His mouth compressed into a thin, tight line. “Go and fetch water for him.”
“I gave him some before.”
“Bring him more.”
George raced to the creek and filled her hat. Halfway back she saw Marcus striding from his horse with a Winchester in one hand. Dropping the hat, she dashed forward and flung herself at him.
“No.”
“Yes.” He grasped her arm.
“I won’t let you shoot him. I won’t.”
“It’s the only way; he’s too far gone for anything else.”
“You’re cruel. I don’t love you anymore.” Her impassioned words shocked him, slamming into him with the same force as the fists pummeling his chest. “I hate you. I hate you.”
“Hate me all you want. I intend doing what needs to be done.”
“I won’t let you kill him. We can save him, I know we can.”
“Look at him, Georgina, just look at him.” He shook her slightly. “Even if I could get the trap off he would die. You can see what a mess his leg is, half of it has been torn away. He’s in agony, this is the kindest way.”
He pushed her on to a fallen tree trunk and strode off. The gunshot echoed in the stillness. Birds flew skyward squawking in fright then all became silent once more.
“I’m truly sorry, Georgina. I wish I could have saved him for you.”
She lay in a heap on the ground with her face buried in the grass. She sobbed so hard her whole body shook.
“Don’t cry, it was the only humane thing to do.” Lowering himself down beside her, he gathered her up into his arms and she buried her face in his chest. Her tears, soaking through his shirt, felt hot and damp against his bare skin.
“Don’t cry.” He threaded his fingers through her hair. “Shh, sweet Georgina, the end was quick, he wouldn’t have felt anything.”
He gently rocked her as she clung to him with great sobs racking her body. When the storm of weeping ended, she lay quietly in his arms. She was so still he thought she must have fallen asleep.
Marcus did not move in case he disturbed her, but he rested his chin on her bright curls. Their softness against his skin felt like an angel’s caress, and there was a slight fragrance lingering in her hair, lavender maybe.
Oh, Georgina, he inwardly groaned. How sweet and untouched yet completely unsuitable as a bride for the son of an English Lord.
“I’m sorry for being so foolish.” She raised her head to gaze into his face, otherwise, she seemed content to stay in the circle of his arms. It felt good having her soft young body pressed up so close to his.
“Nelson was the only thing truly belonging to me. McGuire gave him to me when he was a pup. I had a doll my Aunt Molly made for me when I first came to live with them. Just an ordinary rag doll made up from scraps of material, but I took her everywhere. I loved her. One day Billy threw her in the fire because he said dolls were sissy.
I cried for three days until McGuire found the pup and gave it to me, so I could have something to love again.” Tears shimmered on her lashes.
“Didn’t you have other playthings?” She shook her head, leaving him feeling quite beastly thinking of all his childhood possessions.
“McGuire made me a swing, I used to love that.”
There was silence for a while. Marcus didn’t know how to ease her grief.
Finally, she stirred. “We’ll have to bury him.” Her low, sad tones wrenched his heart.
I’ll get someone to attend to it after I take you home.”
“You’ve been kind, Marcus.” She stroked his cheek with the fingers of one hand.
I want to be more than kind. He took one of her small, work-roughed hands in his and drew her upward until they stood close together.
It seemed fitting that an old warrior should be buried where he fell. The orange wood lillies would bloom above him and the frogs and birds would serenade him. Yes, this was a perfect place for her loyal old friend to sleep.
“I…I’m ready to go now.”
Marcus lifted her on to her horse.
“I can mount myself.”
“I know, sweet Georgina, but I wanted to.”
They rode along in silence for a time. He didn’t know what to say to ease her terrible grief until he suddenly remembered the party he was hosting.
“Georgina, would you like to come to a party?”
“A real party, with fancy cakes and things?”
“Yes.” He smiled. “Fancy cakes, mousse, truffles, sorbet, roast turkey, even champagne, though fruit punch for you, I think.”
“Thank you, I would like to come. I’ve never been to a fancy party before, it will be like Christmas come early, only better.”
The desperate sadness in her eyes lifted although her lips still trembled.
“When I complete the arrangements, I’ll let you know. It will be something to look forward to especially if you haven’t been to a party before. It will be a chance for you to see men dressed in their evening finery and ladies parading around in their prettiest gowns.”
Suddenly her body stiffened. “I’m sorry, Marcus, I won’t be able to come.”
“Why? You just finished telling me you wanted to go.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Because your precious Johnny wouldn’t like it?”
“I haven’t got a gown to wear,” she whispered.
He laughed. “Of course, you haven’t. All young ladies say that, well.” He debated out loud. “If you don’t have a party gown, just wear another one.”
“I don’t have any gowns at all.”
He swore under his breath. What a fool he was. He should have realized before, she never wore dresses simply because she did not possess any. McGuire had a lot to answer for.
“I’ll buy you a gown, the prettiest one I can find.” He laughed, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it sooner.
She shook her head. “I couldn’t. McGuire won’t let us accept charity.”
“Charity?” He stifled a curse. “Look on it as a gift from me to you.”
“I can’t, it wouldn’t be proper.”
“Who cares with what’s proper, no one need know. It will be a secret between the two of us.”
She hesitated and sensing her inward battle he played what he hoped would be a trump card. “You would hurt my feelings if you rejected my offer.”
“I wouldn’t like to do that.”
“Of course, you wouldn’t, so you are going to let me buy you a gown, something special. I can go to Deadwood. I have a few things I need to do there anyway.”
“I would like a pretty gown, if you think it quite proper,” she said with an almost childlike candor.
“It’s settled, in a couple of days I’ll catch the coach to Deadwood.” He grimaced on remembering his previous journey.
“Thank you.” She leaned across to stroke his cheek with a light butterfly touch.
Yes, he would enjoy buying pretty things for sweet Georgina. He edged his mount closer, picked up her hand and drew it to his lips so he could kiss each finger separately.
“Beautiful Georgina.” He would drive all thoughts of Johnny Valentine from her mind so she would be his. He nearly suggested they dismount so he could kiss her now, but knew if he started he might not be able to stop at just tasting her lips. He wanted all of her, and it wouldn’t be right to start anything while she was so vulnerable.
Marcus’ brilliant blue eyes reflected the sky. Slimly built, he nevertheless had a princely bearing and chivalrous manner that set him apart from other men. He was her knight in shining amour. But I’ll never be his lady. George hoped he didn’t notice her trembling hands. They rode along in a companionable silence for a time.
“Do you like being in America, Marcus?”
Once he would have taken great pleasure in telling her how much he loathed the wretched place, yet now, strangely found he could not. To be honest, he did not mind it half as much as he thought he would.
“At first, I dis
liked it, now I’m not sure. It does have a few redeeming features. Given time I could grow to like it very much.”
They rode close together with their legs brushing every now and again. Her storm of weeping had not left her with an ugly, blotched face as it did with many women, only her tremulous lips and a slight drooping of her slim shoulders betrayed her sadness.
The air hung heavy with the perfume of pine trees. A mule-deer stopped to stare at them before bounding away, and brightly colored birds fluttered about chirping merrily. This was a rough untamed place, yet it did have a rugged beauty.
They passed through spruce and pine forests until they rode out of the hills. No wonder Johnny Valentine could hide out here undetected. The undergrowth grew so thickly in places, a man could pass within a couple of feet of another without even seeing him.
It was peaceful out here with Marcus; his presence did a lot to ease the pain of losing Nelson. “Don’t worry about seeing me all the way home.” She broke the silence between them.
He stared at her in surprise.
“You go on to Stantons and send someone out, to well…” She bit her lip.
“I could see you home first.”
“No, please.” She fought to hide her sudden agitation from him. She had seen the mirror flashes a moment ago and Johnny would be waiting, wondering why she didn’t answer him straight away.
“Goodbye, Marcus.”
She galloped away so suddenly it left him stunned. About to turn his horse toward home he saw the flashes. Johnny Valentine. He cursed. It must be him. Until she saw that signal, Georgina had been quite content for them to amble along together.
He ground his teeth in frustrated rage. Jealousy, an unfamiliar emotion, raged through him. What hold did the young wretch have over her? There had to be something. She was not indifferent to him. He was experienced in the ways of women and she enjoyed his company. He meant to solve this mystery, had to solve it or they were both doomed
Chapter Four
George rode quickly, glancing around as she did so to make sure the coast was clear. She saw nothing, so feeling confident it was safe to do so, veered off the road and struck out straight into the forest. Johnny rarely signaled in daylight so he must need something urgently.
The hills were covered with trees, the ground rocky and uneven beneath the horse’s hooves. Upward they climbed with the terrain becoming rougher, the incline steeper, and the air cooler as it blew down directly from the higher peaks.
She dismounted only when it became too dangerous to ride any further. Fallen trees hidden by undergrowth and rabbit holes peppered the area. A spill here could break her horse’s leg.
“George.” Johnny popped out from behind what appeared to be a wall of undergrowth, only she knew it covered a cave.
“I heard you coming.” His grin contradicted his wild-eyed appearance. He hugged her tightly for a moment. “You weren’t followed?”
“No, I kept a good look out.”
She followed him into the cave, shivering as they left the sunshine behind them. Inside, were a pile of blankets in one corner and a wooden box with a lantern standing on it.
“Why did you signal?”
“I heard soldiers are being brought in from the fort, so I’m leaving here for a while until things cool down a bit.” He grinned suddenly. “I might do one more job before I disappear.”
“Johnny, no! It’s too dangerous.” She clutched his hand.
“I need money, funds are getting low. I might head into Montana for a while. I’ll have to go to Londrigan first, though.”
“Londrigan, why?”
“There are people I need to visit; it’s important. I’ll tell you one day, George, but not now. Don’t ask me.”
An eerie silence shrouded the cave with dread. She shivered, not with cold - apprehension. Johnny was becoming desperate, and desperate men did reckless things. Her once laughing, light-hearted brother had disappeared. Maybe he, too, realized his life had almost run its course. She bit her lip to stop it quivering and tried to push such terrible thoughts away.
“What’s wrong with you, George, you’ve gone all morbid. You worry too much.”
“It’s Nelson.” Plunging in quickly to cover her turmoil, she told him what happened.
“This Englishman means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Hard to say really. It’s your eyes, I think, they sort of glow at the mention of his name. Be careful of him. I’d hate to see you get hurt.”
“Marcus wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Not intentionally maybe, although I think he’d be ruthless if someone crossed him.”
She kept to herself the fact he had promised to buy her a new gown so she could go to his party, because Johnny wouldn’t understand. To be honest, deep down, she wondered whether anyone would understand how much this gown meant to her.
“George.” He stared straight into her face. “There’s no future for you with him.”
“Why not? He likes me, I know he does.”
“What I mean is, he would never marry you, no matter what.”
“How can you say that?” she asked huskily.
“Because he’s an aristocrat and they only marry gentry like themselves.”
It was true. Marcus could not marry her even if he wished to. He would need a suitable bride like Kathryn Stanton. George suddenly knew she was destined to be an old maid. If she couldn’t have Marcus she didn’t want any other man. Foolish thinking like this when she should be concentrating on Johnny.
“Like a coffee?”
“Yes, if you can you light a fire?”
“I can light one.” He grinned before heading toward the back of the cave. It was not particularly deep, and following close behind him, she gasped in surprise on seeing a rope ladder dangling from one wall.
“Come on, you can’t be scared,” he jeered, as she dubiously climbed up on to a ledge.
“If I think someone might come I pull the ladder up out of sight.” He laughed at her bewilderment. “Come on, the ledge is narrow so keep close to the canyon wall.”
They were thirty or more feet above the ground and without the ladder no one would ever find this entrance. No wonder he could elude the largest posse. He used a couple of similar hideouts, as the mountains and canyons were riddled with caves and underground caverns.
With her hand clasped tightly in his she cautiously inched forward in the half darkness, gritting her teeth to stop them chattering and letting him know her fear. Johnny, so daring himself, despised those who were not brave. He once told her it displayed a weakness in one’s character to show fear.
The ledge turned sharply and they came to yet another cave. Suddenly, fresh air hit her face, and daylight filtered through an undergrowth covered opening. When Johnny pushed the bushes away from the mouth of the cave she saw a grassy valley.
“This is where I do most of my cooking, and keeping the horses here saves worrying about feed, there’s always plenty of grazing around.”
He owned two horses, a grey mare he rode most of the time because she had plenty of speed, and a chestnut gelding with staying power. Both horses were stolen, one from a wealthy rancher, the other from an army outpost.
Although small, it was a pretty valley surrounded by rocky tree clad mountains. The floor was carpeted for as far as the eye could see with colorful wild flowers. A stream bubbled over shiny smooth stones.
George sat on a fallen log watching with interest as Johnny prepared the fire in a little stone fireplace. He had a blackened coffee pot.
“Won’t someone see the smoke?” she asked
“No, the walls of the valley would block it out. Even if a whiff or two escaped, no one could trace its source.”
“How did you find this place?”
“An old Sioux Indian took me here.”
As they drank their coffee she told him more about Nelson and how Marcus had helped.
“It’s a shame he had
to be put down, the Englishman was right though, you couldn’t let him suffer any more. You’ll miss him a lot. I’ll get you another pup if you like.”
She shook her head causing her loosened hair to swing across her face. “No, I don’t want another dog. You get fond of them, something happens and you’re left with nothing.” Her lips trembled although no tears fell.
“You don’t have much of a life, do you?” he mused. “I wish I could take you away from all of this.”
His moods changed so often now. One minute he was teasing and laughing, the next morose, brooding.
She stayed for an hour or so. McGuire would worry if she didn’t arrive home by nightfall. During the daylight hours she could roam at will; once dusk fell, he expected her to be indoors and it never crossed her mind to defy him.
“You better vamoose, George. I don’t know when I’ll see you again, might be a few months, depends.” Johnny chewed his lower lip thoughtfully.
“When do you go?” she asked with forced cheerfulness, knowing how much he hated tears and other displays of feminine weakness.
“A couple of days, maybe tonight even.” He frowned as if something displeased him.
As she followed him out of the valley, several grazing mule deers twitched their black tipped tails and bounded off.
Finally, they reached the place where Brandy was tethered. She glanced around to make sure they were still alone. What an awe-inspiring experience, a whole mountainside with just two of them on it.
As she rode off, she turned around to give Johnny one final wave. He did not return her salute, and she carried with her the image of a young man standing alone against the rugged grandeur of the mountains.
If only Johnny would go to Tom, he could lead a normal life. It would be terrible not seeing him, but his safety would more than compensate for any feelings of loss she experienced. Maybe one day she could join him.
On arrival home, McGuire was sympathetic in his rough and ready way.
The only consolation he could offer was that Nelson was an old dog who had lived a full life. Strangely, it gave her no pleasure to see Billy upset. His remarks when Nelson first disappeared had been callous, even though he was not normally a cruel person.
Outlaw Girl Page 5