Marna (15 page)

Ready to call out to the hunter in a scathing whisper,
she saw Henry squat down and, with gentle fingers, pull
the covers closer around Dove's shoulders. He remained a moment, gazing down thoughtfully on the
girl. Then, removing his coat and boots, he stretched
out beside her.

Hertha's lips curled in a faint smile. Was there another romance cooking?

The next morning everyone except Dove slept late.
She arose with the first sunlight, feeling rested for the
first time in weeks. Her glance fell on Henry, and her
dark eyes softened. The older hunter was a good man.
He had been so thoughtful and considerate last night,
moving quietly and speaking softly. How nice it would
be to belong to him.

Her eyes went blank and dull, Corey would never
allow her to go to another man. She shuddered, thinking of what awaited her when she returned to the
quarters.

Resigned to her fate, Dove bent to kindle a fire from
the glowing coals beneath the dead ashes. When it
burned to her satisfaction, she took the coffeepot from
the table to fill it from the pail. She lifted the dipper,
then frowned. A film of dust covered the water. She
picked up the pail and slipped noislessly out of the
cabin.

The morning air was frosty, and the dry grass and leaves crunched coldly under her feet. Hurrying along,
wishing that she had taken the time to slip on her moccasins, she was halfway to the spring when she came to
a faltering stop.

Corey had emerged from the forest and was stalking
toward her. As he moved along, he slapped at his legs
with a short riding crop. The smile that stretched his fat
lips was ominous with the promise of laying it about
her. Fear knotted Dove's stomach, and she began to
back away from him, shaking her head mutely. He
came on, his small eyes boring in at her. Then her foot
turned on a loose rock and she sprawled on the ground.

She stared up helplessly as Corey stood over her.
Vile oaths spilled from his loose lips. "Dirty whorin'
bitch! Stayed with Henry all night, did you? Had him
between your legs all night, huh?"

Frightened beyond speech, Dove could only continue
to stare up at him in terror.

He stood over her a moment longer, then his arm
came up. To save her face and breasts, she heaved
herself over onto her stomach and took the crop across
the shoulders. Again and again it cut into her back as
she held back her cries. She could hear Corey's heavy
breathing as his arm flailed up and down. She prayed
that he would soon tire himself out. Then finally the
crop's tip caught her across the cheek, and her agonized
scream cut through the morning stillness.

"Shut your mouth, you stupid bitch," Corey panted,
reaching down and jerking her to her feet. Giving her a
push that sent her reeling, he grated out, "Get yourself
into my blankets and be prepared for a ridin' you'll
never forget" The whip came out, curling around her
legs. "I just may ride the life out of you this time," he
threatened, lashing at her again.

Dove's smarting, welted shoulders drooped wearily.
She moved woodenly toward her punishment, the small
whip playing about her.

They were almost to the big pine when, like a clap of
thunder, the cabin door banged open. Dove looked over
her shoulder, and hope stirred in her breast. Henry's
burly figure had bounced onto the porch, his fringe of
hair standing out from his head Close behind him came
the thin frame of Hertha.

Dove made a whimpering sound in her throat and
darted around Corey, into Henry's arms. Her eyes were
wild with pain and terror. Henry held her for just a
moment.

Corey's eyes widened at Henry's action, and he
yelled out angrily, "Hand that bitch over to me, Henry.
You know she belongs to me."

Henry slowly disengaged himself from Dove and put
her behind him. He loosened the knife at his belt and
started a slow, careful walk toward Corey. "You bastard," he snarled. "Dove belongs to no one, much less
you. I wouldn't allow you to own a mangy dog."

Corey laughed, a small nervous sound. "Are we
gonna fight over a red whore, Henry?" he whined in his
nasal voice. "There's no need to squabble over her.
You know I'll share her with you anytime you want"

Henry stood before him on firmly planted feet His
chin jutting out, he growled dangerously low, "I
wouldn't share the same air with you, Corey, so get the
hell out of here."

Corey made a feeble gesture toward his knife, blustering loudly, "I'm not talon' kindly to your words,
Henry. But I'll forget about them if you hand Dove
over to me right now."

The defiance in Corey's voice did not match the
wavering in his eyes, and Henry's lips took on an
amused smile. When Corey opened his mouth to speak
again, Henry's hard fist lashed out, catching the bully in
the throat.

Corey's body went limp, and he crashed to the
ground.

Henry stood over him, his fists clenched. "You
gonna leave Dove alone?" he asked quietly.

Corey, his eyes glazed, made a grunting sound of
assent.

But when Henry put his arm around Dove's waist
and led her to the waiting Hertha, Corey's eyes promised vengeance.

Back in the cabin Hertha gently eased the tattered
shift down to Dove's waist The tawny back and
shoulders were criss-crossed with long, angry-looking
welts. The whip had drawn blood in several places, and
Dove winced when Henry drew his fingers over them
lightly.

He swore softly. "I think 1' 11 go back and knife the
bastard after all."

Dove's hand flew out to stop him. "Let him go,
Henry. I'm satisfied that I'll never have to be around
him again." She looked up at the hunter and smiled
shyly. "Dove would be happy to be your squaw,
Henry."

Hertha's sharp eyes caught the pleased, red flush that
spread over Henry's face. She moved across the room
and pretended to be busy. But she could make out his
words as he assured Dove that he would be pleased and
honored to have her for his woman. As he gently
washed her back, he said to Dove excitedly, "Once
Matt gets back and his womenfolk don't need me anymore, I'll build us our own cabin. I'm not gonna have
you waitin' on them other fellers."

Together, they made plans as Henry rubbed Hertha's
curing salve into the welted back.

Hertha's eyes twinkled. She knew the two would like
to be alone. Henry would, at any rate. She walked back
to the table and suggested casually, "Henry, why don't
you hang a blanket across one end of the room so that
Dove can have some privacy when she rests."

Henry shot her a sheepish, grateful look, and Dove
lowered her lids to hide the pleased gleam in her eyes.

Henry lost no time in preparing the makeshift room.
He grabbed up two blankets, and with some wooden
pegs left over from building the cabin, attached them to
the rafters. It formed a cozy nook, and his grin widened.
Replacing the poker he had used as a hammer, he
turned to Hertha. "Do you suppose we...Dove could
use Marna's pallet?"

Hertha nodded, and he hurried to Marna's room and
gathered up the blankets and cedar boughs. The
blanketed walls moved in and out as he worked,
straightening out the bedding. He returned to the fire
then and almost brusquely inquired, "Dove, would you
like to lay down now?"

Dove's soft eyes looked up at him, a smile curving
her lips as she nodded her head. Holding the shift
across her breasts, she rose and disappeared behind the
cloth wall.

Hertha shot Henry a fast look from the corner of her
eyes. How long would it take him to find an excuse to
follow the girl? she wondered.

It came in a short time. Clearing his throat nervously
a couple of times, he muttered that he would see if
Dove needed anything. It seemed to Hertha that almost
immediately the sound of soft thumps were coming
from the corner. She grinned. It sounded as though
Henry had already found something that Dove needed.

She turned to lay some wood on the fire and was
startled to see Marna leaning on an elbow, watching
her.

"Why, honey, when did you wake up?"

"A few minutes ago. Why are those blankets hanging
in the corner?"

"Henry put them up for Dove. They'll be stayin' with
you for a while, and they needed some privacy."

A frown gathered across Marna's forehead. "How
long a while?" she asked suspiciously.

Hertha poked nervously at the fire. "Just a short
time. Until you get on your feet"

There was a long silence from the bed, and Hertha
was hopeful that no more would be said on the subject
She dreaded the time when she must tell Marna that
Matt was gone.

But over the snapping of the fire, Marna's voice
came quiet and deadened. "Matt has left me, hasn't
he?"

The last two words ended in a quiver, and Hertha
hastened to the bed. She sat down and smoothed the
silky hair away from the smudged brow. "He'll be back,
honey. Right now he thinks he's doin' the right thing.
But he'll be back to you, you'll see."

A sharp, agonized sob raked through Marna. She
had been so sure she hated Matt. The scornful words he
hurled at her had cut her to the heart. But that was
eons ago, it seemed, and his hateful words were forgotten. He was the only man she would ever love.

She stared vacantly before her. Why had she listened
to Grandma? She should have washed her face. A husband had a right to see his wife as attractive as possible. She and Grandma had asked too much of him.

Her words muffled through her tears, she declared,
"He won't be back, Grandma. He couldn't stand my
ugliness, so there's nothing to bring him back."

Hertha took the cold, quivering hands into hers and
held them still. "You're mistaken, Marna. Your sweetness and goodness will draw him back."

Marna's short laugh was bitter, as she painfully
swung her feet to the floor. "I never showed him any
sweetness. All I ever did was boss and nag him while he
was building the cabin."

"Nevertheless, he built it the way you wanted it,
didn't he? And what about this fine bed he bought for
you? And look at that big mirror over there on the wall.
Isn't that proof that he has some regard for you?"

Marna swung fascinated eyes from the bed to the
mirror. But the mirror reflected her image too clearly, and with a groan, part anger and part despair, she covered her face with her hands. "Oh, Grandma, I look so
awful."

"Honey, don't fret about that," Hertha exclaimed,
putting her arms around her. "We can take care of your
looks. As soon as you're on your feet and gettin'
around, we'll start redoin' you. When Mr. Matt Barton
returns home, he's gonna be in for a big surprise."

Hertha's voice was flat with satisfaction, and Marna
glanced at her curiously. Grandma seemed angry with
Matt. But, more interested in her promised good looks,
she dismissed the thought. Doubtfully, she asked,
"Grandma, do you really think that soap and water will
make that much difference?"

"You'll see," Hertha assured her. "Now how about
some breakfast? The more you eat, the faster you'll
mend." She tweaked the short, straight nose. "And the
quicker we can get on with beautifying you."

Caught up in Hertha's enthusiasm, Marna smiled
eagerly. "Yes, yes. I am hungry."

She eased back down on her side and watched
Hertha bustle around the fire and table while biscuits
browned in the oven, salt pork sizzled in a skillet, and
coffee brewed in the pot. She smiled, happy to have
Grandma taking care of her again.

Mama fell to studying the big, handsome bed, rearing back her head to peer at the sturdy headboard. The
wood was as shiny as dark silk, and hand-carved roses
twined down the posts. Where in the world had Matt
found it? she wondered. It must have cost him dearly.
Could Grandma be right? Did he maybe care for her?

Thinking back on their times spent together and the
harsh words spoken between them, her old doubts
quickly returned. Of course her husband didn't care for
her. He was merely proud and wanted to provide the
best for her. It was of no importance that he didn't love his wife. It only mattered that he could point and say,
"Look how well Matt Barton takes care of his wife."

Her vision blurred with tears. Her husband would
never come back. She was foolish for thinking that he
would.

Matt's stallion had taken its own pace as they left the
cabin, easily traveling the familiar trail in the darkness.
With his mind on Marna, Matt gave no thought to
directing the horse.

At first Matt had some doubts about whether he was
right to leave Marna. But then he thought of her stiffening up and rejecting him, and he became firmly convinced that she hated him. He decided to head for an
outpost in the Ohio Valley where the Monongahela and
Allegheny rivers joined to form the broad Ohio. He had
heard that the rivers teemed with beaver.

After about a week of riding, Matt reached his destination. He found that the area abounded with caves.
Some were small, hardly large enough for a small animal to crawl into, while others were the size of a small
cabin. An idea took hold of him, and as he rode
through the forest, he kept the sound of the river within
hearing as his eyes searched intently.