Gabriel's Fate Read online

  “The Anasazi,” Juniper repeated. “They’re all gone now ,according to Flying Hawk. Dead.”

  “That’s happened to a lot of tribes,” Gabriel opined quietly.

  Sophie looked at him, then back at her aunt. “Did he say what happened to them?”

  Juniper shook her head. “I’m afraid not, dear.”

  “Did they live in this vicinity?”

  “Apparently not. Flying Hawk came from somewhere around Santa Fe, in the New Mexico Territory.”

  “And he’s taken to riding the rails,” murmured Sophie.”How energetic of him.”

  Juniper ignored Sophie’s acidity. “Yes. He says he has a particular fancy for this train, the Pacific Express, because from Los Angeles, he can visit the ocean. He’d never seen an ocean before he died. He calls it an immense lake of salty water.”

  “I see.”

  “Say,” Gabriel said suddenly, “do you mind if I tackle that thing? There’s something I’d like to ask old Flying Hawk.”

  “Certainly, Gabriel.” Juniper rose from her bench seat.

  Sophie was interested to note that her aunt had finally begun calling Gabriel by his Christian name. Juniper generally maintained a certain formality in her speech, no matter how well she got to know a body. This was yet another bad sign in Sophie’s estimation.

  “I go, too,” said Dmitri, also rising. “Miss Sophie sit here.”He patted the bench seat.

  “What a grand idea. And Gabriel can take my place. How delightful it all is, to be sure.” Virtually glowing with happiness and joy at promoting a match she desired—Sophie would have bet Tybalt on it—Juniper handed the planchette to Gabriel.

  Sophie herself wasn’t thrilled to be talking to a spirit board with Gabriel Caine. She knew good and well that neither the board nor the professed spirit of Flying Hawk—in which she didn’t believe for a second—held no intrinsic power.

  She wasn’t sure about the combination of Gabriel Caine and herself, however, and she’d just as soon not find out today. Today had already been very stressful. She didn’t want to have a bout of precognition or another one of those sudden and frightening psychic visions because she was in close proximity to him. He worried Sophie more than any other man she’d ever met in her adult life.

  At the moment, he was exhibiting no such qualms as hers. He was grinning like Mr. Carroll’s Cheshire Cat, as a matter of fact. Sophie put on her stoniest expression and sat. Dmitri didn’t stick around to see what transpired. Sophie expected he’d be glad to get back to the baggage car, since the smoking car was filling up rapidly.

  She settled her skirt around her, frowned at Gabriel, set the planchette on the board, and became still. A funny sensation of prickles had begun to tiptoe up her fingers and arms. Blast. It was going to be bad; she hoped she wouldn’t do anything embarrassing under the influence of whatever power it was that she and Gabriel generated together.

  Gabriel gave her the broadest grin in his repertoire. “All set, Miss Sophie?”

  She gave him a curt nod.

  “All right, then. Here goes.”

  The tingles Sophie had started to experience very faintly suddenly turned on her and burned up and down her body. They didn’t hurt, but they were excessively strange, and she wished they’d go away. In truth, she felt like jumping up and throwing the blasted spirit board and planchette out the window. She looked directly into Gabriel’s eyes because she didn’t want him to know how much his nearness bothered her. He winked at her, and it was all she could do not to leap to her feet and run away.

  “Here’s my question, Mr. Flying Hawk,” he began genially, enjoying Sophie’s discomposure. “I want to know if the prediction Miss Sophie made about my life ending on this trip is true or not.”

  Sophie gasped. So did Juniper. They all watched, fascinated, as the planchette quivered for a moment in the middle of the board, then made a sweeping circle of the numbers and letters painted thereon. Just when Sophie was thanking her lucky stars that Mr. Flying Hawk didn’t seem inclined to answer Gabriel’s question, the planchette took a powerful lunge and came to a stop. On the “Yes.”

  Gabriel murmured, “Shoot.”

  Juniper pressed a hand to her cheek and whispered, “Oh, my!”

  Sophie was absolutely horrified.

  Chapter Twelve

  Midnight had come and gone, the train chugged relentlessly westward, and Sophie and Gabriel still sat in the smoking car. Juniper had gone to bed a long time ago, Dmitri had appeared once since he’d left them together with the spirit board, and had taken Tybalt to the baggage compartment to do his doggie duty. Sophie was about at her wits’ end.

  “Come on, Sophie, ask it one more question.”

  “I can’t think of anything else to ask it,” she lied. What she meant was that she couldn’t think of any more inconsequential to ask it. She had huge, whopping gaps in her life that she’d love to ask somebody about. Tonight, as every night, she couldn’t seem to open up and ask about them. Besides, it was stupid to believe in things like this spirit board. Only fools who didn’t have enough to occupy their minds, or were too stupid to think of their own answers, depended on such devices.

  While Sophie could admit to herself that supernatural phenomena existed on the earth, and especially in her family, she still scorned fripperies like spirit boards and crystal balls. True psychics didn’t need such nonsense. And besides all that, her own experience with magic and other such phenomena had led her to the conclusion that they didn’t manifest themselves in concrete ways, but rather in odd, peripheral sensations and visions that only served to confuse her, and she resented them for it. Life was hard enough without puzzling visions complicating it further.

  But why, oh, why couldn’t she tear herself away from this thing? Or was it Gabriel from whom she couldn’t tear herself away? She had a sinking feeling it was the latter, and she wished it weren’t so.

  Gabriel wasn’t buying her lack-of-questions excuse.”Balderdash. You’re dying to ask old Flying Hawk questions. You just don’t want me to hear his answers.”

  She frowned at him for hitting on her reason for reticence with such abysmal accuracy. With a lift of her chin and a huffy sniff, she said, “I’ve told you before that I want you to know nothing about me. Why should you be surprised now that I won’t reveal my innermost secrets to Flying Hawk?” She sipped from her cup of tea that had just been brought by a porter who looked as though he needed his own bed. “Not,” she added significantly, “that Flying Hawk exists in spirit on this train. Or ever did exist, for that matter.”

  “Better watch out, Sophie,” Gabriel said with a sly wink. “I understand these Indian spirits can be mighty feisty when they feel like it.”

  “Fiddlesticks.”

  “All right, then, I’ll ask it questions.” His face clouded momentarily. “Although I’m not sure I want to hear any more predictions.”

  Sophie, feeling quite guilty about burdening Gabriel with that stupid prediction, muttered, “Don’t be silly. There’s no such thing as reading the future.” Which didn’t explain her own recent visions and sensations of precognition when she was in Gabriel’s presence.

  She went on quickly, wishing she believed what she was going to say, “Anyhow, you don’t need to ask Flying Hawk any questions. For heaven’s sake, Gabriel, we both know this is all hooey.”

  An odd half-smile lifted his lips. His beautiful lips. Sophie swallowed. Tonight, as they sat alone together in the smoking carriage, Sophie experienced a strange sense of isolation from the rest of the world. There seemed to be no one in the entire universe, save Gabriel and Sophie. “Well, it is,” she said without much show of assurance.

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  Feeling beleaguered, Sophie pointed out what she considered an unjust attitude on Gabriel’s part. “Anyhow, you don’t seem awfully eager to bare your soul to this idiotic board. You’ve managed to avoid asking it anything at all since your first question. What secrets does your past hold? I’ve
always assumed your background to be as black as ink, but perhaps you’re a saint in disguise.” She gave him what she hoped was a wicked smile. “How about you, Mr. Gabriel I-Want-to-Know-Everything-about-Everyone-Else Caine? Why don’t you reveal something about yourself.”

  He cocked his head to one side and gazed at her, that half-smile still in place. Sophie wished he’d stop smiling at her like that. He looked so perfect, so exactly what her insides told her she needed, that she felt a mad impulse to unburden herself of all her secrets, to tell him everything, to ask him to hold her while she cried her heart out on his shoulder. Again. Oh, dear.

  She held the urge in check by reminding herself that the preponderance of the male sex was lower than snail slime, and that Gabriel Caine in particular—because he appealed to her so much—was the last person on earth to whom she should reveal herself. The possibility for being hurt was too great, as she well knew.

  But, oh, dear Lord, was he going to stare at her all night? Sophie, feeling shaky ever since the “Amazing Grace” incident, couldn’t stand much more of this.

  At last he spoke, and she nearly sagged with relief. “I have to admit you’ve got me there.”

  She goggled at him, astonished. “You mean you actually admit you’re being unreasonable?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “And you will tell me something about your past?”

  He shrugged. “There really isn’t much to it. I was the only child of a very nice man and a very nice woman. They possessed a revivalist leaning. My father traveled the country, preaching grace and salvation through the good Lord’s intervention. My mother and I went with him, of course. We acted as a musical accompaniment to his sermons.” His expression took on a wistful, almost regretful cast that Sophie was astonished to behold.

  For years now, she had been in the habit of considering religious folks, especially those who were rabid in their beliefs, akin to her own family of charlatans. Revivalists and spiritualists were, to her mind, predatory knaves, who played upon people’s worst fears and most exalted emotions to get them to hand over their hard-earned money. Gabriel’s simple explanation of his parents’ lives, stripped of any hint of ridicule or censure, didn’t fit her picture. “I see.” She didn’t see at all.

  “We traveled all over the place, so I got to see the United States and most of her territories before I was twelve. It was interesting.”

  “Did—did you enjoy being on the road all the time?” Her own family’s constant traveling had left Sophie feeling rather empty inside, as if she needed something only permanence could provide. But there had been no permanence in her life as a child, and there probably never would be as an adult. She’d believed she’d found it with Joshua—and then Joshua had been taken away from her by Ivo Hardwick’s stray bullet. She commanded herself to stop thinking about it.

  “Oh, I don’t know. It wasn’t bad, I guess. I didn’t get to have any friends that way. My mother taught me my lessons, so I probably have at least as much book-learning as anybody else.”

  Sophie digested that one. She’d never been able to have friends, either, because her family traveled. That, and the fact that no respectable woman would allow her child to associate with a child of the Madrigals. The ostracism she’d been the victim of as a child still rankled. Sophie felt heat crawl up the back of her neck. Shame. It was pure shame, and Sophie wished, not for the first time, that she’d been gifted with a thicker hide. But she hadn’t been, and the insults had hurt her terribly.

  “I don’t suppose the children of the folks who went to your father’s revival meetings despised you.”

  He eyed her keenly. “No, they thought my old man was a good fellow. And they were right. I’m sure nobody would have refused to let me play with their children, if we’d stuck anywhere long enough.”

  “Lucky you.” Her voice sounded about as dry as the desert outside. Irked with herself for wallowing, she asked, “And did you believe as they did? Regarding religion, I mean. I suppose it would have been difficult not to, since they were your parents and all.” Which was a stupid thing for her, Sophie Madrigal, who had rejected almost everything her parents had believed in, to say.

  Again Gabriel shrugged. “I tried. I really did try. But I never felt that kind of calling.” He looked at her steadily, and his eyes held an intensity that surprised her. “I do believe in callings, though. I’m sure my mother and father felt compelled by a higher entity to preach their version of the Gospel. They were honest folks, and they loved their God with passion and dedication.”

  “But you didn’t feel so compelled or dedicated.”

  “Not in the least.”

  “That must have been—difficult.”

  “It was. And it hurt. It hurt me, and it hurt my folks.”

  For the first time in over a year, Sophie felt genuine empathy for another human being. Not, naturally, that she felt sorry for Gabriel Caine as he was now. But she knew from her own experience how badly the little boy Gabriel must have hurt, and she felt amazing compassion for him.

  “Did—” She paused, unsure how to phrase the question. After mulling it over for a moment, she plunged ahead honestly. “Did you break from them, or did you just sort of drift away.”

  “Oh, no. There was no drifting involved. It was big, ugly break.” He looked away from her for the first time in several minutes, and took to staring out the train’s window.

  Even when the sun shone directly overhead, there wasn’t much to see out there, as the train passed through what seemed like an eternity of barren desert. Tonight, since the sun had long since set, the landscape was all black and forbidding. When Sophie turned her head to look too, her sense of isolation trebled.

  Without looking at him, she spoke what was in her heart.”I’m sorry, Gabriel.”

  He turned to gaze at her again. “What for?”

  “For enduring such unhappiness in your family.”

  He was silent for a minute or two, turning once more to stare into the blackness outside, then murmured, “It’s over now, I guess. I’m only sorry I didn’t understand it all sooner. I could have made amends to them. They died thinking I’d deserted not merely God, but them. I feel bad about it.”

  “I’m sure they understood,” said Sophie, who was sure of no such thing. If it hadn’t been for her personal tragedy, her own parents would have died thinking she despised them both. Her heart squeezed painfully.

  When Gabriel turned to look at her, his grin was as near to evil as Sophie had ever seen it. “Don’t lie to me, Sophie Madrigal. You’re no good at it. You know damned well my folks didn’t understand—not any more than I understood them. Not any more than Miss Juniper understands you.”

  “Oh, but she does understand me.”

  She wished she hadn’t said that when Gabriel’s expression sharpened. Because she wanted to skirt the issue of her past, she said quickly, “Why don’t you tell me why you’re chasing down Ivo Hardwick.”

  “I’ve already told you that. Several times, if my memory serves.”

  Drat. He was right.

  He went on. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re chasing the black-hearted Hardwick.”

  A chunk of ice invaded Sophie’s heart. She said, “No.”

  Gabriel stared at her for a moment, and then gave up.”Dammit, you’re not being fair.”

  “I’m sorry you think so.”

  The atmosphere in the smoking car was almost as dusky as the night sky outside. Sophie didn’t understand why that should be, since there were no smokers left in it. Because Gabriel kept watching her, and because she was beginning to get an eerie sensation in her bones, she licked her lips and said, “Well, why don’t we play with the spirit board some more.”

  His grin lifted the corners of his mouth again. It was all Sophie could do not to stare at his mouth. From the all too brief encounter they’d had in Tucson, she knew those lips of his were soft and warm and inviting. If she were a different sort of female, she might just give up fighting h
er attraction to him and accept one of his thinly veiled invitations. She’d never experienced physical love as an adult. Her body yearned to discover what it was missing. Her brain, thanks be to God, was holding her treacherous body in check.

  “All right. What do you want to ask it?”

  She breathed a sigh of relief, not of a physical nature, but of a psychic one. She’d managed to evade, yet once more, being pressed to reveal herself. She wondered how long it would last. “Um, let me think.” She feigned thought. Her nerves were vibrating so hard that her brain refused to function, and she hoped he’d come up with a question soon, or she might snap with tension.

  As if he were on her side, which she knew good and well he wasn’t, Gabriel said suddenly, “I have a good one.”

  Profoundly relieved, Sophie said, “Good. Ask it.”

  They’d removed their fingers from the planchette during their conversation. Now they both placed their fingers on the triangular disk once more. Their fingers didn’t touch, but Sophie felt the magnetic pull of Gabriel’s body. Every time she got close enough to see him, the same thing happened. She feared she’d weaken one of these days. That would be worse than terrible; it might be catastrophic.

  “What I want to know, Mr. Flying Hawk,” Gabriel said with assumed reverence. Sophie knew it was assumed, because he winked at her. Her heart almost stopped. “Is, will Sophie find Ivo Hardwick before I do, or will I find him before she does?”

  She should have anticipated something of the sort, but hadn’t, and she felt the shock careen through her body. Instantly, she snatched her fingers from the planchette.”That’s not fair, Gabriel.”

  He looked honestly surprised. “What’s not fair about it? It’s a good question, and it’s of interest to both of us. Why not?”

  Sophie couldn’t think of an answer, blast it. The best she could do was point out the confusion such a question might produce in the spirit of the board. “You should ask a yes-or-no question, I think, if you’re going to pursue that subject.”She’d rather drop the question entirely, but she knew better than to expect Gabriel to do so.