Wilbur was plainly too polite to answer that question. “Looks like it might rain later on,” he said after clearing his throat. “Think this roof is sound?”
Lily sighed. She wanted to ask Wilbur to come in and sit down, but she didn’t dare ask him. After that little exhibition of Caleb’s, heaven only knew what the other men would think if she and the corporal were alone for any length of time. “I guess I’ll find out pretty soon,” she said. “Why don’t you and the others just call it a day and go on back to the fort? I’ll be fine.”
Wilbur looked tremendously relieved, if slightly torn. “You keep that shotgun handy now,” he said, “just in case.”
“I will,” Lily promised wearily.
When she was sure the soldiers were gone Lily went outside to assess the sky. Sure enough, there were dark clouds gathering on the horizon, roiling and angry-looking.
Lily carried firewood into the house—she noted with discouragement that she was going to need more soon—and then went out to see what could be done with Dancer. In the end she untied him and led him into the woods, where he would have at least some shelter. She tied his halter to a low-hanging tree branch and went back to the house for a bucket of water and some grain.
Once the horse was taken care of, Lily ventured on through the woods to the opposite side, where, down at the bottom of a little hill, Velvet and Hank had stopped their wagon beside a natural spring. There was no sign of either of her neighbors, and Lily was too shy to go and knock on the wagon’s door. Feeling incredibly lonely, she turned around and walked back toward her own place.
The dark clouds were much nearer now, and there was a chilly wind blowing. The grass on Lily’s land and Caleb’s waved like an ocean, and there were little whitecaps of foam on the creek. Her skirt clinging to her legs, Lily stood with one hand shading her eyes, watching the storm approach.
Its harbinger was a light, warm,tering rain that sent her scurrying for the shack. Inside, Lily stoked up the fire, lighted the lamp in the center of the table, and got out one of the books she’d purloined from Caleb’s library. She was sitting at the table, happily reading and sipping coffee, when the rain came in earnest.
It hammered at the old roof with frightening fury, then began creeping in through cracks and crevices. It fell over the bed, and over the flour sack, and over the hooked rug Mrs. Tibbet had given Lily as a housewarming present. It fell until Lily had run out of pots and kettles to catch the drips, and then it cascaded like water from a broken dam.
Lily sat wretchedly at her table, watching droplets sizzle and dance on the stove top, her book forgotten. A hammering at the door made her start and then beam. Caleb was back! What would a little rain matter if he was there to tell her he was sorry for behaving so badly, to take her into his arms and make love to her?
She yanked open the door, and her smile faded. The same Indian who had wanted to trade two horses for her was standing on the apple crate that served as a front step, his black hair dripping with water, his calico shirt so wet that his copper skin showed through in places.
“No house!” he said.
Lily was paralyzed for a moment. Here it was, she thought, the moment she’d been warned about. She was going to be scalped, or ravaged, or carried off to an Indian village. Maybe all three.
She cast a desperate glance toward the shutgun, at the same time smiling broadly at the Indian. “I’m terribly sorry,” she said, “but of course you can see that there is a house.”
“Woman go away!” the Indian insisted.
Lily’s heart was flailing in her throat like a bird trapped in a chimney, but she squared her shoulders and put out her chin. “I’m not going anywhere, you rude man,” she replied. “This is my land, and I have the papers to prove it!”
The Indian spouted a flock of curses; Lily knew the words for what they were only because of their tone.
She started to close the door. “If you’re going to be nasty,” she said, “you’ll just have to leave.”
Undaunted, the red man pushed past Lily and strode right over to the stove. He got a cup from the shelf, filled it with coffee, and took a sip. He grimaced. “You got firewater?” he demanded. “Better with firewater.”
Lily had never been so frightened or so angry in her life. With one hand to her bosom she edged toward the shotgun. “No firewater,” she said apologetically, “but there is a little sugar. There”—she pointed—“in the blue bowl.”
When her unwanted guest turned around to look for the sugar, Lily lunged for the shotgun and cocked it. There was no shell in the chamber; she could only hope the Indian wouldn’t guess.
“All right, you,” she said, narrowing her eyes and pointing the shotgun. “Get out of here right now. Just ride away and there won’t be any trouble.”
The Indian stared at her for a moment, then had the audacity to burst out laughing. “The major’s right about you,” he said in perfectly clear English. “You are a hellcat.”
Now it was Lily who stared, slowly lowering the shotgun. “So that’s why Caleb wasn’t alarmed that day when you and your friends rode up and made all that fuss about the land. He knows you.”
“The name’s Charlie Fast Horse,” the man said, offering his hand.
Lily’s blood was rushing to her head like lava flowing to the top of an erupting volcano. “Why, that polecat—that rounder—that son-of-a—”
Charlie Fast Horse set his coffee aside and held out both hands in a plea for peace. “Calm down, now, Miss Lily,” he pleaded. “It was just a harmless little joke, after all.”
“When I see that scoundrel again I’m going to peel off his hide!”
Charlie was edging toward the door. “Lord knows I’d like to warm myself by your fire, Miss Lily, but I’ve got to be going. No, no—don’t plead with me to stay.”
“Get out of here!” Lily screamed, and Charlie Fast Horse ran for his life. Obviously he didn’t know the shotgun wasn’t loaded.
The moment he was gone Lily bolted the door and collapsed against it. Her heart was beating so hard that it felt as if it would jump right out of her chest at any moment, and she was shivering from head to foot with both fury and lingering traces of fear.
At sunset Lily heard a wagon roll up, but this time she wasn’t so rash as to open the door. She peeked out through one of the broader cracks in the wall and saw Caleb passing by on his way to his land.
Not caring about the pounding rain, Lily loaded the shotgun and marched outside and around behind the framework of the new cabin to confront Caleb. He was unloading a canvas tent from the back of his wagon, and there were other things secured there under a tarp; Lily could see the outlines of them.
She pointed the shotgun and fired, blowing the spokes out of the rear wheel of Caleb’s wagon. The vehicle promptly collapsed, sending boxes and crates sliding into the muddy grass, and the horses screamed in terror and strained wildly at the harness.
Caleb took the time to settle them before approaching Lily. Rain dripped off the brim of his campaign hat.
“I’m willing to put up with a lot from you, Lily,” he shouted, in order to be heard over the driving rain, “but I won’t be shot at!” Having imparted this information, he wrenched the shotgun out of Lily’s grasp with one hand and took a painless but inescapable hold on her arm with the other.
She found herself double-stepping around to the front of the shack and inside.
“I had a visit from your friend Charlie Fast Horse a little while ago!” she yelled, too angry to be afraid of any reprisals for shooting up Caleb’s wagon. Besides, any fool would have known she wasn’t trying to hit him—she’d missed by a country mile.
Caleb stood the shotgun in a corner by the door, took off his hat and threw it, then yanked off his gloves. After that he shed his canvas raincoat, tossing it casually over the back of a chair. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time,” he said in a dangerous drawl, “and you just gave me the excuse I needed.”
“What—what a
re you talking about?” Lily demanded, stepping backwards. A drop of rainwater from the leaky roof landed with a disconcerting ker-plop on the top of her head.
Caleb was unbuttoning his cuffs, rolling up his sleeves. “I’m talking,” he replied evenly, “about raising blisters on your sweet little backside.”
Lily was careful to keep to the opposite side of the table. “Now, Caleb, that wouldn’t be wise.”
“Oh, I think it would be about the smartest thing I’ve ever done,” Caleb answered, advancing on her again.
Lily kept the table between them. “I might be pregnant!” she reasoned desperately.
“Then again,” Caleb countered, “you might not.” The muscles of his forearms were corded, the skin covered with maple-sugar hair.
“I wasn’t going to shoot you—I only wanted to scare you away.” Lily dodged him, moving from one side of the table to the other, always keeping it between them. “Caleb, be reasonable. I wouldn’t shoot you—I love you!”
“I love you, too,” Caleb returned in a furious croon, “and right now I’d like nothing better than to shoot you!”
Lily picked up a chair and held it as she’d seen a lion tamer do in an illustration in one of her beloved dime novels. Helga of the Circus, if she remembered correctly. “Now, just stay back, Caleb. If you lay a hand on me, I assure you, you’ll regret it!”
“I doubt that very much,” Caleb replied. And then he gripped one leg of the chair, and Lily realized what a pitiful defense it had been. He set it easily on the floor even as his other arm shot out like a coiled snake and caught Lily firmly by the wrist.
Like a man sitting down to a cigar and a glass of port after a good dinner Caleb dropped comfortably into the chair. With a single tug he brought Lily facedown across his lap. Quick as mercury he had her skirts up and her drawers down, and when she struggled he simply imprisoned her between his thighs scissor fashion.
“Caleb Halliday,” Lily gasped, writhing between his legs, “you let me go this instant!”
“Or else you’ll do what?” he asked evenly. Lily felt his hand caress one cheek of her bottom and then the other, as though charting them for assault.
“I’ll scream, and Hank Robbins will run over here and shoot you for the rascal you are!”
Caleb laughed thunderously at that.
“You’ve had your little joke,” Lily huffed, “now let me up!”
“No,” Caleb replied.
Lily threw back her head and screamed as loudly as she could.
“You can do better than that,” Caleb said. “Hell, nobody would hear a whimper like that in this rain.”
Lily filled her lungs to capacity and screamed again.
She was as surprised as Caleb when the door flew open and Velvet burst in, ready for battle. Color filled her face when she understood the situation.
In no particular rush, Caleb released Lily, and she scrambled to her feet unassisted, blushing painfully as she righted her drawers and lowered her skirts.
Caleb chuckled at her indignation and then stood up respectfully. “Hello, Velvet.”
Velvet’s embarrassment had turned to amusement, and she was doing a very poor job of concealing it. Her lips twitched as she looked at Lily, who glared at Caleb before she said, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Good Lord,” Velvet complained, laying one hand to her breast and sinking into the other chair. Her clothes and hair were dripping wet. “I thought there was an Indian in here killin’ you, the way you was carryin’ on.”
“I was, after all, being assaulted,” Lily pointed out, with a cold glance at Caleb. “Thank you for rescuing me before this fiend could do bodily harm.”
Caleb grinned. “Velvet can’t stay forever,” he reminded Lily.
“Neither can you,” Lily rejoined.
“You might be surprised,” Caleb said.
Velvet cleared her throat. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come,” she said. “I was just feelin’ lonesome, since Hank is out huntin’ somewhere, and I decided to pay a call, rain or no rain.”
It was obvious to everyone that Velvet was running on because she was uncomfortable.
“Don’t you dare leave me alone with this brute,” Lily said, filling a coffee cup for Velvet and ignoring Caleb entirely.
Caleb pushed back his chair and stood, tilting his head back to inspect the roof as the rain continued to seep through in a thousand places.
“I see the roof ain’t changed,” Velvet commented after taking a loud slurp of her coffee. “Got more holes in it than a sieve.”
Lily sighed and sat down in the chair Caleb had vacated, warming her hands around her cup of fresh coffee. “In a few days that will be a worry to the chickens, not to me.”
Caleb took his coat from the floor, where it had fallen in the scuffle with Lily, and shrugged into it. “Rain’s letting up,” he commented. “Guess I’ll go out and put up my tent.”
Lily pretended he hadn’t spoken—that he wasn’t even there, for that matter—but the moment the door closed behind him Velvet burst out in uproarious laughter.
“If this don’t beat anything I’ve ever seen!” she cried between yelps of mirth.
Lily relived the incident in her mind and reddened accordingly. “He wouldn’t really have struck me,” she insisted. “He wouldn’t have daredr no r221;
Velvet’s guffaws became giggles. “His hand was about this far from your bottom when I stepped through the door,” she said, showing an inch of space between her thumb and index finger. “Yes, sir, if I’d been a second later, he’d have walloped you one.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Lily said. “I don’t even want to think about that man.” But when the rain stopped she couldn’t resist going to the wall to peer through a crack.
There was a tent standing just on the other side of the property line, but Lily could see no sign of Caleb.
She could only hope he’d slipped in the mud, landed face first in a puddle, and drowned.
Chapter
19
When Lily awakened in the morning Caleb’s tent was still standing directly behind the framework of her new house, along with his broken wagon, but his horse was gone.
A smile curved her lips. It would serve him right if the gelding had run off during the night.
After washing, dressing, and pinning up her hair, Lily went out to the woods to fetch Dancer. Now that the rain was over the air smelled deliciously fresh, and the grass was beaded with moisture. The creek sparkled in the sunshine like a liquid gem, singing its restless song as it tumbled along.
Lily tethered Dancer near the water so he could drink when he wished, then approached the front of Caleb’s tent.
“Hello,” she called cheerfully.
There was no answer.
Lily tried again. “Your horse got away,” she said with pleasure.
No reply.
Exasperated, Lily pulled back the tent flap and peered into the dank, shadowy interior. The bedroll was not only empty, it was neatly tucked away in a corner and tied with string. There was a lantern nearby, along with a book and a mess kit.
Lily lowered the flap and stepped back, frowning. She wondered where Caleb had gone so early in the morning—the sun hadn’t been up longer than half an hour—but she knew she would be too proud to ask if he didn’t volunteer the information. And he wasn’t likely to do that.
Resigned, Lily made herself a light breakfast from her small store of provisions and ate. During the night she’d had to push the bed away from the wall to escape the dripping rain; now she put it carefully back into place.
When she’d washed and dried her single plate and fork she went outside, shiny new hoe in hand, to begin turning up the ground for a garden. It was too late for planting most things, but if the summer was long and hot, she’d be able to grow corn, at least.
Lily was hard at work when Wilbur appeared with his small but dedicated band of soldiers. As before, the men were not dressed in military garb, but in
plain trousers and shirts.
Wilbur approached Lily as the others went immediately to work. “Morning,” he said in an awkward way, his eyes averted.
“Good morning, Wilbur,” Lily replied, stopping her work to lean on the hoe handle.
Shifting from one foot to the other, Wilbur looked uncomfortable in the extreme. “About yesterday in the woods … I’m sorry I kissed you, Lily. I shouldn’t have done that, considering our agreement and everything.”
Lily sighed and smiled wearily. What with moving the bed from place to place most of the night, she hadn’t gotten much sleep. “I don’t see how I could possibly hold a grudge, Wilbur, when you’ve been so kind and so generous with your time.”
His eyes met hers, and he smiled shyly. “I guess you know I’d do just about anything for you, Miss Lily. Even farming, if it came to that.”
There was a rider coming over the rise, and Lily knew in an instant that it was Caleb. Given his direction, he’d been to Tylerville. She wanted to share that farm with just one man, and he was riding arrogantly across the creek at that moment. “Thank you, Wilbur,” she said gently. “But I’m not the right woman for you.”
Wilbur, like Lily, was looking in Caleb’s direction. “I understand,” he said quietly, and then, without another word, he turned and walked away to help with the house.
“I suppose you’re wondering where I’ve been,” Caleb said, sounding damnably pleased with himself as he climbed down from the gelding’s back.
“I wasn’t wondering any such thing.” Lily’s arms were folded, and her chin was thrust out. She couldn’t help noticing that Caleb wasn’t wearing his uniform—he had on dark trousers and a cotton shirt. On his head in place of the tasseled campaign hat was a slouchy leather one. Although he wasn’t wearing a holster and pistol, there was a rifle in the scabbard on his saddle.
Caleb grinned as he reached up for his saddlebags. “That being the case, you probably wouldn’t be interested in the presents I brought you.”
Lily took a reluctant step nearer. “Presents?”
He slung the bulging saddlebags over one sturdy shoulder and gave a long-suffering sigh. “You won’t want to see them, of course.”
Lily and the Major Page 28