Heart of a Dove (18 page)

Sawyer blinked and though it was difficult to discern in the fire’s light, I felt certain he had grown pale.

“Never mind that,” Angus said, his eyes making calculations. He ordered, “You will leave us and you will tell this Hossiter woman that Lorie will never be returning to her. Nor will anyone make an attempt to take her against her will, ever again. Or I’ll kill him. Do you understand this?”

Jack nodded, but his eyes told me more than he’d admit; I too knew Ginny well enough to know that she’d simply scorn such statements. No one crossed her.

Boyd said, “Malcolm, fetch my knife.”

Jack began to scuttle away as best he could with his wrists bound, terror evident in his eyes, replacing the skepticism. Sawyer slammed a forearm against Jack’s chest and held him flat, keeping him so as Malcolm returned with the knife. Its metal length glistened formidably in the orange light. Jack whimpered and shied away, but Boyd simply leaned and made a swift, clean cut, freeing Jack’s wrists.

“Go now, before I change my mind,” Angus said, and Jack took one last look at me before gathering his wits, scrambling to his feet and running into the darkness. Not a minute later the sound of a horse whinnying in the distance met our ears, and then silence.

Sawyer rose and crossed the space to where I stood with Angus. He looked at Angus for the flicker of an eyelid before turning his gaze to me; he was close enough that I had to lift my chin in order to meet his eyes. Backlit by the fire’s glow and without a shirt, he appeared even taller and more imposing than usual. The expression in the golden-green depths of his eyes made everything within me, blood and heart and nerves, leap immediately and violently towards him. The force of this urge stunned me, though outwardly I remained still as a threatened spider. Looking into my eyes, he said, his deep voice low and harsh, “I’m so sorry.”

Then he turned and walked into the darkness himself.

- 11 -

Two hours after Jack ran from our camp, I held the reins over Juniper and Aces, driving the wagon as the sun lifted itself into the sky, while Malcolm slept with his head and shoulders pillowed on my lap. Angus and Admiral were keeping pace with the wagon, and would continue to do so, I knew. Sawyer, after his apology, which at the moment I could not think of without growing too flustered, too confused, ranged far ahead on Whistler; Boyd, seeming to have excess energy that needed discharging, rode between him and us periodically, leaning into Fortune and letting her gallop. Against my skirt, Malcolm snored like a saw scraping hardwood.

“Are you well, Lorie?” Angus asked for perhaps the fifth time.

“I am, I truly am,” I said again. I looked down at him, into those gray eyes that held so much concern, even shaded as they were by his hat brim. I told him, “I hate that I put all of you in danger, Gus. I despise this.”

“None of that now,” he admonished gently. “I despise that someone was able to crawl into your tent with all of us there, get to you in such a way.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said, imploring him. “It could have happened anywhere.”

“Sawyer is feeling guilty,” Angus mused, as though thinking aloud. With those words my heart stuttered, and I searched for Whistler in the distance, unable to see her. Boyd, on Fortune, was hardly more than a speck on the horizon. On my lap, Malcolm smacked his lips and rubbed his nose, but slept on. I took one hand from the leather straps I was clutching and stroked his soft, shaggy hair, which I had not yet trimmed, as I’d promised.

“He shouldn’t feel such,” I said honestly. I cleared my throat, upset. “It’s not his fault. Eva would have told Ginny anything she wanted to hear. None of us ever dared to cross her.” Though Eva would have been happy to do so, to provide information that could potentially hurt me.

“I could tell him exactly that, but he wouldn’t believe me. He’s as level-headed as they come in most ways, but in others he gets himself terribly riled up. Has since he was a boy. His mama, dear Ellen, worried so about that.” Angus sighed while I tried to imagine Sawyer as a child; the image refused to form. Angus reassured, “Don’t fret. I know him well and he’ll work it out himself.”

I nodded silently.

Then he said, “I couldn’t figure for the life of me why Sawyer was out of the tent in the dark, crouched down low. I knew something was wrong so I grabbed the rifle, and the next thing I knew he was throwing that man to the ground. Soldier’s instincts. Thank God he sleeps light.”

For the countless time I envisioned what had happened this morning as I stared into the distance. The sky was softly blue as the sun rose and painted the prairie with a thousand tints of gold and brown. What if Sawyer hadn’t happened to hear something, hadn’t woken? Where would I be at this moment? My heart raced along so intently that I struggled to draw a breath.

Angus promised, “Lorie, we will keep you safe, do you hear? I didn’t anticipate this morning, but I don’t believe it will happen again. I would say that the storm has passed.”

I wanted so badly to trust him. I reminded myself that every mile we covered carried me farther from Ginny’s reach, from any remnants of my old life. It had hurt me greatly to hear Jack so casually refer to me as one of her whores, though I deserved the pain, deserved the shame. I had very well been one of her whores for years. I heard myself say, “Angus, you can’t do this to yourselves. You didn’t anticipate me in your lives at all and I’ve already caused you so much trouble.”

It was not that I was attempting to act nobly; I was truly afraid he would reach the same conclusion eventually and I would rather know either way sooner than later. Already I depended upon them an unspeakable amount.

Angus rode in silence; when I dared to look down at him, he tilted his hat back and gazed intently into my eyes. Softly he said, “I didn’t anticipate anything that has happened since we found you. But I must tell you, Lorie, I can hardly imagine our lives without you.”

With those words he replaced his hat, tipped the brim at me, and then heeled Admiral and rode ahead.

Malcolm roused
after a spell; judging by the sun, it was an hour or so past noon. He sat up and stretched, then hugged me hard and said, “I didn’t mean to sleep for so long, Lorie. You’ve been doing a right good job of driving.”

I regarded him from under my hat brim with a small smile. I said, “The horses have been very well behaved. I’ll keep on here, if you’d like.”

He stretched again, fists near his elbows, twisting his skinny torso. He said, “I wish Sawyer woulda killed that fella this morning, Lorie, truly. That fella came to harm you, didn’t he? Sawyer would have, I done saw it in his eyes. You know, Boyd is the best shot by far, but can’t nobody beat Sawyer in a fight. Him an’ Boyd and my other brothers and Sawyer’s brothers all used to fight. But Sawyer, he’s fierce! When he flung—”

“Malcolm, would you pass me the canteen?” I interrupted neatly.

“Sure thing,” he said agreeably, bending to reach it. He observed, “Hey! You ain’t got your boots on yet!”

I curled my toes against the floorboard, explaining, “I know, my feet hurt too much right now. I see you’re wearing yours.”

“I’m sorry I jumped upon you last night,” he said in response, his voice contrite. He passed me the canteen; I traded him, and he took the reins into his hands. I drank a long swallow, and then another; the air was much warmer today, with no clouds to dull the sun’s radiance.

When my throat was cooler, I said, “I wasn’t hurt. And it was good to laugh so. I’ve missed laughing that way.”

Unexpectedly he asked, “Was what he said true? About you being a whore?”

He spoke the word without flinching, not realizing the floodwater of emotion it caused within me. I pressed the back of my knuckles against my lips, willing myself not to choke up the liquid I’d just swallowed. At last I whispered, “Yes.”

Malcolm nodded and said, “Well it’s right good Gus found you then. That’s no place for a lady.”

When I began sobbing, he didn’t understand; I felt badly for it, ashamed at my own weakness, but I couldn’t stop the tears. Part of me was utterly grateful that none of the others were near; though I could see both Admiral and Fortune ahead, they and their riders were well beyond the range of hearing me. Overcome, I bent into my palms.

“Lorie,” Malcolm kept saying. He slipped the reins into his left hand and wrapped his right arm around my shoulders. “Don’t fret so. We won’t let nothin’ happen to you.”

His sweetness and childlike confidence was such a comfort. I turned my face against his shoulder, my hat falling down my back, and only after a long time was able to stop weeping. I sat straight and scrubbed away the last of the tears. I said hoarsely, “I’m sorry, Malcolm.”

“Aw, I ain’t gonna melt,” he joked; his shirt was soaked with dark patches.

I giggled a little, swiping at my nose, wishing I had a handkerchief. I said, “Please don’t tell anyone I’ve acted this way.”

“I won’t,” he promised. He shrugged and grinned at me, his dark eyes full of knowing as he added, “Ladies weep, I know it. It’s just how ladies are. My mama used to weep sometimes. Sometimes for nothin’ a’tall.”

“I’m glad you understand ladies so well,” I said somberly, replacing my hat.

“I surely do,” he replied, shifting on the wooden seat. “There was this one time…”

The hours flowed in the wake of the sun across the sky; Malcolm told stories from a seemingly endless supply, entertaining me so that I was not forced to dwell upon the words Angus had spoken. Though I did anyway. What had he meant? As improbable as it seemed, I could hardly imagine a time without the four of them either. What would be our future? What would we tell people we came across? Four men traveling with a just-scarcely-former whore; that would set tongues wagging faster than about anything I could imagine.

These thoughts were in my mind as evening slowly settled over the prairie. Despite the blue-sky heat of the day, clouds began to pile on the western horizon. Malcolm and I caught up to the horses at last; we’d come to the bank of a river, an offshoot of the Mississippi, wide and muddy-brown, though its rushing gurgle was cheerful.

“We’ll ford and then camp on the far bank,” Angus said as Malcolm drew Juniper and Aces to a halt and leaped over the side like a jack-in-the-box.

Boyd and Sawyer were watering the horses; I hadn’t seen Sawyer since early this morning, and dragged my eyes away when I realized I was staring at him. Angus dismounted and helped me from the wagon, then asked, “How did that salve help your feet? Not much, I’m guessing,” and indicated my bare toes.

“It did help,” I assured him, embarrassed to be again without shoes, like a little girl. “It’s so much more comfortable to be out of them, I must admit.”

Malcolm was drawn to the creek like a water witch and I found my eyes again upon Sawyer; he looked over at me, just briefly, and my heart dealt a fierce kick to my ribs.

“I’ll take a look once we cross,” Angus said and I refocused upon him. “I didn’t get a chance this morning. Would you rather ride in the wagon or have one of us take you over on horseback?”

Again my damnable gaze flashed to Sawyer. I looked away immediately and said, “I’ll ride with Malcolm.”

“He’ll be excited to play the gentleman,” Angus said, crossing his hands and bracing them atop his head. He drew a deliberate breath; the river scented the air with a musky tang, not unpleasant. There were cottonwoods here, their tiny leaves shivering and whispering, and willows along the water, trailing their draping branches; I wanted to ask if we could stay more than a night.

I joined Malcolm at the water as Angus let the team drink; I was relieved the bulk of the wagon kept the others momentarily from my sight.

“Lookit these, Lorie-Lorie,” Malcolm said, pointing; he was preoccupied by the minnows that swooshed in shiny clouds in the shallows. He pointed at my toes and said, “No fair!”

I looked to the far bank. “I could probably walk it,” I said, to distract him. “It doesn’t seem very deep.”

“Can you swim?” Malcolm asked.

I nodded. “My daddy made sure all of us knew how.”

“Good, that way if a snake spooks the team and we get knocked into the water you’ll be all right,” he teased, his dark eyes twinkling at me.

I giggled and swatted at him.

“Boy, you be careful with Lorie here,” Boyd said, joining us, leading Fortune. “It’s an honor to escort a lady across a river.”

Sawyer was mounted on Whistler again; he looked so natural there, atop her. Angus too had taken the saddle, and he called to Malcolm, “Up and at ’em, son!”

Sawyer resettled his hat upon his head, Whistler high-stepping delicately into the water.

“Come on,” Boyd said. “No time for lollygagging here on this side. Lorie, let me boost you up.”

Malcolm climbed aboard the wagon in a flash, then reached his hand down to me.

“Bare feet again?” Boyd teased, assisting me up beside Malcolm and then vaulting onto Fortune. The three of us forded the river together. The water proved to be deeper than I’d thought, reaching to the middle of the wheels. Juniper was solid and steady, though Aces tossed his head and whinnied, but Malcolm urged him forward with practiced motions on the reins, clucking his tongue. Angus and Sawyer cleared the far bank, though Sawyer kept Whistler in the shallows until we finished crossing; the set of his shoulders was rigid, as always. We rolled from the water uneventfully and Boyd helped me down.

We set up camp within sight of the river. The air had chilled, the sun blotted out by fast-scuttling clouds. As Malcolm and I pitched one of the tents, the first rumble of thunder sounded. I was so very tired as we worked that I was nearly useless.

“Lorie, why don’t you lie down a spell, now that your tent is up?” Angus said, as raindrops began peppering the ground. “We’ll finish the rest.”

I didn’t have the will to protest and hurried to the wagon to fetch my bedding and blanket, rolled neatly. Once inside the tent, I collapsed; I hadn’t even found my pillow, but was beyond caring. I dozed, half-listening to the comforting sounds of the men talking as they finished their work. I was vaguely conscious of someone erecting an awning out from the front of my tent; they built the fire under that then gathered around it, just feet away from where I lay behind the canvas walls, and I felt so safe, and so terrified that I was allowing myself the luxury of security. I wrapped myself within it, held it to my heart, and then slept deeply.

Much later I woke to darkness, my heart throbbing, hot in my chest. I sat up with a gasp, reeling for a moment, dizzy and shaking, reaching blindly as though expecting a figure to be looming near. Seconds later I understood that I was indeed alone and pressed both hands to my face, gathering my wits. The fire was banked and the air held the stillness of coming rain; even within the tent I could sense it. And, dammit, my bladder was full. The thought of walking any distance from camp frightened me, but I knew I could not hold it until morning. I rolled to my knees and tilted my head, closing my eyes and listening hard. I could hear the river flowing along, and beyond that the horses. From the tent just a few feet from mine I could also hear the muted roar of both Boyd and Malcolm snoring; I smiled at this comforting sound as I unlaced just the two bottom-most entrance ties and proceeded to crawl outside.

I slipped out on hands and knees and was scarce a foot from my tent when I blundered right over someone lying on the ground. Both a gasp and a shriek tried to rise out of my throat at the same instant; I nearly choked on the resultant squeak. I was terrified, disoriented, my hair and arms sprawled all over a warm body, but he rolled quickly from his side and held me securely against his chest. Into my ear he murmured, “Lorie, it’s just me.”

He released me almost as abruptly, though at first I remained draped over him; I sat up too fast and then stared in bewilderment at Sawyer, yet on his back, a blanket rolled into a pillow under his head. It was the second time he’d surprised me just outside of my tent and though my body was now motionless, my heart convulsed in my chest. He had never spoken my name until just this moment. It was perhaps an absurd thing to notice, but I did. I wanted him to say it again; I realized that I had never spoken his aloud either.