Wild legacy

by Conn, Phoebe

  Falcon dug his fingers into Belle's shoulders and shook her. "Tell me," he urged in an insistent whisper.

  Belle swallowed hard. "I tried to follow you," she finally answered.

  Falcon was so angry he had great difficulty keeping his voice low. "Did you really expect to find me in a British camp?"

  Belle shook her head. "This wasn't our choice, but theirs. We were on the way to Charleston."

  A quick glance around the tent convinced Falcon they had brought little more than what they had on their backs.

  He could not even believe they had been so stupid. "Come with me, and don't make a sound." He took Belle's hand as they left the tent, and after skirting the farmhouse, he led her out across the field. She tripped once and nearly fell but the instant he caught her and set her back on her feet he started off again at a pace close to a run. He did not stop until he had reached the edge of the woods and even there he did not feel safe.

  "Do they have any idea who you are?" he asked, his voice slightly louder but no less harsh.

  Belle had known Falcon might not be pleased to see her, but she had hoped after his initial dismay he would understand why she had followed him and be glad. She tried to hold onto that hope as she repeated the story she and Dominique had made up about their background. "Dr. Perry doesn't really care who we are now that we've proven our worth in his hospital. That's where Dominique is right now. She went to check on Sean O'Keefe. Did you shoot him?" She held her breath, already knowing the answer, and wondering if he would lie.

  "I was sure I'd killed the son of a bitch. Don't tell me Dominique is trying to keep him alive."

  Even when Falcon spoke in a whisper, Belle felt singed by his rage. He had warned her at home that he had changed, and he proved it with every angry word. She drew in a deep breath for courage. "We planned to leave before he is well enough to cause us trouble."

  "Is that what you were arguing about this afternoon?"

  "Were you watching us?" Belle had been infuriated with Lieutenant Beck for spying on them, and while she knew Falcon's motives must surely have been different, she did not want to believe the two men were anything alike. "I sensed I was being watched. It must have been you."

  "I didn't want to believe it was you." Falcon turned away and stared up at the sky. "I told myself it couldn't possibly be you two, but all the while I knew from the way you

  moved that it could be no one else. Didn't you understand anything I said about the war, Belle?"

  His buckskins were a pale gold in the moonlight, and his hair an ebony slash through his broad shoulders. Even separated by several feet, she felt his strength and the smoldering heat of his anger. Words of love would have no meaning for him now, and yet she could not lie.

  "Yes. I understood it all, although I didn't really grasp how awful it was until we got here and saw how many wounded there were. I simply wanted to be with you."

  Falcon swore in the Seneca tongue to spare her the sound of the vile names he thought she deserved. Still livid, he turned back to face her. "What did you expect to do? Were you going to tag along after me as you did as a child? Perhaps load my rifle for me while I did my best to kill Sean O'Keefe and all the rest of his contemptible kind?"

  Even knowing Falcon had developed a temper, Belle had never expected him to be this furiously angry with her. She was as badly shaken as she had been on the ride to Camden, but fought to remain calm enough to reason with him. "Dominique and I were hoping to tend wounded men from the Colonial militia. I didn't expect to travel with you on raids, Falcon, but I had hoped to be able to see you more often than I had at home. I was so afraid you weren't coming back, you see, and I couldn't accept that."

  Nothing Belle said made any sense to Falcon. He wanted her to be safe at home, not here where her presence merely compounded his problems. Knowing that at any moment a stray bullet might end her life was even worse torture. He had always believed her to be the sensible sort, not as reckless as he. "You can't have told your parents what you intended to do or they'd have stopped you."

  That taunt hurt Belle badly because she knew just how greatly she and Dominique must have disappointed them. "No. We didn't confide in them. We just ran away the day after you left home." Belle was tempted to remind him that

  had he not taught her how to survive in the wilderness, they would never have dared to follow him. Then she realized he would not be pleased by the way she had put her knowledge into practice, and kept still.

  Falcon had known Belle was independent, but he had not considered her willful. "You used to respect their opinions, and mine. How could you have even imagined that I would be glad to see you here when the danger is so great?"

  Belle had mistakenly believed that on Falcon's last visit home he had hurt her as badly as he possibly could, but she had been wrong. Cut to the marrow by that abusive question, she realized her devotion had been completely misplaced. She lashed out to repay him for this new and painful insult.

  "I knew you liked being with women, so I thought it might as well be me. Obviously that was a very stupid mistake, but I'll not make another where you're concerned."

  Falcon could have strangled her in that instant, and clenched his hands tightly at his sides to control the brutish impulse. "The British are as thick as swarming bees here in South Carolina, and you thought I would have time to entertain women?"

  "No. Just me," Belle answered. "Go away and forget you saw us. We've gotten along very well on our own and—"

  "You are British prisoners!" Falcon hissed. "How could you have done any worse?"

  Filtered through the trees, moonlight fell in uneven splotches across Falcon's face, making his expression more frightening than if he had been wearing war paint and feathers. Tired of defending herself, Belle took a step backwards, then, fighting tears, turned and ran toward the camp. Soft lights glowing in the farmhouse windows beckoned invitingly, and she raced over the field, terrified to think she would feel far more safe in a British hospital than with the Indian brave she had always adored.

  * * *

  Hoping to find Dominique, Stephen Perry glanced in the bedroom and found her by Sean O'Keefe's side. This time he took care to confine their discussion to medicine. "I waited for you to change his dressing. Normally I would use a bread and milk poultice with the second bandage. I suppose you'd prefer chamomile?"

  Dominique had two excellent reasons for that choice. "Why, yes, I would. I believe there's enough left for Sean, but then Belle and I will need to gather more of the herb."

  "Bring what you have."

  Because their supplies were used there, they had left their basket of herbs in the farmhouse kitchen, and Dominique quickly returned with a strong infusion she had brewed earlier. She soaked a clean cloth in it and waited for Dr. Perry to complete removing Sean's first bandage. She then draped the poultice over his shoulder to cover both the entry and exit wounds. She was so intent upon the process, she did not notice Sean's eyes were open until she stepped back.

  "You weren't a dream after all," Sean murmured in a husky whisper.

  Dominique frowned slightly, imploring him to be still. "He looks much better tonight, Doctor."

  "Hello, Sean," Stephen said. "I won't ask how you're feeling as I'm sure it isn't good. Just give us a minute to wrap your shoulder again, and we'll let you go back to sleep."

  Sean grimaced as Stephen began to work. "Hurry up," he begged.

  "Take his hand," Stephen urged. "That's sure to make him feel better."

  Dominique moved around to the other side of the cot to grasp Sean's right hand. He was still weak, but this time responded with a gentle clasp. She tried to smile, but couldn't. He was staring up at her, studying her with an intensity that unnerved her completely.

  "Be still, Sean," she warned, hoping he would understand her meaning while Dr. Perry would assume she was encour-

  aging him to help him with his task. She began to tremble, and Sean clutched her hand more tightly. She remembered how strong he
had been, but now hoped he would be too weak to leave his bed for a good long while.

  As soon as he was finished, Stephen stepped back. He picked up the bandages he had discarded, and nodded toward the door. "I'll bring you more laudanum so you can go back to sleep."

  "Wait," Sean pleaded softly.

  Stephen responded with a knowing smile. "I'll let you talk with her for five minutes, but not a second more."

  "I won't tire him," Dominique promised, but she held her breath until the physician had left the room. The other men quartered there were sleeping soundly, but she knelt beside Sean's cot so he alone would hear.

  "I want so much for you to get well," she insisted. "Please believe me."

  Sean closed his eyes for a moment, then tried to smile. "Have you cut your hair?"

  Dominique released his hand to remove her kerchief. She shook out her curls and they spilled down over her shoulders in a radiant cascade. "There. I'm pleased to see you still have your hair, too." She combed it back from his temple with a gentle caress. "I'm so sorry you were hurt."

  "So am I." Sean started to laugh, then caught himself when a fiery surge of pain shot down his left side.

  Dominique saw the agony flash across his expression and reached for his hand. "Please, You must rest. Don't try and say anything more."

  Sean looked away, but held her hand long after Dr. Perry had brought the laudanum, and he had fallen asleep.

  Before leaving the room, Dominique checked on the other injured men. She knew their names now, and had heard their stories of home. They were sweet boys, really, and impossible to regard as the enemy now that she knew

  them as individuals. She paused at Sean's cot for a last good night, and brushed his lips with a tender kiss.

  Her chest felt tight as she approached the tent she shared with Belle and she hoped her sister was already asleep because she did not feel up to arguing again. She raised the tent flap and stepped inside, but she was astonished to find Belle seated on the canvas flooring. She was weeping huge tears, and covering her mouth with both hands to muffle her pathetic sobs.

  Dominique immediately knelt beside her. "Oh, Belle, I'm so sorry. I told Dr. Perry we'd have to gather herbs and he didn't seem in the least bit suspicious. We'll leave in a day or so. I promise we will."

  Embarrassed to be found in such a miserable state, Belle dried her eyes on her apron. "I've been such a stupid fool," she sobbed.

  "No, not at all," Dominique assured her. "Sean was awake again tonight, but he's so dazed by laudanum he can't think clearly enough to wonder why I'm here. We'll be safe another day or two, and that will be plenty of time to get away."

  Belle didn't even know where she wanted to go anymore. "Falcon's here," she revealed, and in a halting whisper she described just how thoroughly wretched he had made her feel. "This whole trip was utterly pointless," she declared. "I thought love was worth the sacrifice, but he doesn't even know the meaning of the word."

  Her eyes again filled with tears as she looked up at her sister. "How can I go home and tell everyone Falcon didn't want me?"

  "Belle, that can't possibly be true!"

  "You didn't hear him or you'd know I mean less to him than the beads on his moccasins. I'm nothing. Nothing at all."

  Dominique had never seen Belle so badly upset, and she seriously debated asking Stephen Perry for some laudanum for her, but at the last minute realized she would have no

  way to explain why her sister was in such dire straits. "Falcon must have been shocked to discover us here. Give him a few days to accept the fact. If he came to speak with you once, he'll do so again."

  Belle shook her head and wrapped her arms around her knees. "He's probably ten miles from here by now. I'm sorry, Dominique. I've gotten you in such an awful mess, and it was all for nothing."

  Dominique took a firm hold on her sister's shoulders. "Stop that this instant," she hissed. "Coming after Falcon was my idea in the first place so I'd never blame you for the way the trip's turned out. Besides, I've gotten to see Sean, even if it wasn't the way I expected to, either. Now we're going to have to keep our wits about us, Belle. Let's work as we usually do in the morning. In the afternoon, we'll go out to pick chamomile, and that will be the last anyone here will ever see of us."

  Belle wished they had left that day so she would not have had to suffer through an awful scene with Falcon, but she could not find any joy now that Dominique had agreed to go. "I can't go home," she repeated numbly.

  Dominique hugged her tightly. "Oh, Belle, you've not done anything shameful. Everyone will understand that you had to follow your heart. I'll insist it was all my doing anyway." She stood and hauled Belle to her feet.

  "Now let's just go to sleep and try to make everyone think tomorrow is no different from any of the other days we've spent here. If Dr. Perry sees you crying in the morning, he'll pester you to tell him why and what can you possibly say? I don't think a lovers' quarrel will be a convincing excuse."

  Belle slumped down on the edge of her cot. "It wasn't a quarrel," she stressed. "It was the end."

  Dominique stroked Belle's hair with the same tenderness she had shown Sean. "Falcon has always loved you, and no matter what he said tonight, he loves you still."

  Belle wrung her hands. "He isn't Falcon anymore. He's someone else, Dominique." She hated him for changing, for abandoning her after he had shown her such a small sample of how glorious love could be. She drew in a ragged breath and released an anguished sigh. When she looked up at Dominique, she could barely see her through her tears.

  "He is the one who shot Sean, and he was thoroughly infuriated to learn he isn't dead."

  Dominique wasn't surprised by that announcement, but when she stopped to think how easily Falcon had slipped into camp to speak with Belle, she was terrified. "Do you think he might sneak into the hospital?" she asked. "I know he wouldn't risk shooting Sean again, but it would take only an instant to slit a wounded man's throat."

  "Oh, my God," Belle moaned, the possibility too awful to bear.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you again. It would be cowardly to attack a wounded man and I'm sure Falcon would never stoop that low."

  "He isn't Falcon anymore," Belle stressed. "Have Dr. Perry post a guard at the hospital, or sit with Sean yourself, but don't leave him alone tonight. He isn't safe."

  "Thank you." Dominique leaned down to kiss her sister's cheek, then dashed back to the farmhouse. On the way, she realized she could not admit how she had learned Sean was in danger without revealing Belle had spoken with Falcon. Because that would endanger all three of them, it was another secret she would have to keep.

  The surgeon's mate who was on duty after Stephen had retired was a competent lad she would have trusted on any other night, but telling him only that she was worried about Sean, she sat beside her former beau and prayed until dawn that Falcon was as badly confused as Belle, and would have no appetite for vengeance.

  a long, feral moan. But tomorrow night, he vowed to smother his cries in Belle's tender flesh. He made his way back to his camp and stretched out on the leaves he had gathered for a bed, but his dreams were dark, and his anger renewed by the dawn.

  After being up all night again, Dominique slept until noon. When she finally entered the farmhouse, Stephen Perry thrust a spoon and bowl of broth into her hands. "Sean won't eat unless you feed him. Make certain that he finishes every last spoonful. Officers always make the most demanding patients, and he's no exception. Insist that he behaves himself with you and maybe he'll give my mates less trouble."

  Dominique was alarmed to hear Sean was alert enough to eat, but unable to refuse Stephen's request, she carried the bowl into the bedroom. Lieutenant Beck was leaning over Sean's cot, speaking in a hushed voice. Frightened her ruse was over, her hands shook so badly the broth sloshed in wild waves in the bowl. She glanced back toward the door, but before she could flee, Leland Beck straightened up and saw her.

  "Good afternoon, Miss Scott. I'll get out
of your way so you can give the colonel his dinner."

  The lieutenant's expression was merely curious rather than threatening, prompting Dominique to wonder what Sean had just told him. "Good afternoon," she replied as calmly as she could. The lieutenant nodded politely, but as he passed by her, his expression filled with disdain. He raked her with an insolent glance, his eyes lingering on the soft swell of her bosom. He may have claimed she and Belle weren't worth a second look, but obviously he had not meant it. Sickened by that silent insult, she hurried on to Sean. He was still pale, but with his cheeks shadowed

  by a second day's growth of dark stubble, he was infinitely more menacing.

  Dominique felt torn, for while she believed she may well have saved Sean's life by keeping a watch on him last night, she feared every hour she and Belle remained there increased the risk to their own lives. She sat down in the chair beside him and dipped the spoon into the broth. "I'm glad to see you're well enough to eat," she told him, and then jammed a spoonful of the clear soup into his mouth when he opened it to reply. He sputtered slightly, but swallowed.

  "Delicious, isn't it?" she asked.

  Sean still had one good arm, and while he lacked much in the way of strength, it was enough to block her next attempt to feed him. "Wait," he ordered gruffly. "Beck said he provided you and Belle with an escort here. The Scott sisters,' he called you. Somehow I don't believe Ian would be pleased that you're claiming him as kin."

  Cheered that he had not greeted her with a threat, Dominique managed a slight smile. "First you must eat, and then we'll talk," she insisted.

  "Promise?"

  Dominique rolled her eyes. She knew precisely what value he would assign her word, and did not give it. She raised another spoonful of broth to his lips and he opened his mouth obediently. "Neither of us is in any position to bargain at present," she whispered. "So I propose we simply concentrate on making you well."