He left to water, the oxen, and Marybeth stood there a moment, stunned. Mac had just slapped more determination into her soul, but the sight of John’s fist, as big as her whole face, dampened her spirits. The thought of the possibility of Josh being on the receiving end of that fist was enough to make her question her decision. She looked over at Ella, who gave her an “I told you so” expression.
“Don’t you care about how many died from cholera while you were gone?” Marybeth asked the woman. “Don’t you care that in her despair Wilma Sleiter shot her husband and then killed herself?”
Ella hesitated a moment, glancing up at Marybeth before returning to quietly stirring a pot of stew. She sighed deeply. “Everyone chooses his own way, Marybeth. We can bear up under our burdens, or take the easy way out, like Mrs. Sleiter did. It is too bad about the cholera, though.”
Marybeth stepped closer. “You say Mrs. Sleiter took the easy way out from under her burden. Well, so do you, Ella. You just cow down and take whatever Mac hands you. That isn’t being strong. Being strong is doing what you know is right. Can you look me in the eyes and tell me you’ve never thought about shooting your husband, or about putting a gun to your own head?”
Ella stopped stirring again. She looked up at Marybeth, and in that one look Marybeth knew the answer. “I do not intend to burn in hell forever in the afterlife, Marybeth.”
“What is the difference between that and living in hell right here on Earth?” Marybeth turned away, wanting to cry at the realization that she had been back with the MacKinders only minutes, and already she felt full of hatred and anger.
She didn’t like feeling like this. It wasn’t good for Danny. Suddenly being on her own again seemed almost impossible. How was she going to do it without half the men on the wagon train having to hold guns on the MacKinders, or without Josh getting hurt? She didn’t want to be the cause of such turmoil, and her mind whirled with indecision. She had no choice but to stay with them for now.
She leaned down and took Danny from the little wagon, thinking how kind it was of Aaron to get the wagon for her. She could only pray John or Mac wouldn’t kick it to pieces out of anger. She looked off into the distance, wondering when Josh would come back, terrified of what would happen when he did.
Josh. The thought of him brought a sudden peace to her soul. She would miss his campfire stories, miss watching him play with Danny, miss his touch, his kiss, the feel of his strong arms around her.
“Get over here and help Ella dish up the stew,” Mac barked, startling her from her thoughts.
Danny’s lips puckered when he felt his mother jump, felt her tension. Marybeth kissed his cheek. “Zosh,” he whimpered.
“Hush, Danny,” she said softly.
“What’s that he said,” John asked. Both men had sat down to their noon meal.
“I don’t know,” Marybeth answered. “It’s some new word he picked up and it means nothing.” She set Danny on a blanket and began helping Ella.
The sun had almost set when Josh returned. Marybeth caught sight of him out of the comer of her eye to her left. She glanced in that direction as she walked, pulling the wagon and Danny behind her. She saw him slow his horse as he realized the MacKinders were back and Marybeth was with them. She couldn’t help staring for a moment, drinking in the sight of him. He looked wonderful on a horse, so natural. He fit this land so perfectly. She noticed another deer on his pack horse, and her heart swelled with pride at what a good hunter he was.
He rode his horse at a slow walk for a little ways, watching the MacKinder men herd the oxen. To Marybeth’s relief he finally rode on ahead with the deer. An hour later they made camp for the night, and Marybeth said nothing to Mac or John. She decided she was better off saying nothing at all to them until she found a way to sever ties completely. She could only hope not to feel the sting of John’s or Mac’s hands again by keeping quiet; and she reminded herself not to get caught alone with John. He had watched her all day like a hawk, and he had the look of a stud horse anxious to get over the fence to a waiting mare. She was not going to be John MacKinder’s mare. She had suffered enough sexual humiliation under Dan MacKinder.
Night settled over camp, and somewhere in the distance someone played a harmonica. Marybeth thought wistfully about what a nice night it would be to share with Josh. She stayed near the fire, not daring to walk out into the darkness, something she knew John was waiting for her to do. She worked on a pile of mending, while Ella scrubbed at a stubborn fry pan and soaked some dried peas in another pot.
“You’re damn lucky you and the boy didn’t come down with the cholera, letting those little brats of Florence Gentry’s take care of him,” Mac grumbled to Marybeth.
“Don’t call them little brats. Toby and Melinda both died. Florence Gentry has suffered dearly.” She looked at him. “And they were a great help to me. How could any of us have known it would happen? We can only thank God for being spared.”
The man grunted. “It only goes to show you you’re better off sticking with your own kin and not mixing too much. It could have meant Danny’s life.”
He’s in more danger growing up with the likes of you, she felt like saying, but she kept the words to herself. She heard the slow trot of a horse then, and her heart raced faster as Josh came into the light of their campfire. She looked up at him, longing to run to him. She could tell by his eyes that someone had told him Mac had slapped her earlier in the day. His dark eyes literally glittered with repressed anger as he turned his gaze to John, who sat against a wagon wheel drinking whiskey.
“What the hell do you want?” John asked him.
“I expect after being out there so long you folks wouldn’t mind some fresh meat,” Josh replied. He took a small burlap bag from his horse and threw it down in front of Mac.
“I see the cholera didn’t get to you,” John said by way of thanks.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Josh told him. He glanced at Marybeth again, his eyes telling her he wanted to be with her. She looked down at her sewing, and he could see her hands shaking. Josh looked at Mac, the leather of his saddle creaking as he rode the horse around behind the man, then between Mac and John. “Heard you gave your daughter-in-law a fine greeting when you got back. Must have made her real glad to see you.”
Mac looked up at him, then slowly rose, as did John. Marybeth felt as though her heart was moving right up into her throat.
“What’s it to you?” Mac asked, glaring at Josh.
“Of all the MacKinders, Marybeth is the best—stronger and braver than any of the rest of you for all your MacKinder blood. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t have the MacKinder blood in her. Cap already warned you two to ease up on the woman and not make trouble. I’m adding to that warning. Marybeth has a lot of friends along on this wagon train, MacKinder. You remember that. You can’t get away with your abuse any longer.”
“We’ll treat our own kin as we see fit!” John said, moving closer.
“You’ll by God follow the rules of this train and act like decent men,” Josh told him. “If you don’t, you’ll be off this train, and right now I don’t think you want that to happen. We picked up signs of Indians today. Devon rode back to say he’d seen two wagons burned out, and it was Indians, not cholera. He knows the signs. As long as we’re as big as we are, we shouldn’t be in any danger. But if you choose to drop back alone, it’s your scalp! And you sure as hell won’t take Marybeth and that baby with you!”
“You might be right about the Indians, Rivers,” John told him, his fists clenched at his sides, “but I don’t like the way you say Marybeth’s name.”
Josh’s horse pranced in a little circle. “I’ll say her name any way I want. And I’ll be pitching my tent not far from this camp tonight. Cap wants this side of the circle watched. We’re keeping extra guard on the wagons and the livestock because of possible Indian trouble. But I won’t be watching just for Indians, MacKinder. You remember that.”
“Get down off that horse
, Rivers, and I’ll fix it so you’re not in any shape to watch for Indians!”
Josh just grinned and rode closer to John. “Our time is coming, MacKinder, but not tonight. For the next few days and nights we keep our eyes open for Indians. Cap needs everyone’s cooperation, so make sure you give it to him. You might be a fighter, but you’re no match for a warrior with a tomahawk, I’ll guarantee it.” He looked at Mac. “You’re welcome for the meat.” He turned his horse and rode out.
Marybeth kept her eyes averted, but she wanted to jump up and hug Josh, thank him for camping close by. She knew it had nothing to do with Indians, and it was difficult for her not to smile. Her heart felt lighter. She didn’t have to worry about John MacKinder bothering her tonight.
For five days everyone traveled with the fear that they were going to feel an arrow in their backs at any moment. They passed a landmark called Chimney Rock and Marybeth stared at the odd formation that jutted up from nothing and seemed to have no reason for being there. The land was changing even more, hillier, more rocky. On the first night Josh warned about Indians, a few cattle were stolen, but nothing more happened, and as they neared Fort Laramie, people began to relax a little. Within another week they would be there, if everything went well.
To John and Mac’s irritation and Marybeth’s relief, Josh often rode, and camped, near their wagon. Even if they couldn’t be together, she felt his watchful protection, yet dreaded the thought of an actual conflict and prayed such a thing would never take place. The Indian threat had seemed to subdue the MacKinder men somewhat, but tension was high among everyone. Those who had lost loved ones to cholera were surly and quiet. Everyone was tired and cranky, and hungry. Because Indians could be lurking anywhere, Josh was unable to ride far from the wagon train to hunt. For the time being it was simply too dangerous, and every time he even went over a rise and out of sight Marybeth feared for him.
The weather turned hotter than ever, building tempers. John and Mac grumped constantly about the weather, and Danny cried often, picking up the tension of the people around him. It was at noon break, six days from Fort Laramie, when horror visited Marybeth. At nine months old Danny liked to try to stand on his strong little legs. It was so hot, Marybeth took off his shirt and let him walk. She walked behind him, holding his hands as he toddled on fat, bare feet, laughing at being able to stretch his muscles and vent some energy.
Finally she let go of him and let him toddle a couple of steps before he plunked onto his fat bottom and began crawling over soft, green grass. Whenever he came to a big enough rock, he would pull himself up and stand for a minute, then crawl again. Marybeth stayed behind him, and when she called to him, he would come toward her, grinning happily.
Suddenly Marybeth heard the dreaded hiss. Before she could get to Danny, he screamed in what was obviously terrible pain. Her heart pounding at the chilling cry, Marybeth ran to him, then saw the diamond-backed snake slinking away. She shouted Danny’s name, picking the boy up in her arms. Her legs would not move as she stared down at her still-screeching son. “A snake!” she screamed. “Josh!” He was the first person who came to mind in her moment of desperation. “Josh! Somebody! Help us!”
People came running, the MacKinders, Josh, Cap, Delores and Aaron. “What happened!” John shouted to her.
“A snake! A snake bit him!”
“Look! There it is,” someone shouted.
Josh drew his pistol and blew its head off, and Cap ran over to it, reaching with the barrel of his rifle to pick it up. “It’s a rattler, Josh,” he said, with just about the same gravity he would have used to announce cholera.
“Jesus! Give me the boy,” Josh told Marybeth, holstering his gun.
She handed Danny to him while John watched jealously. Josh ran with Danny to the wagon and grabbed out a blanket, throwing it on the ground and laying Danny on it. He began inspecting the child for snakebite, finding the ominous fang marks on his ankle.
“Hang on to him,” he told Marybeth. “I’ve got to try to get some of the venom out.” He quickly reached over and untied Marybeth’s slat bonnet, ripping a ribbon from it and tying it tightly around the baby’s leg, just under the knee. Then he pulled a hunting knife from its sheath on the side of his boot and to Marybeth’s horror he quickly cut an x-mark across the bite while Danny screamed furiously. “Try to keep him as still as you can, Marybeth. Don’t let him thrash around. Somebody hold down his other leg.”
“What the hell is he doing?” John demanded to know.
Ella kneeled down to hold Danny’s other leg.
“The boy’s only chance is for someone to try to suck out most of the venom,” Cap explained. Josh was already bent over Danny, sucking at the cut and spitting out blood and venom. “I expect Josh has seen his share of snakebite down in Texas.”
Josh said nothing. He kept sucking at the bite for several seconds as people stood around watching and Marybeth kept a tight hold of Danny’s arms, bending over the howling boy and talking to him soothingly. She struggled to stay calm for the baby’s sake. Josh finally quit sucking at the bite and threw his head back. Marybeth knew by the agony on his face her baby could die. “That’s all I can do,” he almost groaned, looking at Marybeth.
“It was a young snake, Josh,” Cap told him “The venom’s not so powerful in the young ones, and you got to the boy quick. There’s a chance he’ll make it.”
Josh looked down at Danny, bending over him and brushing his curly, damp hair away from his face. “He’s already going under, Cap. He looks real sleepy.”
“Josh, how bad is it,” Marybeth cried. “What’s going to happen to my baby?”
He met her eyes. “I don’t know, Marybeth. It’s like Cap says. It was a young snake, and Danny is a strong little boy. Get him inside the wagon out of the sun and keep cool cloths on him to keep his fever down. He’ll get real sleepy. If he makes it, the area of the bite is going to be pretty sore for a while.”
“Josh,” she whispered, her eyes pleading.
He reached out and touched her face. “I can’t do anything else, Marybeth. Do like I said and get him inside the wagon. Keep him cool and keep him quiet.” He reached around and gently squeezed her neck. “Hey, it’s just like the cholera,” he told her, trying to smile for her. “Remember what I told you about that?”
“Told her when?” John stood in front of them, sneering down at them both. “Get your hand off her, Rivers.”
“For God’s sake, John, this is no time for your stupid jealous temper,” Marybeth cried. “Danny might die!”
Josh let go of her and gently lifted Danny, walking to the wagon and climbing inside to lay Danny down. Ella climbed in after him.
“This is all your fault,” he heard John yelling.
“It was an accident,” Marybeth screamed back through tears. “And I’m not the one who chose to come on this journey in the first place. Now get out of my way so I can go to my son.”
Josh heard a gasping sound. He heard John shout, “You’re no good, Marybeth. I can see there is something between you and Josh Rivers. You’ve shamed this family, and now you’ve proven what a bad mother you are! You can run off with Rivers, but you’ll not take Danny with you.”
Josh hurriedly climbed out of the wagon to see John’s big hands around Marybeth’s throat. She pulled wildly at his big wrist to no avail.
“Let her go, MacKinder,” Cap warned.
Aaron stepped forward, fists clenched. But before he could speak Josh walked up and grasped John’s arm. “Let go of her or I’ll kill you,” he said quietly.
John just looked at him for a moment, still clutching her neck. Suddenly he tossed Marybeth aside with deliberate force, as though she were no more than a sack of potatoes. She fell against a wagon wheel with a jolt, while John turned to Josh.
“Go ahead, Rivers. What will you do, shoot me? I am not armed, Rivers,” John sneered. “If you want to kill me, you will have to do it with your fists.”
“Don’t do it, Josh,” Cap war
ned. Marybeth tried to do the same, but she could not even find her voice as she lay on the ground, gasping for breath. Delores and Aaron helped her up.
Josh heard no warnings. His eyes were on John MacKinder, as he unbuckled his gunbelt.
“Fists will be much more enjoyable,” he growled. He threw the gunbelt aside and charged into MacKinder, both men crashing to the ground.
Marybeth gasped for breath as she whispered Josh’s name and watched in horror, torn between the two worst tragedies she could have experienced. Danny could be dying, and so could Joshua Rivers. It was too late to stop it now. This fight had been coming on ever since the two men arm wrestled on the riverboat. But she knew John MacKinder. This was no arm wrestling contest. This was a duel to the death.
Chapter Fourteen
Women onlookers screamed and turned away from the brutal fight, pulling their children along with them. Marybeth could hear the powerful punches as she struggled to get back her breath and walked toward the back of the wagon. She needed to go to her baby and for one frantic moment she wondered if she would lose Josh and Danny both. Her back and head hurt from hitting the wagon wheel, and already bruises were forming at her throat. She watched the vicious fight with wide-eyed terror, feeling sick at the bloody punches.
Others backed away. “Let them go,” Cap warned one man who thought the fight should be stopped. “They’ve both been wanting this.”
To everyone’s horror they saw Mac pick up a shovel and raise it as John punched savagely at Josh and backed him toward his father. Aaron moved in quickly, grabbing the shovel away. “Oh, no you don’t,” he warned. “If they are going to fight, it is going to be fair.” Mac glowered at the man, but knew that Aaron’s youth and bigger size were more than a man his age could handle.
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