Ironically, it wasn’t until he bumped into the little weasel, Dustu, that he finally got an answer. He’d been walking past, trying to ignore the bastard’s slimy grin, when the man laughed, pointing at him.
“Shadow Girl leave you, white boy,” he said, grinning through a chipped tooth. Jesse always claimed to have broken that tooth, but he wasn’t actually sure if that was the truth. He didn’t recall much about the man’s appearance before that first fight had broken out.
Jesse glared at him, fists clenched. “You know nothing, weasel face.”
“I do know. Girl gone, white boy soooo sad.” His smile drooped into a cynical frown. “Poor, poor white boy.”
“You should stop talking before I make you stop talking.”
Dustu’s grin was immediate. He cracked his knuckles and flexed his fingers in preparation. “You ready?”
Jesse wasn’t in the mood for a fight. Actually, he was, but he didn’t have time for one. And he didn’t have time to recover from one, either. He wanted to find Adelaide, and his sense of urgency was building. Where could the girl have disappeared to? Dustu waited a few feet away, hopping on the balls of his feet like a dog on a tether, raring to go. Jesse leaned in and peered closely at the warrior’s face, startling Dustu, who backed up a step. Jesse stayed close. He poked Dustu’s cheek, looking impressed, then teased him in Tsalagi.
“No bruises? What’s happening, Dustu? You keep pretty for a girl?”
Dustu’s joy disintegrated. “I’m not pretty.”
“Truth,” Jesse agreed. “Adelaide say Gauri thinks you pretty. I say she wrong.”
Dustu frowned, looking unsure. “Gauri . . . Gauri say this?”
“Yes,” Jesse replied with a scowl. “Woman has bad taste.”
The fight evaporated from Dustu’s face. He frowned, stroking the sharp line of his jaw while he considered the possible implications of this. “She say—”
“That’s all I know,” Jesse assured him, turning to go. “I must find Adelaide.”
He got about ten paces away before Dustu spoke up. “She is at sister’s. She always goes to Maggie when she needs to know something.”
Jesse wheeled around. “You sure?”
“Nah. But I think maybe.” In a rare moment of charity, Dustu gave him instructions on how to get to Maggie and Andrew’s place, and the men went their separate ways.
Her sister, Maggie. Now this was interesting. More insight into Adelaide. What did he remember her saying about Maggie? Trying to remember gave Jesse more to think about on the journey. Dustu had drawn him a map in the dirt, and Jesse’d used that to come up with a shorter route, though he knew there’d probably be some bushwhacking to be done. He knew the first half. They did a lot of hunting up this way. He remembered the major fork in the trail. The right fork led toward the path Dustu had drawn for him. The other led to New Windsor and the home of Thomas Black.
In the beginning, Jesse had been tempted to take that fork, disappear into the trees when he was out hunting with the men. Occasionally the Cherokee had forgotten about him, caught up as they were in the hunt. Then Jesse’d reconsidered. If they could catch deer so easily, how simple would it be for them to track a full-grown human who wasn’t nearly as quiet? But still, it was comforting knowing the path was there, an option if he got desperate.
He didn’t care what the Cherokee thought of him. Not at all. Except maybe Ahtlee. That old guy had a way of making Jesse feel good, with a regal nod of his head. And maybe his wife, Salali, whose twinkling eyes were filled to their black brims with patience. Soquili had ended up being a pretty good friend after all. Nechama was sweet and patient. Of course, Kokila was a good friend to Adelaide, so he approved of her as well . . .
As usual, he went left, then eventually swerved off a bit, aiming for the landmarks Dustu had given him. He cut through the woods a little carelessly, slipping on rocks but catching himself in time, the dirt map clear in his mind. He ran when he could, wanting to make up for lost time, which is what he called the time between when he’d last seen her and that particular moment. All of a sudden, nothing on earth seemed as important as finding Adelaide.
He was going to get her to explain everything. Then he was going to make her marry him. How could she not? He knew she loved him. Nobody could kiss like that if they weren’t in love, could they? He grabbed the edge of a waist-high shelf of granite, hopped up and over. All right. His little mouse had gotten spooked. That much was clear. She had to get over some memories—whatever they were—and he was determined to help her with that. The latest declaration about Thomas Black had come out of nowhere, but he’d figure that out once he had her back in his arms.
Jesse’s mind held pictures as tight as a snare holds a rabbit. He saw the map Dustu had drawn, and despite the fact that he strayed to try and save time, he kept to the general directions and arrived safely at the little piece of land that had been claimed by Maggie and the others over a year before. He knew it by the number of houses, the first cluster he’d seen since leaving the village, though he’d seen quite a few singular homes along the way, all in different states of upkeep.
He stepped out of the trees and gazed down at the peaceful scene before him. A flock of chickens bobbed at the side of the house, and Jesse licked his lips in anticipation. What he would give for a couple of eggs right about now. And a bed, maybe. He was damn tired. It had been a long journey, and if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t actually think his shortcuts had helped much. He’d stumbled off a few sharp edges, twisted an ankle on a stubborn root when he wasn’t paying attention. He was cold, too. At least the rain had spent itself the night before.
Adelaide had said these folks were Scottish, and Jesse knew from years back that Scottish people pretty much always opened their homes to visitors. Jesse could practically taste the supper, feel the warm hearth fire that crackled under the stone chimney, see Adelaide’s welcoming smile.
At least he hoped she’d smile when she saw him. Forgive him for whatever he’d done to set her off.
It was close to dusk, after a long day, the last offering of warmth pulling away as the sun retreated. A rooster mistook night for day and crowed, but he was entirely ignored by the few horses feeding beyond the barn, and the cow as well. A fine domestic scene. Where would Adelaide be? In the house? Or maybe in the stable? He knew she wasn’t overly fond of horses, but he also knew she wasn’t afraid to work with them. Maybe she was cooking with her sister. He’d like to meet that sister. She sounded interesting. What would she look like? Adelaide had said she was dark-haired, not blond like they were. Jesse shivered and headed down the little slope, hoping for a warm welcome and a bit of supper. Sure would sit well just about now.
“Hold, stranger,” he heard.
Jesse froze. He held his hands out at his sides, palms open, clearly offering no threat. “Hey, I’m not here for trouble,” he said.
“No? What for, then? What business would ye have here?” Jesse recognized a Scottish brogue, like the ancient trader McCulloch who’d run the trading post near his old home. Short, squat, and dark, with glowering eyes that didn’t take nonsense from anyone. And ugly. That man had been memorably ugly. He wondered if this voice belonged to someone similar. He glanced to his side, toward the source.
No, this was nothing like McCulloch. The speaker was about the same height and age as Jesse, but his body was more solid. His hair fell in dark waves, almost as black as Cherokee hair, sweeping the tops of his shoulders. Dark eyes—again, almost black—forbade even the suggestion of light conversation. Even the rest of his face was dark, shadowed by a short beard Jesse judged to be maybe three days old.
“I’m looking for a friend. I heard she might be visiting here.”
“Is that right, then?” The Scot crossed his arms over his chest. “Who is it ye seek?”
“Adelaide’s her name. You know her?”
A moment’s hesitation, then the dark man’s eyes narrowed perceptibly. A touch more aggression edged into the stone-cold voice. “No one here by that name. Ye might as well head back to where’er it is ye came from.”
Jesse frowned. That didn’t seem right. He was sure this was the place. He mirrored the man, folding his own arms. The Scotsman had seemed just a bit too quick to answer. As if he’d been prepared. Was Adelaide here? Had she told this man they’d had a disagreement or something? Because if she had, well, that wasn’t right. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Hell, he deserved the opportunity to speak with her, get all this out into the air. She’d kissed him back, dammit.
Then something in his chest tightened. Was she hurt? In danger? What if this bastard had done something?
“I think she is here,” Jesse said, meeting the stranger’s eyes.
“An’ I said she’s no’.”
Jesse nodded. So that’s the way it would be. “Listen. I don’t want any trouble. But I have to see Adelaide. I need to talk with her, and I need to bring her back to the village with me. I don’t know what she told you, but—”
The fist came out of nowhere, slamming into Jesse’s jaw and knocking him flat on his back. Solid rock, that fist. Jesse stayed down for a moment, blinking back the wetness that sprang to his eyes, spitting a shot of blood to the side. He frowned up at the man, sizing him up in a completely different way now. So the man could fight and was obviously well equipped.
Well, that was just fine. Nobody was gonna tell Jesse if he could or could not see Adelaide. He slid his jaw from one side to the other and back again. It seemed to still be working fine.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he told the man.
The dark eyes glared down a straight nose, nostrils flared as if he scented the air. Jesse felt the slightest twinge of apprehension. The eyes of a wolf glared at him, the gaze of a man he maybe shouldn’t cross. But it was too late for that. He had come for Adelaide, and this man was blocking his way.
“Ye shouldna have come.”
Jesse got his feet under him and stood slowly, lifting his own fists in readiness, but the Scotsman was ready. A quick shot to Jesse’s gut that bent him in half, then one to the other side of his face. Stars danced in his vision like sunlit dust motes, and he staggered back, hating his inability to get the upper hand on this fellow. He backed away, still hunched over and breathing hard, watching the man’s feet as he got out of the way of those quick hands. The leather shoes of the Scotsman never moved. So the man was waiting, not pursuing. Defending his property.
“I ain’t here to cause trouble, like I said.”
“Turn around an’ go back,” he was advised.
“Can’t do that,” Jesse grunted, straightening and wiping sweat from his eyes. “Can’t leave without Adelaide.”
The man’s feet moved then, but Jesse stood straight and braced himself, determined to win this round. The punch came, but he’d expected it. He blocked it, pushing it to the side and opening the other man’s body for his own attack. It felt good, pounding his fist into the wall of his opponent’s stomach, proving he was more than a punching bag. But this was no inexperienced, wild young warrior from the village. This was a man hardened out of necessity. Jesse’d seen that in the unflinching set of his eyes. The Scotsman grunted from the impact but barely winced, ready for the next and the next.
Why was this happening? What had set this stranger against him in such a determined manner? Why did it seem he’d rather kill Jesse than let him past? She couldn’t have told him something terrible about Jesse, could she? No. Not Adelaide. He knew her too well. She had opened up to him, let him into her secret, tortured world, and sought solace in his arms. She wasn’t afraid of him. She needed him, and she knew it. So why the armed guard?
The slugging went back and forth, neither man willing to back down, though Jesse felt weak with hunger, and he needed both food and sleep in a bad way. Both men’s blades slid out of their sheaths, and the closing darkness stole any telltale reflections off the metal. The men moved smoothly, like beasts: a wolf and a cougar, circling, waiting for an opening.
“I’ll tell ye once more, man. Go back. Ye dinna want to test me wi’ a knife.”
Jesse sucked in his breath, keeping the pain from his voice. “Don’t tell me what to do, Scotsman. I don’t know if anyone ever told you, but you don’t listen too good. Understand this,” he said deliberately, trying to hide his exhaustion. “I will have Adelaide. Nobody’s gonna stop me.” Jesse lowered his voice to a growl. “Nobody.”
With a roar, he dove toward the big man, knife at the ready, but his target spun out of reach. Jesse used his momentum, spinning as well until he faced the stranger. He sliced his blade downward and met a thick, resisting barrier of flesh. The knife went in, and the man grunted, quick and deep, but he still didn’t go down.
Jesse did. The broad Scottish dirk had gone deeper than his own knife had, cutting into Jesse’s side and opening a hole he knew Adelaide could have healed easily if only she’d come out of that damn house. He dropped to his knees, pressing both hands as hard as he could against the wound. Doc had told him he should always do that. Push on a wound to stop the bleeding. But there was a hell of a lot of bleeding, and he wasn’t sure he could push quite that hard. His knees gave way, and he collapsed with some relief onto his back.
His opponent still stood, but he clutched his side as well. Less blood, less damage overall, lucky bastard, though blood did seep from beneath his hand. The man walked toward Jesse and glared down, lips tight with pain, eyes narrowed in a forbidding expression.
“No one hunts my women,” the man growled.
His women? Who the hell was this guy?
“Ye were warned. Get yerself gone now, if ye can, but know this: I am no’ the only man here, an’ I’m no’ the strongest of us. Ye willna get past us to Ah-dlaide. She’s safe from ye here.”
He turned and headed toward the houses, which were sinking quickly into the murk of night. Jesse watched his attacker get smaller with every step, finally stopping outside one of the doors. The dark man looked back up the hill, toward Jesse, hesitating just a moment, then stepped inside and shut the door.
Jesse lay back and squeezed his eyes shut, still pressing hard against his side. The cut burned, cold and hot at the same time, feeling much wider than the thin slice he could see. He grabbed a handful of wet leaves and stuck them under his other hand, hoping the cool touch would soothe the pain. It did. It helped. A bit.
“I’ll find you, Adelaide. I’ll save you,” he whispered to the stars, and they winked back.
CHAPTER 29
Not Dead Yet
Jesse was shaken awake by tremors. They rolled through his body so that he shuddered from toes to teeth. His body ached from the hard bed of wet dirt on which he’d tried to sleep. Fortunately, his side, where the blade had gone, had stopped bleeding but still burned, and when he rolled carefully to his side, it began to ooze again. The hand he’d pressed against it was stiff, caked with dried blood. He grabbed another handful of leaves, now soaked by dew, and pulled up the side of his shirt. He swept the leaves gently across the wound, gritting his teeth when the shocking cold hit his hot skin.
“Not dead, you son of a bitch. I ain’t dead. Not yet.”
But he wasn’t ready to challenge the big man again, either. No, the kilted man, whoever he was, had effectively taken care of Jesse’s immediate future, meaning he didn’t foresee any more fights for a while. Damn the man. Why was he so bent on keeping Jesse from Adelaide? Seemed a little off. He should have at least let Jesse speak. Then again, he’d heard Scots were stubborn.
The cut, once it was relatively clean, didn’t look all that wide, but it did stretch about three inches long. Clean but not deep. The man kept his blades sharp. Killing Jesse at that point would have been easy. Scary how easy, actually. That suggested he’d used this altercation as a warning
. The rest of Jesse’s stomach was a mottled and swollen red and purple, reminders of the Scotsman’s wicked fists. Jesse dabbed the leaves at a bright dot of blood that had surfaced, then moaned and lay flat again.
He wasn’t going to die of this. He could tell. His body always healed well and quickly, though it was covered in scars that had tried to prove him wrong. But it would need some time. So what to do next? Damned if he was going to head back to the village and have Wah-Li or one of the others sing chants over his body, praying their gods would fix him up. He was tired of Cherokee medicine and Cherokee minds right about now. He’d had enough of their ridiculous fights and arguments and talk about honour. He needed Doc. But he thought he could maybe last a little longer before heading that way.
Adelaide was his priority right now. Jesse groaned and braced his hands against the dirt, then forced himself to his feet. No point in lying around feeling sorry for himself. He had to do something. He glanced into the trees, imagining what might be going on in the village, then looked across the yard toward another, more travelled road. A road he thought probably led to town. He sniffed and chewed on his lip, deciding, but his gaze kept returning to the little cluster of houses at the base of the hill. Adelaide was there. Of the three paths, the narrow one to the houses was the one he most wanted to follow, but that wasn’t going to be possible just yet.
He could wait. It wasn’t as if she’d stay forever. He wished he could see her just once, get a glimpse of that shining white hair, that dazzling smile. It wouldn’t be such a shy smile if he saw her with her sister, and he’d like to see that. Yeah. He’d wait. He’d stay here for a couple of nights, lick his wounds, then talk her into letting him walk her home. Scots weren’t the only stubborn ones.
PART 5
Adelaide
CHAPTER 30
Reconciliation
Somewhere to Dream (Berkley Sensation) Page 19