“I figured that. You shot at those men. But what’s got Laine mad?”
Laine couldn’t help herself. She laughed. It was that or start crying. “Do tell him, Matt. Explain why I’m mad and sad.”
Matt nodded at her challenge. “Boy, when you’re grown, I’ll tell you about the notions women get and how they turn you upside down ’til the change falls from your pockets.”
“Aw, you’re funnin’ me. Laine couldn’t pick you up. She can’t do it to me anymore. An’ I might’ve known it would be another later kind of answer. Can I go fishing?”
“Yes.”
“Wait. Where’s Rachel?”
“Cooking something, Laine. Oh, she said the water’s hot.”
“Sure is,” Matt muttered as boy and dog left. He turned to follow.
“Matt, did you have to provoke them?”
“Leave it alone, Laine.”
Gone was the heat and fury. At least from his voice. But Laine was not about to leave it alone.
“Can you try to understand how frightened I was for you going up against six men alone?” With all the feelings churning inside her, her plea was intense.
“You expected me to hide behind a woman’s skirts?”
“I’m not wearing any,” she snapped.
“Don’t remind me.”
He refused to face her. He stood rubbing the back of his neck.
Laine had to fight the need to go to him, put her arms around him and rest her head on his back. He was all alone. That much had not changed. He was still a fighter, she had to remind herself. And remember her mother’s warning that there were some things you could never change about a man.
“What happens now, Matt?”
“Now? I guess you better get home. No sense in you getting mixed up in this. I need to figure what I’ll do. And I can’t have you clouding my senses ’til I can’t think straight.”
“I should be satisfied I do anything at all to you.”
“You do plenty. More than you know.”
He was out the kitchen door before she could think of an answer.
Laine was not a quitter. To herself, she admitted he was right again about senses being too clouded to think straight. He should try unscrambling her feelings and thoughts. She felt battered, bruised, and yet, somehow happy, too. After all the dreaming, Matt had kissed her. While the first one was sweet, gentle and cherishing, what followed opened the door to undreamed of passion.
There it was. No honey coating. Could he really deny that? By the time she set herself to rights, Rachel came inside with pails of hot water.
“I sent Matt off to do whatever he’s of a mind to, while we tend to the cleaning.”
“Rachel, you sent him off? And he went?”
“He was distracted, but he didn’t argue.” Rachel handed her sister a broom, and with her own, began to sweep.
“Lucky you.”
“Forgive me, Laine, but you haven’t been yourself since he came home.”
Laine attacked cobwebs. “Guess not.”
“Matt’s a fine-looking man.”
“Always was. And he’s too old for you.”
“But not for you,” she said with a sly smile that her sister didn’t see. Swish, swish went Rachel’s broom as debris piled up. “He’s a kindly man, too. He saw Hartly in that crowd and figured I did. He wanted to be sure I wasn’t frightened.”
Laine’s broom dropped, raising puffs of dust. “You told him?”
“Oh, no, Laine. I couldn’t. I promised you I’d never tell.”
“Keep it that way. Matt has troubles enough of his own without taking on any of ours.”
Matt went looking for Tater, unable to settle on anything after Rachel gave him coffee, then shooed him away.
What the devil got into Laine? Snapping and almost snarling at him. And foolish innocent that she was, telling him that he was the first man to kiss her. That she didn’t want anyone’s kisses.
But she wanted his. There had been no mistake about that. What the hell had happened to all his good intentions to remember she wasn’t for the likes of him?
Friends, he’d told her. That’s what they were. What they would be. Then she burst into flames in his arms and burned him to the bone. He could still hear that soft little cry she gave when he regained his senses and stopped. He wondered if she even knew she made it. Like a protest.
Matt raked his hands through his hair. The woman got inside him. He told her to forget what happened. But could he?
How could he forget all that womanly softness his for the taking?
He had never wanted a woman like that. Without right or wrong. Nothing but passionate need exploding.
The ache that ripped through him made him clench his teeth against a groan.
He should leave. He’d done it once before. But he swore he wouldn’t run again. Somehow he had to get control of himself and keep his distance from her.
He was far down along the riverbank when he spied Tater. He almost turned away, but the boy saw him.
“You come to fish with me, Matt?”
The boy stood in one of his own favorite fishing spots. An ancient tree spread shadows over the river. Tater had planted himself in the shallows, his pants rolled to his knees, his line drifting with the current.
Matt shook his head.
“You sure?”
Matt eyed the string of three fat bass tied to a branch. “I’ll leave it to you.”
“They’re biting. Guess no one’s fished here for a while.”
“Guess you’re right.” Matt looked around. “Where’s Capt. Tate?”
“He caught scent of something and took off. I should have told you he was growling like fierce when those men showed up. I could barely hold on to him.”
Matt was about to leave him to his fishing, but there was a note of fear in the boy’s voice.
“At a guess, your dog don’t like the smell of polecat any more than me.”
Tater laughed, but then he turned to look at Matt, his expression far too serious for a boy. “Could it be … those men, I mean, were they the ones who took Billy and his family?”
Matt briefly closed his eyes, praying for wisdom. He wouldn’t lie. “I don’t know. I told you Law and his friends were going to find them. Law’s a good man. I believed him.”
“I don’t mind telling you I get scared sometimes. Laine does her best, but it happens. She thinks I don’t know what’s going on half the time. But I do. When men came by to talk to Mister Perry, Billy and me would hear them. Laine would only worry more, so I never told her.”
“Tater, I believe you did the right thing. It’s part of growing up, part of becoming a man to want to protect his womenfolks. I hope you know you can always come talk to me or come for help.”
He was rewarded with Tater’s quick grin.
“Can I tell you another secret?”
“Go ahead.”
“I fixed up a place in the thicket where we can hide. It comforts me some to know it’s there.”
“It comforts me a whole lot, Tater. And never worry about being scared. There’s no shame in it. Being scared and having the courage to go forth and do the right thing is what being a man is all about.”
“Were you … well, did those men scare you?”
“Sure did,” Matt answered without hesitation. “There was one of me and six of them. I know I can shoot fast, but odds were against me not to be shot in return. But I had to worry about Laine, Rachel and you.” Matt caught hold of an overhead branch, gripping it hard as he relived those minutes. “Laine accused me of provoking them, and maybe I did. But they’ve run roughshod long enough. If I didn’t confront them now, it would be tomorrow or next week. If you’re ever in a fight, Tater, never let the other man get set first. It’s not fair, or honorable, some would tell you. Could be they’re right. But when you fight for something you believe in, you better fight to win.”
Tater nodded
with the look of a wise old man. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. Mister Perry said that. Now it makes sense to me.”
“Glad to help.”
Matt left him to his fishing. Talking to the boy had helped him clarify what he was going to do. But he shied from even thinking about Laine.
Knots. The woman tied him into knots.
For the next three days Matt saw no one. He worked from sunrise to dusk clearing brush, using it to build up the brambles to keep his cleared fields hidden. He’d plowed and seeded one field with the sad truth preying on him that he might never reap a crop.
Catching him unaware were memories of the last few hours he had spent with Laine. He enjoyed sitting around the fire, eating the stew made from venison, rabbit and vegetables from their garden, telling them about the lands he had ridden in the west. Trying to make them understand the vastness where a man rode for days with buffalo, antelope and coyotes for company. The cold clear streams, the lush valleys, the might of the mountains where lightning danced and a rainstorm could turn to sleet in a minute. Their questions kept coming, and he kept talking until it was time for them to leave. Not one word had he had with Laine alone.
It was for the best.
But why did he keep asking himself why it bothered him?
They had invited him to come for supper anytime. So he piled guilt on that he hadn’t gone back. He was not going to bring his troubles to her door.
As it was he lived hand to mouth, camping close to the river where he hid the dugout they’d left for him along with his stock. He varied the times he went up to the house but wouldn’t live there. It was a trap for a man alone.
He even went across the river to hunt in the woods and smoke his meat.
He figured those men wouldn’t come back during the day but at night when a tired man slept most soundly. They had no idea he was a man who slept light, having traveled through the lands of the Comanche, Apache, Kiowa and Sioux. He’d kept his scalp, his horse and guns.
Out west that said it all.
But when trouble came, it wasn’t what he expected.
Chapter Eight
Dawn was a pearly gray when Matt awakened. His sleep had been restless. He lay on his bedroll, hands behind his head, listening to the soft cooing of doves. That answered the most pressing question. No one could be lurking nearby. The doves went silent in a heartbeat if someone neared their roosts.
He built a small fire that he could cover with his hat, put water on to boil for coffee, and noted he was getting low on supplies. By the time the grounds settled, he had eaten a quick meal of smoked venison and pan fry bread. He pulled the pot back to where it would stay warm, strapped on his gun, and picked up his carbine.
He decided to go up to the house first, then come back to tend his stock.
Each time he chose a different approach, part of the innate caution sharpened by his years out west. He came across the uncleared fields toward the lane. As he neared, he realized he was close to where the man he’d shot at had dropped his gun. It took a few minutes of searching, but eventually he found it. The weapon appeared undamaged. He tucked it behind his belt.
Matt kept to the brush cover until he could see the front yard. Every sense went on alert. The faint smell of dust hung in the air.
He looked at every bit of ground. He knew no one had ridden or walked by him. Listening intently, motionless but for his eyes, he probed shadows in every direction. He saw nothing. Heard nothing. But the unease riding him remained.
He circled around to the back. No sign of anyone from the house to the overgrown lane down to the river.
He had no explanation why he was sure it was human, not animal, that raised that dust. Finally he went inside the house. The smell of lye soap that Laine and her sister had used to scrub walls and floors lingered. The hearth was swept clean, the stones free of accumulated soot from the fires built over the years. It still had the air of a lonely, abandoned place. He hurried to leave.
Matt was tempted to go hunting down that damn group of scalawags to put an end to his waiting. Remembering Law’s warning that trouble was what they wanted, he stopped those thoughts.
He spent most of the morning across the river. He brought his animals to water at a low spot in the river and, after moving the pickets to a new clearing, groomed them.
Blueboy was sassy, lipping his hair while he checked his hooves, nudging him as if to ask when they would be riding. The mule had fattened on the rich grass and grain. His coat shone like sleek brown satin. He seemed to enjoy the extra attention Matt gave him.
With a last pat to Blueboy, he went back to his camp.
He was standing, sipping coffee, when he saw the dugout hugging the bank and recognized Tater poling it along.
Matt stepped out from the shadows. “You came a long way to play pirate on the river. Everything okay at home?”
“Fine. Fine. Ain’t playing, Matt. I got business with you. I saw you weren’t up at the house.”
“Got used to camping out.” He helped Tater drag the dugout up onto the bank. To his shock, another boy wiggled out from under the blanket that had covered him.
The boy wore enough bruises and scratches that said he’d had a rough time of it. “You are going to explain this to me.”
“Sure, Matt. This here’s Billy. My friend. And before you ask, Laine knows we’re here. Now, let me get around it all before I forget what she said. Here’s more vegetables from the garden.” He handed over a half-filled sack. “And a peach pie.”
Matt took the cloth-draped pie and the sack. He led the way to his camp.
“I appreciate the food, Tater. Be sure to tell Laine that.”
“She’ll be pleased to hear that. She was real worried when you didn’t come for supper. And I came with Billy ’cause I wanted you to meet him. He’s had a bad time of it,” he added in a whisper.
Matt noticed the way the boy favored his side as he walked. “You boys hungry?”
“No, suh. Miz Laine and Miz Rachel fixed us vittles. Mighty fine ones, too.”
“Billy’s been real hungry. He had to come through the swamp and bayou to get to us.”
Since the boys were already sitting, Matt joined them. He waited patiently until one or the other explained what they wanted from him, even as questions burned to be asked.
“Matt, the thing is that Laine’s in a pickle. She didn’t say exactly that, but you know what I mean. Billy here, has lots to tell, but Laine said she couldn’t go off and leave us alone to find Law, and she wasn’t about to take all of us traipsing around trying to find him or his friends.”
“Well, I’m glad she sent you here. I can find him.”
“See, Billy, I told you Matt would help.”
The boy’s faith was touching, but Matt felt his gut clench in fear for Laine. “Why don’t you start by telling me what happened, Billy?”
“I was fooling with the dog in the woods waiting on Tater’s coming. I seen ’em come, real quiet like, so I ran to warn Pa. He told me to lock up Capt. Tate so he wouldn’t get himself hurt by attacking anyone. He does that. Pa was standing in front with his rifle. We heard Ma scream and come running from the house. A man I didn’t know was chasing her. She had hold of the music box Pa gave her. When the man grabbed it, Pa went after him. An’ they shot at him. Just up an’ shot. He wasn’t dead. They threw him in the wagon they were loading an’ said they was gonna hang him. They grabbed hold of me an’ tied me up. They didn’t bother with Ma. She was trying to tend to Pa.”
“Perdition!”
“What’s that, Matt?”
“Things going to hell in a handbasket.”
The boys both tried out the word, liking the sound of it. Billy finished quickly. He had been spared nothing of seeing his mother’s terror at being forced to cook for them, listening to threats no woman should hear all the while t
rying to keep her husband alive. She had managed to get Billy free and told him to run.
“Billy got real sick from what he’d been eating. Laine and Rachel sorta looked green when he told. But they dosed him with some foul-smelling stuff and he’s better.”
“I couldn’t have me a fire. Had no makings. They stole my granddaddy’s match safe right outta my pocket.”
“The important thing is you survived. That’s what your folks wanted. Does anyone else know that you’re with Laine?”
“Nope. There’s no one to tell, Matt. Only you.”
Matt felt the hold the images he created was taking and blocked them. He had to stop or he’d be no good to anyone. He’d wanted no part of this fight. Not unless they brought it to him or hurt Laine and her family. But hearing Billy express his fear and worry about his folks, and the terrible time he had once freed, Matt knew he had to take a stand.
Billy was swiping at his eyes. Tater looked away, then scooted closer to sling his arm over his friend’s shoulders.
“He’s real worried.”
With good reason Matt thought, but he wasn’t going to put that into words.
“So Matt, what do you think we should do?”
“Do? You two are going home. No, listen to me. I can’t watch over you and find Law. We can’t have him seen. You wouldn’t want those men coming after you. And Billy, I can’t make promises about your folks. But I swear I’ll do whatever I can to find them.”
“Billy’s got to tell about the stockade they got. They’re holding others up north that they’re planning on hanging.”
“Can you draw me a map to show where you were when you got away?”
The boy picked up a stick and started drawing, explaining what landmarks he remembered.
Once Billy was done, Matt asked a few questions, then scuffed out all sign of a map. He sent the boys to the dugout, making Tater carry the pie home.
“Oh, there’s one more thing, Matt. I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you. But Laine told Rachel that she hoped you wouldn’t go off in a tearing rage and get yourself hurt or shot.”
The Homecoming Page 6