by Kit Morgan
“See what ya can hear when ya listen?” he whispered with a grin. He kissed her, sending a chill up her spine and setting her nerves on fire. She felt more alive in that kiss than she ever had in her life. When he broke the kiss he nuzzled her neck and again whispered into her ear. “See how much better everything is out here when ya listen and pay attention to it?”
She did, he was right.. So much so it was almost magical. “Ryder,” she breathed.
“Shhhh, hush now, Sugar,” he whispered, and kissed her again. Every nerve, every molecule that made up her being, ignited. She clutched his arms and moaned against his mouth. He again broke the kiss, his breathing ragged and looked into her eyes, as if trying to fuse them together. “I ain’t said it yet, I know. Maybe cause I’m not good with words and don’t talk as fancy as August or Seth.”
“Say what?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
He took a deep breath, and swallowed hard. “I love ya. I … I mean, I love you.”
She stifled a giggle. “I understood the first time, you don’t have to change your way of talking for me.”
“I don’t?”
She shook her head. “In fact, I rather like it. It’s part of what makes you, well, you.”
He smiled and pulled her close. “Ya know, if’n we don’t get a move on, we’re never gonna get us any rabbits.”
“I could stand here with you like this forever,” she said.
“I know, but Mr. Turner might come get his mare this afternoon, so I need to be back just in case.”
She stood on tip-toe, and kissed him on the nose. “Right then, let’s go.”
He smiled, took her hand, and together they went hunting.
Fourteen
Over the next week Ryder taught Constance more than she could have ever imagined. Hunting rabbits, skinning rabbits (Ewwww! But she did it!) cooking rabbits, and then he moved on to squirrels. But when he got to snakes, she balked.
“No! Absolutely not! Oh my Heavens! No!”
“But they’s just little ol’ snakes, Sugar. They can’t hurt ya … much.”
“They most certainly can! Harrison told me all about your country’s shaking snakes!”
He sat back in his chair, and scratched his head. “Shakin’ what?”
She got up from the kitchen table and snatched the plates from its surface. They’d just finished eating squirrel for lunch, and the thought of eating snake for dinner almost did her in. “You heard me, vibrating, shaking, whatever it is!”
“Ohhhh, you mean a rattler.”
“That’s the one. Very dangerous as I understand it.”
“Also tasty.”
Constance shuddered with revulsion, grabbed the water bucket, and spun to face him. “No, I can’t do it. Please don’t make me.”
He studied her and sighed. “I ain’t gonna make you do nothin’ that you don’t feel comfortable with. Maybe we’ll try huntin’ birds instead.”
She sighed in relief and started for the door. “Thank you.”
“Or we could try skunk!” he called after her as she left the cabin.
She stopped up short and blew a loose wisp of hair out of her face. “No!” she called back. His laughter followed her all the way to the water pump. She muttered to herself on the absurdity of skunk hunting when a movement on the prairie caught her eye. She turned to look, but nothing was there. Returning to the water pump, she shrugged and began to fill the bucket so she could do the dishes. Her eyes darted here and there as a nervous tingle crept up her spine and the hairs on the back of her neck rose. Someone was out there.
She returned to the cabin and set the bucket on the stove. “Where’s Cutty?”
Ryder looked up from his inspection of the scarf she’d been knitting. “Don’t rightly know, darlin’. He comes and goes. Haven’t seen much of him since we finished the roof and windows.” He set her knitting down and stood. “I think he’s been tryin’ to give us a little privacy.”
She sighed. “It’s much appreciated.”
“Why you askin’ after that ol coot anyway instead of askin’ me how much I love ya?” He went to stand behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her neck. “Ain’t I much more interestin’?” he whispered against her hair.
“You’re impossible.”
“Impossible? Me?”
“I can’t get the dishes done while you’re holding me like this.”
“I know,” he drawled.
She was about to comment when he started to tickle her. “Stop!” she screeched.
“What say we go pick flowers after you get them dishes done?”
She fought to get control, but couldn’t stop laughing. He stopped it for her with a kiss. It became languid, and they both took their time with it. Once again, he’d kissed her senseless, and she could forgive any talk of hunting and eating rattle snakes or any other loathsome creature when he kissed her that way.
He smiled, knowing what he’d done to her, and let her go. “I think I’ll get the quilt ready, then go check on the horses.”
She nodded, starry eyed and dumbstruck, and turned back to the dishes.
When Ryder returned from the barn they headed out. It had become their routine, so long as it wasn’t raining, to go sit for a time amongst the early summer flowers of the prairie. They’d stroll a few hundred yards from the cabin, spread the quilt, and talk about where they’d been, their families, the differences between their two worlds, and of course their future together. Ryder wasn’t an educated man like the ones she knew in London. He didn’t attend Eton or Oxford, and he was no gentleman by English standards. But he was one of the kindest, gentlest, and hardiest of men she had ever met. He knew things those of the nobility would never know. He taught her about nature, telling her the many different uses of the native plants and flowers found on the prairie. He taught her how to read people in order to understand them better, and to respect animals and the natural order of things. After all, spiders had their place in the world too.
It was a lot to take in, and that was just the last few days! What would her life be like with this man five, ten, twenty years from now?
She smiled as the answer was instantaneous. Bloody-well fantastic.
* * *
They made their way back to the cabin hand in hand, stopping once to listen to the evening crickets, before continuing on. The prairie had such incredible beauty, and the peace Constance felt at being a part of it amazed her. She now understood why Ryder could so easily stay away from Clear Creek for weeks at a time. Why leave? But there came a time when it was necessary.
“I think we should mosey on over to August and your sister’s place tomorrow, pay them a little visit.”
“Really? Oh, Ryder that would be wonderful!”
“Yeah, I thought you’d like the idea. In fact, why don’t you give your husband a little ol kiss to say thank you?”
“Ohhh, you really are impossible!”
“Yeah, but you still love me,” he drawled. He pulled her close, kissed her, then pulled away, his head cocked at a funny angle.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
“Not rightly sure.” He glanced around and studied the cabin, barnyard, corral. Everything was as it should be, yet … “I wonder if ol Cutty came back.”
“If he did he’s raiding the candy jar by now,” she said flatly.
“Sure enough, I bet that’s exactly what’s goin’ on.”
“Why do you say that?”
He looked at her. “Cause things don’t feel quite right, that’s all. I can always tell when somethin’s out of place. Usually happens when Cutty’s come to call.”
“You are most perceptive, my darling husband.”
“Oooo I like it when you call me, darlin’. Now I know how it must make you feel.”
She giggled as he turned and continued toward the cabin. Once there, he listened at the door, then opened it. She’d learned it was an instinctive action on his part, and was glad for it. One never kne
w …
The cabin was as they left it, nothing disturbed, nothing out of place, and Ryder relaxed somewhat. But only somewhat, Constance could see it in the way he carried himself he was still wary. “Maybe Cutty is in the barn,” she suggested.
“Maybe,” Ryder agreed as he tossed the quilt on the bed. “I’d better go give him a blanket for tonight then, still gets cold out there even though summer’s startin’.” He got down on his knees and reached under the cot for the extra blanket he kept there.
Constance heard an odd rattling sound just before Ryder let out a “Yeeeaaaa!” and threw himself from the cot, drawing his gun. He fired, at what Constance had no idea, and jumped to his feet. “Get back!”
“What? What is it?”
“Snake,” he said and then stood stock-still. He motioned for her to be quiet, and listened. Nothing.
He took a broom out of the corner and after waving her to the front door, used it to drag out the biggest rattler either of them had ever seen. Well, the only one Constance had ever seen, but judging from the look on Ryder’s face, it must be bigger than what he was used to. “Dagnabbit,” he breathed. “This ain’t good.” He looked at his hand, grimaced, and sank onto the nearest chair.
“Oh my Lord!” Constance squeaked. “How did that get in here?”
Ryder scanned the cabin as he stood. “It can’t … I don’t see how …”
Constance looked at his hand. “Ryder! You’re hurt!”
He stared at it, “Oh, yeah, so I am.” He turned to her. “You’re gonna have to help me with this …”
“Me? Oh dear Heavens, yes, of course! What do I do?”
He pulled out his knife and was about to make an incision at the wound area when the door burst open and almost knocked Constance off her feet. A man grabbed her from behind and crushed her against his chest, a gun to her head. “Toss that knife boy, or she’s dead!”
Ryder stood, his knife still in his hand as more men filed into the cabin. Constance, positioned as she was against whom she assumed was their leader, couldn’t tell how many. But there were enough to make Ryder drop the knife and raise both hands in the air.
“Your gun too, toss it over here,” her captor ordered.
Ryder’s eyes flashed with anger, but he complied.
“There now, that’s better. Hmmm, looks like somebody got himself a nasty snake bite.”
“Friend of yours?” Ryder asked.
“You could say that. Didn’t do a very good job of it though. Bit the wrong one.”
Ryder narrowed his eyes at the intruder. “What did you say?”
“None of your business boy,” he sneered and turned to the men on his right. “Tie him up!”
They sprang into action. Constance took in their numbers as best she could and realized there had to be at least six of them. Within moments they had Ryder tied to one of the kitchen chairs, the dead snake at his feet, his knife and gun now in their hands. Constance struggled against the man that held her, but it was no use. His arm was like steel, and she had no doubt he’d use the gun he held to her head if provoked.
“Okay, boys. Let’s get what we come for, and get out of here.”
“What do you want?” Ryder spat.
“What’s owed us, and I’d say that horse of yours out there will do just fine. In fact, I think I’ll take both of em.”
“No!” Constance cried. “You can’t! He’s hurt! You can’t leave us without a horse!”
“We can’t help it if he went and got himself bit by a rattler.”
There was a commotion outside, and the man holding her stepped away from the door so two men could enter. They dragged a struggling Cutty in with them. “Look what we found out in the barn,” one drawled.
Cutty took one look at Ryder, the snake at his feet, and stopped fighting them. “What happened?”
“He’s been bitten!” Constance cried. “He needs help!”
“How long?” Cutty asked, his voice low.
“Not long, but I’m startin’ to feel kinda poorly,” Ryder told him.
Cutty sneered at the leader holding her, and spit. “No.” The word was a statement.
The leader laughed. “We’re done here.”
Constance wasn’t sure if he was talking to his men or Cutty, who now had a horrified look on his face as he returned his attention to Ryder. “I’m sorry, boy. So sorry.”
“Cutty?” Ryder said as he swayed slightly in his chair.
“No, you can’t leave him like this!” Constance said.
“You know you’re a might pretty thing. If I wasn’t in such a hurry to get to my next stop, I’d take you along. But I have a feelin’ you’d be more trouble than you’re worth. Tie her up and put her in the barn,” he told his men, then tossed his head at Ryder. “We’ll let this one die alone.”
“No!” Cutty yelled as he was dragged from the cabin. “You cannot do this! I demand you release me!”
“What?” Constance breathed. Was she hearing right? Did Cutty just speak with an English accent? Her musing was cut short when two men grabbed her, lashed her wrists behind her back, and started to drag her from the cabin. “NO! Ryder!” She caught a glimpse of him as she was pulled outside. His face had gone pale, and she knew the snake’s poison was doing its ugly work. “Ryder!” she cried again, fighting against tears of panic and despair.
Cutty was shoved up onto a horse, his hands lashed to the saddle horn, as the two men assigned the task of securing her in the barn yanked and pulled her along. She kicked, she screamed, and she let them know she wasn’t going down without a fight. But there were two of them, and only one of her, and in the end, they picked her up, one on each end, and got her there.
One of them found some rope and tied her ankles, while the other stood and laughed. “Isn’t this the one?” he asked.
“Guess so, but Gus ain’t worried about it. He figures he got the job done, even if it was the wrong one!” They both laughed at that as they sat her against a post and lashed her to it. “He’s just happy he got a good horse!”
“Make that two!” the other added.
She had no idea what they were talking about and didn’t care. Right now there was only one thing that mattered. “Listen to me, you cannot do this! My husband will die if he’s not tended to immediately!”
“Don’t you talk fancy?” one drawled. “Too bad Gus is leavin’ you behind. I could have myself some of that,” he told her with a leer.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “How dare you speak to me like that, and you had better hope you never see me again. If my husband dies …”
One of them took a step back and shook his head. “Nothin’ worse than an angry woman. You got guts, missy. But seems to me you’re the one tied up.”
Her bravado surprised even her. “If he dies, I will hunt you down and …”
“Whoa, what’s this?” he laughed. “You sure are a fiery one!”
“We’d best get out of here before she makes good on her threat,” the other said with a chuckle. They slapped each other on the back, her anger nothing but a joke to them, and left.
She listened as Othello screamed and neighed as the bandits tried to catch him. Banjo was gone when they’d brought her into the barn, so they obviously had him already. She hoped Othello kicked their brains out.
She struggled against her bonds but it was no use. Trussed up and helpless, her husband faring no better and left to die, Constance did the only thing she could. She prayed. Hard.
But praying for a miracle didn’t mean she stopped thinking of a way of escape. No, she scanned the barn around her as soon as she was finished, but saw nothing that might be of help. Wasn’t she supposed to have some revelation of how to get out of this? Some miraculous shred of insight that would help with their predicament? But no, there was nothing that flashed through her mind and she pounded her head against the post in frustration. Then it hit. Despair, hot and fast, and she began to sob.
Fifteen
Constance cried until
she was spent and had no more tears left. She’d twisted her wrists in her bonds over the last hour until they bled, but sat as tightly bound as before. All hope lost, she looked to the high ceiling of the barn, and began to yell. “Why aren’t You doing anything? He’ll die if You don’t do something!” Her voice cracked, and her next word was little more than a whisper. “Why?”
“Sugar?”
Her head snapped up. Ryder pushed the barn door open, and staggered in. “Ryder!”
He stumbled and fell, pushed himself up, and crawled to where she sat. “Hold still, I’ll get ya free.”
He looked terrible, and she knew he had to be in a bad way. “We have to get you to a doctor!”
“Don’t know how, Sugar. We’ll just … have to take care of it … ourselves.”
“How ever did you free yourself?”
He gave her a weak grin. “We only got one chair left, I had to bust up the other one. Guess you’ll … have to sit on my lap from now on.” He swallowed with effort as he cut her bonds with a small knife from the kitchen. Once he freed her, he pulled himself up using the post for support, then pulled her up as well.
“What can I do? What do you need?”
“I’m thirsty …”
Her first instinct was to run to the water pump, but she had to get him to the house first. She put one of his arms around her neck to support him, and led him from the barn. “Tell me what to do, Ryder,” she said firmly. “You are NOT going to die on me!”
“So thirsty …”
His hand was swollen, the wound area worse. He’d cut it, probably to suck the venom out. But had he been too late? “Ryder, WHAT DO I DO?”