Claimed on the Frontier (2 page)

“Are you hurt?” he asked, and I shook my head.

“No, sir,” I whispered. He seemed to visibly relax.

He stood back and his dark eyes appraised me. I wore nothing but a thin cotton gown, wholly inappropriate to wear in the presence of a man. He seemed to realize what I was wearing at the same moment I did, and he quickly turned and grabbed a knit blanket from the back of the rocking chair, draping it over my arms. I held it tightly over me as he stepped back.

“They didn’t touch you?” he asked, brows furrowed as he scowled at me.

“No, sir,” I repeated in a whisper.

“Good,” he said with a nod of finality. This was a man who demanded an answer, and accepted that what I said was truth. A man who spoke the truth himself. “Sit,” he ordered. I was more than happy to, because my knees trembled so I feared they’d collapse under me. I pulled out the wooden chair and sat down heavily, wrapping the shawl more tightly over my shoulders. My eyes were riveted on the stranger.

His bearded jaw and deep voice had led me to believe he was much older than he seemed now that I saw him up close, but upon further inspection, he seemed only seven or eight years my senior. He seemed to wield power, sheathed like the claws of a mountain lion, as he sat erect in a chair adjacent to mine. It seemed his scowl wasn’t directed at me, or anything I’d done. For that I was grateful.

I would not want to incur his wrath.

He folded his large, work-worn hands atop the table. His voice carried through the small cabin, low and apologetic.

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but both Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald were shot and killed tonight.”

The news came as a shock, but I felt no sadness. Only… relief. I nodded and his eyes pierced mine, gauging my reaction.

“They meant nothing to you,” he said, almost sorrowfully. I shook my head.

“No, sir,” I said, lifting my chin and meeting his eyes. This man demanded honesty, and I would give him nothing short of the bald truth. “I’m not sorry to hear of their passing.” I offered no more. Though they’d treated me terribly, I felt in my heart it was the better choice to speak simply.

He gave one short nod. “They were cruel to you,” he murmured. It was a statement that held a question, so I answered his question with a short nod. “Not your relations?”

“Not my relations, sir, and no, they were not kind to me.”

I didn’t remember when Fitzgerald and his scrawny wife had picked me up, but I knew from the very beginning they weren’t my real mother and father. Real mothers and fathers did not treat their children the way these two had treated me. At least I liked to think that. But if I ever had any doubts as to the origin of my home with the Fitzgeralds, they were quick to point out that I was under their roof out of the goodness of their hearts. I’d have thought that the cooking and cleaning I did for free more than made up for what little food I ate. But how could I know?

His jaw clenched in a way that made me tremble, as if the power he held at bay threatened to escape, and his large hands fisted atop the table, but he kept his thoughts to himself. A knock came at the door. I jumped. He reached one large, rough hand out and placed it gently atop mine.

“That’d be my brother,” he said. His voice dropped. “Now stay put.”

I obeyed as he stood and unlatched the heavy door.

His brother entered. Both of them had the same wide, broad shoulders, amber eyes, and sandy brown hair. He looked older than I was, but still several years younger than Aaron. “All secure,” he said. “Matthew stayed put, and those men ain’t goin’ nowhere.” His eyes came to me. “She the girl?” he asked.

Aaron nodded. “Come with us,” he instructed. “Daylight’s comin’, and you’ll need your rest for what lies ahead.”

He turned and strode with large, purposeful steps to the door, but before he did, he reached to the shelf above the door and removed Fitzgerald’s long rifle, tucking it under his arm. His last words he spoke were so soft, I barely heard them, but when I did, they brought comfort.

“You’ll not sleep in this godforsaken cabin alone tonight.”

* * *

I followed Aaron and his brother to the barn. The moon was full and the yard bright, the white canvas of their wagon gleaming in the moonlight. The man came to my side and took me by the elbow, firmly marching me to the entrance of the barn. When the familiar smells of sweet hay and animals reached me, I felt myself relax. Mrs. Fitzgerald had frequently lamented the smell of the barn and hated it. She’d send me to collect eggs, water the animals, or milk the cows. But I loved it. I had no friends, and welcomed the solace and comfort of familiarity. But now I trembled with the man’s firm grasp on my arm as he pulled me to where a young boy stood behind a pallet of quilts.

“The girl was in the house,” Aaron explained. “We got her in time. She’ll stay with us tonight until we sort this out in the mornin’ with the sheriff.” He lifted his chin to the boy. “This is Matthew. My name is Aaron, and our other brother is Samuel. And you are?”

“Pearl,” I said.

“What happened, Aaron?” Matthew asked. Though he was many years younger, still school age, he had his brothers’ coloring and stature.

“Bandits, I imagine,” he growled. “Lookin’ for money.” His eyes roamed me briefly. “Or more. Those who weren’t shot are hogtied and unconscious.”

Matthew’s eyes widened and he whistled.

“Lord Almi—” he began and immediately stopped, his eyes growing fearful as he caught his brother’s eye. He’d been on the verge of taking the Lord’s name in vain, I had no doubt—Mr. Fitzgerald’s favored curse—and he paused as if he feared uttering such profanity in front of his brother. Aaron’s lips thinned as he fixed Matthew with a gaze so stern I wondered how the younger boy could remain standing.

“You were right to obey me and stay put, Matthew,” Aaron said evenly, crossing his arms on his chest. “And now you try my patience with curses? So soon you forget the whippin’ I gave you not two nights ago for cursin’?”

Matthew shook his head, his eyes wide. “No, sir,” he said, his voice trembling.

Fear and something else, something primal and elusive, spiked in my chest. I realized I was holding my breath.

“Good,” Aaron said with a frown, giving the boy a long, measured look. “Now go to sleep. We’ve a long day ahead of us.”

He grasped my elbow again, as if he were afraid if he let me go I would run.

He lifted a large quilt from the pile and took me to the other side of the barn where it was darker and cold. “You’ll rest here, and I’ll sit by the doorway so you’ll not fear for your safety. And when daylight comes, I’ll wake you and take you to fetch your clothes.” He pointed to a soft bed of hay. “There,” he ordered.

He handed me the quilt. It was not much different from the hard straw tick I slept on at night, and as I nestled down in my makeshift bed, I felt the weariness of the evening pressing in on me.

Aaron stood sentry in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, as I pulled the quilt up to my chin and closed my eyes. The excitement of the evening, the knowledge of the death of the Fitzgeralds, my concern for my own welfare, and worry about what the morning would bring plagued me. I tossed and turned, almost forgetting the presence of the stranger as I tried to get comfortable.

“Lie still and stop fidgetin’,” he ordered, his deep voice reverberating through the darkness around me.

I obeyed. Though tempted to toss and turn again, my instincts were to mind this stranger. I had no idea what he would do if I didn’t, but I had no interest in finding out. My eyes grew heavy, as I realized with surprise that the feeling I had was wholly unfamiliar to me. I probed, wondering what it was I felt that was new, and foreign, but so very welcome. But when the word came to me, I knew the truth in my heart and in my bones. There was something about this steely, honest, brave man that made me feel what I’d never felt in my entire life.

Safe.

Chapter Two: Rescue

My shoulder was being shaken, and I opened my eyes and gasped, momentarily unaware of my whereabouts.

Crickets and cattails!
I sat up, lifting the quilt to my chin. Matthew stood next to me and blinked, stepping back at the evident fear his waking me caused.

“Time to get up,” he muttered. Standing, he shook his head and walked to the exit.

“No need to shake the damn teeth out of my head,” I muttered to myself. I was still frightened, which always left me irritable and cross.

“I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue,” came a deep voice from just a few feet behind me. I jumped, still draping the quilt about my shoulders, and inwardly groaned as I faced Aaron. He was already dressed, the light of the just-risen sun behind him, his golden head aglow and darkened against the backdrop of daylight. I swallowed, more embarrassed than repentant, as I well remembered his admonition to the young boy the evening before.

“Yes, sir,” I murmured.

He fixed me with a gaze that melted my insides and made my knees knock together, probing, before he nodded, seemingly appeased by my acquiescence.

“See it doesn’t happen again,” he ordered, before he turned from me. “I fetched your belongin’s from inside the cabin. Beside you, you’ll find your garments and possessions. We’ll give you privacy as you dress, but you scurry now.”

If the word
please
was in this man’s vocabulary, I’d not yet heard it. Still, I was thankful enough for the rescue and eager enough to be dressed that I obeyed quickly. I eyed my meager possessions: two dresses, one a faded brown gingham and the second, a prettier but still plain sky-blue calico. There was a quilt that I hated, a ragged, dismal thing Mrs. Fitzgerald had discarded and left to me. And as I lifted the quilt and threw it angrily to the horses, something else caught my eye: my coveted paper, pencil, and drawings had been neatly tied together with a bit of string. To my shock, I felt inexplicable tears blur my vision.

I had hidden my drawings from the Fitzgeralds. Only once had they seen them. Mrs. Fitzgerald had mocked my ‘scratchings’ and her husband had reminded me that if he ever caught me drawing when I had work to do, he’d feed my drawings to the fire. After that, I’d become adept at hiding my pastime. But now my drawings had been tied together with care and presented to me as if they were a prized possession.

But I had no time to dwell. I dressed quickly, righting myself. My hair was long and thick, masses of unruly curls the color of molasses. I would braid and knot it, tuck it in at the back of my head, but as the day wore on it always did have a mind of its own. I’d once caught sight of my reflection in a looking glass in town, when Mrs. Fitzgerald had brought me to the doctor to get medicine for her husband. While she paid the doctor, I’d peeked into the tiny looking glass in his front room. My reflection startled me. My eyes were light blue, and I had a smattering of freckles across my nose and cheeks. My face was round, my cheeks tinged pink, and I had a full mouth. I had an almost wild look about me, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the unruly hair that would curl about my face like tendrils on a grapevine, or my large eyes framed with thick lashes.

As I dressed, I thought to myself that I faced a very real problem. Now that the Fitzgeralds were gone, where would I go? The only reason I’d stayed with them to begin with was because I literally had nowhere to go. What happened to an orphaned, homeless young woman left to her own devices? Bandits and Indians roamed the uncharted landscape, and women rarely dwelt alone. I had no family. The Fitzgeralds had seen to it I had no friends. And clearly, I had no husband.

Gathering up the dress and drawings, I bundled them together with my nightdress and nightcap. It was sobering to realize all I owned in the world was clasped against my bosom, but I did not think long on this as I joined the three brothers by their covered wagon. Clearly, they’d been up before I was, as their livestock had been prepared for travel, their blankets tied in neat bundles, and the Fitzgeralds’ barn looked neater than it had been before their arrival. The brothers were still busying themselves with final preparations, and Aaron stood next to the wagon.

“Pearl, is it? Do you have a surname?”

“I have no surname that I’m aware of. I’d been taken in by the Fitzgeralds from as early as I can remember. I was orphaned.”

Aaron nodded. “How old are you, Pearl?” he asked, as he hitched up his horse.

“We were never exactly sure of my age, sir,” I responded honestly. “I can only make a guess. The Fitzgeralds took me in when I was around seven or eight years of age, and that was twelve years ago.”

He nodded. “I surmised as much,” he said, giving me a chaste but appraising look. He turned to Samuel. “Go back to the captives and be sure they’re still bound tight. You understand?” Samuel’s eyes flashed and he nodded. The youngest brother Matthew watched with widened eyes.

“Can I help?” he said, balling his little hands into fists. “I’d like to wallop ‘em!”

Aaron’s eyes twinkled, but he shook his head. “Not this time. We’ll breakfast before the sheriff arrives,” he said, gesturing to where he’d laid out a meager breakfast of cold biscuits, dried meat, and hot coffee.

My stomach growled. “We have jam inside the cabin,” I offered and I noticed the younger boy’s eyes lit up. Aaron’s back was to me as he heaved up the rolled blankets and placed them neatly in the back of the wagon. “In fact, it would make sense you take whatever’s inside. They’ll only be raided by others. We have tea, and flour, and sugar—”

“We won’t take what doesn’t belong to us,” he interrupted.

His pride and illogical refusal irritated me, and before I thought over what I said—an awful habit of mine—I spoke up.

“Doesn’t belong to you?” I said. “The Fitzgeralds are gone, so those provisions are mine. And it’s the least I can do to thank you for saving me.” It was ridiculous my rescuers were destined to eat dried, plain biscuits when they could top them with butter I’d churned with my own two hands and strawberry preserves made from berries I’d plucked under the scorching sun. I anchored my hands on my hips, but as he slowly turned to face me, I took an involuntary step back.