The Education of Madeline

by Beth Williamson

  And damnit to hell, he loved her.

  Madeline snuck into the house through the back door and tiptoed up the stairs. As she took her reticule from the front hall table, she could hear Eppie talking to someone in the dining room, probably Isaiah.

  When she reached her room, she closed the door behind her and locked it. She grinned at the empty room and spun around in a circle with her arms wide, feeling like a little girl. She felt young. Young and in love.

  Each time she was with Teague, her certainty that it was love grew. She flopped back on the bed and felt a twinge between her legs. Teague had been rough, and she resisted the urge to go back and ask for more.

  Who knew she could be such a wanton?

  She rolled over and felt paper crinkling beneath her. Her reticule. How could she forget? The evidence against the conspirators was in here. Each day, she made a copy of the transactions, and each day the original disappeared. She had to find a safe place to keep these with someone she could trust. The problem was she didn’t think she could trust anyone in Plum Creek anymore except Eppie. She didn’t know if she could trust Teague. He was in league with those who would hurt her. Her heart told her to trust him, but her head kicked that weepy organ aside and shouted at her for even thinking of trusting him.

  Madeline carefully removed the papers from her reticule and gazed at the week’s worth of entries. There must be something else she could gather. Some kind of evidence that would support her claims.

  She knew where the evidence might be…Denver. For a woman of her advanced years, she was scared to death to travel to Denver alone. Perhaps she ought to take Eppie and Teague with her. Of course, she had to leave someone at the house to watch it. God knew what those bastards would do if they knew she was out of town.

  As Madeline tucked the ledgers back into the reticule, she thought of someone to ask. With a whoop, she ran to her dressing table to fix up her hair. Madeline had someone to go see.

  Most folks in Plum Creek had given up Micah Spalding for dead. He was a mountain man who came to town but once a year for supplies. An entire year had passed without anyone seeing either hide or hair of him. Everyone assumed he had died. No one knew much about him other than his name. He was a tall man with a big beard and long brown hair he kept in a queue at the back of his head. He wore animal skins, and everyone figured he smelled a bit like he was a stranger to soap and water.

  At the general store, Candice was polite to him and always filled his order. He paid with cash, a rarity for many. But he always made Candice nervous.

  He’d visit the blacksmith for his needs there, and he always checked on the mail and with the telegraph operator, as though he was waiting on something.

  No one knew where he came from or even how old he was. No one, that is, except Madeline.

  Not long after her father died, she’d found him near death by the creek behind her house. Somehow she’d made a litter and dragged him to the house. Although suffering from hypothermia, he begged her not to call a doctor, said he’d pay her to take care of his needs.

  Madeline saw kindness in his silver eyes along with a bit of desperation and a touch of madness. She agreed to his terms but refused payment. She wanted him to bathe and shave while he stayed at her house instead.

  Micah had reluctantly agreed. He told her he’d been fishing in the swollen creek when he’d fallen in and cracked his head on a log. Miraculously he hadn’t drowned and had ended up near her house when he was finally able to drag himself out of the river.

  Micah stayed with her a month while he recuperated. They became friends, something neither one of them had an abundance of. Madeline was surprised to find that Micah was only a few years older than she and that he was originally from North Carolina. She never asked him why he lived alone in the mountains, and he never offered up a reason why. Underneath all the grime and hair, Micah was a handsome man. Madeline remembered being surprised by that fact but not surprised that she had no interest in him as anything other than a friend.

  Before he went back to the mountain, he promised Madeline if she ever needed him, he would come back to Plum Creek and help her.

  Today was the day. Madeline knew where his cabin was. He had drawn her a map so she could find it. It would take only an hour to get there if she took a horse. She contemplated renting one from town but decided not to. Teague might as well accompany her. She wasn’t exactly a worldly traveler, and having him along would probably be a wise idea.

  She changed into her sturdiest boots and went out to the carriage house. Teague threw a tarp over something and looked at her in surprise.

  “Maddie! What are you doing back so soon?”

  She frowned at his behavior. “I need to go up the mountain to a cabin about an hour’s ride from here. Will you saddle the horses and go with me?”

  Teague’s eyebrows shot up nearly to his scalp. “Now? It will be dark in less than three hours. Shouldn’t you wait until tomorrow?”

  She shook her head. “No, I want to go today. It can’t wait.”

  He opened his mouth as though to argue with her but closed it. He walked past her out of the carriage house and headed for the barn. Madeline looked at the tarp-covered item but decided she didn’t have time to snoop right then.

  She hurried after Teague and caught up with him as he was saddling the first horse.

  “Who are we going to see?” he asked.

  “A friend.”

  He cinched the saddle, put the bridle on the chestnut, and laid the reins on the saddle horn. He moved to the next stall and started saddling the bay mare.

  “Does this friend know we’re coming?”

  “No.”

  Teague sighed and straightened the blanket on the horse’s withers.

  “What if this friend isn’t there?”

  Madeline hadn’t thought of that but figured Micah would be within shouting distance of his cabin. From what she remembered, he never went too far from it, except his yearly trip into town.

  “He’ll be close by. Don’t worry.”

  Teague scowled. “He will, huh? So we’re going to see a man friend that lives an hour up a mountain?”

  Madeline was delighted to see a spurt of jealousy from him. It was jealousy. She was sure of it. Jealous of Micah? Now, that was something! Madeline had never had any man jealous for her before. It made her heart go pitty-pat and a grin creep up her face.

  “Are you jealous, Teague?”

  “Hell, no! I just don’t know if I like this idea of yours.”

  She straightened her shoulders and looked at him with narrowed eyes. “That’s too damn bad, Teague O’Neal. You work for me, remember? We are going, and whether or not you like it doesn’t change my mind.”

  He snorted and finished saddling the bay without another word. His handsome face wore a horrible scowl, and he kept shooting her glares from beneath his brows.

  Madeline couldn’t help but watch his body as his muscles moved and flexed. Her body, so recently sated, was humming again. Teague was as sour as a pickle, and yet her body was still reacting to him like he was bringing her fresh flowers and chocolates. Somehow she wasn’t surprised.

  Within ten minutes, Teague had filled two water skins, and they were on their way to Micah’s cabin.

  Madeline led them behind the house to the creek and started following it north. The trees grew thicker as the air grew a bit cooler. It had been ages since she’d simply stepped out of the yard and into the woods. It was quite beautiful and sorely neglected by people like her.

  Teague was still pouting an hour later when they stopped to water the horses. As the air was thinner, they had to be sure everyone was hydrated and not pushing too hard.

  He scowled as he filled his canteen in the creek. As she watched him, she wondered how she’d ever considered being a virgin spinster with men like him in the world. It was sheer stupidity. Of course, what she was doing with him was sheer madness.

  They mounted their horses and continued. She consulte
d Micah’s carefully drawn map every ten minutes or so, taking note of each landmark they passed. He’d been quite thorough with them to make sure she wouldn’t get lost. After all, Madeline was a dyed-in-the-wool city girl.

  “Are we getting closer?” Teague asked with a bit of a whine in his voice.

  “Probably another half an hour or so, from what he told me.”

  Teague stopped and turned to glare at her. “What are you saying? You’ve never even been to this friend’s cabin?”

  “No, I haven’t, but I have a map, and I know about where he is.”

  “Woman, are you crazy? The sun is going to set in less than two hours, and we’re out here heading toward a cabin you’ve never even seen?”

  A vein bulged in his head as he shouted. Madeline felt her own temper stir to life.

  “You will not speak to me like that, Teague O’Neal! I am not some dog you can order around. I have every faith in this map because Micah drew it, and I have faith that we will be safe because you are with me. Now stop complaining and whining, and let’s keep going!”

  Teague’s mouth opened and closed as though he’d never had a woman speak to him like that. Too damn bad. Madeline never kept her tongue when there were words that needed speaking.

  “You have faith in me?” His softly spoken question tugged at her heart. It sounded as if no one had ever told him that before.

  “Of course I do. You’re an intelligent, capable man, Teague. Why wouldn’t I?”

  He shrugged one big shoulder and stared off into the evergreens. “It’s unusual to hear, is all. I mean…thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, let’s keep going; we’ve got to be close.”

  Another five minutes passed before Teague said, “Micah?”

  “Yes, that’s his name. Haven’t I mentioned that?”

  “No, you didn’t.” Teague snapped a stick off an oak tree and started fiddling with the bark. “There’s a lot you haven’t told me.”

  Madeline felt a snort of laughter billow up her throat. “If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black!”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Madeline sighed. “Teague, I know absolutely two things about you. You had a wife and child, and you were in the war with a friend who died at Shiloh. Before three weeks ago, you had a past, but that’s all you’ve shared with me.”

  “I reckon that’s true,” he admitted grudgingly.

  Madeline watched his big hands play with the stick and couldn’t help but remember how much she loved his hands playing on her body.

  “…so that’s why it’s hard for me.”

  Oops. He had been talking, and she certainly hadn’t been listening. Damn her wanton hide.

  “I’m sorry. Can you say that again?”

  Teague frowned. “I said I lost everything in my life that I loved in that war. I wasn’t much of a man, barely living a day-to-day existence until I stumbled on that blasted horse. There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, and many of them I’m not proud of, so that’s why it’s hard for me.”

  Madeline could certainly understand that. There were quite a few things she wasn’t proud of, and telling someone about them was not high on her list of fun things to do. However, she had to somehow drag him out of his shell and get him to talk to her. The fresh air must have been making her brave.

  “Okay, I’ll make you a deal. I will tell you something about me, and you tell me something about you.”

  One dark eyebrow went up. “Like what kind of something?”

  She shrugged. “Whatever you want it to be. I’ll go first.” Madeline took a deep breath then let it out. “My mother was the light in my life and allowed me to be more like other children. Well, as much as she could, anyway, because we both lived under my father’s thumb. When I was twelve years old, she died.” Madeline paused to take a breath. “I tripped and nearly fell down the stairs, but my mother pushed me out of the way and then fell down the stairs and broke her neck. My father was furious. He pulled me out of school and hired a tutor for me. He basically locked me away in the house. He once told me…” She had to swallow hard to say it. “He once told me he wished it had been me who had fallen instead of her.”

  The steady clop-clop of the horses’ hooves, the rush of the creek, a few birds chirping, and some squirrels chattering above them were the only sounds she heard. Madeline felt her heart weep within her for the little girl whose entire life had changed because she’d tripped over the carpet runner in the hallway.

  “You blame yourself for her death.”

  Madeline actually gasped. She had never told a living soul that, and here was Teague, three weeks after meeting her, and he could see down deep into her soul. To unearth the darkest, festering thing he could find.

  “Yes,” she whispered. It felt so good to say it out loud. So many nights she’d lain there and punished herself over and over with “what if” and “if only” scenarios until she thought she’d go mad. Perhaps she had—a little, anyway.

  “How did you know?” she asked as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Too many tears had been shed over the last twenty years to shed any now.

  “I…I feel the same way about someone’s death.”

  Madeline sat up and took notice. Teague was about to give her some kind of information—some crumb of insight into his heart.

  Teague sighed long and deep. “I lied to you about my wife and son. They were alive when I came back from the war. They were barely scraping by on potatoes and pin money from the eggs they were selling in town. Folks were jealous of those hens but for the most part left her alone. She couldn’t bear to look at me, couldn’t bear my touch. It was like she had gone off to war instead of me. I don’t know what happened while I was gone, but it was enough to turn Claire into a different person.”

  She could see his hands were tight on the reins, white-knuckled.

  “When she did talk to me, we fought, long and hard. Christopher didn’t even remember me. He was a wild thing, dirty and barefoot. I got angry one night and went into town to the saloon. Got stinking drunk and passed out. When I woke up in the hoosegow, the sheriff told me bushwhackers had raided my farm, killed Claire and Christopher, and stole the damn hens.”

  Madeline’s stomach heaved at the thought of what the jay-hawkers had done after the war. People had been insane with bloodlust and had left their better judgment, if they had any, in the dirt behind them.

  “I’m so sorry, Teague.” Madeline moved her horse closer to his and touched his arm. It was like touching granite—cold and hard.

  “Thank you kindly, Maddie. I don’t know if I could have stopped them if I’d been home, but I’ll never know, will I? So I blame myself for their deaths, just like you and your ma.”

  He turned his dark eyes on her, and she saw it. A light way back in those beautiful orbs. There it was. Hope.

  Teague felt like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. They found the cabin with a bit of looking. This fella had it well hidden in the evergreens, so if you didn’t look hard enough, you’d never know it was there.

  Madeline smiled when she spotted the chimney. “There it is, Teague!”

  The cocking of a rifle cut short his reply.

  “You’re on my land. Get.” The hard voice came from somewhere to their left and behind them.

  Shit.

  “Micah?”

  There was a moment of silence when even the birds stopped singing, and there surely wasn’t a forest critter within ten miles.

  “Madeline?”

  He pronounced it with a long I in the middle. Madeline. Like she was a dessert or something. Like a Southerner would.

  A wave of blackness swept through Teague as long-buried memories pounded his mind. The sounds, the smells, the fear, the absolute misery.

  Maddie had found herself a Johnny Reb.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “Who is that big fella yonder?”

  “He…he’s my friend, Teague.
I’ve come to ask for your help. I’m in trouble.”

  Another moment of absolute silence. Teague swore he was about to choke on his own vomit as he struggled against his past.

  “All right, then. Y’all can come down from those horses and set a spell.”

  Teague dragged himself off his horse and fell to his knees. He vaguely heard Madeline call his name. His head dropped down to the dirt. The smell of pine needles and the loamy smell of the earth waved past his nose. He struggled for breath.

  “Teague! What’s the matter? Micah, help me!”

  He felt her hands touching his back, but he couldn’t lift his head up.

  “It’s okay, Madeline. You take the horses on back to my lean-to. I’ll take care of your fella here.”

  He wanted to tell Micah to shut up each time he opened his mouth and that drawl emerged.

  “She’s gone now,” Micah said quietly near his ear. “Just breathe, big man. Deep breath.”

  Teague started taking big, gulping breaths, each one deeper than the last, until finally the urge to curl up and die passed.

  A tin ladle full of water appeared in front of him. He took it and swallowed it greedily. “Thanks.”

  A pair of well-worn boots stepped in front of him. He saw brown trousers and some oft-mended laces.

  “I reckon we’ve got some things in common. Other things we could probably argue until we’re old and wrinkled. You were Union Blue, right, Yank?”

  Teague nodded and pushed himself up to his knees. He focused on keeping his dignity and pride in tact.

  “Yeah, I was. You a Johnny Reb, right?”

  “I fought for the South. The war’s long since over. I moved out here to leave it behind. I expect you did, too.”

  A hand abruptly appeared in front of Teague. “Madeline cares about you, so I reckon you must be okay.”

  Teague took the proffered help and stood with a rush of blood to his head that nearly had him swaying.

  “You’re too big to pick up, so don’t fall.”