Courting the Corporal

by Heather McCorkle

  Large paws beat down the grass not far from their heads. Cat’s eyes flew open to find Lincoln standing over them, a large hare dangling from his mouth. The hare’s black eyes rolled in her direction and its ears twitched. With a screech, Cat flew back and to her knees. Lincoln’s tail wagged, slapping flowers and the heads of grass with each swipe. He dropped the big hare before Rick and let out a proud bark. The second the hare’s big feet touched the ground, it launched out of the pup’s reach and took off.

  “Pup, your timing is impeccably bad,” Rick said with a laugh.

  Lincoln cocked his head, barked once more, then took off after the hare. They laughed at him bounding through the grass at a lazy pace, as if he cared nothing for actually catching it. Rick rose and offered her his hand. She accepted, letting go to brush grass from her clothing.

  “Looks like he makes a good chaperone after all,” she said.

  She couldn’t possibly be angry at the pup; he was far too precious. Besides, with the moment passed, her anxiety set back in full force. Perhaps it was best to wait.

  Seeming to sense her conclusion, Rick offered her his arm. “He does indeed, and just when I’ve gone back on me word to protect your honor and not be too forward. I cannot apologize enough,” he said.

  “You don’t need to apologize at all. I wanted to kiss you, and more. And what I want is important, is it not?” she asked with a sly grin.

  “Absolutely,” he agreed as they walked back to their campsite. “You shall be the ruin of me, woman, and I shall enjoy every moment of it.”

  * * * *

  The kiss had awakened something so powerful in Cat that she couldn’t sleep. Over the dying embers of the fire she watched Rick doze off. His hard chest rose and fell with a rhythm that seemed almost delicate, fragile in comparison to his strong body. She desperately wanted to go to him, crawl into his sleeping roll, and finish what they had started. The ache was stronger than anything she’d ever felt for Michael. She had never wanted her late husband as much as she had really just wanted him to stop pressuring her. Not that he wasn’t attractive. He had certainly been that. The pressure had just always ruined it. What she felt for Rick was completely different, and strange, but in a scintillating way.

  The soft sounds of his deepening breaths made her long to hear them beside her ear, feel them along her skin. On her right, Lincoln snored away, his gangly puppy legs kicking in the throes of a dream. She grabbed the edge of her blanket, preparing to move it aside, when Rick stirred.

  His breathing quickened, became almost distressed sounding. Firelight glistened off sweat forming on his brow. Blankets flew from him as he tossed and turned. His head thrashed. Between groans she could make out a few words that chilled her: all the bodies. She was up before she realized she had moved. This time she didn’t run to his side. Stopping well out of reach, she sat down on his side of the fire. She had to do something to ease his suffering. The only thing she could think of was to sing. The first thing that came to her mind was that song they had played together weeks ago. Something told her it would just the thing to soothe him and help pull him out of the nightmare. The words of “Scarborough Fair” were thankfully ingrained in her memory so she didn’t have to think about them. It came out breathy, her voice shaking.

  Damn it to hell, he needed her. She had to pull it together.

  Her eyes closed and she recalled their wonderful kiss from earlier. Slowly, her voice smoothed out, became more confident. Soon she sang with depth and emotion. The sound filled the night, rising over the crackling fire, and eventually over Rick’s groans. Halfway through the song Rick’s thrashing slowed. By the last chorus, he rolled toward her and his eyes fluttered open. She sang the chorus once more just to make sure he was fully awake. He sat up and she tensed in preparation to bolt, just in case. At the end of the round of chorus, she paused.

  “That was so beautiful,” Rick said in a sleepy voice.

  “Are you awake?” she asked.

  “Aye, thank you. Your voice pulled me from the depths of hell.” The gravity of his tone brought tears to her eyes. He sat up and looked down at his hands. “I didn’t scare you, or…hurt you, did I?” The shame and fear in his voice pinched at her heart.

  She went and sat on the edge of his blanket. Slowly, so he didn’t startle or pull away, she reached for his hand. This time she held no fear of him. He wasn’t like Michael. He wouldn’t hurt her. “No, not at all.”

  Her first instinct was to say how it had been her fault last time. But she didn’t let those words out. Both Deirdre and Sadie had been trying to teach her not to take the blame for the actions of others. And, more importantly, not to excuse the violent actions of a man toward her. While she knew Rick hadn’t been in his right mind—or even awake—and she didn’t blame him in the least, she couldn’t let herself accept the violent behavior, either. Not after what Michael had done to her. To do so would be to step backward in her own healing and lose the progress of confidence her friends had worked so hard to build back up in her.

  Rick squeezed her hand gently. “Thank the saints. That was quite clever of you to sing. Thank you for remembering our song together. It was exactly what I needed.”

  A shy smile crept to her lips. “I had to do something. I couldn’t just let you suffer like that.” She left out the part about how much his words had unnerved her, and how she needed to cover the sound of them. Knowing the war was horrible was one thing, hearing a person relive it was another altogether. One day she’d be ready for that, but today wasn’t that day. She had her own hell she was still recovering from.

  “You’re amazing,” he said as he lay back down. He opened his arms, inviting her to lay beside him.

  Forcing her reservations aside, she lay down and snuggled into the crook of his right arm. From his warmth seeping into her to the scents of river water and soap emanating from him, everything about him soothed her. He made her feel more wanted than she ever had in her life.

  “’Tis me turn to watch over you as you sleep. I’ll be awake for a while now, you rest. I’ll wake you if I get sleepy,” he said.

  The idea of falling asleep in his arms both thrilled and scared her on several levels. What if he fell asleep again and had another nightmare episode? But what if he didn’t? To be held and cherished while she slept would be a dream come true. Michael had never wanted to do that with her. But how could she sleep with such a fear looming over her? She wanted to trust him, more than anything, but she also wanted to survive the night. In the end, she took a leap of faith and allowed his beating heart to lull her to sleep.

  Chapter 21

  Day Thirty

  Miles and miles of hills and fragrant pines soon lulled Cat into a sleepy haze. The exhaustion of constantly having to look over her shoulder for a threat that may or may not be there was exacting a high toll of her piece of mind. Every shape on the horizon, every shadow, seemed to hold a potential threat. They hadn’t seen another soul for days. Still, a part of her feared that it wasn’t a matter of if one of Ainsworth’s men would catch up to them, but when. Learning he had men scattered all along the outposts of the California Trail to protect the shipping of his goods stole a good amount of her sleep.

  The mountains of Utah with their pockets of hidden snow and lush plant life were breathtaking, but days of such travel left her exhausted. She had constantly had to shift her weight forward or back depending on the hill they descended or climbed. They had now been descending since yesterday. Leaning back in the saddle began to feel close enough to lying down to sleep. The heat of the day only compounded matters, nearly putting both her and her horse to sleep.

  It felt as though she had been in the saddle so long her buttocks were in danger of taking on its shape. She decided that once they reached California, she never wanted to sit in a saddle again. When she voiced this, Galiha snorted. “Well, maybe not for a few months, at least,” she told the horse as she
patted his neck, dropping the last words to a whisper.

  A familiar scent that she couldn’t quite place tickled her nostrils. In her half-awake state, she began to think about New York. Oh how she missed Deirdre’s spunkiness and Sadie’s down-to-Earth manner. It felt as though she hadn’t seen her friends in an eternity. Then she realized what spurred the thoughts. The familiar smell was the ocean, or salt water, rather. She sat up straight and looked to Rick, who was grinning like a fool.

  “I was wondering when you’d notice,” he said.

  “We’re close to the Salt Lake?”

  He nodded. “We should reach it in the next hour or so.”

  “And the town?” She tried not to sound too eager and failed miserably.

  “We’ll have to pass right through it. I figured we could stop there for the night, replenish our provisions, and get a good night’s rest before crossing the salt flats. We’ll need the rest if you want to push across them fast,” he said.

  “I do. But do you really think ’tis a good idea to stop and rest?” As desirable as a real bed and meal sounded, she didn’t want to lose time. With another man out there who wanted her land, she had to push all the harder. No one was going to steal her dream away from her if she could help it. The sooner they arrived, the sooner she could start building and planting. And she had to plant by fall or she’d lose the window this year.

  “We don’t have much of a choice. The horses need the rest after these mountains, even if we don’t,” Rick said.

  She scratched beneath Galiha’s mane. “Hear that, lad? Perk up. There’s a comfortable stall full of hay waiting for you down there.”

  The gelding continued down the tree-choked slope at his leisurely pace. Undeterred, Cat began asking Rick all manner of questions about Salt Lake. From his descriptions, it sounded like a significant town. Not a city like New York, or nearly as advanced, but large enough to be considered civilization. Her curiosity about the people of Utah was eclipsed only by her excitement over visiting a real city again. She had never thought she’d miss the bustling streets of New York, and more importantly, the vendors and restaurants. This prompted her to ask all about the eating establishments.

  Rick entertained her every question with a seemingly endless patience that surprised and delighted her. Because of it, she kept talking and asking. She wasn’t used to a man being so open and tolerant of her chatting. It refreshed a part of her she hadn’t even realize had been parched.

  Excitement mounted in her as the trees parted and the valley cradling the town unfolded before them. Log buildings and dirt streets stretched across the open space in a gridwork of civilization. It was so much more than she had expected. After Fort Laramie, she had thought she may never see a proper town again. At the time it hadn’t bothered her. Fort Laramie had been enough to stave off the wilds. But now, with the promise of diverse trade and the security of law and order that not even the natives would dare to challenge, she breathed easier. More than that, she looked forward to it.

  Either her enthusiasm was catching, or Galiha finally understood that an opportunity to rest lay ahead, because he picked up his pace nearly to a trot. Ayegi and the packhorse did as well. Soon they rode on the dusty streets amidst wagons and other riders who called out greetings. She was so busy looking at the shops they passed, that it surprised her when Rick stopped them at a hitching post a few streets in. He dismounted and was at her side before she could even get a foot out of a stirrup.

  The assistance down was nearly as welcome as the feel of his hand in hers. The other lingered on the small of her back as her feet touched down. The muscles of her buttocks screamed at the change in position and she swayed. Rick steadied her with gentle pressure. She tested out taking a few steps, nodding to him once her legs held.

  The building they had hitched in front of was two stories of finely hewn logs with several large, clear windows on each level. A covered porch wrapped around it. Over the large wooden door hung a beautifully painted sign declaring it the Traveler’s Inn. Inside the windows, Cat saw several tables with chairs atop them.

  “Oh, to eat at an actual table,” she said through a heavy sigh.

  Tucking her arm through his elbow, Rick escorted her to the door. “We’re not eating here,” he said.

  Her excitement began to wane. “We’re not?”

  “No, this is only our lodging. They have the finest rooms and baths, but I have somewhere special in mind for dinner. I hope you don’t mind shopping for a dress.”

  Her heart lurched into a fast rhythm that forced her to concentrate on maintaining a collected composure. “I don’t mind at all.”

  Even if she had to haul herself back into the saddle and ride to a tailor, she wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to dress up for him.

  Rick stopped and snapped his fingers at Lincoln, then pointed to the ground. The pup plopped down with a tired grunt. “Stay. I’ll come sneak you in later. This isn’t the type of place that allows dogs.”

  Cat mouthed an apology to the pup as Rick opened the door for her. Tail thumping in the dirt, Lincoln lay down not far from Ayegi’s hooves as if too tired to move anyway.

  She paused to look long and hard at the animals. “Are they safe here?” she asked. What she really wanted to ask was if they were all safe here, but she didn’t dare voice it. Voicing the fear felt like making the threat more real.

  The gentle smile Rick gave her told her he understood exactly what she meant. “We’re safe here. Ainsworth doesn’t transport through Utah.”

  She breathed considerably easier as he opened the door for her.

  The scents of lavender oil and soap wrapped around her as they stepped inside. The wooden table and chairs shone with the evidence of the oil as did the wooden floor to a far lesser degree. The clicking of her boot heels on the floor was music to her ears. Floors meant fewer spiders and snakes, two creatures she would be very happy to have a break from. Each puff of dust coming off her clothes and tracked in by the soles of her boots made her feel a tad guilty. More than a tad, really. It brought up old memories she didn’t want to recall.

  Hinges on a swinging door near the back of the room creaked. A woman emerged, wiping her hands on her flour-dusted apron. Though she smiled, it was tight with disapproval as her eyes flicked down to the tracks they were leaving on the floor. Those unwanted memories of Cat’s multiplied until she looked down in shame.

  “Good afternoon, ma’am. We require two rooms, beside one another if at all possible,” Rick said.

  The woman looked them both up and down before turning and waving for them to follow her. “Come along then. I’ll get the hot water for you both on straight away.”

  The words “hot water” made Cat instantly forgive the woman’s haughty manner.

  An hour later, Cat was bathed, refreshed, and back in the inn’s main hall. She had put her simple traveling dress on, but even it felt dusty from the trail. Without a hoop, it didn’t quite sit right so she kept tugging at it. Bringing a hoop hadn’t exactly been an option when every available space had to be used for things that could keep her alive. Until now, she hadn’t wanted one. The moment Rick came down the stairs she forgot all about the fit of her dress. In dark breeches and a blue shirt, he managed to look casual and stunning at the same time. He still wore a pistol on his hip. Despite it, he managed to look quite civilized.

  He offered her his arm. “Stop tugging, you look lovely.”

  She hadn’t even realized she’d started again. A nervous, tittering laugh escaped her. Her cheeks burned at the sound. “Thank you. It just feels improper.”

  “No worries. I won’t judge you for being out of fashion. Besides, all I see is you, not the dress,” he said with a charming smile that melted her anxiety.

  They left the inn behind for the bustling streets of town. Wooden, raised sidewalks lined the buildings, offering them a clean, safe place to walk away
from the wagons and horses. Shops selling all manner of goods and luxuries unfolded before them: candle makers, glass blowers, bakers, potters, butchers, and more. She had forgotten the amazing feeling of having every need literally within reach. What had seemed so common before now felt like a precious luxury she had always taken for granted. How many times on the trail had they eaten dried meat and crackers to get by because there had been no game, fruit trees, or berries readily available? She would never look at a shop window or cart filled with food the same again. Rick had to peel her away from the windows of several shops due to lure of even something as simple as preserves or meat on display.

  She felt like a lass seeing a town for the first time. It was once again wondrous, but also opulent in a way she had never realized before. Most of the people walking the streets wore functional clothing, much of which was quite conservative. By the time they reached the tailor she began to feel guilty about buying a dress for a night out.

  “It seems silly to buy a dress for one dinner,” she said, hesitating on the sidewalk.

  Rick smiled. “You are a rare gem.”

  A very girlish giggle came from her. He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. “If it makes you feel better, we’ll sell it back tomorrow.”

  She cocked her head thoughtfully. “Or trade it for a nice pair of riding breeches and a new blouse.”

  Rick let out a short laugh. “I love how practical you are, dear lady.”

  Again, heat rushed to her cheeks. She dropped her head, unable to meet his gaze with her cheeks burning so hot. But her embarrassment was only part of the reason. Truly, she needed to look down at the stairs as she ascended so she didn’t step on her dress. It amazed her that after only a few weeks of not wearing the things, she had forgotten how to move in them.