Heart of a Dove (38 page)

“Sam kicked me,” I said, low.

Sawyer’s face was severe with fury at my words. His fingers shifted to my side and explored along my ribs. After a moment he said, “I have more experience with broken bones, and I don’t think…I don’t think anything is broken, sweetheart, just bruised.” He was getting worked up again, his eyes fierce, overspilling with tears. “I would kill them a thousand times over for this, for hurting you. Oh God, why wasn’t I there?”

“You’re here now,” I whispered. “Nothing hurt me as much as thinking that you had been shot, Sawyer, nothing else could hurt me when I thought that. Come here, please, oh please…”

Immediately he bent forward and encased me in his arms. He kissed my temples, my hair. He whispered, “Night before last, they stole the horses, I’m ashamed to admit. Whistler jerked free and came back, though one of the bastards shot at her. Nicked her hide but she’s a tough girl. I knew something was terribly wrong and I rode as hard as I could to get back to you and Gus. I’m so sorry I didn’t get to you faster, Lorie, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re here now,” I whispered again, heart throbbing against his chest. I put my hand over his heart, which beat hard and strong on my palm, absorbing this evidence of him hale and whole before me.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, and we’ll leave this place,” he said. “There’s a creek just there, I’ll be right back.”

Sawyer extracted linens from his saddlebag. He disappeared momentarily into the dark night and my heart seized, but Whistler stayed with me, her kind, steady brown eyes upon me, and I calmed a little. Then my eyes ranged to the tent and I saw Sam’s body, sprawled on its back. Blood had pooled beneath him and I turned my face away. Sawyer returned, falling to his knees, and used the damp cloth on the insides of my thighs.

“You’re saddle-burned, honey,” he whispered, his fingers trailing over the welts along my flesh.

With utmost care he cleaned away the blood from between my legs. He hurried back to the creek to rinse it before moving up my body, over my belly. He lifted my shift higher and his jaw clenched as he said, “There’s a b…” his voice cracked and he drew a harsh breath before he said raggedly, “There’s a bite mark on your breast, Lorie, oh God, I will fucking kill them, I will fucking rip them to shreds—”

I drew myself to my elbows, concerned at the passionate anger that transformed his face. I knew it would do no good at this moment to remind him that he had indeed killed them, that they were as dead as could be. I reached for him and he caught me close, shuddering with his rage, his deep voice shaking as he repeated, “I’m so sorry, Lorie, I’m so sorry.”

At last he calmed and I held him close as I said, “He bit me this morning, before they saw…” I gulped. I whispered, “They would have used me, I know it, but for the baby. Angus’s baby, he saved me from it, Sawyer, the poor little baby, he saved me from them. They left me alone when they saw I was bleeding…”

He stroked my face and kissed my tears. His beautiful, tortured eyes held mine as he whispered, “Can you ever forgive me?”

“Sawyer,” I whispered, my arms around his neck, my hands in his hair. “You’re alive. If you’d been killed, I would never have forgiven myself.”

He said intently, “You are mine and I am yours, and I never should have ridden away from you.
Mo mhuirnín milis
, my Lorie, I will never ride away again. Do you understand me?”

I nodded and he said, “I know you’re hurting, honey, I know, but we have to ride. Can you ride with me?”

“You’re alive,” I whispered again. “I can do anything.”

Sawyer padded the saddle with a thick blanket.

I leaned against Whistler, letting my forehead rest upon her neck, hugging her and whispering to her. If she hadn’t broken free from Jack, I would no doubt be dead right now. I inspected the shallow gash over her right rump, tracing it gently with my fingertips. Behind me, I could hear Sawyer as he moved through their camp. His voice was low as it came back to me, and he asked, “Lorie, what happened here?”

I looked over my shoulder to see him studying Sam’s body in the dying fire.

He added, “I shot him, but he’s been stabbed.”

“That’s Sam,” I said, almost tonelessly. “I stabbed him. An arrowhead. I found it earlier today.”

“You are an incredible woman,” he said, after my words had been given a moment to register. “Incredible and brave, Lorie.”

I closed my eyes and leaned back against Whistler’s hide. Sawyer worked with efficiency, jogging to collect his Winchester, kicking dirt over the last of the fire. He freed all of the horses, though kept only our three, walking them to where I waited with Whistler.

“Steady, fellas,” he told them, dropping the lead lines as he reached for me. I sank into his arms, so physically and emotionally exhausted that I could hardly stay upright. I breathed against his chest, his warmth and strength, the gift of his arms around me when I’d thought I would never have that again.

“Lorie,” he whispered against my hair, cradling me, cupping my skull to him. He drew back and took my face in his hands. Even in the starlight I could see the intensity of his golden-green eyes. “My brave woman. It’s all right, sweetheart, it’s all right now.”

“Can we leave them here…” My voice trailed away as I unwittingly pictured how the three bodies would look by morning’s light. I thought of Dixon’s hands closing around my neck, the arrowhead sinking into Sam’s eye, and I shuddered and felt vomit in my throat.

“They’re in hell now, where they fucking belong,” Sawyer said, holding me tightly, until the shaking had ceased. “I hope coyotes scatter their bones.” Against my hair he said softly, “Let us go from this place and never look back.”

I turned to Whistler and slipped my bare foot into the stirrup, and he eased me upon her before climbing behind me. Sawyer drew me gently against his chest as he swept my tangled hair to the side and kissed my jaw, my temple. His chin was scratchy with stubble and his eyes shadowed with exhaustion and fear, but he sat as solid and strong as ever behind me, his thighs aligning with mine. His arms came around me as he tightened his knees and Whistler carried us forward. Sawyer looked over his shoulder and clicked his tongue to Aces, Admiral and Fortune, who followed after us immediately, their lines connected to Whistler’s saddle.

I did not look back as we headed north.

“I have never been as scared as I was thinking I might be too late,” he told me as we rode through the dark night, under glittering stars and trailed by three horses. “I tell you, Lorie, even in near three years of War, I have never been so scared.”

His left arm was secure about my waist, his right holding the reins. I turned my cheek to his chest and whispered, “You found me.”

“I will never let you go again,” he said intently. “Do you know how much I love you, Lorie?”

My heart swelled with the wonder of those words, though I knew it to the bottom of my soul. I said, “I do, oh Sawyer, I do know. I love you so. I have loved you all my life, even before I met you. I have been looking for you since I was born.”

He made a sound in his throat, a soft, half-cry, and tipped his forehead to my hair. He said, “I thought I would die to ride away from you. I love you as I never realized I was capable of loving, oh God, Lorie, my sweet love.”

And holding me close to his chest, we rode through the night.

- 22 -

I slept against Sawyer, secure in his arms. Morning dawned heavy and overcast, chill with a breeze that drove smooth-bellied gray clouds across the heavens. Sawyer’s arms tightened around me, and he tipped his head to kiss my cheek as I woke.

“Did you rest at least a little?” he murmured.

I nodded.

“We’ll stop to water the horses and then we’ll press on, honey. I haven’t so much as a tent for us to sleep under, but I figure by tomorrow morning we’ll be back to the wagon. I had to leave Juniper, and Boyd and Malcolm are afoot. They’ll be just fine, don’t you worry. We’ll take care of Gus and collect the wagon, and then we’ll ride to them tomorrow.”

“Angus tried to stop them,” I whispered, burying my face in my hands. “He tried. Oh Sawyer, he was so worried for me, and he tried to stop them. He did everything he could.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” Sawyer said.

“They killed him. Gus died because of me,” I whispered. I had to acknowledge it.

Sawyer said at once, “Not because of you. Don’t think that, don’t torture yourself.” He continued, more quietly, “He died to save you, and he loved you. I know that he did, no matter how much it nearly killed me to admit it. These past days I could hardly will myself to go on, when I was without you. I knew it was wrong to leave you behind, everything within me knew it, but I tried to comfort myself knowing you were with Gus. He was one of the best men I ever knew, kind and brave. And he did love you.”

I pressed my face to Sawyer, closing my eyes as we spoke what needed speaking. I said painfully, “He would have cared for me, and I know you’re right, I know he would have loved me and the baby. But I wanted to die when you left. I thought I would never see you again, or if I did, I wouldn’t be able to touch you or hold you…I wouldn’t have been able to be near you, because I would have come to you, Sawyer, I would have come.”

He kissed my hair again, his heart beating against my cheek. He said softly, “I wouldn’t have forced you to make that choice, I would have stayed away. I was ready to face that.”

“I know. I know that’s why you left.”

He said, “If fate had kept us apart, we would have found each other after we died, our souls would have found each other again. I feel it, I know it.” He implored, “Please don’t feel guilty. I loved Gus too, I loved him like a father. He was the closest thing to a father I’d known for years. But he didn’t love you the way I do. You are mine, Lorie.”

I clutched his arms against me. I whispered, “And you are mine.”

Sawyer said, “I regret that I left in anger, I do. But he knew I loved him, despite everything.”

“Of course he did,” I whispered. “He told me as much the next day, but all I could think of was you, going away from me. I could feel you, sense your thoughts.”

He rested his chin atop my head before he replied, “I could sense you too, sweetheart, and it nearly destroyed me. I couldn’t hurt that much and figure I could go on living. I left and you weren’t even fully well yet.” His voice was hoarse, trembling on those words, and I knew he was exhausted beyond measure.

“We can stop, we can rest. I worry that you haven’t slept,” I told him.

He laughed a little then, low and with a touch of his old humor. He said, “Honey, don’t you dare worry for me right now. I will get us there, I promise you. Can you rest more? Are you cold?”

“I’m not cold,” I murmured. “I love you, Sawyer, I love you with everything in me.”

He tipped up my chin and my heart flared at the sight of his eyes, fierce and tender above me. He kissed me gently and said, “My Lorie, my darlin’. You don’t know what it means to hear you say that.”

I dozed periodically, more exhausted than I’d realized. Sawyer lifted me carefully down at a creek in the late afternoon as he refilled our canteen and let the horses drink. I was stiff and sore, though I could draw a full breath today, as I hadn’t been able to since Sawyer rode out, nights past. I knelt in my stained dress and cupped my hands, catching water against my palms and washing it over my face, repeatedly. I couldn’t imagine how I must look, bruised and bloodied, my hair a mass of tangles.

I waded carefully through the water to hug all of the horses, breathing against them, stroking their familiar flesh. I pressed my cheek to Aces’ warm brown hide and thanked God that Malcolm would yet ride him. And Admiral, Gus’s beautiful dappled gray. I caressed him between the eyes and thought back to the night he’d carried me away from Ginny’s place. I found I could not think of Ginny without beginning to panic, and so I pushed all thoughts of her away, tucked them inside for when I had healed some, could begin to comprehend the depths of her hatred. I prayed she would never know that her brother was shot dead on the prairie, his eye punctured out.

Rain began to spatter over us, gentle at first and then more steadily. Sawyer was crouched a ways down the creek bank, filling the canteen, and he tipped back his hat and lifted his face, letting the rain flicker over him. I smiled a little, minding my split lip, as I watched; for a moment he stuck out his tongue, like a little boy catching raindrops. In that instant, far to the west, the lower edge of the sun broke free from beneath the line of clouds, sending slanted beams across the prairie. Sawyer looked over at me and smiled back. His eyebrows lifted then, as his gaze moved to something behind me, and he called over, “Lorie, look there!”

I did, dragging my eyes from him, and gasped in surprise. A full-fledged rainbow had been painted across the wide canvas of the eastern horizon, radiant with color. It was stunning, so dazzling to the eyes that I blinked in disbelief.

“I know the last time I saw such a sight,” Sawyer said as he joined me.

I moved into the shelter of his arms, which were open to collect me. He drew me against his chest, so that we both faced east, rocking me side to side as we imbibed the glorious sight.

“When was that?” I asked softly.

“August of ’sixty-four, camped with my regiment. It was evening. We were between battles, and we’d spent the day mending tack and cleaning firearms. I worked like something made of mechanical parts in those days, no feelings at all. Ethan and Jere were gone, and Beau and Graf.” He released a slow breath before finishing, “I was paying no mind when one of the boys called over for us to look. It was a double arch and I stared at it and felt something stir inside of me, felt that perhaps there was an end to the War somewhere in sight. That there was still beauty in the world.”

He could move me so with his words, and I realized that the time he was describing was when he’d written most of the letters in his trunk. I said quietly, “There is much beauty in the world. It just gets lost sometimes. It’s as though not everyone can see it.”

“We’ll always see it,
mo mhuirnín mhilis
. I promise you. We’re together now, and I aim to keep you at my side for the rest of my life.”

I whispered, “Sawyer, I have a picture in my mind. I kept it close to my heart, even after you left, because I couldn’t bear to let it go.”

His voice was hoarse as he said softly, “Tell me.”

There was a catch in my throat as I described it to him. “I see you in a corral, working with horses. There’s our cabin in the background and when I come outside, you look over and smile at me the way you do. And you climb the corral fence and catch me close—”

He turned me in his arms, drawing me against his chest and cupping my face with one hand. His eyes were so full of love and tenderness as he said softly, “And then I hold you to my heart, where you belong, and I kiss your sweet, soft lips and tell you again how much I love you.” His voice was rough with emotion as he said, “Lorie, if you had married Gus I would have lived to my last day alone. There’s no one for me but you.”

I pulled him to me, holding him as hard as I could, though his arms were gentle as they enclosed my bruised body. I pressed my lips to his neck, hating that he had hurt so terribly. I whispered against his warm skin, “Nor for me, but you.” The agony of being separated from him was still raw in my soul. “You were hurting so much, I could feel it, oh Sawyer, I could see you. I’m so sorry.”

He rocked against me and cupped one hand over the back of my head, holding me. Against my temple he murmured, “All I need on this earth is you, here in my arms. I will thank God for every second I have with you. Don’t be sorry,
mo ghrá milis
, my sweet love, never any more.”

And together we watched the rainbow until it glittered into nonexistence, leaving a blue-gray heaven, washed clean.

Whistler carried
us through the night. I told Sawyer that we should stop so that he could sleep for a spell, though he was insistent that he could reach the wagon before he’d rest.

“But you’ve not slept in days, nor has Whistler,” I said, so worried for them.

“Lorie-honey, we’re all right,” he said. “You’re safe in my arms. I’ll sleep when we get there. I just pray that Juniper stayed put. I was so desperate to get moving that I couldn’t worry about him, I couldn’t even bury Gus.” He tipped his forehead against me in the way he had, collecting himself. He whispered, “I wrapped him in a blanket and then I rode. I knew I had to get to you, Lorie, as fast as I could. I spared not a moment for anything else.”

“Sawyer,” I whispered. “I’ll help you. We’ll care for him together, love.”

He nodded, then said, “You rest, sweetheart. You’re healing. Sleep against me, I’ll hold you.”

In the gray gloaming-light just before dawn we came upon the wagon and two tents, one of which was mine, still erect. I woke as Sawyer drew Whistler to a halt, pausing to take in the scene: Juniper grazing contentedly, alongside a horse neither of us recognized. Sawyer moved instinctively and his rifle was in hand before I realized any potential danger. He held it loosely in the crook of his right arm, his left around my waist. Whistler shifted her front legs restlessly; behind her, Aces gave a loud whinny.

The entrance to one of the tents trembled as someone untied the flaps, and Malcolm came bounding out. I began weeping at once to see him. Behind me, Sawyer’s shoulders relaxed and he shifted his hips to set Whistler in motion. Malcolm met us halfway, his face streaked with tears. He put both hands on my leg, crying as I had never seen him, and Sawyer halted the horses again. He dismounted and took Malcolm into his arms, holding the boy close to his chest.

“I was so scared,” Malcolm cried, before breaking free and clutching my leg again. He sobbed, “Lorie, you’re safe,
you’re safe
.”

Sawyer lifted me down, ordering Malcolm, “Careful now,” as the boy wrapped his arms about me. I clung to him, petting his hair repeatedly.

“Lorie, oh Lorie, we was so worried,” Malcolm said against my neck.

“I’m just so glad you’re all right,” I whispered, drawing back to see his sweet face.

His eyes grew wide and he said, “Lorie, you been hurt.”

Boyd had appeared and he cradled me to him, cupping the back of my head.

“Lorie-girl, thank God,” he said before releasing me. His jaw tightened at the sight of my face and his dark eyes flashed to Sawyer.

Sawyer said grimly, “They paid for it, I made sure.” He asked, “How…”

“It’s a long story,” Boyd said. “We cared for Gus, old friend.” He swallowed and their gazes held for a long moment before Boyd said to Malcolm, “Come, boy, these horses need care. Fortune, my girl, thanks be to Jesus.”

Sawyer lifted me into his arms and carried me to the second tent, laying me at last on the bedding. It was my tent, I realized, just as I’d left it. Despite Boyd’s orders, Malcolm came hurrying in behind us, dropping to his knees. He said, “Lorie, we’ll take care of you, don’t you worry.”

“Malcolm, will you give us a moment?” Sawyer asked him softly. “Go and fetch me a full basin, leave it outside.”

He nodded and sprang to do Sawyer’s bidding. Left alone, Sawyer undressed me and then, using the washtub Malcolm had dutifully filled with water, helped me to sit within it, holding my hair over one shoulder, soaping and rinsing my entire body with such gentle motions that tears flowed over my face again. He worked with quiet competence, and then helped me from the water. Malcolm came back to the latched entrance, as I knelt naked before Sawyer in the first stirrings of a warm, humid dawn’s light, letting him dry the dampness from my skin. Through the canvas the boy asked sweetly, “Might I brush out your hair, Lorie? That always calmed Mama when she was fretful.”

Sawyer smiled gently at this offering, kneeling before me, and he bent to kiss my neck, softly, before wrapping me into the linen.

“I’ll get you something clean to sleep in, sweetheart,” he told me, moving towards my valise, still propped in the corner. Over his shoulder he asked softly, “What should I tell the kid?”

I nodded that it was all right, and Sawyer called, “Malcolm, come in.”

He did at once, his dark eyes concerned as they inspected me minutely, crawling on hands and knees to my side. He had a brush in hand already, and with gentle, considerate motions, he swept my hair free from the toweling. Starting at the bottom, he combed through it, inch by inch, his slim fingers so careful. Sawyer watched with his eyes aching with both tenderness and pain, and I reached for him so that he came to me and put his head on my lap, his huge, strong body stretched before me as I stroked his golden hair and he shook with sobs, deep, chest-wrenching sobs.

Later, I slept in Sawyer’s arms, cradled there. I was relieved that he too slept for a time, resting and easing some of the strain of fatigue from his eyes. When I woke again, it was well into the evening, the sun soft against the canvas, tinting the interior the shade of brandy. Sawyer was leaning on one elbow, stroking my hair with gentle fingers, the sun catching the side of his face and glinting over his eyes. His hair was loose. I was still naked, wrapped in the linen, and I moved closer to him immediately, putting my face against his chest, just over his heart.

He cupped his free hand on the back of my neck and kissed my hair.

“Lorie,” he whispered. “Are you hurting, sweetheart? Boyd brewed up a tea for you. Are you hungry?”