River Song (21 page)

Martha shook her head. "All that thunder like to
scared
the hides off them cattle. Pa and the boys are out
roundin
' 'em up.
Should be back anytime now."

"I've got a problem, Ma. Rosie's dead."

"Oh, Lord, girl."
Martha took her daughter's hand,
then
turned to Sean. "Excuse us, please. I gotta help Eileen change into some dry things. Be right back."

"Take your time. I'm going to be awhile thawing out."

After the women disappeared, Sean's brow furrowed. Although her features were completely different than Eileen's, Mrs. Hobbs had some of her daughter's expressions, especially the look of fear in her tired eyes. What frightened them so? This untamed land with its ever-changing
weather and
bands of hostile Indians and outlaws marauding through the dark nights? Or was it something deeper, more personal. Mrs. Hobbs looked to be at least sixty, but his experience and just a hint of
a springtime
in her eyes, told Sean she was probably no older than thirty-five, yet closer to old age than youth.

Hushed, excited voices finally stilled, and when the two women returned to the room their expressions were no less anxious, their voices still muted and cautious. Eileen moved up beside Sean and said, "Ma says you can spend the night in the barn. We have an extra blanket, but I'm afraid I can't offer you a change of clothes."

"I'm drying out just fine. Thanks."

Sean's gaze followed her to the stove where she joined her mother in the food preparation for the evening. She had changed into a simple grey plaid dress, but left her mesmerizing hair uncovered and tied it at the back of her neck with a pink ribbon.

How long, Sean suddenly wondered, before that glossy mane of fire turned dull and lifeless, and her fragile beauty withered like rose petals in the desert sun? Already her delicate hands—beautiful hands that deserved to be kissed and pampered instead of plunged into boiling water and harsh soaps—showed signs of overwork and neglect.

The sounds of approaching riders turned his attention to the door. Sean slowly turned, warming and drying his backside, as he waited to meet the rest of her family.

After several minutes, the door banged open and Daniel Hobbs charged through it. "Ain't that gal back
yet?"
he demanded at the same moment he saw her standing at the stove.
"Well, if
yer
here, where the hell's Rosie?
And where'd that old mule come from?"

"Hello, Pa. I had some trouble coming home from the Parsons'."
Her voice quiet and more timid than ever, she sidestepped towards the fire.
"Mr. Callahan here saved me from a terrible flash flood." Turning to Sean, then back to her father again, she said, "This is my pa, Dan Hobbs."

"Nice to meet you, sir."
Sean started to cross the room to greet the man, but Dan advanced on Eileen, ignoring the fact he had a stranger in his house.

"You still haven't told me where Rosie is, girl."

Eileen withered under his gaze and backed into the wall.

"Pa, I'm sorry, but she fell in a hole and she broke her leg.”

"Rosie's
daid
?" he bellowed.

"There was nothing I could do, Pa. I swear, she just—"

"You kilt my best brood mare?" Dan stomped towards the frightened girl, his small eyes gleaming with rage. "I'll make sure you never ruin a horse again."

Martha Hobbs stepped between her husband and daughter, pleading, "Dan, we got company.
Cain't
this wait
'til later?"

Halting, the thick-
chested
farmer turned in Sean's direction, then spat a wad of tobacco juice across the room. "I don't see
no
company. I see an
injun
."

"Dan, please." Martha's hands twisted back and forth, and she took a tentative step towards her husband. "Mr. Callahan saved Eileen's life. I asked him to stay for supper and said he could sleep the night in the barn."

"Did
ya
now?" Dan Hobbs put his fists on his hips and ambled over by the fire. He scrutinized Sean as if he were checking a side of beef for spoilage, then removed a hunting knife from the leather sheath at his hip. Picking his teeth with the tip, he continued to look Sean up and down. Finally stopping directly in front of his guest, Dan laid the blade of the knife against Sean's chest.

Squinting
his eyes until they were no bigger than peas, Dan said, "I'd be a damn sight more hospitable if you'd saved Rosie instead, stranger. But since you chose to save the girl, why don't you just tell me all about it."

Dan inched the knife towards Sean's throat, cutting off any thoughts of reply.

"You and her been out on that trail alone
fer
some time. What kind of no good you and that little gal been up to?"

 
CHAPTER
EIGHT

His eyes dangerously dark and murky, Sean moved quickly and encircled the old man's wrist with fingers of steel. Holding some of his strength in reserve, he slowly bent Dan's hand backwards until the knife clattered to the floor.

Keeping his grip on the farmer, his lip curled and his tone deepened as he said, "
Sorry
about the horse. It couldn't be saved, so I put it out of its misery."

Still painfully squeezing Dan's wrist, Sean propelled him backwards until his knees caught the edge of the chair. With a none-too-gentle push, he encouraged Eileen's father to take a seat, then gripped the armrests and hovered over the suddenly nervous man.

"If I hadn't stumbled across Eileen when I did," Sean explained through tense jaws, "she would have been swept away in a flash flood. Maybe you'd have preferred she had and maybe you wouldn't. That's none of my business
What
is
my business is you suggesting I did anything more than put her on my horse and bring her back home to you."

Sean released his grip on the chair and straightened. "If you have any doubts about what happened after I found her, I suggest you and I step outside and we'll continue this conversation in private."

Sean could see the man measuring his chances against him, weighing his anger against indifference, but before the decision was reached, the door banged open and a strapping youth rushed inside the cabin.

"Damn
they's
a chill in the air," he complained as he hurried over to the fire.

His arrival seemed to make up Dan's mind for him. He glared at Sean, then spat, "I got no problem
wid
you." He rose and addressed his son. "
Git
the
injun's
mule rubbed down and bring
him round."

"But Pa—"

"Do's
yer
told, Pete." Dan glanced at Sean, a firm message gleaming in his eyes.
"The
injun's
jest
itchin
' to be on his way."

Grumbling and groaning, the boy left the warmth of the fire and headed for the barn as Martha Hobbs stepped between her husband and Sean.

"We
cain't
let him go without some thanks,
Dan'l
." She pressed a hand streaked with
callouses
and cracks against his chest. "Let me and Eileen pack him some grub."

Whatever he saw in his wife's eyes, Sean noticed it was enough to soften the harsh farmer's expression. With a short nod, the angry man stomped off to the bedroom and slammed the door.

Martha turned mournful brown eyes on Sean and quietly said, "Please forgive my husband's rudeness. He's had a hard time of it lately. Seems like no matter what he does, things just
gits
worse."

"No need to apologize, ma'am. I'll be on my way."

"No, please." Martha touched the sleeve of his shirt. "I know Eileen wants to pack some grub for
ya
, let her. I'll go calm Dan." She slowly turned and headed for the door, then stopped and whispered over her shoulder, "And thanks again for
savin
' my little girl."

After her mother was gone, Eileen motioned for Sean to join her at the stove. "Sorry about Pa," she said under her breath. "I guess losing his horse was too much for him. Sometimes he gets kind of crazy."

But crazy or not, all Sean could think of was the deep love and respect his father had for Sunflower, and the certainty that he would never have had excuse enough to talk to her the way Eileen's father just did. "It's all right. I'd better go."

"No." She impulsively laid her hand on his arm. "Let me pack some food for your trip. Please?"

Eileen stared up at him through eyes so blue, so clear, he could see all the years of hurt and humiliation looking back at him. Fighting the urge to take her in his arms and kiss away all her pain, he gruffly said, "Sure. Go ahead if you like. I'll check on Whiskey."

When Sean reached the yard, he stopped and took several breaths. The air tasted crisp and fresh, damp and invigorating, with the hint of pine and juniper flavoring the cool edges—a vivid contrast to the atmosphere in the cabin where the warm air was stale with fear. Sean's fists were tight, his knuckles blanched, when Eileen's brother emerged from the barn leading Whiskey.

"
Purty
sturdy mule
ya
got here," Pete remarked as he gave the reins to Sean.

"He's served me well."

Pete cocked his head and circled the stranger. He finally stopped and gave him a long look. "Say, you Pima?"

"Quechan."

"Key what?"

"
Que
—" But Sean changed his mind in mid-word, knowing he would still have to explain to the boy. Using the term white men had coined for all the Indian tribes along the Colorado River—including Maricopa, Quechan, Mohave,
Papago
, and even some Pima—he said the name more commonly recognized.
"
Yuman
."

"Yeah?"
The boy's eyes lit up. "You ride all the way up from Yuma, did
ya
?"

Sean nodded and turned to Whiskey, hoping the boy realized he was done with this conversation, but Pete persisted.

"
Yuman
injuns
are peaceful, ain't they? They don't
git
all painted up and go on the warpath, do they?"

Laughing to himself, he thought,
Not
since my mother's tribe tried to murder my father and his companions in their sleep.
But before Sean had a chance to decide exactly what to tell him, he heard light footsteps, then Eileen's soft voice.

"That's enough questions, Pete. You'd better get back to the barn and finish your chores before Pa comes out here and tans your hide." As soon as her brother turned and made his exit, Eileen looked up at Sean. "Sorry if he bothered you."

"Stop that."

Startled by the abrupt order, Eileen shrank and squeaked out a barely audible, "What?"

Softening his tone at her reaction, Sean gave her arm a little squeeze. "Stop apologizing for everyone and everything. It isn't necessary, and from what I've seen around here, none of it is your fault."

Eileen lowered her head and stared at his boots as she tried to think of a response to his words, but nothing came to her mind. She stayed like that until the
most gentle
touch she'd ever known lifted her chin.