“I told you, young man, I am fine.” She put her hands to her back and straightened with agonizing slowness. She modified her tone. “It’s been a while since I’ve spent all day in a saddle.”
Jack leaned toward her. “I thought she was never going to stop. Your niece is quite the slave driver.”
Mrs. Carver’s response was muffled, but he could have sworn she said that she thought it ran in the family. It was the first hint he’d ever had that she might have a sense of humor.
The three of them were made to sit on stools while the Indian women bustled about them. A few moments later a small party of Indian men appeared. They seemed to be joking among themselves, carrying something in large sacks over their shoulders. The jollity halted when they caught sight of their visitors.
A man of average height with gray streaking his dark hair stepped forward and greeted them. “Hil-Lé. Hil-Lé.”
Anne rose and greeted him in return.
Jack rose as well, feeling awkward and wishing he knew the protocol. It hadn’t occurred to him that he ought to have Anne teach him lessons on manners as part of his wilderness training. He stepped to her side and extended a hand to the man.
Anne facilitated the introductions. “Captain Frank, this is Perseus Wilberforce.”
“Jack, please.”
“Jack, this is the headman, Captain Frank.”
“You are welcome, Jack.” The cadence was slow and formal, the expression solemn.
“Thank you, sir.”
Mrs. Carver remained seated but nodded graciously as she was introduced. Formalities complete, the women presented them with plates of corn mush, freshwater mussels, some sort of berries, and some sort of bread. He’d never encountered the like.
He glanced at Anne, and she gave his plate a significant look before meeting his gaze again. With deliberate movements she scooped up a bit of mush in her fingers and popped it in her mouth. Her eyes went from him to her aunt and she repeated the action. Definitely should have gotten a few lessons.
Anne’s were not the only eyes on him, and he followed suit tentatively. Eating with his fingers was novel but not so terrible as his mother and a parade of nannies from his childhood would have had him believe. The mush wasn’t bad—a bit tasteless, but not bad. He scooped up another couple of fingers’ worth. The Indian woman who had served his meal gave a relieved smile and bobbed her head.
The headman turned to speak to a young man who arrived. Anne switched from whatever tongue she had been using, to speak to Jack and Mrs. Carver in a low tone. “They value hospitality here. Thank you for showing them respect by receiving it gratefully.”
The headman finished greeting the newcomers and returned his attention back to his guests. He spoke in careful English. “What brings you to our valley, Mr. Jack?”
Somehow confessing that he had simply wanted to escape the strictures and expectations of his wealthy family seemed the wrong thing to say to this man who held the burden of responsibility for an entire village and for whom his ideas of adventure would probably seem childish. “Mrs. Carver needed an escort, and I was lucky enough that she chose me to accompany her on her journey.”
Captain Frank listened politely, but Jack got the sense that he wasn’t buying his story, and he wondered how many times Anne might have traveled through this place all alone. He swallowed and fought down the desire to explain further. It would just make him look wishy-washy.
“You are a man who says the right thing always.” The words contained no particular inflection, but still they did not seem to be a compliment.
Jack’s shoulders tensed, but he measured his words carefully. “I try always to be polite.”
“Jack trained as a lawyer. I think it’s a requirement that they speak well.” Anne spoke brightly. She seemed unaware of any possible undercurrents to the conversation.
“Ah, an important man. You keep the law.”
“Not so much keep—”
“The headman is the law among the Yokuts.”
“You have great responsibility.”
“Yes.” The headman seemed to be done with him. The conversation veered from there with Captain Frank showing Mrs. Carver attention, which was accepted with more good grace than Jack might have expected. In fact, now that she was past her first shock, she was remarkably engaged. Speaking to the women near her and watching the activity around them with keen interest.
At last, as the meal was wrapping up, Captain Frank returned his attention to Anne. “You will stay with us tonight?”
“That’s kind of you, but we need to be going. I’d like to make a few more miles before the sun goes down.”
Jack could have sworn he heard her aunt groan at this, but when he looked, her face was utterly unreadable.
“It would be wise to stay here for the night. There are rumors of bandits in the forest.”
“There are always rumors of bandits.”
Captain Frank shrugged. “True, but there have been more lately. These rumors may be more than talk.”
“I will watch for the signs and be careful to avoid them. Besides”—she flashed a grin—“we have Jack to protect us.”
Jack searched her face for sarcasm but saw no malice there.
Within a few moments they had mounted up again, and as the children ran alongside them, Anne led them from the rancheria.
“Why didn’t you wish to stay in the village? Surely it would be safer than sleeping in the wilderness.” Mrs. Carver sounded aggravated, but her tone had changed. She did not sound patronizing.
Anne held her shoulders very still, but when she spoke, her words sounded cheery enough. “The Yokut are a proud people. They would have felt the need to offer us the best hospitality they can. But with their lives and livelihoods restricted to the rancheria, they have very little. I couldn’t bear to take any more from them than necessary. Also, I would like to make a few more miles today. We’ve got a long way to go before we reach the mine.” She glanced back at them. “If you’re worried about the talk of bandits, you don’t need to be.”
“It’s not that,” Mrs. Carver said and shifted in her saddle.
“I promise to help make our campsite as comfortable as possible. I know exactly where we are going.”
Her aunt seemed to accept this reassurance, though Jack got the sense that this had more to do with her reluctance to discuss why she would prefer to stay at the rancheria than with any confidence she felt in Anne’s plan.
The mountains looked close enough to touch now even as they remained stubbornly elusive. The scrub and rock gave way to groves of spreading oak trees and verdant evergreens and pines. He even spotted his first giant sequoia. The green canopy overhead protected them from the sun’s heat but was so high that it didn’t feel claustrophobic. The clop of their horses’ hooves was muffled by innumerable leaves. Occasionally their passage startled a bird or sent a squirrel scampering for cover, but otherwise it was as if they were the last creatures in existence. He inhaled deeply and let the breath out on a sigh. Here the rush and bustle of the city was as irrelevant as a bathing costume to an Eskimo.
His legs and hindquarters ached from riding, but he had to admit that this was a better way to get to know the country than the railroad. There was nothing like the rich, loamy smell of the forest. And there was no way to get a real feel for the scale of the great sequoia trees as one barreled by in a train. But, passing beneath its mighty boughs, he had a whole new appreciation for his own finiteness.
“Hold.” Anne held her hand up.
Jack reined in hard.
Anne pointed to a hole that a casual observer might simply have thought was deep shadow at the edge of a mass of brush. “There are mining pits like that all over the place. Miners turned over just about every bit of ground in the state. A lot of it they didn’t put back.”
“That is very dangerous.” Mrs. Carver had a hand to her chest as if she had almost fallen into the pit.
“It’s important to stay alert.” A smi
led softened Anne’s briskness. “We’ll stop before it gets dark.”
“I suppose that’s some comfort.”
It was another hour before she finally called a halt. Jack had begun wondering if she was simply growing contrary. But as he drew up beside her, he saw the reason she had made them come so far. A tiny cabin nestled at the edge of a clearing. On the far side a brook burbled merrily.
“Is this a friend’s house?”
“It’s mine.”
“We’re near the mine then?”
“We’re days away from the mine still. This is a way station.” She clicked to her horse, and they started down the slight grade to the cabin. “It’s not much, but by the time we come back this way, it will feel downright luxurious.”
Considering his aching bones, that sounded ominous.
To enter, Anne produced no key, merely pushed the door open.
“Aren’t you worried about thieves?” her aunt asked.
“There’s nothing here worth stealing.” Anne turned to her aunt and ushered her inside. “Besides, it can’t be stolen if it’s a gift.”
“Don’t speak in riddles, girl. I am far too tired for foolishness.”
“Out here, cabins like this are left unlocked in case of an emergency, especially in winter. This place might save someone’s life if a blizzard blows up unexpectedly. Anyone in need is welcome to help themselves to its stores of wood or supplies, therefore they cannot be said to have stolen anything.”
“That’s very … practical.” Jack didn’t know what else to call it.
He followed the ladies inside to find the cabin was larger than it looked from outside but still very simply furnished. A wooden bed frame with a mattress and a pile of quilts folded at the foot. A single cane-back chair sat in front of a wide fireplace with a stack of wood piled neatly beside it and a rag rug before it. And, pressed up against one wall, a workbench with a few pots and pans, utensils and tins. A thick layer of dust overlay everything.
“Home sweet home.” Anne opened her arms wide. “At least for the night.”
Mrs. Carver sneezed.
Anne grimaced. “I suppose it does need a good airing out.” She planted her hands on her hips.
Sensing that he was about to get an assignment, Jack placed his saddlebags against the wall and straightened. As suspected, he was set to bringing in additional firewood and getting a blaze started while the ladies took the quilts out to hang on some bushes.
He then led the grazing horses to a small paddock and brushed and watered them. More manual labor than he had performed in the past year. But it felt good to be moving and working out the kinks in his muscles, so he couldn’t complain too much.
After a few moments he found himself humming. It was quiet here. Some might say lonely, but his only concern was the grumbling of his belly. He was getting hungry. As he headed back to the cabin, Mrs. Carver was enthusiastically whacking the blankets. A cloud of dust billowed out of the door followed by Anne, broom in hand. To his left, Jack heard something between a grunt, a growl, and a question mark.
He turned to find a pair of small eyes examining him from a great shaggy head.
Some sound must have escaped his throat because Anne looked up and stiffened. “Don’t run and don’t look him in the eye. He might take it as a challenge.”
Jack focused furiously on the animal’s nose, which twitched and sniffled in a sinister way.
“It’s a black bear. They’re not usually aggressive.” Anne’s voice was low and calm.
“What should I do?” It wasn’t much more than a whisper, but she heard him.
“Back away from him slowly. Don’t make any sudden movements.”
The bear was glaring at him now, and Jack caught a whiff of its heavy, brackish odor. With his heart hammering to be let out of his chest, he took a careful step backward.
The bear cocked its great head at him as if wondering why he was walking in such a strange manner. It took a step forward, its great paws making no sounds, but the great claws at the end of them scoring the ground. Jack took another step and another. The bear matched him. It wasn’t particularly tall, about chest height, but it had great, broad shoulders. Jack figured it weighed a good three hundred pounds.
“Are you carrying any food?”
“I have some licorice in my pocket.”
“Pull it out slowly and drop it to the ground, then back away from it.”
Jack did as he was told. The overly sweet scent of the licorice wafting up to him made him want to vomit as he pulled it out. He dropped it on the ground. The bear’s ever-twitching nose seemed to grow more dramatic in its gyrations, and he lumbered forward. Jack hastily backed away.
“Slowly. Calmly.”
He made sure not to make any sudden jerky movements but continued to move toward the cabin while the bear’s attention was occupied.
The bear reached the place Jack had been and snuffled around in the dirt, pawing at the bits of candy. A long, sinuous tongue escaped its jaws and claimed one piece of licorice after the other. He looked up at Jack and let out another growl that ended in a question mark, for all the world as if he were wondering where Jack was going when they had been having such a good time.
Jack nearly jumped out of his skin as small hands grabbed the back of his jacket.
“I’m right here.” Anne’s voice remained steady. “Go ahead and get in the cabin.”
Jack glanced inside and saw Mrs. Carver had already managed to obtain relative safety. She peered at him, her white face seeming extra pale as it looked out from the shadows.
“What are you doing?” Jack asked.
“I think someone has been feeding this bear. If I’m right, he won’t want to take no for an answer, and I may need to take more desperate measures.”
“I’m not cowering inside and leaving you to deal with a bear alone.” An image of the long rifle she’d carried strapped to her saddlebags came to his mind.
“I’ve dealt with worse than a black bear.”
“Not while I was around. If he stopped because of the licorice in my pockets, then this is my fault. I’m not leaving you to handle the consequences.” He looked at the bear, who had run out of licorice and was moving toward them again. “Just tell me what to do.”
“You’re sure?”
Jack wanted to shake her. Couldn’t she see the bear coming? “Yes.”
“Raise your hands above your head to make yourself as big as possible, and yell at it. Move forward, but not too quickly.”
Jack raised his hands above his head and shook them wildly. Why this addition to the program seemed appropriate he didn’t know, it just did. He moved toward the bear, who seemed more surprised at his change in demeanor than anything else. Jack followed this up with the biggest, deepest bellow he could manage. The bear jerked away, one paw held high in the air, and Jack would have sworn that the expression on its face was the same Mrs. Carver had worn when they had been accosted by a beggar at one of the innumerable train stops on their journey out west.
Jack roared again, and the bear turned and began to lumber away. It gave a single glance over its shoulder as it went. Jack gave another menacing shake of his hands. Within a few moments the bear was swallowed by the shadows of the woods.
“Nicely done.” Anne came up beside him.
“If I’d been alone, I’d have taken off running for sure.”
“Well, now you know what to do.” She shrugged, sounding nonchalant, as she stared into the woods after the big animal, but he noticed that her knuckles around the broom still showed white. “It’s better to avoid confrontation if you can, but if you can’t, then you have to look as big and scary as possible and make them decide they don’t want the confrontation.”
As he looked down at her profile, Jack’s throat felt unaccountably dry again. “I’ll keep that in mind.” His voice sounded husky.
She looked up at him then, and the moment seemed to stretch out between them as rich and melting as honey. Her lips c
urved in an enigmatic, almost searching way. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Never better.” He managed a smile.
“Good.” Her more habitual flash of a smile burst across her face, and she handed him the broom. “Then you can finish sweeping. I need to start supper.”
His fingers covered hers as he accepted the broom. His throat constricted. He should have left Boston years ago. The west was invigorating like nothing back east.
Chapter 5
Before they started out the next morning, Anne tried to give Mrs. Carver a liniment to rub into sore muscles, but the older woman pushed it away.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
Anne could tell by the way the older woman sat and held herself with utmost care that she wasn’t fine. “If you change your mind, just say the word.”
Anne took care throughout the day to slow their pace as they climbed higher and to take more breaks than they had taken the day before. Perversely, she was reluctant to call a halt to the ride for the day. She wanted to find the best possible campsite. There would be no cabin tonight, and as they climbed higher, it was growing cooler.
At last she found the spot. A small clearing, well sheltered by trees and within feet of a brook. There was a scant hour until they would be engulfed by darkness, so they didn’t have much time.
She swung herself down from her horse, which gladly bent to drink its fill. “All right.” She reached for her saddlebag. “We’ll need to rig a couple of lean-tos, find firewood, build a fire, and gather moss and pine needles to make comfortable and warmer places to lay. We’ll also need to care for the horses. There is plenty of grass for them to graze upon, but they should be brushed down and staked for the night.” Irritated, she looked around. “What is that buzzing noise?” Then she found the source. Suspended at the edge of the clearing, not far from where she stood, was a beehive. She smiled. “I just found a nice addition to our supper.”
“I can take care of the horses,” Jack said.
“Thank you, Mr. Wilberforce. Mrs. Carver, I have some tarpaulins and rope in this pack here. We can work on rigging the lean-tos. We need to get all this done before we lose the light.”
The American Heiress Brides Collection Page 44