Prairie Song

by Cheryl Anne Porter

  Cole tightened his hold on her and his expression hardened. He wondered not for the first time just who had hurt this girl, and what he’d done to hurt her. He didn’t know those answers, but he did know this much … if he ever crossed paths with the son of a bitch, he’d kill him.

  Chapter Six

  “Are you my new mama now?”

  Her heart melting, Kate pulled Lydia’s worn dress over the child’s curly-topped head and tossed it aside. Then she met the hopeful brown-eyed gaze of the three-year-old girl sitting with her atop the pile of makeshift bedding in the schooner. Reaching for Lydia’s nightgown, Kate held it in her hands and managed a smile. “No, honey. I’m now your aunt … I suppose. Since I’m … married to your uncle Cole.”

  It was all so new, only half a day old, this new identity of hers. So the words didn’t come easy yet. Kate wondered if they ever would, since this marriage wasn’t a real one.

  Lydia’s mouth puckered, dimpling her tiny chin. “I don’t gots a mama. Uncle Cole says she’s in heaven. So’s Papa.”

  The child was just so heartrendingly accepting of her fate. Kate couldn’t stand it and instantly gathered the little girl into her arms, holding her close, rocking back and forth with her, and kissing the top of her curly head. “I may not be your mother, but I’ll love you, Lydia. I swear it.”

  Even as she spoke the words, Kate knew she had no right to say such a thing to the little girl. Because Cole intended to hand Lydia and her brothers over to that cousin of his. He’d leave in less than a week, since the run was only five days away, to go hunt her. Kate suspected he’d make short work of locating this kin of his, since finding people was what he did for a living. And then he’d come back here and take the children away from her. Once again, they’d be wrenched away from their home and handed over to a stranger.

  Suddenly, Kate wasn’t sure she could stand by and watch Cole ride away with Joey, Willy, and Lydia. Any more than she could stand the thought of someone taking her own child away from her.

  With that thought came another. Kate’s head snapped up, and she held Lydia all that much tighter, as she asked herself why she was taking on responsibility for three children when a hired killer was on her trail? Who would take care of these children if that gunman found her before Cole got back from hunting his cousin? Would that gunman also kill these babies? And why in God’s name hadn’t she thought of any of this before now?

  Kate distractedly rocked the baby harder, cradling the nestling girl to her chest, as she told herself, No. I can’t tell him. Not the whole truth, anyway. Lying to him, using him because she had to, was one thing. He was a grown man and was using her, too. She knew that. They both had needs that the other one fulfilled. Practical needs, and not those of the heart. But her heart was having none of her denials. Instantly she saw again Cole Youngblood’s smile, felt his warm hands atop hers as he’d helped her with the reins, heard him saying how pretty she looked … relived his kiss after the ceremony, and recalled how she’d panicked. But not as much as she’d thought she would, given everything Mr. Talmidge had put her through.

  That sobered her, just thinking the awful man’s name. Snapping back to the moment, banishing all thoughts of the man who was now her husband, Kate forced her mind back to her present dilemma. That of telling Cole why she had to back out of their bargain. It couldn’t be helped. Because it was, to her, an unforgivable sin for her to keep quiet and thus endanger children as innocent as her own unborn child—

  Then it hit her. She couldn’t tell him who she was, couldn’t risk him killing her. Because that would kill her baby, too. Why, she couldn’t even risk him simply taking her prisoner and turning her over to the Talmidges. Because then all would have been for naught. Her desperate run to freedom, her overwhelming urge to protect her child, to give it the life and the love it deserved … all would be for nothing. She couldn’t do it, couldn’t tell Cole the truth. But she couldn’t keep her bargain, either.

  Kate’s head began to hurt as much as her heart did. What had she done? Was there no simple answer that would save them all? There had to be. And she had to come up with it. She had to get past this, had to think her way out, had to assume that Cole was Talmidge’s man. And act accordingly.

  Talmidge’s man. That had her recalling Cole’s searching questions about her family and about Kentucky earlier today when she’d been learning to drive the wagon. Wasn’t that proof of what she feared? Yes, it was. She must have thought so even then, too, because she hadn’t given her full name, Anna Katherine, for the wedding vows. She again heard herself hesitating just before saying “Kate Chandler.” Kate now took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly as she cuddled Lydia protectively, and turned her thoughts to Cole’s sister’s children. These poor children. Hadn’t they been through enough hurt to last them a lifetime? Thinking of them had Kate again recalling Joey’s earlier observation.

  What if he should go tell his uncle that maybe Miss Chandler—Mrs. Youngblood now—was carrying a baby and that’s why she’d gotten sick? Kate could just see that. She’d have no more of an answer for Cole than she’d had for Joey, except for the weak denial she’d given the boy. Would Cole so easily accept a shake of the head and a laugh?

  Somehow, she didn’t think so.

  So what to do, then? Because if she couldn’t really take the chance of telling Cole the actual truth, then what could she tell him? Was there any explanation he’d accept as good enough? As she mulled this over, Kate looked down at the little girl in her lap. And saw she was asleep. A mother’s smile lit her face. The poor tiny little thing.

  Lydia just went at it full-tilt all day long, trying her best to keep up with her brothers and that dad-blamed dog Kitty. Even now, Kate knew from checking earlier, the dog lay stretched out on the ground right outside. He was never more than a few feet from Lydia, and most of the time was right up against her as she walked with her arm draped around the hound’s neck and sang songs to him.

  Thinking to lay the child down without waking her, and forgoing the notion of the girl’s cotton nightgown—tonight her one-piece smallclothes would have to be enough—Kate eased herself and Lydia forward, finally managing to place her atop the bedding and cover her with a thick quilt. Then, smoothing the child’s ringlets away from her face, Kate stood. But on impulse, she bent over and kissed Lydia’s forehead. Straightening up, and feeling the sudden welling of tears in her eyes, Kate wondered why she’d done that, why she’d kissed Lydia.

  But more than that, she wondered at her sadness. It was as if she were already—her head came up, her eyes widened—saying good-bye to the children. Oh no. Her frown mirrored the bewilderment she felt inside. Am I? Am I saying good-bye? Why now?

  Not even sure herself what she was thinking, why she was behaving this way, or what lay at the root of her sadness, she sat down heavily atop a wooden chest. Folding her hands in her lap, she stared at the sleeping little girl only a few feet away. And knew. I am. I’m saying goodbye. I’m leaving. But how? Why? I can’t leave.

  But the truth was … she couldn’t stay. She had to leave. It made perfect sense for her, for these children, and for her own child. But maybe not for Cole. Kate immediately suppressed any thought of him, telling herself he was a grown man and could take care of himself. Just as she was a grown woman and had to take care of herself. And could. Because now she was a married woman, had a numbered stake, was registered with the land office, and knew the location of the land she hoped to claim.

  All of that thanks to Cole Youngblood.

  Kate bit her bottom lip, hating how the man kept intruding himself into her thoughts. But Cole was the one who’d given her everything she needed to survive. Yes, he’d given it to her … or still had it. Kate turned, looking out the back of the wagon, and found what she sought. Cole’s big roan. He’d said it was a fast horse. She’d need a fast horse: Not that she knew how to ride one. But she did know which way to face on the animal. And she’d learned how to handle the team today. Cole taught you
how to do that.

  Stop it! Kate rubbed furiously at her forehead, as if she could erase her conscience, as if she could stop it from telling her right from wrong. Was it right to stay and get herself and her own baby killed? Was it right to stay and get these three children killed? No. It was right that she left. But she couldn’t go naked and unprepared. She needed money and that numbered stake, both of which she knew were in Cole’s saddlebags, along with the map to the claim. She’d seen him put it in there earlier.

  But getting to the bags wouldn’t be easy. If they weren’t thrown across his horse’s rump—which they wouldn’t be, it being night now—then they’d be in the buckboard where Cole could keep an eye on them. At night, he slept with them, she knew, putting them under his head for a pillow, and for safekeeping.

  It’d be hard. And foolhardy, she knew. But what choice did she have? None. So that settled it. Somehow she’d get the saddlebags. She hadn’t made it this far by giving up at the first sign of difficulty. So now I’m a thief, too. She was going to take the man’s money and his horse. No, she told herself, shaking her head. I’m not a thief. Cole is my husband, even if in name only. She couldn’t steal from her own husband, could she? She didn’t know what the law might say about that, but she did know how it made her feel. Like she was stealing. But she had no choice, as she kept having to remind herself.

  And that being the case, she may as well come up with a plan. All right. She’d gather what she needed, pretend to go to bed, and then steal away—once Cole was asleep—with the man’s horse, some of his money, the all-important numbered stake, the map to the claim his brother-in-law had drawn, some food … and a gun. A gun. Kate shook her head. She was a complete innocent out here. She had no idea how to fend for herself. The city’s dangers were one thing. Those she understood. But all this open prairie and ten thousand strangers? No.

  Why, she’d never even held a gun in her hand. But she now knew enough to know that she’d need a weapon, being a woman alone. As for using it … well, she knew which end to hold. And push come to shove, she didn’t think anybody would want to stand around in front of her if she just pointed it and began firing wildly.

  With her shopping list concluded, Kate turned her mind to coming up with a practical plan. Obviously, she’d have to hide out, and hide well, once she got away from here. But first, before she left Arkansas City proper, she’d need to purchase some supplies, like more food. And clothes. Something more suitable than her filthy moss-green traveling costume. She supposed she could get all that at the general store come first light. With any luck, she wouldn’t be missed before then. But right after that, she’d have to hightail it out of here, maybe join all the settlers going down to the border tomorrow.

  Kate paused. Was she forgetting anything? She blinked, her gaze lighting on the sleeping Lydia.

  The children. Kate put a hand to her mouth, rubbing her fingers over her lips as she thought. Lydia’d be safe enough. Kitty was right outside. And Cole slept in the buckboard wagon with the boys and wasn’t more than a half-dozen yards away if Lydia woke up and fussed.

  Suddenly ill, Kate sat sharply forward, her heavy dark hair falling forward as she tucked her head between her legs, held on to her knees, and concentrated on breathing deeply. If Cole Youngblood caught her, he’d kill her, Mr. Talmidge’s orders or not. But leaving was the only thing she could do. She had to get away before these kids were hurt because of her.

  With her hands still braced against her knees, Kate swung herself back up to a sitting position, blinking, pushing her hair back, and waiting for the dizziness to pass. Yes, it was bold, what she planned to do. But it was boldness that had gotten her out of New York City and all the way here. And so, she’d do this, too. Starting now. Taking a deep breath, Kate stood up. And told herself it was time—time to put her plan into motion, beginning with securing what she needed from the saddlebags before Cole went to sleep atop them.

  Afraid for herself, but thinking first of her own child and of Cole’s niece and nephews, Kate edged her way around chests and wood crates until she could climb over the wagon’s gate and then down off the end of it. As she touched the ground, Kitty came to his feet and stretched. In the lantern-lit darkness, Kate looked all around, didn’t see Cole anywhere. Good. Unless he was already asleep in the buckboard. Or was gone.

  She peered into the dark, searching the remuda line. No. Still there, that big fast roan of his, along with the four mules. If he was going to abandon her and the kids, he’d have done so atop that roan. She knew because that was what she herself intended to do, wasn’t it? She shook her head in wonder. Look how far gone I am already. Accusing him of doing exactly what I intend to do. Well, enough of that, she told herself.

  For the moment, she turned her attention to the rawboned, yellow-furred hound in front of her and scratched at his floppy, velvety ears. In a voice just above a whisper, she ordered him to stay put. “You stay here and keep an eye on Lydia, you hear me, Kitty?”

  Kitty whuffed and sat down, staring at her, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. Kate grinned at him, but knew somehow in her heart that he would, with his last breath, protect them all, but especially the child inside the schooner. He seemed to love that little girl. And why wouldn’t he? She had pretty much saved him. Because when the rest of them had wanted to shoo him away last night, Lydia had raised an instant ruckus until she’d gotten her way. Kate grinned again, this time thinking of how fast they’d all given in, too. Why, if we aren’t careful, we’ll all spoil that child until she’s unbearable.

  No. I mustn’t think those things. I won’t be here to spoil her. Fearing she’d lose her courage if she didn’t hurry, Kate worked fast to draw the canvas covering tight, tying it as much to keep Lydia inside as to keep the cooling night air outside. And all too soon it was done. She turned around. A sudden gust of wind whipped her hair out and flapped her skirt around her legs.

  Kate grabbed for her hair and smoothed a palm down her once-lovely but now dirty moss-green skirt. But to no avail. The wind would have its way with her, she feared, and would continue to do so until she purchased more suitable clothes early tomorrow morning. Before she lost herself in the crowd of settlers moving toward the land run border.

  “Well, Kitty,” she told the dog, keeping her voice low as she turned to him. “Wish me luck.” She held her hand out, pretending she wanted to shake his paw. “It’s been nice knowing you.”

  Surprisingly, the dog held his big rough paw up to her. Kate chuckled … and took it, shaking it. Someone had once spent time with this dog, training him. Kate briefly wondered what else he might have been trained to do as she released his furry paw and focused on the pressing but very unsavory tasks ahead of her.

  She took the few steps over to the buckboard wagon and peered into the back of it, looking for the all-important saddlebags. Slowly, quietly, she moved around the wagon, looking and lifting and sorting through the items in its bed. Everything else was here, including the sleeping Joey and Willy. But no saddlebags and no Cole Youngblood. Frustrated, she stopped, standing with her back to the campfire, her arms crossed atop the wagon’s side railing. And stared down at Joey and Willy, saying a silent good-bye to them.

  Barely two little lumps under their shared quilt, they were sound asleep. Kate smiled and pulled their covers up around their necks. Such good little boys they were. Sweet children. Kate could only hope her child—given who its father was—would turn out to be half as kind and well-behaved as these three were.

  “They’re good kids, aren’t they?”

  Kate spun around, her hand to her pounding heart. “You scared the life out of me,” she hissed, mindful of the sleeping boys.

  Cole Youngblood stood there, as tall and sturdy in the night’s shadows as one of the nearby oaks. “Yeah. I saw that I did.”

  Kate swallowed. Had he seen her searching through the wagon? Not saying anything, she eyed him, taking in his appearance, his hands to his waist … his saddlebags flung over
a broad shoulder. He stared back at her. “What were you looking for, Kate?”

  “Looking for?” She bit her bottom lip. “Nothing. I was just … checking on the boys. Lydia’s asleep now, so I thought I would check on the boys.”

  “So you said.” He moved past her then and hefted his saddlebags—Kate’s gaze never left them—over the tailgate, laying them as quietly as possible in the wagon’s bed.

  She marked their location and then turned to Cole—and saw his hawklike gaze resting on her. The pressure was too much, causing her to blurt, “How long have you been watching me?”

  “Long enough to see you shake the dog’s paw,” he drawled, as if he hadn’t heard the accusing tone in her voice. “Come over here”—he startled her by taking her arm and directing her steps—“away from the wagon. So we don’t wake the boys. I want to talk to you.”

  The last thing she wanted to do was talk to him. But forced to do so, Kate allowed him to pull her along toward their banked camp fire; she felt her face heat up with guilt and fear—and was glad for the evening’s covering darkness. And for the chirping crickets and the hooting owl. That way Cole couldn’t see her heightened color or hear her thumping heart as she asked him a question she really had no desire to hear the answer to. “Talk to me about what?”

  “About tomorrow.”

  Relief on more than one score washed over her. He could have said, About your real identity and why I have to kill you. Or, You’re my wife now, and I think we should share a bed. But she was none too happy with this topic, either. “Oh. Tomorrow. Um, where were you just now? I didn’t see you when I climbed out of the schooner.”