Heart of a Dove

by Abbie Williams

  My heart panged and I could not deny it; my eyes told him the truth. I should have known Boyd would realize. I whispered, “I do, I do so very much. I know it seems impossible…”

  “No, it ain’t impossible, furthest thing from it,” Boyd said. “Love just plain strikes a body, whether you’re expecting it or not. My daddy knew that my mama was for him the first time he ever saw her. He set his sights and went after her, an’ they loved each other something fierce. Sometimes that’s the way of it. If we were back home, an’ life was different, an’ there’d been no goddamn war, Sawyer could come an’ court you, an’ pay respects to your own daddy. He would do everything proper, Lorie, he is the most honorable man I know, perhaps savin’ Gus. An’ Sawyer loves you, I ain’t ever seen the like in his eyes.”

  I choked up, tears in my own eyes, and Boyd noticed, though I hadn’t intended that. He paused and neatly collected my arm into his, tucking my hand in his elbow. Again I marveled that I had found such a group of men, who were indeed honorable, and kind, and good. God knew, the devil knew, that most were not, at least in my experience.

  “Oh, Boyd,” I said, using my shoulder to swipe at my tears, though the movement aggravated the pain in my head.

  Boyd studied me with his dark eyes a mix of candor and compassion. He explained, “When we left home, we were all so full of ourselves. When I think back now, how we was gonna whip the Yanks in a couple a months an’ come home heroes. It makes me sick to near death, it does.” He sighed before continuing. “War destroyed us, I ain’t gonna sugarcoat. I lost me Graf an’ Beau, an’ Sawyer lost Eth an’ Jere. You lost your own brothers, Lorie-girl, so you know. But Sawyer, he watched them killed before his eyes. They were shot down before him, an’ he dragged their bodies from that rocky field. He saved them to be buried back home, as he knew his mama couldn’t bear otherwise.”

  Oh Sawyer.

  My heart clenched at the pain of this information I had not known. Of course he would do so, of course he would risk himself for those he loved.

  Oh God, Sawyer.

  Boyd continued, “An’ then coming home to Suttonville, findin’ near everyone gone. At least I had me Malcolm yet, an’ Mama’s brother an’ his family in Minnesota. But Sawyer, Gus, they had no one. Sawyer near went crazy with grief; Gus, being older, was better equipped to handle it, I do believe, though I know he was hurtin’ terrible. But Sawyer is…” and he paused, his eyes drifting up and to the left as he searched for an appropriate adjective. He finally settled upon, “Hot-tempered. An’ passionate about things, in a way that most men ain’t. Always has been. I’m only telling you this, Lorie, ’cause I fear for what’s to come. You saw the way he would have killed that son of a bitch who tried to steal you away. I saw his eyes in that firelight, an’ I knew right then that he was feeling something fierce for you.”

  He studied me carefully and continued, “But Gus, he’s quiet, considerate. He wouldn’t just come right out an’ admit to something as directly. Do you know that Gus aims to marry you, Lorie?”

  I faltered, closing my eyes, breath lodged in my chest. I nodded, feeling weak as a kitten.

  “Aw, Lorie, I ain’t telling you this to hurt you none, I’m just worried. Far back as I recall, Sawyer’s done had this notion in his mind that he’d one day meet the woman for him an’ know her for his, an’ he’s had his heart set on it. He’s a goddamn romantic. He never did finish that story in of the cave in the Bledsoe holler, when he went back for his boot. He swore to me that when he picked up his boot, he had a vision. Well more like he heard a voice. A voice vision, I guess. An’ it told him the words ‘the angel.’ I laughed an’ laughed, but he was certain he’d heard it, I couldn’t sway him from it. He could explain it better’n me, that’s for sure. But you’re her, I do believe. His angel.”

  “He told me the story,” I affirmed quietly. I understood better than Boyd thought. Hadn’t I a similar experience, with the woman in silver?

  The woodcutter, she’d said.

  “He’s set his sights on you, an’ Gus has too, an’ I’m a-worried, Lorie.” He regarded me with his eyes serious. “What of you?”

  My culpability was strangling. I said, “I never intended to cause any trouble. When Angus said he knew my father that night, I couldn’t believe it.”

  “Fate,” Boyd said.

  “Maybe so,” I allowed. “I could never thank Gus enough for what he did for me, taking me from Ginny’s. I would have been there until I died, I’m sure of it. He rescued me from that, and I will never be grateful enough. And I care for him, I do.”

  “But that don’t matter when you love someone else,” Boyd said, and I knew he understood. “A heart can’t be made to love someone, that’s one thing my daddy told me. Aw, Lorie, I long for my daddy something fierce. For Mama, too. There’s times I can’t bear to have to make a decision that affects more’n just me. The responsibility of it rips at me. My God, Daddy never felt that, he was always strong as an oak.”

  “I know just what you mean. My daddy was too,” I told him, as my vision swam. “He spoiled me. I thought as long as he was alive, there was nothing in the world that could hurt me.”

  “Sawyer told me a bit about how you come to that whorehouse,” Boyd said. “It pains the both of us, something fierce. I swear, Lorie, I never thought before about where the girls who live there come from. It puts me in a right terrible frame of mind, so guilty-like.”

  “Who did you see that night?” I asked him.

  “Lisette was her name,” he told me. “Was she your friend?”

  “No, I didn’t trust most of them. It was a terrible place. I would rather die than ever go back.”

  “You won’t ever have to,” he assured me. “Lorie-girl.” He sighed, blowing out the resultant breath with cheeks puffed. He observed, “You look right pale yet. You can lie in the back for a spell, if you’ve a mind to.”

  “No, I’ll stay here,” I said, though I knew I should take his suggestion. But in the back of the wagon I would not be able to see Sawyer. He and Malcolm were riding close together, not too far ahead, and my shoulders eased a little at the sight. Though I considered Boyd’s words with a sinking in the pit of my belly; if Angus intended to marry me without knowing about the possibility of a child, then nothing would deter him if it was true. I closed my eyes, knowing that was what had caused panic to cross Sawyer’s face, the same knowledge that I held in my mind like so much lead, dense and immovable.

  The irony of the situation was not lost on me; a former whore, and surely a pregnant one at that, should count her every last blessing to have a man as kind and good as Angus Warfield aiming to marry her. It was more than I could ever have hoped for, in my old life. I pressed hard against my temples, trying to ease back the ache there, the onrushing sense of dizziness.

  What would I be willing to do, in desperation? My mind scattered through possible options as I rode in silence beside Boyd, while he smoked a tobacco roll. Run away, Sawyer and I could run away together. Would he be able to raise another man’s child, even for me? And though he was an honorable man, would that knowledge destroy him over time? What could be more dishonorable than for me to deny a man his rightful child? My head throbbed and I felt hot, far too hot for even the bright day to warrant.

  Oh God, oh God, oh God. I deserve your every punishment for this. Whore, whore, whore, you deserve nothing less than punishment.

  I knew suddenly that I was about to faint, as spots danced, wild and gray, at the edges of my vision. I said breathlessly, “Boyd, I need to get…I need to get down,” and he looked over at with sudden alarm, halting the horses with a jerk.

  “Hold up,” he said. “You’re pale as milk.”

  He vaulted to the ground and helped me gently over the side, his dark eyes wide with concern. A roaring was in my ears and I swayed, and then the spots closed out all the sights around me and I fel
l. I was vaguely aware of Boyd catching me.

  For a time I seemed to drift, and I fancied that I was just beneath the sun, feeling its scalding heat over my face, my ribs, my limbs. Its heat was all-consuming. I tried to open my eyes enough to see back to the earth, which I could sense far below me, where Boyd whistled shrilly across the prairie, kneeling and holding me in his arms. The sound was piercing and ricocheted through my aching head. The throbbing within my skull was almost unbearable.

  Hooves pounding close, Whistler and Aces, and then Sawyer was there. My heart swelled in gladness, despite everything, the heat and the pain.

  “Oh God, what’s wrong?” Sawyer demanded, his deep voice shaking, and he took me from Boyd. I wanted to open my eyes to see him, but I couldn’t manage. The sun was just above me, pouring its melting heat over my face. I could almost trail my fingertips over its blazing surface. I tried to float away from it, still somehow seeing everything that was happening far below, as though I bore eyes in the back of my head.

  “What’s wrong, Boyd? What’s wrong with Lorie?” Malcolm sounded near, almost in my ear. “Did she fall again?”

  “Lorie, sweetheart,” Sawyer was saying, cradling me to him. Then to Boyd, the fear evident in his voice, “She’s burning up, she’s on fire. Oh Jesus…”

  “Sawyer, you’ll not help anyone if you don’t get ahold of yourself, old friend,” Boyd said. “She’s fevered. Boy, ride ahead for Gus, go on now.”

  “Sawyer,” I tried to whisper.

  “I’m here, I’m here,” he said, curling over me, his lips on my forehead. He felt cool against my skin, which seemed to be crackling free from my face with heat.

  “My head…” I tried to tell him.

  He stroked hair away from my face and ordered Boyd, “Get my canteen.”

  Boyd was back in an instant.

  “Open it, soak this,” Sawyer insisted and seconds later a cloth was over my forehead. It was too cold, somehow, in the face of the sunlight upon me. I could feel the shakes coming, threatening me with their force, and I moaned. The shaking would rend my bones, I was sure. I would clatter apart here, beneath the sun, be nothing but broken bones. It was my last thought before I lost all sense of reality, dark heat pulling me absolutely under.

  - 19 -

  Days and nights swirled together in a crazy quilt of awareness. Day was garishly bright and nauseated me, and then after what seemed mere minutes, night would come on like the black of a crow’s wing. I drifted near cloud bellies when it was night, along their smooth undersides, though I could not escape the sun’s heat, as if it burned just above the layer of clouds.

  As I drifted along, I came upon the red dirt road, lined with spruce and pawpaw trees, thick with honeysuckle and cardinal flowers, soft beneath my feet. I hurried along its length, holding my skirt high above my ankles; the dirt was brutally hot. I could hear Whistler somewhere near, around that bend up ahead, and I knew Sawyer would be there waiting, and he would take me away on her, just the two of us and our horse, forever.

  I had to hasten, I knew it in my bones. I must, because Sam was behind me now. I could hear his heavy, plodding footfalls, his breathing. I began to cry, and to beg.

  No, please don’t let him get me, please. Please, God, please.

  Mama, where are you?

  I can’t find you. I’m scared, I’m so scared.

  He’ll get me.

  Then a deep voice, a voice I knew in my truest heart, reaching me as though through a distant train tunnel.

  Lorie, sweetheart, you’re safe here, you’re safe. I’m here, mo ghrá milis.

  I tried to lift my arms to hold him, but they seemed no longer connected to me. Sawyer was crying then, pleading, and my heart ached, but I could not move to comfort him.

  Please stay with me, please. Oh God, please, please don’t take her from me. I can’t bear it. Dear God, I’ll do anything.

  I was vaguely aware of being given water at times, though my eyes would hardly open more than slits. Then I thought I would rattle apart with shaking. For other long, hideous stretches of time I drifted through the blazing belly of the sun, unable to shrink from its heat. I floated in a haze, outside of time, dreaming intermittently. The landscape of my dreams was consistently reddish and horrible, riddled with a sense of anger and turbulence, fighting, and then suddenly I could see Sawyer, on Whistler, and he was riding towards the north, his back to me.

  Something was terribly wrong, as his shoulders were not at their usual military attention, but instead hunched forward, as though he was in pain, about to fall from her back.

  Sawyer, Sawyer…

  I tried to chase him, screaming his name, but I was so weak and he continued riding away.

  I fell to my knees and screamed for all I was worth, screamed his name.

  When my eyes blinked open it was early evening and I was in my tent. I moved my head on the pillow and it was clear, at last, and I drew a breath. I was sweaty and uncomfortable, but I could think straight.

  “Lorie.”

  Sawyer was there, warm at my side. He immediately cupped my face and pressed his lips to my temple, and though my arms were weak I reached and gripped his forearms as hard as I was able, to keep him near me. The image of him riding away seemed seared against the darkness of my mind, and I wound my fingers even more tightly around him, the strength and immediacy of him.

  “You’re not fevered, thank God, you’re not fevered,” he said, brokenly.

  He tipped his forehead to mine, eyes closed, while I clung to him. For long moments he didn’t speak and I held him, breathing him and feeling him, knowing without being told that he’d stayed with me this entire time. When at last he drew back a spell, cupping my cheeks, I saw how drawn he looked, the shadows beneath his eyes. I reached and traced my thumbs over the dark smudges there, gently. He made a sound deep in his throat and kissed me softly on the lips, so softly.

  “It’s been four days,” he whispered. “You were in a fever. Lorie, I’ve been so scared. Are you hurting anywhere yet?”

  “No,” I whispered, my throat hoarse. He moved at once and brought a canteen to my lips, helping me sit and smoothing back my damp hair.

  I drank and drank, as he held me. I could hear the sounds of the horses, and suddenly Angus was ducking inside, his gray eyes as severe with emotion as I’d seen them that first night we’d met, at Ginny’s.

  Malcolm crowded behind him and leaped towards the bedding saying, “I ran to tell everyone you was better. Lorie, oh thank the Lord,” and he hugged me gently, as I set the canteen upon the ground. “We was so scared.” His dark eyes implored me. “What was you dreaming, Lorie? It was right terrible-sounding. An’ you were callin’ and callin’ for Sawyer, though he were right beside you.”

  Sawyer was still holding me, his arm about my waist, and I longed to give in to the keen, all-consuming urge to burrow against him and be held fully; Malcolm and Gus were both too near, staring at me intently. I reminded myself that they had also been concerned, that it would be unkind to beg them to leave me alone with Sawyer.

  “Malcolm, Sawyer, may Lorie and I have a moment?” Angus asked, surprising me, his gray eyes steady upon me.

  Mine flashed at once to Sawyer and the agony in the depths of his hawk eyes clawed at me. At once, my body flared with a desperation I had never known.

  What’s happening? I begged him to tell me.

  Talk to Gus, Lorie, he said back.

  Don’t go, I told him, pleading.

  Sawyer closed his eyes and it was clear to me he was in torture; when he opened them and met my gaze, he told me, I’m sorry, Lorie, oh Jesus, I am so sorry.

  My heart spattered blood frantically as he gently withdrew his arm from me and followed Malcolm from the tent.

  In their absence, Angus came to sit near me and his gray eyes held mine
somberly. He said, “We’ve been so worried, Lorie, these past days. If you weren’t better by tomorrow, Boyd was going to ride to find a town, no matter how far. I felt it would run its course, and you weren’t struck with typhoid, as I know that illness well.” He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, loose to his shoulders, his own face lined with worry. My ears rang with terror; I was desperate for Sawyer to come back and tell me what was happening.

  Though I knew, I understood then.

  Angus knew, and what I feared was happening.

  I counted frantically back over the weeks, certain it had been at least six since I’d bled, perhaps more.

  “Lorie, I must speak frankly,” Angus said. He took my right hand in his, gently, folding my fingers within his palm. He said, “I’ve been so torn with guilt over what happened the night we met, when I came to you. You gave me the gift of your body that night, and I took it, selfishly. And now…” and he paused, touching his free hand to his forehead, seeming to fortify himself. “Now it seems that…you’re carrying a child. It never occurred to me that it would be a possibility. I’m a fool, Lorie. But I will take all responsibility for you now, as I should have from the first. As soon as we come to a town, I will marry you and give you my name, and our child will know its parents, both.”

  I flailed out of control, tumbling over a pit and into black, echoing space. How had this come to pass while I lay in sickness?

  Where was Sawyer, why wasn’t he stopping this?

  Angus said, “I know this is sudden, and I know it is impertinent of me, Lorie, but I have longed for a child of my own since before the War. We, Grace and I, lost two of our own, before they were yet born, and it broke my heart both times. I will love you, and this child, and care for you, always.” His gray eyes drove into mine, with compassion and sincerity. He held my hand tightly. I sat as though carved from a tree stump, one with no core, hollowed out completely.

  “Gus,” I whispered weakly. “I…”