by D McEntire
Shaking his head at the wide grin on the brave's face, Brody crouched in front of the cave entrance once again. He sent the flaming stick in first so he could see and began to crawl into the mouth of the cave a second time.
Once he made his way through the opening between the two boulders the cave widened and its ceiling grew taller. Brody found he was able to rise to his knees. Moving the roughly-made torch to spread its light he caught sight of a form at the rear of the cave. As he got closer, he discovered the woman. She lay partially on her side with her arm resting across her mid-section. The sleeve of her shirt was ripped and stained heavily with blood.
Brody sucked in a breath. Her wounds had been worse than he'd thought, and he damned himself for not finding her sooner. Quickly, he set the torch where he was sure it would not go out, and went to her side.
Her skin, alarmingly cool to the touch, was the first thing he noticed. Bending his head to her chest, he held his breath, straining to hear her heart beat. A faint sound reached his ears. The realization had his breath releasing in a woosh of air.
Lightly, Brody tapped her face. "Ma'am? Ma'am, can you hear me?"
His inability to awaken her worried him even more, and his heart beat faster in his chest as his brain raced at the possibility of her dying. Taking her arm lightly in his hands, Brody pulled back the torn cloth to assess the wounds, but was totally surprised to find no deep slashes; instead he found cuts seemingly already in the healing stage -- the skin merely an angry red around the dried blood. Confusion set in at the amount of blood staining her shirt. It didn't match with what looked to be mere scratches on her flesh.
Thunder rolled outside, telling him he needed to move quickly. After sliding one arm beneath her shoulders and the other under her legs, Brody walked on his knees to the small cave entrance.
"Trace, I found 'er. Need your help to get 'er out of here."
In the blink of an eye he saw Trace's long fingers, then arms, poke through the opening. Brody carefully laid the woman where Trace could reach her shoulders, and as the man pulled her out of the cave, Brody made sure the rest of her body didn't rake against the rocks.
After clearing the mouth of the cave, Brody reached out and plucked the woman from Trace's arm.
The wind picked up, and the once-thin line of clouds on the horizon were now a dark blanket cloaking the heavens. The smell of rain was in the air. Brody knew he had to get the woman to shelter as quickly as possible.
With a nod to Trace, he turned and struggled up the steep, rocky hill, praying all the while he didn't lose his footing along the way and send the injured woman tumbling to the ground.
CHAPTER FIVE
Bri felt her body moving . . . and she was back on one of the stage coaches taking her father, brother, and her from one town to another during the night hours. In her mind, she was lying on the bench, her father's lap pillowing her head.
A hard jolt awoke her with a start.
Bri's eyes snapped open, and as her vision wavered she stared at the worn canvas above her, billowing in the wind. The heavy breathing of horses and the rattling of items bumping together all around where she lay echoed loudly in her ears. Her head pounded, and her thoughts were definitely foggy, but her body caused her the most concern; she felt weak.
Stifling a groan, Bri pushed herself up on one elbow to get a better look around. Another hard bump caused her to knock her head against the side of the wagon and she let out a loud, "Ouch!"
"Ma'am? Ya'll alright back 'cher?" A booming voice called out, and Bri jumped. She leaned forward slightly and looked to the front of the wagon to see a large, beefy man holding the reigns and urging the horses onward. He glanced over his shoulder and spoke again. "Ever'thing okay? You need me to stop a minit?"
Bri opened her mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. She didn't know what to say, not having the slightest idea who this man was or where he was taking her. "Um, who are you, and where are we going?"
The big man laughed. "Mr. Brody said you'ins were hurt and fer you to ride in the wagin'. Said he found you by our last camp. Got sum nasty cuts from a cat."
Frowning, Bri rubbed her temples and attempted to clear her head. It only took a few moments for the previous night's fiasco to come screaming back, and her heart stopped. She had shown her true self and knew very well the man had seen it by how he had reacted. But, why take her along? Better yet, how did he find her?
A thought entered her mind, followed by a surge of panic. She'd heard about carnivals and gypsies through her travels to different countries, and wondered if any roamed this area. If they did, she was most certainly in big a real tangle. No doubt those traveling circuses would be eager to get their hands on a person like her for one of their cages. Show the people your pretty fangs.
A chill ran up her spine. Bri closed her eyes and focused on deep, calming breaths to make thinking possible.
Bri fingered the blankets covering her. Although they were comfortable and warm, fear brought a bone deep chill. What had she gotten herself into now? Being stranded in this land, alone for the past two weeks, meant she was already in quite a dire situation. What did this new predicament hold?
A gust of wind blew against the canvas covering the wagon, shifting a tear and uncovering a small hole. A ray of light peaked through the opening, the beam spreading from the roof to the floor mere inches from where she sat. Bri hastily yanked the covers over her legs to shelter them from the light. Her heart beat a mile a minute, afraid more daylight would find her. She was no longer in the safety of her dark cave, and she was more afraid now than the first day she had been left alone.
* * * *
Brody rode point, keeping a good pace at the front of the line and moving the cattle along steadily. His thoughts strayed too often to the woman he'd placed in the wagon, wondering how she faired.
A few of the herd separated, almost cutting him off and Brody jerked himself from his wandering thoughts. Mentally cursing himself for losing focus, he ushered the strays into line, telling himself he had to stay on task before someone -- namely him -- got hurt, or the cattle managed to get out of hand.
After riding all morning, Cookie's wagon, which left before the rest of them finished breaking camp in order to be set up and ready at the next planned stop, came into sight. Brody breathed a sigh of relief; time to stop for lunch and a short rest for both the cattle and the men. It would also give him the opportunity to check on the woman, a voice whispered in his head.
The men on first watch circled the herd, steering them to the grassy plains to corral them. After the last of his men dismounted and prepared for lunch he eyed the wagon Lil' Dave commanded; the one with the woman inside. Unable to hold himself back, he made his way in that direction, hoping to find her in a better state.
After placing her inside on a rough pallet of blankets, he'd pulled down the flaps of the tarp covering the wagon in an effort to keep the dirt and dust out, if that was even possible. Now, as he untied the laces, he wondered if it worked.
"She's up," Lil' Dave said as he came around the side of the wagon. His rumbling voice nearly startled Body out of his boots, though he was relieved to hear the announcement.
After the last of the ties were undone, Brody pulled back the flap and handed it off to Lil' Dave who secured it to the side. A flash of light shone inside and a burst of movement made him jump. The woman had gone from one side of the wagon to the other so fast he hadn't seen her move. Brody blinked a few times and frowned.
"Ma'am? Ain't no call for being spooked. No one's gonna hurt you. You had a purdy bad clawin' from that cat."
The woman slowly separated the torn threads of the shirt, inspecting her arm a moment before settling her spellbindingly blue eyes on him. The worry and apprehension, not to mention fear, in them bothered him. He didn't want her to be afraid, but had no idea how to get her to trust him. Twice they had crossed paths, and twice it ended badly.
Before him sat a beautiful woman, and though she wore men'
s clothing, obviously not hers and nowhere near her size, he noticed an air about her which told him she was from a family beyond his place in society. The thought had Brody shifting his stance, suddenly ashamed of his bedraggled appearance.
"How's yer arm? You hurtin' any?"
When she shook her head, he felt relieved because the only thing he knew to give her for pain was the whiskey Cookie kept on the Chow Wagon. His father told him long ago not to take laudanum on the trail as it was nothing but bad news. The liquid concoction overtook a man's brain to the point where he'd practically drown himself in it without a care for the world.
"You hungry?" He had no doubt she was, as he recalled the tin he'd found in the grass. He figured she'd followed him from their last camp for that very reason: food. Alone out here with nothing but dust and wild country, she probably didn't have anything in the way of skills to survive. Brody's stomach spasmed. If he hadn't found her . . .
"Yes, please," a soft voice replied from the dim shadows of the far corner of the wagon.
Brody held the sound in his mind, letting it roll through his thoughts as it soothed his tired soul. "I'll get you somethin'. Uh . . ." Brody began to scratch his head under his hat, not knowing quite how to say what he needed to ask. Anxiety had him shifting from one foot to another. "You need to . . .?"
Without thought, he waved one hand in a you know gesture, unable to finish his question and praying she got the message, but she merely stared at him as though he spoke another language. Brody tried different words. "You need to be gettin' out of the wagon?"
He hoped she would get out of the wagon and make up her own mind to water the prairie.
* * * *
Bri heard the man's question, but had no idea what he attempted to say. The redness of his face made it obviously plain his embarrassment kept him from coming right out with whatever it was. It suddenly dawned on her. Yes, she did need to take care of something, but there was no way she was getting out of the wagon, at least, not until sundown.
"No, no thank you." She lied and clamped her knees together, praying she could make it several more hours. Maybe she should ask for a pail or something to put in the wagon with her? And that wouldn't be mortifying?
Bri stared at the man's eyes. Though his face was dirty, his eyes shone a brilliant green. His gaze never wavered, but she saw within it no signs he believed her a monster; only kindness filled their depths. A sudden breeze sent strands of dark, wavy hair blowing about his face before they rested again on his shoulders.
The man stepped forward slowly and tipped his hat. "My name is Brody, Brody McAllister."
A moment of silence followed, and Bri realized it was her turn for introductions. Busily admiring the man's facial features, she had not been paying attention. The smile he attempted to hide made her blush, heating her cheeks. She hoped she sat too far back in the shadows for him to notice.
Bri cleared her throat. "I am Bri, Briana Wallace."
Seeing his nod of acknowledgement, she held herself still as he seemed poised for more questions. To her relief, he simply turned and walked toward the wagon where the men stood in line to receive food.
Bri released a long breath. What story was she going tell when the questions did come?
As Bri settled against the inside of the wagon and tried to make herself comfortable, about as comfortable as one could be with a bladder as swollen as a wagon wheel, a figure stepped from the side of the wagon and directly into her sight. Startled, she jumped, glad her legs were still clamped together before she no longer had to worry about holding in what desperately wanted out. Bri found herself face-to-face with a Native American. Her heart began to race like a dog on a fox hunt.
The man's long, grey hair was tied at the nape of his neck. Strands blew about in the breeze. The unrelenting stare and impassive expression on his leathery face made her uneasy, and she wondered what he wanted.
To break the ice, Bri scooted forward, about as much as she dared without encountering the daylight and smiled sweetly. "Hello. My name is Bri . . . Briana Wallace."
The man didn't respond, only continued to stare as if gazing into her soul.
Bri saw it in his eyes. He knew.
She had read many books on the Native Americans in this country, and their many myths and beliefs, so his knowing really wasn't so much of a surprise. Just unwelcome. Panic rose in her chest, and she began wringing her hands. "I am not here to harm anyone. I've never harmed a soul in my life. I-I didn't ask to come here. Brody brought me. Please don't tell them . . . I will leave at dark."
The man stayed as he was for another moment. Bri didn't know what else to do or say to convince him her words held the truth. Finally, he spoke. "No. You will stay." The man shifted his gaze to the ground. He bent, leaving Bri unable to see him over the rear of the wagon unless she stood; something she wasn't going to attempt in her condition as it would risk creating a waterfall. When he straightened, she saw a bucket. He held it up, leaned over the rear panel of the wagon, and placed it inside. Giving it a little push, he slid it further inside, closer to the shadows and within her reach.
Bri couldn't believe it. It seemed as though the old man had read her mind. She gave him a small smile, her gratitude nothing short of heartfelt.
Appearing to have accepted her silent thanks, he disappeared around the side of the wagon. Though no longer in sight, Bri still sensed his presence nearby. A rustle of fabric sounded moments before legs came into view. Bri watched the old man balance on the wagon's bench as he draped a tarp over the canvas. The material covered the small holes, leaving her in the cool of complete darkness.
Bri could have cried at that moment. Although the man obviously knew what she was, he was helping her. The idea Brody may know as well settled like lead in the pit of her stomach. She didn't want him to know. In his eyes she wanted to be normal. Plus, she had no idea what his thoughts were on the existence of her race.
Tales her father had told her and Trevor as children crept into her mind. She recalled how the stories had caused her to fear for her safety among humans. That fear threatened to return now, even though she wasn't sure people in this country knew of her kind.
When she and Trevor grew older, and her brother began to show an insatiable taste for human blood, her father started moving them about from country to country. It had been during their travel that she'd first heard the humans talk -- and their anger and fear -- after one of her brother's kills had been discovered.
Bri held a trembling hand to her throat as her mind raced. If these men held their own beliefs and discovered her true nature, they'd surely act upon those beliefs. Fear led to action, and action would most certainly entail ending her life.
The wagon shook as the old Native American jumped to the ground. The movement jostled her, causing her heart to land in her throat. Bri glanced at the front of the wagon to see it once again vacant. Listening intently, she heard the man walk away from the wagon. She listened further to make sure no one else hovered nearby before taking quick action to relieve herself, sighing as she did so. She felt much lighter, not to mention more comfortable, than she had moments ago.
Booted steps approached, the ones she had come to know as Brody's, and Bri hurried to rearrange her trousers and shirt before he reached the wagon. She settled just in time. Brody's scent filled her nostrils, before the aroma of the food on the tin he carried. It amazed her that even through her desperate hunger, his was the first scent to catch her attention.
"Brung you some eats." His magnificent body stood in front of the wagon, obviously waiting for her to move closer so he could hand her the tin.
Daylight still shone into the rear of the wagon, not giving her the option of getting closer; she couldn't leave the confines of the corner and its darkness. Bri was in a state. Her mind raced for something to say, some sort of excuse as to why she didn't move. A memory surfaced in her mind of her father explaining his family suffered from a malady where their skin reacted badly to the sun.
/> "I'm sorry. I cannot allow daylight to touch my skin. I burn easily. A family curse, I'm afraid." Please, please let him believe me.
Brody smiled, and her heart skipped a beat. She wanted to touch his smiling face, caress his strong jawline and feel the stubble beneath her fingertips. "Oh, that's alright, ma'am. I'll just be settin' it in the wagon here."
When he stepped up on the back wheel and leaned over the side of the wagon, Bri thought he intended to join her. She didn't know whether to panic or jump for joy. But he didn't. He simply placed the tin on the floor of the wagon where she could reach it without exposing herself to the sunlight. Once he'd obviously determined the tin to be within her reach, he hopped down. Bri felt her sudden joy go with him.
As Bri lifted the tin, then settled once again in the darkness, she watched Brody take several steps away, and her heart sank. He was leaving; she wanted him to stay.
He lifted his head and seemed to be checking the position of the sun, then glanced at the wagon. After doing this several times, he approached once again. Bri tried to keep the pleased smile trying to spread across her face at bay as she mentally scolded herself for behaving like a foolish chit.
"The sun's position will stay to the sides of the wagon. With the tarp, you should be alright."
* * * *
After ensuring Bri could reach the tin, Brody hopped down from the wagon.
Bri had said her skin could not withstand the daylight. Checking the position of the wagon against the sun's place in the sky, he was convinced the sides of the wagon would receive most of the sun's rays, leaving the front and rear less exposed.
As he turned to leave, he noticed dark fabric now covered the wagon; the notion someone had taken care of the little lady by adding an extra tarp made him smile, but it quickly faded at the thought following on the its heels. One of his men may have taken a fancy to her. Not that he could blame them. Hell, he'd done just that, hadn't he? Still, the fact they'd been on the trail for weeks, with a ways yet to go before reaching Fort Worth and any chance of seeing a lady worried him. Though he trusted his men, at least most of them, he knew a body could only be pushed so far.