly, and James told her that he was due to take command at a fort in New Mexico. She wondered who he had married – his more gentlemanly manner and speech, and his earlier, rather prudish remarks suggested he’d found someone of his own class. But he didn’t speak of her, not even mentioning her name, and Matilda wasn’t going to ask.

  James dismounted outside London Lil’s and came over to Matilda to help her down.

  ‘May I call on you if I come through here again?’ he asked. ‘Just as a friend.’

  As he put his hands on her waist to lift her down she wanted to kiss him long and hard to give him something more than friendship to remember her by, but she resisted the temptation.

  ‘Of course, James,’ she said, trying to sound casual. ‘You will always be welcome.’

  ‘Give my love to Tabitha when you write to her,’ he said. ‘Tell her I hadn’t forgotten her, and send a kiss to Amelia.’

  All she could do was nod. Somehow it said a great deal about the man that his last words should be for her children.

  Zandra was sitting up by the parlour window as Matilda came in. Her old wrinkled face was alight with excitement, clearly she’d taken a good look at the Captain before he rode off, and liked what she saw.

  Matilda threw her hat on a chair, and slumped down opposite Zandra. ‘He’s married,’ was all she could say.

  Zandra didn’t make any comment for a while. She could feel the deep sorrow in her friend, see the hurt and bewilderment clouding her eyes. To Zandra marriage meant very little, her whole life had been spent with men who were committed elsewhere, and she’d been glad of that because she’d had their love, and still kept her freedom to do exactly as she pleased.

  But she knew Matilda wasn’t ready for her more cynical views, she was in the sway of passion, ripe for love, and to her this was another body blow. ‘I’m so sorry, Matty,’ she said in sympathy. ‘He looked so dashing and handsome, and I can imagine how disappointed you are.’

  ‘Disappointment doesn’t cover it,’ Matilda burst out. ‘I’m hopping mad, I wish he’d got himself killed out on a campaign, anything that would have prevented him from coming back into my life.’

  Zandra nodded. It was a great many years since any man had stirred her emotions as Matty’s clearly were. But she remembered how it felt.

  ‘You don’t wish he’d been killed, and in a while you’ll be glad you saw him again, for he was a good friend when you needed one,’ she said soothingly. ‘Why don’t you book a passage home next month to see the children? It will be quieter once the men go back to the mountains for the summer. I’m perfectly capable of looking after things with Mary’s help while you are gone.’

  Matilda nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘If only I’d been away and never seen him,’ she said. ‘Why is fate so cruel sometimes, Zandra?’

  ‘If I knew that I’d be the wisest woman in the world,’ the older woman said with a smile. ‘But I have learnt these things are sent to test us, and for every sad or terrible thing which happens we grow a little stronger.’

  Matilda didn’t speak for some time. She was just staring out of the window, deep in thought. But eventually she turned back to Zandra. ‘What would you do about James, if you were in my shoes?’ she asked.

  Zandra thought for a minute, torn between the truth and a more noble lie. Yet she couldn’t lie to her friend, she knew she would see through it.

  ‘I’d rush down into the town and find him,’ she said. ‘I’d tell him I wanted him as a lover regardless of him having a wife. I’d snatch every bit of happiness I could without any thought of the consequences.’ She paused and looked right into Matilda’s tear-filled eyes. ‘But I have the soul of a whore, Matty. I was never the marrying kind, and I had very little integrity when I was your age.’

  Captain Russell tightened up the straps of his saddlebags, then leaped gracefully up on to his horse. It was dark now, and he had intended to stay one more night in town before leaving at first light in the morning. But he knew if he did he would only go back to Matty, and if he did that he’d be lost.

  He could see London Lil’s so clearly up on the hill, the bright lanterns all along the front of it were like a welcoming beacon, and so very tempting. He had spent the last six hours drinking whiskey, yet he was still sober, but perhaps that was because his drinking companions had kept bringing up Matilda’s name.

  She was fast becoming something of a legend. He had heard about her deals with timber, and her friendship with the madam of a parlour house whom she now had living with her. He’d heard too about the whores she’d taken from the streets and given honest work. One man had said she was known to have given two failed miners their passage home and vowed she’d shoot them if she heard they’d stayed in town and left their wives and children alone for another winter.

  He knew she paid her staff good wages, and she treated them well. Yet she was also said to be as cold as ice if anyone stole from her, or if her girls were found to be offering themselves for payment with her customers. The men he’d spoken to didn’t understand the reasoning behind that, they seemed to think she was foolish not taking a cut in such arrangements, nor did they really understand why she spoke out against slavery, or sympathized with the plight of the Chinese, Negroes and Mexicans who were treated as inferiors by everyone else.

  These men thought her views peculiar at best, subversive even because she was giving other women ideas that they shouldn’t accept male dominance. But they still admired her. Her place was one of warmth on a cold night, of honesty in an increasingly dishonest town, of clean fun when everything else was diseased.

  It had been so hard for him not to speak of what he knew of her. The pictures in his mind of her nursing those children through measles, of her leading her oxen along mountain passes with her belly swollen with child, and her dirt-smeared face as she bent over a cooking pot, were all so vivid, so poignant, he so much wanted to share them with someone.

  He couldn’t tell men who were speaking longingly of her beauty that he’d once caught a glimpse of her naked, bathing in the river Platte. Her belly was just a gentle curve then, skin rosy from the cold water, her breasts full and her legs so long and shapely. Nor could he say how many times he’d watched her brushing her hair by the campfire, that it looked like shimmering gold, cascading down on to her slim shoulders, in a way that brought a lump to his throat just remembering.

  One of the men had remarked on how she always wore gloves, even when she was collecting dirty glasses. James knew why, he’d dressed her hand for her when her nail was torn off on the trail. He’d blanched at them himself, for no woman as young and beautiful as her should have the callused hands of a farm worker.

  Yet he’d been unable to make any comment about her, for fear that if he did the floodgates would be opened and he’d be unable to hold back not only on his own knowledge of her, but that he loved her.

  As he rode out of town along the rutted road towards New Mexico in the darkness, tears filled his eyes. His wedding to Evelyn, the only daughter of Colonel Harding, had taken place last September back in Virginia. She was an ideal officer’s wife, a gracious hostess, accomplished, pretty, amusing company, and she understood that a soldier had to spend much of his working life away from home. While James had been aware that he didn’t love her passionately as he had Belle, or Matilda, he had tol
d himself a marriage based on firm foundations of similar backgrounds and compatibility had a far greater chance of success and that in time true love would grow from it.

  Until yesterday he was entirely contented. He was at peace with himself, and the marriage had partially healed the rift between him and his own family, for they approved of Evelyn. Promotion could come to him soon, and hopefully children too.

  But finding Matilda again had blown that peace of mind away. When he got no reply to his letter to her four years ago, he had convinced himself that any feelings she had for him were purely sisterly, and that she hadn’t replied because she was embarrassed and perhaps shocked by his admission of love. Even the look of fright on her face when she first saw him in the saloon seemed to bear that out. It had been a relief when she said she didn’t get the letter. He really thought he was over her, and that he could spend an enjoyable evening with her without looking back over his shoulder, and any ghosts would be laid to rest for all time.

  But he was wrong. Her face, the sound of her voice, the way she moved, even the flashes of fire in her eyes when she spoke of things she cared deeply about, brought everything back. He had lain awake comparing her with Evelyn, and in a moment of pure cynicism tried to see them as horses. Evelyn came to his mind as a pretty, dainty little Arab mare, while Matty was a strong, sleek hunter. The dainty Arab might be a joy to look at, but it couldn’t cope with rough terrain, jump hedges and ditches as a hunter could.

  This morning when he saw the elegant woman in the green riding habit waiting for him outside London Lil’s, she was so far removed from the old Matty that for a while he thought he had his head back on straight again. But then she had to take offence at what he’d said and go galloping off, and all at once, there she was again, the headstrong, impulsive, so utterly adorable Matty, and he just had to kiss her.

  That one kiss had opened up the old scar so wide he knew it wasn’t ever going to heal again. She should have been his, every nerve ending in his body screamed it at him. He should have followed his heart and gone to find her, whatever the cost. Now he would have to live with regret for the rest of his life.

  ‘Damn you, Matty,’ he exclaimed aloud, glancing back over his shoulder. The lights of San Francisco were blurred now, just a golden haze against the dark velvety sky. For a moment, he was tempted to turn back, but he resisted the impulse, dug his spurs into the horse’s flanks and broke into a canter.

  Chapter Twenty

  Matilda arrived back from Oregon in late July, and rushed up to see Zandra. She had pink cheeks from the invigorating sea voyage, a sprinkling of freckles on her nose, and she looked rested and bright-eyed.

  Zandra had been dozing in her chair, but as Matilda bounded in she woke, her face breaking into a wide, toothless smile. ‘My dear, what a lovely surprise. I didn’t think you’d be back for another couple of days.’

  ‘The new steamers are so very fast. It’s not like the old days,’ Matilda said, going over to give the old lady a hug. ‘How have you been?’

  ‘Fine, better still now you are back. I missed you terribly,’ Zandra said, clutching Matilda’s hand and squeezing it. ‘And you look splendid, even if I don’t approve of young ladies exposing their faces to the sun. Come and sit down and tell me all about your holiday’

  ‘It was just so lovely,’ Matilda sighed. ‘Tabby has become quite the young lady, and so clever – why, she leaves me standing the things she knows about! You’ll remember that a while back she wrote to say an English minister called Reverend Glover was giving her extra coaching? Well, I met him and his wife while I was up there, and they’ve both become very fond of Tabby. The Reverend asked me if I’d consider allowing her to leave school, which he believes is holding her back, and let her board with him and his wife, so he can act as her tutor.’

  ‘Is that a good idea?’ Zandra looked doubtful. ‘She’s a great help to Cissie, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, she is,’ Matilda agreed. ‘But Cissie was the first to say that she thought it was too great an opportunity for Tabby to turn down. The Glovers haven’t any children of their own, and Tabby would get the kind of education which would prepare her for college or university. Do you know, the Reverend is even teaching her Latin! I think it’s what Giles would have wanted for her, and besides, Tabby can slip home to Cissie any time she feels like it.’

  ‘And Amelia?’ Zandra asked.

  Oh, she’s just the sweetest thing you ever saw,’ Matilda said rapturously. ‘Cheeks like rosy apples, long black lashes, and her hair is so curly now. Tabitha is quite jealous of it, hers is as straight as a poker. But don’t get me talking about her or I’ll bore you to death. I kept talking about her to a woman on the boat coming home. I think she was quite glad to see the back of me.’

  Zandra laughed. ‘So how are Cissie and her children?’

  ‘Peter thinks he’s such a big tough man now he’s nine.’ Matilda smiled fondly. ‘I adore him, you know, every freckle on his face, his wide grin, the way he hangs on every word I say. I always feel he’s part my little boy because I rescued him from that cellar, and gave him his first bath, but I have to be careful I don’t make too much of him or Susanna will get jealous. She’s a real girlie girl, all playing house and nursing her dollies, but she can be a little madam too – when she has a tantrum, the whole town hears it!’ She paused for a moment, smiling at the memories. ‘Oh, and I almost forgot,’ she added. ‘Cissie has an admirer!’

  ‘Really! Do tell,’ Zandra exclaimed. Although she’d never met Cissie she felt she knew her well from all that Matilda had told her.

  Matilda wrinkled her nose. ‘His name is Arnold Biggies worth and he owns a small printer’s, but he’s a bit pompous to my mind. He’s already asked Cissie to marry him. I’m a bit scared he might be after her money.’

  ‘Has she accepted his proposal?’

  ‘Not yet, she’s happy the way she is, alone with the children. But he escorts her to church and takes her for walks, so it’s some company for her, and the children like him, especially Tabitha. So she might yet marry him.’

  ‘You haven’t mentioned Sidney!’

  ‘Well, that’s the surprise. You’ll be meeting him yourself soon, he’s coming here to work for me in September.’

  ‘How wonderful,’ Zandra exclaimed. ‘But how did this come about? I thought he and Cissie were inseparable.’

  Matilda grimaced. ‘They are, almost. That’s part of the reason he’s coming. Folk are talking about him living with Cissie. He’s seventeen now, and it’s got around he isn’t her true brother, well, you know what folk are like! On top of that he hates it at the mill, and I guess he wants to see a bit more of America too. Oregon City is lovely, but it’s not very exciting for a young man.’

  Zandra nodded. ‘From what you’ve told me about him I’m sure he’ll be a great help to you here. I can’t wait to meet him.’

  Matilda went on to say how they’d had lots of picnics, long walks and taken the ferry down to Portland a couple of times. ‘It was so blissful,’ she said wistfully. ‘Cissie’s made the garden real nice with a lawn and flower-beds. Sidney’s built the little ones a play-house out there too. It was tough to leave them again though.’

  ‘You could go back, you’ve made enough money to open a shop or do almost anything you wanted,’ Zandra reminded her.

  Matilda looked at her glumly. ‘I really wouldn’t fit in there any more, I’m too citified. Much as I loved being with the children, sometimes in the evenings I thought I’d go mad with boredom. Cissie only talks about the children and the people from church, I suppose she was always like that but I never noticed before.’ She paused, a sudden look of excitement spreading across her face. ‘I almost forgot, I got a letter from Tabitha’s aunt back in England!’

  ‘On which side of her family?’ Zandra knew all the family history.

  ‘One of Lily’s sisters, the youngest one called Beth. Let me get it and read it to you.’ She ran off to get it out of the bag she’d left in the ha
ll.

  ‘It’s from an address in Bristol,’ she said. ‘But it’s dated January of last year, so I suppose it was hanging around in Independence for some time before anyone sent it on to Oregon City’

  Dear Miss Jennings, she read. I have no doubt you will be surprised to hear from me so long after my brother-in-law’s death, but it was only a few weeks ago that I learned about the tragedy, while clearing out some papers at my old family home following my father’s death. I found your letter dated January of 1848 to my parents at the bottom of a desk drawer in his study.

  I may of course be mistaken but I suspect my father didn’t reply to this, because he was in very bad health then. He certainly didn’t tell either myself or any of the rest of the family about your letter.

  If he didn’t reply you must have thought very badly of us, so I beg you to accept our apologies, and also our deep sorrow that such a fine, deeply committed clergyman should meet his death in such a terrible way.

  As a mother of two small children, I thought your offer to continue to take care of Tabitha was extremely kind. I was only just married when my sister and her husband came to stay at our house in Bristol before leaving for America, but I remember your devotion to Tabitha being remarked upon then.

  After discovering your letter I paid a visit to the Milsons in Bath, assuming they would have taken responsibility for Tabitha. I found that Mrs Milson had died two years ago and Mr Milson told me in no uncertain manner that he had corresponded with you and suggested you place his grand-daughter in an orphanage.

  What must you have thought of us relatives? No reply from my father, and such a cold-hearted one from Mr Milson. I do recall in all of my sister’s letters home, especially after she moved to Missouri, that she spoke highly of you and said she counted you as a dear friend, so I am sure you will have acted in Tabitha s best interests, but I cannot imagine how even with the best intentions a single woman would be able to take care of a child, it certainly would prove impossible in England.