Authors: The Searching Hearts
Dorothy Garlock (5 page)
They returned to the mountains of California. William Steele had seen Texas for the last time. He died swiftly, an arrow in his throat, and his son buried him beside a mountain stream. It was during that first lonely winter Lucas found Shining Star. She was a Crow, a white Crow. Somewhere on the Oregon Trail a train had been raided, and Shining Star had been taken from her family and passed farther and farther west and then south. She had become more Indian than white. But she was not an Indian and she was not white.
When Lucas found her, she was second wife to Running Horse. Running Horse was old, he was not happy: he had no sons. Shining Star hoed and weeded the rough fields, rubbed fur for dresses, pounded clothes by the stream. She had not understood why
other girls went to sleep with the warriors and enjoyed it, had not understood why she bore no children to make her life more comfortable.
other girls went to sleep with the warriors and enjoyed it, had not understood why she bore no children to make her life more comfortable.
Lucas traded a pony and a knife for Shining Star, and she came to live with him in the lonely cabin. She took pride in belonging to the mountain man and in time came to love him. He, too, came to love the gentle girl with the soothing hands and the soft brown eyes who held him to her breast and crooned to him. It had been long ago and far away, and time had dulled the pain of finding her crawling to the cabin, an arrow in her breast. She had gasped her last breath and died in his arms, and he had buried her beside his father. He sought out Running Horse and killed him with the arrow he had pulled from the breast of his beloved. Running Horse had feared Shining Star would give sons to the mountain man, and he would be shamed because he had none.
Lucas rode out of the mountains but returned as often as possible. He could make his way there from any part of the West. The years had not been kind to the cabin, but beneath the tree beside the stream the wildflowers he had planted grew in riotous profusions.
He thought about it now. It would be spring in the mountains. The air would be fresh and cool. He would go back. He would always go back and keep going back from wherever the trails over the years would take him.
The only man who knew anything about that part of his life was Lone Buck Garrett. Buck had wrestled
with him when he was a boy, had hunted with him, had trekked back to the Big Pineys with him and his father, had been with them when they visited the graves of his mother and sisters.
with him when he was a boy, had hunted with him, had trekked back to the Big Pineys with him and his father, had been with them when they visited the graves of his mother and sisters.
Now, Buck Garrett, lying in his bedroll a dozen steps away, wondered at his friend’s restlessness. He had been surprised to see Lucas walk out from the wagons with the redheaded woman. Later, when he came to his bedroll, he seemed to have things on his mind, so Buck didn’t speak out. Buck was not a talkative man. He had never addressed a group of over five people in his life. His quietness had nothing to do with being shy; he simply didn’t have much he wanted to say. He was a realist. He had never held the grand illusions about the country that other men held. He expected to work hard and live hard, and, in time, to settle down. But where? When? With whom? He hadn’t settled these questions in his mind yet. Only one thing was sure. This was his last trip to Texas. He longed for the cool mountains of his boyhood and the cabin beside the stream, where William Steele was buried and where Lucas had laid Shining Star to rest.
Buck was tired of a life among people who held you at arm’s length, accepted you on sufferance because you had a good eye for tracking and a fast gun. He was twenty-five years old, and he had not yet found his place. He was not white because he had Indian blood. He was not Indian because he had white blood. Resentment smoldered in him when he remembered not being asked to stand guard like other men because the whites didn’t trust him. Yet he
actually had more white blood than Indian. Lone Buck, he had become. Lone Buck, scout, hunter, and hired gun. Only Lucas knew who he was. Only for Lucas would he have signed on to take these white women to California.
actually had more white blood than Indian. Lone Buck, he had become. Lone Buck, scout, hunter, and hired gun. Only Lucas knew who he was. Only for Lucas would he have signed on to take these white women to California.
“H’yaw! Hee-yaw!” Lottie shouted at the team as she cracked the whip over their backs. The wagon began to move.
The camp had been stirring since an hour before daylight when Mustang had banged on the iron pot and hollered, “Come ’n git it!” While Tucker had helped Lottie hitch up the team, Laura had taken up the sleeping mattresses and arranged the bedding so they would have room to sit during the day and a place to dress. This would be their place, their home, their sanctuary until they reached California. Lucas Steele had been up and down the line, talking, advising, directing since the camp was astir. He’d tipped his broad-brimmed hat in answer to Tucker’s nod, said something pleasant to Laura, and passed on.
Several riders were now in the trail ahead, some beside the train, and a few were leading strings of mules, obviously replacements for the mules hitched to the wagons. Nothing was said about Tucker leading a string, so she climbed up on the seat beside Lottie and Laura.
The train moved out at a fast pace. They were third in line behind the grub wagon. Tucker leaned out and looked back at the curve of wagons following. The canvas tops glowed white in the early morning light.
“I wonder why they didn’t send us out on the stage, Lottie. I doubt it would have cost as much as outfitting this train.”
“‘Cause they kin sell the wagons ’n teams ’n the rest of the stuff when we get thar, and the profit will pay fer most of the trip.” She gave Tucker a contemptuous glance. She had filled her lower lip with powdered snuff, which was now trickling down the corner of her mouth.
Tucker untied the strings of her stiff-brimmed sunbonnet and took it off. The breeze ruffled her hair. The sun was climbing higher over the horizon, promising a warm day as only a Texas day could be in the middle of April. She watched the rhythmical steps of the mules, each hoof kicking up a tiny puff of fine white dust. The miles stretched before them, endless and timeless.
Laura’s hand found Tucker’s. “We’re on our way, Tucky. We’re on our way to California.”
“We’re on our way. I pray to God we get there.”
“Humph!” Lottie said, and spit over the side. “Ya got a better chance gettin’ thar with Lucas Steele ’n Buck Garrett than ya’d a had with anybody else.”
“Do you know much about them, Lottie?”
Tucker smiled her relief that Laura had asked and she didn’t have to.
“Know of ’em? Both ain’t got no quit atall when it comes to fightin’. Both got enough gumption not to fight if ’n thar’s a better way. They can track ’n palaver ’n fight if’n they got to. Can’t ask no more of a man.”
“They must be about perfect then.” Tucker said it under her breath, but Laura heard.
“Tucker! Are you all right? You didn’t sleep good last night. I heard you turning and turning. I lay awake, too, and listened to the coyotes and the owls.”
“I was too tired to sleep,” she answered absently. And had too much to think about, she added silently to herself.
“Where are you from, Lottie?” Laura asked.
“Indian Territory.”
“Did you leave a family behind?”
“Yup. In the ground.”
“Are you going out to find a husband?”
Lottie spat into the dust, shifted the heavy reins, and glared at Laura, her leathery face grim. Laura sat smiling, unaware she had found a raw spot with Lottie.
“Ya ask a powerful lot of questions, missy. Ain’t none of yore business why I go, but I’ll tell ya and get it settled. I ain’t got nothin’, not a pot to piss in, I ain’t got nobody, not a human. I come to hate these prairies, ever’ inch of ’em—and they stretch a million miles. I got nothin’ to look forward to, and I got nothin’ to look back at.”
Silence followed while Laura drew a deep quivering breath. “Lottie!” She put her hand on Lottie’s
arm. “You’re alone, like me and Tucker. But you’ve got us, now. And we’ve got you. We’ve got to look forward to something. We’ll look forward to California. Our searching hearts will find love and peace in California.”
arm. “You’re alone, like me and Tucker. But you’ve got us, now. And we’ve got you. We’ve got to look forward to something. We’ll look forward to California. Our searching hearts will find love and peace in California.”
Tucker turned to stare at Laura. Her face was radiant with happiness, her lips smiling. What she said was beautiful.
Lottie said, “Humph.” But it didn’t have the same force behind it that it usually had.
Tucker put her arm around Laura and gave her a hug. Suddenly she was almost happy. The sky was bluer, the breeze cooler, the country more golden and beautiful. Things would work out. They were just bound to.
Now that they were moving, she could even watch Lucas roaming up and down the line of wagons without feeling rattled. She felt detached from him this morning, as if it had been someone else he had held in his arms and kissed last night. She had spent half the night thinking about that kiss, such a new experience for her. He had bent forward before she could move, and his mouth had crushed down on hers demandingly, almost hurting her. She had put her hands on his chest to push him away, but she had not stood a chance against his strength. Her hands had flattened against him, feeling the warmth of his body under her palms, hearing the beat of his heart as he forced back her head and deepened the kiss to hot, insistent possession.
She began to tremble now, thinking about it again,
and stared out over the greenish-gold sea of grass, its emptiness broken only by a small grove of deeper green trees in the distance. When Lucas rode up beside the wagon, she looked at him with dazed eyes and smoothed her dress down over her knees with a nervous motion. His eyes, gray slits between thick dark lashes, rested on her face for a moment, then passed on to Lottie.
and stared out over the greenish-gold sea of grass, its emptiness broken only by a small grove of deeper green trees in the distance. When Lucas rode up beside the wagon, she looked at him with dazed eyes and smoothed her dress down over her knees with a nervous motion. His eyes, gray slits between thick dark lashes, rested on her face for a moment, then passed on to Lottie.
“Creek ahead, Lottie. Won’t amount to much, rock bottom and about a foot of water. Incline on the other side’s got deep ruts; try and stay in ’em.”
“Sure, Lucas.”
“It’s a lovely day to start a journey, Mr. Steele,” Laura said.
The gray eyes flicked back to Tucker’s set face. “It sure is, Laura. I’ll be around tonight, Miss Houston, to bring that map. You’ll not be expected to lead a string until we get to Fort Stockton and pick up more stock.”
Tucker started to say something but didn’t trust her voice, so she nodded coolly and looked at the trees ahead that seemed to advance on them. Lucas rode up to the next wagon, and Tucker cursed herself for being a tongue-tied fool.
The first day on the trail went quickly. The sun followed an arc-shaped course overhead and then went on its relentless path until it was a glowing red orb hung low over the shadowy western edge of the world. When it disappeared, only a faint rosy tinge remained to remind them of its passing. Lucas was
waiting to guide the wagons into a loose circle for the night.
waiting to guide the wagons into a loose circle for the night.
Lottie pulled the mules to a halt beneath the fanning branches of an old pecan tree. Tucker leaped down, stretched, and helped Lottie unhitch the team. They led the animals to a shimmering shallow creek where they were allowed to drink before they were turned in with the other stock to roll in the dust and eat the short prairie grass. By the time the women got back to their wagon, a fire was built in the center of the circle and over it hung a huge iron pot. On one side of the fire the squat, very black coffee pot was already sending up a plume of steam.
Laura had wash water and towels waiting for them. She had already washed herself and brushed and plaited her honey-gold hair into one long braid with a colorful ribbon tied on the end of it.
“Lottie said we can have fresh water to wash in now, but later on if we have wash water at all we’ll have to share it.” In a surprisingly short time Laura had become familiar with the wagon and its contents, and she moved about with easy assurance. “Do you think that skirt I brought from the farm would do to make britches, Tucker?”
“I don’t see why not. I’ll cut them out tonight and you can start sewing. Maybe Lottie’s got a pair we can use for a pattern.”
“I like Lottie. She wants you to think she’s full of meanness, but she’s really soft as mush inside. Something’s happened to hurt Lottie,” Laura commented thoughtfully.
“I like her, too. I’m glad we’re with her and not some of the others.” Tucker was thinking of the silent woman with the gold earrings.
“You don’t like Mr. Steele, though, do you, Tucker?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Were you mad at me last night for wanting to ride the horse?” Laura could never stand to have a shadow of misunderstanding between them.
“No, you smarty-pants brat!” Tucker used the term affectionately. “I was afraid you’d get hurt.”
“Mr. Steele said you coddle me. I never thought you did.”
“Maybe I do, Laura. But it’s hard not to.” The words Lucas said last night came blaring into her mind.
You’re afraid she can get along without you.
Am I really that selfish? she wondered. No, dammit! I’ve only given Laura as much as she’s given me.
You’re afraid she can get along without you.
Am I really that selfish? she wondered. No, dammit! I’ve only given Laura as much as she’s given me.
“You mean everything to me, Tucker. I know what would’ve happened to me if not for you. I’d be in a whorehouse, that’s where I’d be.”
The tip of Tucker’s tongue came out and moistened her dry lips. Laura’s words upset her more than she wanted to let on, so she hid behind obvious foolishness.
“Well, if the worst comes, we’ll both go to work in a brothel . . . but it’ll have to be one with velvet drapes and thick carpeting on the floor and a Chinese cook and a—”
“You always say crazy things, Tucker Houston,
when you don’t know what else to say,” Laura interrupted.
when you don’t know what else to say,” Laura interrupted.
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