The Cumberland Bride

by Shannon McNear

  He peered over at Miss Gruener. She sat huddled, skirts bunched about her knees, cap completely gone and the length of her hair in a twisted coil across her shoulder. Her dark eyes were shadowed, but she seemed well, otherwise.

  Before he could say a word, her brows knitted, and she unfolded to kneel beside him. “Is your head the only injury? Will they allow me to tend it?”

  You’ve done quite enough already, he wanted to say, but clenched his teeth against the words. “I’m sure it’ll mend with time,” he muttered and turned away. He could not afford to be distracted by her again—not right now.

  And as he’d already admitted to himself, she was more than comely enough to distract him under any circumstances.

  He felt for the edges of the cut. Not bad. About two fingers wide—

  “I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “I seem to only ever cause you trouble, wherever I am.”

  The mournful admission tugged at him, but he held on to his ire. As much as she’d suffered through no fault of her own, she brought just as much upon herself. “Aye,” he said at last, “you do.”

  And immediately regretted the words, for the way she withdrew and folded in on herself again.

  He rubbed his face, working loose the bits of dried blood that had trickled down the side. If only he could similarly free himself of the sharp words that kept working their way to the surface.

  “What do they plan to do with us?” she asked, her voice very small.

  The edges of his heart crumbled. She must be terrified, yet here she was, not in the least given to hysterics, as many he’d witnessed in similar circumstances.

  He looked around. All five were up now, busy at various tasks, Crying Bird engaged in an argument just out of earshot with a tall one Thomas decided must be Cherokee. “Well,” he said, keeping his voice low. “If they don’t at some point decide to just kill us, then generally things shouldn’t be too bad. I’m not sure what they’ll do with me, seeing as how—”

  He stopped and gulped a breath. Was he ready to tell her all that?

  Was she not going to find out sooner or late anyway?

  “You, now,” he went on, “you’ll have a better chance. They just might want to adopt you.”

  She stared at him as if he were speaking Shawnee and not English. Which he was likely about to, because here came Crying Bird, stomping toward him, the black eyes glittering and face set in granite. “You both, get up. Time to go.”

  Thomas eased to his feet and motioned for Miss Gruener to do the same.

  They traveled fast nearly the entire day, on foot, their only long stop around noon for water and a few bites of jerky. Kate found herself unreasonably grateful for it. And well it might have served her had she walked most of the way into Kentucky and not ridden, because her body sore protested both the mode and the pace.

  By now, Papa and Mama and the others must be frantic at her disappearance. Her eyes burned. At least it was just her gone, and not her brothers and sisters. But with no warning, possibly no sign of her being taken—would that be more of a grief to them than if they’d found her slain? If, as Mr. Bledsoe said, these men decided to keep her captive, with the eventuality of her being adopted, would that give her family hope to know she possibly lived, somewhere?

  Adopted. She shivered. Oh blessed Lord, have mercy.

  And what had Mr. Bledsoe not told her during that too-brief conversation? He’d kept silent the rest of the day, talking only a little with their captors and with much anger.

  Perhaps this evening, they’d have opportunity to speak again.

  In the meantime, all she wished was to just stop, curl up, and go back to sleep. Yet all the stories she’d ever heard warned that if she did that, the Indians would lose patience with her and take her scalp on the spot.

  That would be the easy way out. The coward’s way. At one point, as if he guessed the tenor of her thoughts, Mr. Bledsoe turned and looked right into her eyes, as much emotion in his as she’d ever seen, before his captor cuffed him on the head and shoved him back around.

  The resounding pang in her own breast brought a fresh burn to her throat and tears she could hardly blink back—though she dared not shed those either.

  “I’m not sure what they’ll do with me, seeing as how…”

  What had he been about to say? And where had he gotten his command of their tongue?

  She knew. In her heart, she knew. This was not the first time he’d been taken captive.

  She’d looked ready to faint.

  Be brave, Kate. Just a little longer.

  He couldn’t say the words aloud but hoped she’d see it in his face.

  His own spirits were falling fast. He’d heard enough of the arguments between Crying Bird and the others to know that a couple of them had wanted to just hit the Grueners’ traveling party hard and fast, take scalps, and move on. Instead, Crying Bird had somehow persuaded them with his own bitter sense of justice to take Thomas and Kate captive, with the intent to deliver them to the town where Thomas had lived years ago.

  The dissension now was over whether Crying Bird and the other Shawnee would take the captives north and let the others go back to taking scalps. Or whether he and Kate would simply wind up dead as well, leaving them all free to continue harassing the settlers.

  If only Thomas could get them away…

  Would Kate be able to endure another flight on so little sleep? He thought not. And he’d not leave her. No matter how vexing he found her at times.

  “I only ever cause you trouble.”

  More of his heart crumbled.

  Another echo, this time from weeks ago. “You know where I go, and the way I know. And Thomas saith unto him, Lord, we do not know the way.”

  The frustration rose up in him, dark and bitter. That seemed the story of his entire life.

  Lord, I do not know the way here. And I know I likely have no right to ask, but—please, if You are there, show me.

  Dusk was falling before they stopped for the night. Once again, after tending to the necessary, Kate was shoved rudely down, the rawhide tether attached to her wrist simply dropped. Mr. Bledsoe, however, was made to kneel, hands still bound behind him, and his captor made the other side fast to a sapling.

  Apparently they were more concerned about him getting away than her.

  An argument ensued almost immediately among their captors. Mr. Bledsoe cocked his head, listening but almost as if pretending not to care, and after a few moments, Kate could tell he was working his bonds behind his back.

  “What are they saying?” she whispered.

  He shook his head at first, then with a furtive glance at them, looked at her. “Might as well not hide it from you. We’re in a tight spot, and no mistake. They’re talking about separating the two of us—taking you to one town, me to another, if they bother to keep me alive—and go back for the traveling party. Likely join up with enough others to mount a strike all up and down the trace.”

  She sat back, suddenly winded. “Thank you,” she managed at last, “for being honest.” She watched him struggle for a moment, then, “I could help with that.”

  He stilled and just looked at her.

  “Is there anything you can do?” she murmured.

  Another glance away again. “Maybe. But it would mean I leave you.”

  The Indians’ voices rose then fell, and despite not understanding their words, she felt the urgency of the moment well enough. A great calm came over her. “Then leave me you should.”

  Mr. Bledsoe knelt closer, his face but a pair of handspans away from hers. Very like the night before. In the dying light, his eyes searched hers. “Are you sure?” he asked softly.

  She nodded before she had a chance to change her mind.

  “I don’t do this willingly.”

  An ache rose in her throat, but she choked it back. “No. If it’s our best chance—my family’s best chance—then you absolutely should go.” Bother, but the tears were threatening again.

  �
�Understand, they’re not likely to harm you. Indians don’t tend to ravish women captives, whatever the stories you’ve heard. And you—you’re pretty enough—” As a wave of heat washed through her, his voice caught, his gaze flickered, but he swallowed and went on, “Let’s just say, you’ve a good chance of being kept and adopted. That would be—a good thing. They’ll treat you reasonably well.”

  Her breath caught. He thought her pretty? She pushed aside the thought and focused instead on her family. Little Stefan and Jemmy. Betsy and Johann. “Even if they do not, it—it would be worth it for you to be able to go warn them.” The tears welled up and overflowed, and dropping her head, she swiped them away with the back of a hand.

  “Kate.” His voice was suddenly low and rich, in a way that tickled a memory she didn’t want to think too hard about, but it was his use of her first name that startled and drew her attention back. His eyes were shimmering. “Listen. Whatever I might have said to you before, whatever trouble you think you’ve caused, this is a brave thing you’ve decided.”

  Was it? There was hardly any other choice available to them.

  “Here.” Mr. Bledsoe turned, offering his bound hands. “If you can’t do anything with the knots, I believe I still have a small knife in my leggings.”

  Her cheeks burned at the thought of having to search him so familiarly, so she applied herself to his bonds. Her own hands ached so fiercely, making any headway seemed nigh on impossible, but the first layer was just coming loose when he hissed over his shoulder, “They’re coming.”

  She turned, putting a mild look on her face—or her best attempt at one. Two of the Indians stomped away, muttering something, but Thomas leaned over and said, “They’re going hunting. We’ll see what the others do.”

  Two of the others, the one he’d told her was named Crying Bird, and one of the tall ones whose hair and dress was different, began debating again. Kate took the moment to reach behind and continue working loose the knot. “Will you go now?”

  “As soon as it’s full dark. I’ll hold the loops between my hands—there, like so—and make them think I’m still bound. Then I’ll sneak away.”

  “Perhaps…you should go now, while they’re quarrelling.”

  He nodded slowly.

  “But you’ve not eaten.”

  “I’ve endured worse.”

  The tightness came back to her chest, and she looked away. If this went wrong, he’d likely be killed before her eyes. She wasn’t sure she could bear that.

  “Kate.”

  Unthinking, she turned her head. Once again, he was so close, she could see the flecks in his eyes. One hand came up to brush across her cheek, and the touch was startling.

  “Sweet, lovely Kate,” he murmured, and then he angled his head and kissed her.

  A heartbeat’s stillness, and her lips parted in surprise. He seized the moment, taking the kiss deeper, and she found herself leaning in, savoring the salty warmth there, her hands coming up to touch his bearded jaw—

  He broke away, his breath as ragged as hers. “Be brave, sweet Kate. I will come for you when I can.” Then he was gone.

  Miraculously, no one noticed.

  A sob tore itself free of her chest, and she slumped to her side, curled as much as her stays would allow. Thomas Bledsoe had just kissed her—most thoroughly at that—and then left her, as he had so many times before, but this time to hopefully warn her family.

  She’d never felt so exalted, and then bereft, in her life.

  He could run for miles on the strength of that one kiss, if not for the agony of having to leave her behind in such uncertain hands.

  Please, Lord…protect her where I cannot! And let this not be in vain.

  He’d not told Kate everything. She’d grasped well enough the overall danger—thank heaven for that—although her sudden decision to sacrifice herself, in effect, was not what he’d expected. He’d not even planned it all out in his own mind completely up to that point, but as soon as she’d suggested he escape and leave her, he knew that was what had to be done.

  Yet the doing of it might kill them both, one way or another.

  And—Lord, what had he been thinking, to kiss her like that? Except that he was not thinking. It was pure impulse, watching her fight to hold back tears and flailing for something, anything, that would convey the depth of his own feeling in that moment.

  And then the way she’d leaned into him—

  He was already running all out, jumping over logs, sliding down a creek bank, trying to make as little noise as possible. Knowing speed was the thing now, a fresh energy flowed through his limbs. Dusk had faded into twilight, the gathering stars his only companion, yet he felt no alarm but that he might not reach the Grueners’ party in time, or that his warning them might not make a difference.

  The fact of having to leave Kate in the hands of five already-furious Shawnee and Cherokee completely aside, of course.

  At a run, could he make it back to that station by daylight. He knew well enough where it was located on the trace and could navigate if the stars stayed out.

  And once he got there, he’d need to send others up and down the trace to warn them, so he could set out immediately to fetch Kate back. Which would be its own trial, and he’d only the slightest idea how to accomplish…

  Kate…oh Kate, how could I have left you?

  She’d not the luxury of weeping alone for long. Firm footsteps and an indignant voice dragged her out of her huddle on the forest floor, although at first she could not stem the flow of tears. Another torrent of angry words only pressed another sob from her—as if it were her chest being stepped upon, as Thomas’s had been just hours before. Then a huff, and the one Thomas called Crying Bird shoved the other man aside and crouched before her. “Where is Eyes-of-Sky gone?”

  He spoke English? Kate gulped and scrubbed a forearm across her eyes. Despite the distraction of his hair and oddly ornamented ears, she made herself focus on the lean features that seemed carved of dark, polished wood. Deep-set eyes glittered at her from above high, full cheekbones and beneath a wide forehead with dark, slashing brows. His lips were set in a hard line.

  “Where is Eyes-of-Sky?” he asked again, seeming to lower his voice, whether for her benefit or the others, she could not say.

  Kate shook her head a little, but held herself steady under his gaze.

  “Are you his woman?” the Shawnee asked.

  His woman? That was hardly a question she knew how to answer. Kate swallowed, her thoughts going unbidden to that kiss and the sudden intimacy in his use of her name. Though she could hardly hide the heating of her cheeks, she lifted her head and straightened her shoulders.

  Crying Bird huffed again. “If you are his woman, why would he leave you?”

  Why indeed. Except that kiss…

  He shoved to his feet, then stood looking down at her as if she were an insect he should squash or merely flick away. Finally, he pointed to the ground. “Lie down. Sleep. We leave early.”

  Kate exhaled. For once she was glad to do just that. She curled up and closed her eyes.

  Lord, protect Thomas! And my family and the others. Turn these men away from more killing, and let there be peace between their people and ours.

  At the least, let there be peace here, tonight.

  The way the men had quarreled was frightening enough.

  The stars were fading before Thomas came across a trace he reckoned would take him in the right direction. He stopped, breathing deeply against the burn in his side that came and went throughout the night, and glanced at the trees. Moss on the north. Aye, that way. And disregarding the weariness of his body, he set out again.

  He’d gotten a plan mostly worked out, but ’twould depend upon who’d be willing to ride up—and back down—the trace to warn the militia. And how willing the rest of the party was to help him stock provisions for his plan.

  Fear gripped his throat, slowing his stride. It was a terrible plan. Just terrible. And the worst th
ing about it: part of him wanted what he was planning to be for real.

  He pushed the thought away and kept running.

  “One of these days, you’re going to meet a girl, get so attached to her that you won’t want to be without her.”

  Truth’s words echoed so loudly in his head that it was like she was right there with him, running alongside. He slid to a stop and bent, heaving for breath, hands on his knees.

  It was his eyes that burned this time.

  He was only feeling this way because he knew all too well what the possibilities were for Kate’s future. And how her family would mourn if she weren’t returned—how they must already be mourning. And if he could save one family that kind of grief, especially one as solid as the Grueners, then…

  He coughed, straightened, and kept going, walking at first, then forcing himself into a trot.

  Nay, this was Kate who had kissed him back with heartbreaking sweetness. Maybe it was just the desperation of the moment, knowing she was laying down her life to give her family a chance, but—

  In his heart, Thomas knew it was more. Or would be, if they also had even half a chance.

  He drew a deep breath then pushed himself faster. Could he afford to let himself think that way at this point? There was too much yet to resolve.

  And what did he even have to offer a girl? This settler’s daughter?

  Around the next bend of the trace, a blockhouse came into view, with people and horses milling about the yard, and a camp tucked up in the edge of the woods. Familiar people and horses, a familiar camp. His knees nearly buckled at the sight, and his mouth dried completely.

  Someone turned, spied him, and gave a shout. Soon the entire camp was in full cry and surrounding him. He dropped to his knees, and then a cup of water was thrust at him, which he accepted gratefully.

  Karl Gruener shoved to the front of the crowd, and likewise kneeling, seized Thomas’s shoulder. “Kate,” he gasped. “Where is she? What happened?”