In Love's Territory: A Western Historical Romance

by Lucy Evanson

  Kate turned slightly, not wanting it to look like she was staring, and her eyes lit upon the bolt of blue fabric again. Now that I think about it, maybe that would do. Now I’m not sure. She glanced to her right. Still no Jake. She glanced to her left just in time to see one of the drunkards elbow another as he pointed down the street. Pointed right at her.

  Her throat grew tight and she could feel goose bumps rise all over her body. The men slowly began to make their way toward the store, swerving and swaying as they walked toward her. She spun around to see what other businesses were still open, but was met by nothing but darkened storefronts. Even the lamplighter had disappeared. She glanced back at the men approaching her. They didn’t appear to be in any hurry. But then they don’t need to hurry, Kate realized. I’ve got nowhere to go.

  She turned back to the approaching trio. All three were dressed identically in filthy denim trousers supporting a thick layer of mud; rough work shirts open at the neck, and heavy boots that were suitable for neither parlor nor church. Diggers. The moment she realized that they were miners, a flame of hope blazed to life in Kate’s mind. Perhaps they work for Edward. Perhaps they won’t give me any problems at all.

  That hope grew unsteady as they neared her, encircling her and backing her into the doorway of the mercantile.

  “Gentlemen, I’m afraid I can’t help you with whatever you need,” she said. “My fiancé, Mr. Carter, will be along for me in only a moment and I’m sure you wouldn’t want him to see you harassing me like this.”

  The tallest of the three elbowed the others. “See, I told you this was Carter’s woman.”

  Her skin crawled as the three ogled her, not even trying to hide the lust in their eyes as they looked her up and down.

  “So you know my fiancé, then,” she said. “Well, then you know I’m speaking seriously when I say that he won’t be pleased about this. I’m sure you don’t want any trouble with your jobs.”

  One of the shorter diggers turned and loudly spit onto the sidewalk. The tall one snorted at Kate. “Your Mr. Carter can go hang,” he said. “He fired all three of us today. Said we were drunk too much to work. What you gonna say about that?”

  “Well, I’m terribly sorry to hear that,” she said. “I’ll go speak to him about it at once.” Kate stepped to the side as if to leave, but the shortest of the three diggers, a rotund little man with a thick mustache, threw his arm up to lean on the building, blocking her path.

  “You men go on now,” she said, not quite hiding a tremor in her voice. “I think I may have some money, you can all go have a drink on me.”

  “Money ain’t gonna get us a drink if they ain’t gonna let us back in the bar,” the tall one said, and the others laughed. “And maybe we don’t want a drink anyway. Maybe we want a little something more.” His eyes were hard and black, like lumps of lead.

  “I’m sure I can’t help you with anything else,” Kate managed to say. “Good evening, gentlemen,” she said, and in spite of their dirty clothing she squeezed past them and started walking down the sidewalk. If nothing else, I’ll even take refuge in the saloon, she thought. At least I know that they’re unwelcome there, so I’ll be safe until Jake arrives. The footsteps she heard behind her, heavy and hollow, started slowly but soon grew faster, and she had to fight herself to keep her eyes forward. Just keep walking and don’t let them see how scared you are. Bullies prey on the weak. You must look strong now.

  She stepped lightly down the few steps at the end of the raised sidewalk, lifting her dress to avoid dragging it in the dirt as she crossed to the next building. The alley was littered with old barrels and broken boards, empty bottles and rusting pieces of junk she couldn’t identify as she passed. She lifted one foot to step up onto the next segment of sidewalk, but her foot never touched down.

  Instead, a hand whipped up over her mouth and she felt herself grabbed in several places, pulled backwards and dragged into the alley. In spite of the larger threat she was suddenly faced with, she at first only felt disgust at the dirty hand now clamped over her face, pressed tightly against her lips. Filthy, she thought. His hand reeked of tobacco and God knew what else, and it was a few seconds before she came to her senses and realized that she had greater things to worry about than the smell. She was being pulled quickly, and felt like the shadows of the alley were swallowing her up as the street got farther and farther away. Filthy or no, I have to do something, she told herself as she opened her mouth and bit her attacker hard.

  At first it seemed like her bite had no effect, although she felt like she had taken a raw steak between her teeth. That would have tasted better than this man’s grimy paw, to be sure, but she redoubled her efforts. Finally the pain made its way through the drunken fog of his brain and he cried out, whipping his hand away from her face.

  “The damned bitch bit me!” he spat out, cradling his hand.

  Kate screamed. She screamed as loud as she could, until her throat felt like it would rip apart from the inside, howling like a wolf, a banshee, a mythical beast. It was very strong, very loud, and very unladylike. Just what was needed.

  The tall one shook her roughly by the shoulders, and she then saw his hand rushing toward her face far too quickly to avoid it. His palm made a cracking noise against her cheek as he slapped her, and her face felt like it was burning, as if he’d just branded her like cattle. Her scream died in her throat, and her strength seemed to drain away as she fell backwards onto the ground. He hit me, she thought. This can’t be happening.

  The tall one leaned in close and grabbed the front of her dress with both hands. He towered over her, and Kate felt as if her insides had turned to ice water, as if she were about to simply drain away into the mud, never to return as her old self. He roughly tore open the front of her dress, revealing her underclothes, now a mere thin shield against him, and he kicked her legs apart, moving in close to her in a way no man had ever approached her.

  Kate felt her eyes sting with hot tears, and she strained against the men who were holding her down. It was useless; they were far too strong for her.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t do this.”

  “Missy, you just be quiet now and it’ll go better for you.” He bent over to scoop up her dress, pushing the fabric up and exposing her knees before his hands dropped to his waistband.

  Kate closed her eyes. Please, please help me, she thought, her only remaining defense a desperate prayer.

  She heard an odd noise, a solid thunk that reminded her of the sound of an ax biting into a log. She opened her eyes to see the tall man falling to the side, looking indeed like a felled tree as he turned slightly and buried his cheek in the dirt. In the gloom it was hard to see exactly what was happening, and it took Kate a moment to realize that another man had joined them in the alley. The newcomer held a weapon of some kind and quickly delivered another blow to the tall one, who now lay entirely motionless in the dust.

  One of the diggers holding Kate down reacted more quickly than the other, leaping to his feet and running through the alley as if to escape behind the row of buildings, drunkenly swaying and stumbling over the junk that littered the ground. The slow one could only look on in confused fear, not even removing his hand from Kate’s wrist as two terrible blows descended; one that— judging by the noise—broke the arm that still held Kate prisoner, and one that knocked him senseless before he could even scream in pain. His grasp on her withered and slipped away as he fell into the dirt next to his tall friend.

  This new attacker whipped around and drew his weapon back in the air before launching it forward, hurling it at the fleeing digger, who received it square in the back and went crashing to earth. Kate’s savior was upon the miner before he could get up, leaping to him almost like an animal, full of an overwhelming strength and speed and delivering another pair of blows that would keep the man not eager to move for a while.

  Kate burst into tears. Silhouetted against the dying light of the evening, she could clearly see the
one-of-a-kind outline of Sam’s gunstock club as he walked back to her and crouched down.

  “Sam, thank God you’re here,” she said, burying her face in her hands as the tears poured down her cheeks. “I’ve never been so scared in my life. Thank God for you.”

  He pulled her dress down, covering her legs, and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief.

  “Here, take this,” he said.

  She nodded and gratefully took it from him, blotting up the tears as best she could, although the thin cloth was soon soaked through. She felt of two minds at that moment. She could have wailed like a maniac, more out of relief than fear now, but uncontrollable all the same; or she could simply set that aside for a later time. Come on Kate, everything’s going to be fine now. Wail later. She tried to breathe deeply, willing herself to become calm, and shortly the tears began to ebb.

  She studied Sam, still crouched there in front of her. Their eyes met briefly before he looked away, giving Kate the chance to really look at him. With his thick black hair and dark eyes, he looked like he was made of the night, like some guardian that had sprung up out of the elements to defend her. And here I thought he was just some farm boy. Her cheeks grew hot at the memory of how she’d thought about him before.

  “There’s blood on your club,” she said, watching as a single drop rolled off the tip into the dust below.

  Sam looked down and examined his club, wiping it on the jacket of the tall digger, who was still unconscious.

  “It’ll wash,” he said. “Everything will wash.”

  Kate felt another wave of tears building up as he helped her to her feet and led her out of the alley; by the time they’d mounted his horse, she was crying freely again. She didn’t care that they rode together, that she was cradled in his arms as they passed the saloon, earning quite a few stares; that her head was nestled against his shoulder as they rode, her tears dampening his shirt. None of it mattered. The only thing she cared about at that moment was that she was safe from harm, thanks to Sam. As she remembered the rough skin of the digger’s hand over her mouth, a shudder ran through her, and Sam held her tighter. Kate felt Sam’s lips upon her skin, kissing her forehead, her cheeks and finally her mouth. She was filled with the sudden feeling that she was perfectly safe in his arms. Things could have been so much worse, she thought. She suddenly felt exhausted, and she let herself drift into a light sleep as they made their way back to the farm. The last words that passed through her waking mind were Sam’s, like an echo: everything will wash.

  ~

  Their arrival back at the house had thrown everybody into chaos. She had still been faint from the unpleasant events in the alley, and Sam had been forced to carry her in. Whatever her father may have been expecting as they entered the parlor, it hadn’t been Sam carrying his daughter as if dead to the world, her clothing torn and spattered with somebody else’s blood.

  The household exploded into unfocused action, with Sarah and Becky running around like chickens with their heads cut off, pulling Sam first one way, then another; he had finally had enough and taken Kate up to her room, laying her on the bed and leaving her with the women to attend to her.

  As the women helped her out of her ripped dress, Kate could hear her father and Sam talking quietly in the hall. Each frantic question of her father’s was met with a quiet, soothing answer from Sam, and soon she recognized the sound of her father’s normal voice again. Until the front door opened and Jake walked in.

  Kate was glad that she wasn’t there to see it; it was terrifying enough to hear her father speak to Jake like that. He used a voice—and vocabulary—that she had never heard before, and she never wanted to hear it again. An hour later, as she lay resting in bed, there was a light knock on her door, and Jake came in to see her.

  His gait was stiff, as if it were painful to walk, and when he knelt by the side of her bed, she could see that his eyes were red, though she couldn’t tell if it was due to the way their father had raged at him or the paddling he’d received.

  “Kate,” he croaked, before his voice broke completely and he dissolved into tears. “I’m so sorry.” Jake leaned over and hugged her, and she found her own anger at him washed away. She hugged him tightly and found herself trying to soothe him.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “In the end there was no harm done. But where were you?”

  She could feel him shaking his head. “I was talking to Sally Kinney,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow.

  Kate slapped him on the back of the head. “I should have known,” she said. “Lucky for you Sam came along. You’re in his debt now.”

  “I know. Dad said the same thing.” He straightened up and wiped his eyes. “I’m going to go find him now and say thanks.” Jake leaned over and kissed her cheek. “That won’t ever happen again.”

  “Better not,” she said. “And you shouldn’t be talking to girls in the street like that anyway. There could be girls right under your nose who like you; there’s no need to chase down every one you see in town.”

  He backed away so that he could look at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” she said. Suddenly she felt exhausted, and she hid a yawn behind her hand. “I think I’d better get some rest now.”

  Jake stood and laid his hand against her cheek. The pained look she saw in his eyes wouldn’t disappear for weeks, finally worn away only by the passage of time. “Good night, Kate.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Good night,” she said, and she turned over in bed as Jake extinguished the lamp and left the room, closing the door gently behind him. Although she was exhausted—she felt more physically tired than she could ever remember, in fact—sleep would not come to her. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the tall digger leaning over her, ripping her dress open and exposing her to the three of them there in the alley. As much as she tried to think of pleasant things, to fill her head with images of the ocean waves rolling to shore, or the way the green fields spread out away from the farmhouse, those pictures were soon erased by the memory of the men’s hands tight on her wrists; of the sound of their breath, like panting dogs; of their smell, a sour, dirty stench that seemed to have stuck to her even after a hot bath.

  Kate turned over and opened the nightstand drawer to retrieve the matches. She lit the lamp again and lay there staring at the ceiling for a long time, trying to make her mind as clear as the blank white expanse that hung over her. Everything is fine, she told herself. It was scary and it’s normal to feel upset, but in the end everything is fine. In spite of the counseling she tried to apply to herself, her eyes stung as tears appeared and welled up. She blinked and the tears raced each other down opposite cheeks, finally jumping from her skin to the pillow below.

  For a girl who had grown up near the ocean, she was now experiencing an eerily familiar sensation. It seemed like she was afloat in a sea of terror. Emotion rose and fell within her, leaving her calm in one moment and teetering on the edge of a wave the next, as if she would capsize at the next second and find herself drowning in fright. Kate sat up and wiped the tears from her face. Her heart was pounding and she realized that her breath was raggedly flying in and out of her lungs as if she’d run all the way from town. It felt like she was suffocating.

  She rolled out of bed and began to pace quickly back and forth, as if she’d been thrust into a race she hadn’t asked to enter. She felt like a volcano had awakened inside her, as if pressure were building up higher and higher, and shortly she’d reach a point of no return. I’ve got to calm down. I’ll lose my mind if I keep doing this. She thought back to a dog that she had seen as a child; it had been kept in a tiny pen outside a house that she passed every day while walking with her nanny. The dog would race back and forth inside the little cage, tirelessly passing the few steps from one side to the other, and she clearly remembered the day it had been let out of the cage. Kate and the nanny had stood for minutes and watched the dog, now free, yet pacing back and forth in the same s
mall space as if it had never been let out of the cage at all. It had seemed funny to Kate as a girl. Tonight it seemed terrible.

  She stopped pacing, closed her eyes, and tried to relax her clenched fists. She fought to take in a full breath, gasping like a drowning woman, and her eyes flew open again. She was facing the window, and up the hill she could see Sam’s cabin, a figure silhouetted against the glow from inside.

  There, his form clearly visible against the lamplight behind him, was Sam, sitting at the window. He’s watching me, she thought, then immediately corrected herself. He’s watching over me. She knelt at the window and rested her forearms on the sill. There could be no mistake; he was there like a soldier on duty, making sure that she was safe. Kate was able to take a deep breath and felt her heart begin to slow. She watched as Sam raised his arm, waving to her across the darkness, as if sending her a message. As if telling her that she could rest easy, that he was protecting her even now. She felt herself grow calm as she remembered the way he’d held her against his body, her head against his chest as they rode together out of town.

  I’ve been so wrong, she thought. He’s not just some farm boy, not just some bumpkin. Tonight he was my answered prayer. She raised her hand as well, waving to him in the night, before she stood up and returned to bed. Kate blew out the lantern and turned over to watch the glow from Sam’s cabin. She couldn’t have known, of course, but she was fast asleep long before Sam finally ended his vigil and his own lamp went dark as well.

  Chapter 11