XVI
Summer 1885
The wagon creaked softly as it lumbered across the rough ground. I tried to find a more comfortable position, but the ropes binding my arms and legs didn't allow much movement. A wide strip of cloth covered my eyes, a bandana was tied over my mouth.
With a sigh, I stifled the urge to weep. Crying would not help; it only made my eyes itch and my throat sore. We had been on the road for over a week, and I was convinced that Josh was out of his mind. He was obsessed with the thought that I was his, only his, and he viewed everyone as a threat to our happiness together. When I said I did not love him, he did not hear me. When I begged to go back to my father, he flew into a rage.
I was tormented by the thought that I might never see Shadow or my father or my children again. Shadow. I did not know if he were dead or alive, but I prayed constantly that he was alive and well, that somehow he would find me.
Daily, I hoped I might find a chance to escape, but Joshua was very cautious. He never untied my hands or my feet, only at night did he remove the kerchiefs that covered my mouth and eyes. I was dependent upon him for everything. He fed me, he lifted my skirts when I needed to relieve myself, he bathed me. It was degrading and humiliating, and I wondered if he intended to keep me bound and gagged the rest of my life. It was a dismal thought.
Josh spoke to me as if we were very much in love, as if I were with him of my own free will and completely happy to be in his company. He called me tender names and told me constantly of his love, assuring me of his devotion, telling me he could not live without me. He promised to give me sons, many sons. Sons who were the "right" color.
I felt as if I were caught in the jaws of a nightmare from which I could not awake.
It was just after sundown when the wagon came to a halt. Moments later, Joshua, climbed into the back of the wagon and removed the bandana from my mouth, then removed the one over my eyes. Taking me by the arm, he helped me to my feet, guided me to the back of the wagon, helped me to the ground. Taking a rope from his back pocket, he looped it around my neck and secured the end to a tree. I was not going anywhere.
"Joshua, why don't you let me fix dinner tonight," I asked, hoping this time he would agree, hoping that, if he freed my hands and feet, I would be able to escape.
But he only smiled knowingly and shook his head. "I'll fix dinner, darling. You know how I love to wait on you."
Resigned, I sat down, my back against the tree, while Joshua laid a fire, sliced some meat into a pan, added beans and some chopped onion. He filled the coffee pot with water and placed it over the coals, then unhitched the team and led the horses to a nearby stream. When the horses had been watered, he hobbled them and turned them loose to graze along the stream bank.
Soon dinner was ready and he came to kneel beside me, a plate in his hand. A bite for me, a bite for him. I shuddered as he put the spoon in my mouth. It was disgusting, being forced to eat from his plate, having to use the spoon he used. I cringed as his hand reached out to stroke my arm and cheek.
"You're so lovely, Hannah," he said. "So lovely. I always knew you loved me more than you loved Orin."
I nodded, not daring to argue, afraid to remind Josh that his younger brother was dead, killed by Indians almost ten years ago . . .
Orin. I remembered the day I saw a bear cub and asked Joshua to get it for me. I was thirteen at the time. Joshua had been sixteen then, Orin fourteen. Josh had refused to get the cub for me, but Orin had gallantly volunteered. He had no sooner picked up the cub than its mother came charging out of a nearby thicket. Orin had dropped the cub and the three of us had run until we couldn't run any more, then collapsed on the ground . . .
"Oh, Orin," I giggled. "You should have seen your face when that fat old sow reared up in the bushes."
"Pretty funny, huh?" he asked good-naturedly. "Would you have cried if she'd ripped me to pieces?"
"You know I would have," I said. "Why, I'd have cried buckets every night!"
"See, Josh, it's me she's crazy about," Orin had boasted. Falling to one knee, he grabbed my hands and said, with mock gravity, "Hannah, thou art fairest of all the fair. For one smile from thy ruby lips, I would climb the highest mountain, swim the deepest river, defend thee to the death, but please, please, don't bid me fetch any more bear cubs."
Josh scowled as I burst into laughter.
Always the serious one, Josh was . . .
When we finished eating, Joshua laid the plate aside. Going to the stream, he filled a large pot with water and set it over the fire to heat. He was going to wash me, something he did every night.
I had learned not to fight. The slightest protest filled Josh with rage, making him violent and abusive. I looked away as he raised my skirts and began to wash my bare legs. My stockings had been a nuisance and he had thrown them away days ago. My petticoats had gone the way of my stockings.
Josh chattered constantly as he washed me, telling me how glad he was that we were together again, saying how happy we would be when we reached our new home.
''Where will it be?" I asked, trying to sound enthusiastic.
"It's a secret, my darling, but I know you'll love it there." He dried my legs and began to wash my arms. Next, he unbuttoned my bodice and washed my neck and breasts.
"There," Josh said as he dried me. "Doesn't that feel better?"
I nodded, blinking back tears of frustration. If only I could get away. If only I could see Heecha and Mary and my father. If only I could hide from the hunger lurking in Joshua's eyes.
Later, after the dishes were washed and put away and the fire was low, Joshua spread his blankets on the ground and drew me into his arms.
"Hannah, my Hannah." He murmured the words over and over again. "I'll never let you go, darling, I promise. We'll always be together, just the two of us." He laid his hand over my stomach as he smiled at me. "Just the two of us until the babies come. How many sons do you want me to give you, my darling? Three? Six? A dozen?" He put his face close to mine, the madness shining in his eyes. ''How many sons, darling Hannah?"
"As many as you like, Josh," I answered meekly.
He smiled, pleased with my answer. And then he made love to me as he did every night. Later, with Josh snoring softly beside me, I stared up at the stars wheeling high overhead, determined not to give way to despair or discouragement. Josh couldn't keep me tied up forever. When we reached a town, he would have to release my hands and feet. We would be with other people. Sooner or later I would find a way to escape from Joshua. I fell asleep clinging to that thought.
We traveled steadily westward. Josh stayed off the main roads, avoiding contact with other people. My wrists and ankles became sore and swollen from the constant chafing of the rope. My shoulders ached and my legs cramped from being in one position for so long, but when I complained to Joshua, he just nodded and said things would be better soon.
I lost track of the days as we traveled across the wilderness. I had no idea where we were, was no longer certain of our direction. Josh kept the wagon cover securely fastened so that I could not see outside. At night, it was impossible to discern landmarks of any kind.
Fall was in the air when Josh ran out of supplies. That night he tied my wrists to a slat in the wagon, checked twice to make sure my bonds were secure, and then gagged me. Then, giving me a hearty kiss on the cheek, he rode off to town for provisions.
The total darkness inside the wagon, the melancholy wail of a distant coyote, and my own helplessness weighed heavily upon me. Sunk in despair, I began to cry, long wracking sobs that burned my eyes and tore at my throat. I cried until I had no tears left and then I lay there, the tears drying on my cheeks. I could not remember ever feeling so depressed, so helpless.
In an effort to overcome my despair, I thought of my children. My amnesia must have been hard on them. I smiled faintly as I thought of my sweet little Mary. She was such a warm loving child. Everytime I looked at her, I saw my mother's face. Thinking of my mother brought fresh
tears. She had been the kindest, sweetest woman I had ever known. Closing my eyes, I could see her standing before me, her lovely chestnut hair worn in a severe bun at the nape of her neck, her lovely gray eyes glowing with love and a zest for living. I never heard my mother raise her voice in anger. I remembered how kind she had been to Shadow when he was a young boy. She had taught him to read and write, but she had been careful not to try to influence him too heavily in our ways. It would be hard for him to be a warrior, she had said wisely, if he acquired too many American habits.
And Shadow had openly adored my mother. He had frequently brought her gifts: a pair of soft doeskin moccasins, an exquisite necklace of turquoise and silver, a set of delicately carved wooden combs for her hair. I knew he would have walked barefoot over hot coals if my mother had asked him to. But now she was gone, and Shadow was far away, perhaps dead . . .
Shadow. How I missed him. How I longed to know if he were still alive. I was so starved for the sight of his beloved face, for the sound of his voice, the strength of his presence.
"Oh, God," I prayed silently, "please let him be all right. Please bring him back to me."
I had no sooner finished my prayer than the wagon cover was thrown open and a tall figure stepped into the bed of the wagon. My heart lurched with fear and then with joy as I recognized the outline of the man standing before me. Shadow! I would have shouted his name if not for the gag stuffed into my mouth.
In minutes, I was free and in his arms.
"Do not cry, Hannah," he said. "Everything is all right now." His lips moved against my hair, his arms held me in a grip of iron, as if he would never let me go. Indeed, I would have been content to remain in the warm circle of his embrace forever. I felt the tears well in my eyes again as I endeavored to press myself still closer to his solid strength and deeper into the safety of his arms.
For a few minutes we just sat there, not speaking. What heaven, to be in his arms again, to feel the strength of his arms around me, to breathe in the heady masculine scent that was his alone, to know that nothing could hurt me so long as he was near.
"Hannah." His voice was a choked whisper as he buried his face in my hair. "I thought I had lost you forever. When I saw you fall, I thought you were dead."
I held Shadow tight, deeply moved by the depth of his feelings. I knew Shadow loved me but, like most men, he rarely spoke the words. I did not need to hear them now to know he cared.
"Promise me," he said lifting his head and staring into my face intently. "Promise me you will never do anything like that again."
"I promise."
"You say the words," he accused, "but your heart is not in them."
"I know, but I can't make a promise like that. I would rather die myself than see anything happen to you or my children."
"I know," he said with a wry grin. "I feel the same."
"You were wounded that day. Heecha said he didn't know if you were dead or alive."
Shadow nodded. "I took a bullet in the side, and another in the arm."
"Are you all right now?"
"Yes."
"Mattlock might have killed you."
Shadow shrugged. "I thought you were dead, and I did not care if I lived or died. But then I thought of our little ones, and I knew one of us must survive for their sake."
"Heecha said you killed Mattlock."
"Yes. I was sorry I could only kill him once."
I shuddered, chilled by the hatred in Shadow's tone. I had never known anything but tenderness at Shadow's hands.
Sometimes it was hard for me to believe that the man cradling me in the shelter of his arms was the same man who could kill violently and without mercy.
A sudden image of Joshua lying staked out in the dirt flashed into my mind, and I was suddenly anxious to be gone from this place.
"Shadow, let's get out of here," I said, trying to keep the urgency out of my voice.
"Not yet."
I had heard that tone of voice before and I knew there was no point in arguing. Shadow was not going to leave. Not until Joshua returned.
"You're going to kill him?" It was not a question. I already knew the answer. I had seen it in Shadow's eyes.
"Yes. No one will save him this time."
We sat together for an hour, waiting, but Josh did not return.
"Let's go outside," I suggested. "I need to stretch my legs."
Shadow helped me to my feet, held my arm as we crossed to the rear of the wagon. It felt good to be outside, to be able to walk and stretch my cramped muscles, to move about as I pleased after being tied up for so long.
There was a pot of coffee sitting on the coals and I poured myself a cup while Shadow added some wood to the fire. The coffee was barely lukewarm, but I drank it anyway and then poured a second cup for Shadow. I studied him in the light of the flames as he drank the thick bitter brew. He was dressed in dark twill pants and a brown wool shirt. Brown boots hugged his feet. A .44 Colt was shoved into the waistband of his pants, a knife was sheathed on his belt.
"Your hair!" I exclaimed, noticing for the first time that his long hair had been cut short. "What happened to your hair?"
Shadow grinned ruefully. "Rebecca Matthews cut it so I would look more like a white man."
Rebecca Matthews. The woman who had once saved his life. I had been grateful to her then. I was still grateful, but I could not stifle the little flare of jealousy that burned in my heart when I thought of Rebecca and Shadow together.
"Why did you go see Rebecca?"
"Your father left a message at the reservation saying he was taking you to a doctor in New York. I asked Rebecca to help me find you."
"Oh."
"She was very helpful."
"Where is my father?"
"In New York, with Heecha and Mary."
"And Rebecca?" Some inner demon would' not let me ignore her. "I's she waiting for you in New York?"
"I do not know."
I was about to say something decidedly shrewish about Rebecca Matthews when Shadow put his hand over my mouth.
"Someone is coming," he warned softly.
I gazed at Shadow. I didn't hear a sound, but he did. His narrowed eyes probed the darkness, his flared nostrils tested the wind like a wolf on the scent of fresh meat.
"Four horses," Shadow said.
Moments later, four mounted men materialized out of the darkness. They were all middle-aged men dressed in serviceable denim pants and cotton shirts. One of them had a five-pointed star pinned to the pocket of his shirt.
I drew my gaze from the four men and turned to face Shadow, but he was no longer standing beside me. Ghostlike, he had disappeared into the underbrush.
"Ma'am." The sheriff urged his horse ahead of the others, touching his hat brim respectfully. "Would you be Hannah Berdeen?"
"Yes."
There was an awkward silence as the sheriff and his men eyed me strangely.
"Is something wrong?" I asked.
"Your husband said you were, uh, insane. He said he had to keep you tied up in the wagon to keep you from hurting yourself."
"I'm quite rational, I assure you. It's my husband who's mad."
The sheriff chewed on his lower lip, his hooded brown eyes troubled.
"Where is my . . . husband?"
"I'm afraid he's in jail. He got into a dispute over a card game and killed a man."
I felt a swift surge of relief. Joshua was in jail! Now Shadow and I could go back to New York and get Heecha and Mary. I wouldn't have to worry about a showdown between Shadow and Josh.
"I'm afraid you'll have to come with me, ma'am," the sheriff said.
I took a wary step backward. "I'd rather not."
"I'm afraid it's for your own good, ma'am. I can't leave you out here alone. Anyway, I'm sure you want to see your husband. Maybe get him a lawyer. And I, uh, I think old Doc Wayfield should take a look at you."
"There's nothing wrong with me," I said quickly. "And I have no desire to see my husband."
>
I had spoken too hastily. The sheriff was looking at me oddly, apparently finding it peculiar that I did not want to see Josh. His face was set in determined lines as he stepped from his horse and walked toward me.
"Sorry, ma'am," he said, grabbing me by the arm. "But I'm afraid you're going into town whether you like it or not."
He was lifting me onto the back of his horse when Shadow's voice sliced through the air.
"Let her go."
Startled, the sheriff whirled around, his hand going for his gun. A shot rang out in the stillness of the night and the sheriff lurched forward, then fell face down in the dirt. The other three men were out of their saddles before the echo of the gunshot died away. Drawing their weapons, they began firing into the darkness.
I slid from the sheriff's horse and dropped to the ground, my arms over my head, as gunfire rent the air and then abruptly ceased.
Raising my head cautiously, I saw that two of the sheriff's men were lying dead on the ground only a few feet away. The third member of the posse had been wounded in the arm. He stood beside his horse, blood soaking his shirt sleeve, his eyes peering anxiously into the night.
"White man."
Shadow's voice sounded from behind the remaining deputy. I could see the sweat dripping down the man's face, see the fear that haunted his eyes as he whirled around, blindly firing his gun in the direction of Shadow's voice as panic took hold of him. The deputy grunted softly as Shadow's knife swished through the lair and pierced his heart.
And then Shadow stepped out of the darkness.
I scrambled to my feet and ran to his side, my heart hammering wildly as I saw the blood oozing from a narrow gash along the side of his head.
''It is nothing," Shadow assured me. "A bullet creased my scalp. It is not serious."
I murmured a quick prayer of thanks as I tore a strip of material from the hem of my dress and wound it around Shadow's forehead.
"We've got to get out of here," I said urgently. "Someone will come looking for the sheriff before long."
Reckless Love Page 14