I nodded silently.
Then he said, “I couldn’t figure for the life of me why Sawyer was out of the tent in the dark, crouched down low. I knew something was wrong so I grabbed the rifle, and the next thing I knew he was throwing that man to the ground. Soldier’s instincts. Thank God he sleeps light.”
For the countless time I envisioned what had happened this morning as I stared into the distance. The sky was softly blue as the sun rose and painted the prairie with a thousand tints of gold and brown. What if Sawyer hadn’t happened to hear something, hadn’t woken? Where would I be at this moment? My heart raced along so intently that I struggled to draw a breath.
Angus promised, “Lorie, we will keep you safe, do you hear? I didn’t anticipate this morning, but I don’t believe it will happen again. I would say that the storm has passed.”
I wanted so badly to trust him. I reminded myself that every mile we covered carried me farther from Ginny’s reach, from any remnants of my old life. It had hurt me greatly to hear Jack so casually refer to me as one of her whores, though I deserved the pain, deserved the shame. I had very well been one of her whores for years. I heard myself say, “Angus, you can’t do this to yourselves. You didn’t anticipate me in your lives at all and I’ve already caused you so much trouble.”
It was not that I was attempting to act nobly; I was truly afraid he would reach the same conclusion eventually and I would rather know either way sooner than later. Already I depended upon them an unspeakable amount.
Angus rode in silence; when I dared to look down at him, he tilted his hat back and gazed intently into my eyes. Softly he said, “I didn’t anticipate anything that has happened since we found you. But I must tell you, Lorie, I can hardly imagine our lives without you.”
With those words he replaced his hat, tipped the brim at me, and then heeled Admiral and rode ahead.
Malcolm roused after a spell; judging by the sun, it was an hour or so past noon. He sat up and stretched, then hugged me hard and said, “I didn’t mean to sleep for so long, Lorie. You’ve been doing a right good job of driving.”
I regarded him from under my hat brim with a small smile. I said, “The horses have been very well behaved. I’ll keep on here, if you’d like.”
He stretched again, fists near his elbows, twisting his skinny torso. He said, “I wish Sawyer woulda killed that fella this morning, Lorie, truly. That fella came to harm you, didn’t he? Sawyer would have, I done saw it in his eyes. You know, Boyd is the best shot by far, but can’t nobody beat Sawyer in a fight. Him an’ Boyd and my other brothers and Sawyer’s brothers all used to fight. But Sawyer, he’s fierce! When he flung—”
“Malcolm, would you pass me the canteen?” I interrupted neatly.
“Sure thing,” he said agreeably, bending to reach it. He observed, “Hey! You ain’t got your boots on yet!”
I curled my toes against the floorboard, explaining, “I know, my feet hurt too much right now. I see you’re wearing yours.”
“I’m sorry I jumped upon you last night,” he said in response, his voice contrite. He passed me the canteen; I traded him, and he took the reins into his hands. I drank a long swallow, and then another; the air was much warmer today, with no clouds to dull the sun’s radiance.
When my throat was cooler, I said, “I wasn’t hurt. And it was good to laugh so. I’ve missed laughing that way.”
Unexpectedly he asked, “Was what he said true? About you being a whore?”
He spoke the word without flinching, not realizing the floodwater of emotion it caused within me. I pressed the back of my knuckles against my lips, willing myself not to choke up the liquid I’d just swallowed. At last I whispered, “Yes.”
Malcolm nodded and said, “Well it’s right good Gus found you then. That’s no place for a lady.”
When I began sobbing, he didn’t understand; I felt badly for it, ashamed at my own weakness, but I couldn’t stop the tears. Part of me was utterly grateful that none of the others were near; though I could see both Admiral and Fortune ahead, they and their riders were well beyond the range of hearing me. Overcome, I bent into my palms.
“Lorie,” Malcolm kept saying. He slipped the reins into his left hand and wrapped his right arm around my shoulders. “Don’t fret so. We won’t let nothin’ happen to you.”
His sweetness and childlike confidence was such a comfort. I turned my face against his shoulder, my hat falling down my back, and only after a long time was able to stop weeping. I sat straight and scrubbed away the last of the tears. I said hoarsely, “I’m sorry, Malcolm.”
“Aw, I ain’t gonna melt,” he joked; his shirt was soaked with dark patches.
I giggled a little, swiping at my nose, wishing I had a handkerchief. I said, “Please don’t tell anyone I’ve acted this way.”
“I won’t,” he promised. He shrugged and grinned at me, his dark eyes full of knowing as he added, “Ladies weep, I know it. It’s just how ladies are. My mama used to weep sometimes. Sometimes for nothin’ a’tall.”
“I’m glad you understand ladies so well,” I said somberly, replacing my hat.
“I surely do,” he replied, shifting on the wooden seat. “There was this one time…”
The hours flowed in the wake of the sun across the sky; Malcolm told stories from a seemingly endless supply, entertaining me so that I was not forced to dwell upon the words Angus had spoken. Though I did anyway. What had he meant? As improbable as it seemed, I could hardly imagine a time without the four of them either. What would be our future? What would we tell people we came across? Four men traveling with a just-scarcely-former whore; that would set tongues wagging faster than about anything I could imagine.
These thoughts were in my mind as evening slowly settled over the prairie. Despite the blue-sky heat of the day, clouds began to pile on the western horizon. Malcolm and I caught up to the horses at last; we’d come to the bank of a river, an offshoot of the Mississippi, wide and muddy-brown, though its rushing gurgle was cheerful.
“We’ll ford and then camp on the far bank,” Angus said as Malcolm drew Juniper and Aces to a halt and leaped over the side like a jack-in-the-box.
Boyd and Sawyer were watering the horses; I hadn’t seen Sawyer since early this morning, and dragged my eyes away when I realized I was staring at him. Angus dismounted and helped me from the wagon, then asked, “How did that salve help your feet? Not much, I’m guessing,” and indicated my bare toes.
“It did help,” I assured him, embarrassed to be again without shoes, like a little girl. “It’s so much more comfortable to be out of them, I must admit.”
Malcolm was drawn to the creek like a water witch and I found my eyes again upon Sawyer; he looked over at me, just briefly, and my heart dealt a fierce kick to my ribs.
“I’ll take a look once we cross,” Angus said and I refocused upon him. “I didn’t get a chance this morning. Would you rather ride in the wagon or have one of us take you over on horseback?”
Again my damnable gaze flashed to Sawyer. I looked away immediately and said, “I’ll ride with Malcolm.”
“He’ll be excited to play the gentleman,” Angus said, crossing his hands and bracing them atop his head. He drew a deliberate breath; the river scented the air with a musky tang, not unpleasant. There were cottonwoods here, their tiny leaves shivering and whispering, and willows along the water, trailing their draping branches; I wanted to ask if we could stay more than a night.
I joined Malcolm at the water as Angus let the team drink; I was relieved the bulk of the wagon kept the others momentarily from my sight.
“Lookit these, Lorie-Lorie,” Malcolm said, pointing; he was preoccupied by the minnows that swooshed in shiny clouds in the shallows. He pointed at my toes and said, “No fair!”
I looked to the far bank. “I could probably walk it,” I said,
to distract him. “It doesn’t seem very deep.”
“Can you swim?” Malcolm asked.
I nodded. “My daddy made sure all of us knew how.”
“Good, that way if a snake spooks the team and we get knocked into the water you’ll be all right,” he teased, his dark eyes twinkling at me.
I giggled and swatted at him.
“Boy, you be careful with Lorie here,” Boyd said, joining us, leading Fortune. “It’s an honor to escort a lady across a river.”
Sawyer was mounted on Whistler again; he looked so natural there, atop her. Angus too had taken the saddle, and he called to Malcolm, “Up and at ’em, son!”
Sawyer resettled his hat upon his head, Whistler high-stepping delicately into the water.
“Come on,” Boyd said. “No time for lollygagging here on this side. Lorie, let me boost you up.”
Malcolm climbed aboard the wagon in a flash, then reached his hand down to me.
“Bare feet again?” Boyd teased, assisting me up beside Malcolm and then vaulting onto Fortune. The three of us forded the river together. The water proved to be deeper than I’d thought, reaching to the middle of the wheels. Juniper was solid and steady, though Aces tossed his head and whinnied, but Malcolm urged him forward with practiced motions on the reins, clucking his tongue. Angus and Sawyer cleared the far bank, though Sawyer kept Whistler in the shallows until we finished crossing; the set of his shoulders was rigid, as always. We rolled from the water uneventfully and Boyd helped me down.
We set up camp within sight of the river. The air had chilled, the sun blotted out by fast-scuttling clouds. As Malcolm and I pitched one of the tents, the first rumble of thunder sounded. I was so very tired as we worked that I was nearly useless.
“Lorie, why don’t you lie down a spell, now that your tent is up?” Angus said, as raindrops began peppering the ground. “We’ll finish the rest.”
I didn’t have the will to protest and hurried to the wagon to fetch my bedding and blanket, rolled neatly. Once inside the tent, I collapsed; I hadn’t even found my pillow, but was beyond caring. I dozed, half-listening to the comforting sounds of the men talking as they finished their work. I was vaguely conscious of someone erecting an awning out from the front of my tent; they built the fire under that then gathered around it, just feet away from where I lay behind the canvas walls, and I felt so safe, and so terrified that I was allowing myself the luxury of security. I wrapped myself within it, held it to my heart, and then slept deeply.
Much later I woke to darkness, my heart throbbing, hot in my chest. I sat up with a gasp, reeling for a moment, dizzy and shaking, reaching blindly as though expecting a figure to be looming near. Seconds later I understood that I was indeed alone and pressed both hands to my face, gathering my wits. The fire was banked and the air held the stillness of coming rain; even within the tent I could sense it. And, dammit, my bladder was full. The thought of walking any distance from camp frightened me, but I knew I could not hold it until morning. I rolled to my knees and tilted my head, closing my eyes and listening hard. I could hear the river flowing along, and beyond that the horses. From the tent just a few feet from mine I could also hear the muted roar of both Boyd and Malcolm snoring; I smiled at this comforting sound as I unlaced just the two bottom-most entrance ties and proceeded to crawl outside.
I slipped out on hands and knees and was scarce a foot from my tent when I blundered right over someone lying on the ground. Both a gasp and a shriek tried to rise out of my throat at the same instant; I nearly choked on the resultant squeak. I was terrified, disoriented, my hair and arms sprawled all over a warm body, but he rolled quickly from his side and held me securely against his chest. Into my ear he murmured, “Lorie, it’s just me.”
He released me almost as abruptly, though at first I remained draped over him; I sat up too fast and then stared in bewilderment at Sawyer, yet on his back, a blanket rolled into a pillow under his head. It was the second time he’d surprised me just outside of my tent and though my body was now motionless, my heart convulsed in my chest. He had never spoken my name until just this moment. It was perhaps an absurd thing to notice, but I did. I wanted him to say it again; I realized that I had never spoken his aloud either.
We continued to stare at one another in the faint light of the banked fire; his hair was loose, though he was wearing a shirt. He was wearing all of his clothes, down to his boots, and he had been sleeping just outside of my tent in the darkness. I heard myself whisper, “It’s about to rain.”
He rose to one elbow and said softly, “The awning’s out. I didn’t mean to scare you. We decided to take turns sleeping outside your tent. Gus would have told you, but you were asleep…” His voice trailed away, into silence.
My heart was so loud in my ears I felt certain that he could hear it. As though in response, thunder growled in the heavens, rain scattering over the canvas awning stretched above our heads. That they would all be willing to do such a thing was almost more kindness than I could bear. I whispered, wishing my words had the power to convey even part of what I was feeling, “Thank you. You don’t have to do this.”
He shook his head, as though this act of incredible thought was nothing, and then, deducing why I had been crawling out of my tent in the first place, he whispered, “I’ll walk with you.”
“Thank you,” I whispered again, so confused. I could not seem to conjure the wherewithal to look away from his eyes. I realized, belatedly, that I was wearing only my shift and I crossed my bare arms instantly over my breasts.
He rose gracefully, breaking the contact of our eyes, catching up the blanket he’d been using as a pillow and draping it politely over my shoulders. He whispered, “Here, you’ll freeze,” and then offered me his hand, as I was still kneeling. If he had been Malcolm or Angus, even Boyd, I wouldn’t have hesitated; but it was Sawyer, and I did. I caught the blanket with my left hand, holding it secure between my breasts, and then put my right hand into his, so warm as it closed around mine, strong and hard. I felt stunned by the contact, brief though it was. He lifted me to my feet and then led the way around the side of the tents, towards the river. I followed close behind, the ground unpleasantly wet on my bare feet, rain spattering our heads. He halted abruptly and turned to tell me, “I’ll be right here.”
I nodded, blinking at the rain in my eyelashes. I slipped away and found a tree to crouch behind; he’d turned his back, though I was nearly invisible in the rain and the darkness as it was. Lightning flared in the western sky, backlighting toppling stacks of clouds, and I shivered as I hurried back up to him.
“Come,” he said, as the rain began sheeting over us. Once back under the awning before my tent, we stood staring at one another, this time with wet hair leaching water down our backs. His clothing and the blanket he’d been using were streaked with rain, all on account of me. The ground was damp, even under the awning, and I couldn’t bear to think of him continuing to lie there.
“Thank you very much,” I whispered, meaning to go back to bed, though I found I couldn’t quite make myself look away from his eyes. I said softly, “And please, I’m not frightened. You needn’t sleep here. The ground is so uncomfortable.”
“I’ve slept in plenty worse places,” he said. His eyes held mine as he added, “Truly, Lorie, I don’t mind.”
My name again. His voice was deep and throaty, and it made my toes curl against the damp ground. My heart continued to thrash against my ribs. I tried to draw a breath and forced myself to move towards the entrance of the tent, whispering, “No, you—” but my words were abruptly cut off as I stepped down onto something sharp. I gasped in surprise and bent forward, towards the sudden stinging on the bottom of my foot.
Sawyer caught my upper arms; I was still wrapped in the blanket. He demanded in a whisper, “What’s wrong?”
“My foot,” I whispered, clenching my jaw at the pai
n.
“Inside,” he decided, low. “I can’t see anything out here.” So saying, he moved swiftly to untie the rest of the entrance to my tent and drew me within.
“Have a seat,” he whispered, before ducking back outside. I did, on the bedding, immediately drawing my right foot onto my lap and feeling cautiously along its length. My fingertips bumped what felt like a long, sharp splinter, sunk deeply into the soft skin just above the heel. It hurt so badly I made a sound; Sawyer re-entered bearing the lantern that had been hanging near the fire pit, now lighted. In its meager glow he knelt without hesitation and set the lantern at an angle to best inspect my foot.
“May I?” he asked quietly.
I was in too much pain to worry about propriety, not to mention my own embarrassment, and let him take my ankle into his hands. Again the warmth of him stunned my senses. Gently he inspected the damage and said, “It’s just the one piece. Hold still.”
He caught it between one finger and thumb and deftly slipped the jagged splinter from my flesh. Blood flowed wetly in its wake. He had the dishtowel from the wash basin, which he pressed immediately to my foot, winding it around and tying a secure knot.
“There,” he murmured softly and I looked away from my wound and to his face.
He was regarding me so seriously with those hawk eyes, those golden-green eyes, the glow of the candle flickering over the angles of his face from below, over the hair that hung down his back. His dark lashes were long enough to cast shadows. The blanket had fallen from my shoulders and my foot was cradled between his warm, strong hands. My gaze fell to his lips, which I had never yet witnessed smile. As before, everything inside of me surged with a desperate urgency towards him and he must have seen something in my eyes; the intensity in my blood flowed within his as well, I was certain, and I could sense the distress it was causing him, same as my own.
Heart of a Dove Page 18