Sooner or Later

by Vickie McDonough

  At least the wagon had served to keep the children from seeing Mason on the ground.

  “You’re not hurt?”

  “No, I’m fine.” Rebekah glanced over her shoulder and saw that the horse still grazed nearby. “Do you think you could get on the horse so I could get you back to camp?”

  He shook his head. “No, I’d be better off walking. You can help me if I need it.”

  “All right.” Rebekah put her boot back on, trying to ignore her soaked stocking, and rose to her feet, taking a moment to brush off her dress while she willed her legs to stop trembling. Grimacing, Mason used his good arm to push himself into a sitting position. Rebekah noticed his gaze drift down to his wounded arm, which hung useless at his side. He’d need a sling or something to support his shoulder until it could heal. For now, she could stick his arm inside his shirt.

  Kneeling back down, she undid the button she’d just sewn on his shirt—had it been only this morning? It seemed so long ago. Mason’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, and a cocky grin tilted his lips.

  “I’ve still got one good arm. I think I can tend to my own dressing.”

  Rebekah felt her cheeks flame. Lowering her eyebrows in a challenging glare, she picked up his wounded arm and stuffed his hand inside his shirt.

  “Ow! You’re brutal, Doc.” Though Mason’s words sounded gruff, she could see the teasing glint in his eyes. Eyes that reminded her of black onyx.

  “Sorry,” she murmured.

  “Oh, yeah, I can tell you’re real sorry.” Mason nodded his head and rubbed his shoulder.

  Rebekah nibbled on her bottom lip. She really didn’t mean to hurt Mason, but sometimes his teasing irritated her as much as his stubbornness. He had no idea how much his being hurt had rattled her and brought back memories of her failure to keep her mother and Davy alive.

  “Hey, I’m okay.” Mason reached out, touching her cheek. “You did good, see? My shoulder still hurts, but I’m better.”

  She gave him a weak smile and shrugged her shoulders. “I … uh, need to wrap your head. Your cut’s still bleeding.” She took the two pieces of frayed cloth that she’d ripped from her petticoat and quickly formed a head bandage.

  “Where’re the other horses?”

  “Duke’s at camp. I don’t know about the other two.” She glanced down to see Mason staring off in the distance, his mouth cocked in frustration. “Can we pull the wagon with two horses?”

  “No.”

  His curt answer didn’t allow for exceptions. Without the other two horses, they were either stranded or would be forced to abandon the wagon and most of their supplies. Rebekah exhaled a deep sigh. This would be a long day. As soon as she got Mason settled in camp, she’d have to go looking for the horses while there was still daylight. At least dinner still simmered on the campfire.

  Rebekah helped Mason to his feet. He wobbled a bit then slung his good arm around her shoulders. “You okay?” she asked.

  “Just a bit dizzy—and my shoulder aches, but that’s normal.”

  “How many times have you dislocated it before?”

  “Twice. One as a kid and once … uh, never mind.” He tightened his grip on her shoulder. Rebekah’s frame sagged from the weight of Mason’s big body. With one arm around his waist, she used her other hand to help hold his injured arm against his chest. The going was slow as they stepped over and around all kinds of debris, from tree branches to a dead duck to a derby hat, uncrushed and in perfect condition.

  Mason gave a chuckle. “Where do you suppose that came from? I think we’re days from the nearest town.”

  “I don’t know. The storm was so strange.” Rebekah reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Things are torn up all over the place, and yet my stew still sits over the burning fire, untouched.”

  “Twisters do weird things.” Mason stopped and looked down at Rebekah. “We were lucky, Bekah.” His gaze roved over her face and rested on her cheek. Conscious of his gaze, she reached up to touch her face. Mason gently nudged her hand away and ran his finger across her cheek. “You have a scrape.”

  “It’s nothing—not like your injuries.” Chills raced down her spine as Mason fingered the area near her cut.

  “Looks like you’ll have a bruise. Uh, listen …” He stared off toward their campsite a moment, then turned back to her. “I’m really glad you were here. I don’t know what would have happened to me and the children without your help.” He slid his fingers down her cheek and around to her nape.

  Rebekah’s breath caught in her throat. She closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his hands on her skin. Her heart danced and her breathing hurried to keep pace. He had no idea what his touch did to her.

  “Sugar?”

  Her eyes flew open, expecting to see Katie nearby, but instead Mason was peering down at her with an enduring smile tilting his fine lips. His warm breath tickled her face as he leaned closer. His eyes nearly begged her for a kiss. Rebekah couldn’t breathe. She studied his gaze, expecting to see a teasing glint. He leaned closer. Rebekah leaned forward to meet him.

  “Hellooo in the camp,” came the distant intruding call.

  ten

  Reluctantly, Rebekah forced her gaze away from Mason’s mouth and turned to see two men coming down the trail. Her heart skidded to a halt. Curtis and Giles Wilbur! Like a frightened deer, her gaze darted for a place to hide. She couldn’t have come this far only to be caught and taken back and forced to marry against her will.

  “Ow, easy there.” Mason flicked the wrist of his injured arm, forcing her to loosen her death hold on his arm. Rebekah realized just how hard she’d been gripping it. He looked down at her, and his expression darkened. “What’s wrong?”

  She looked back to the men. Both were riding horses she didn’t recognize, and behind them, they led Mason’s other two horses. A small measure of relief filled her knowing Mason and the kids wouldn’t be stranded. She looked toward the creek. If she took off running now, she might be able to get away.

  Oh, God, why now? Mason needs my help. The children need me. What do I do?

  Mason loosened his grip on her shoulders and turned to look her in the face. “Tell me what’s wrong, Bekah.”

  Avoiding his probing gaze, she looked back toward the two men. They were closer now. Suddenly she realized the men truly were strangers—not Curtis and Giles. Knee-sagging relief flooded her. Thank You, God

  “You know ‘em?”

  Rebekah shook her head. “For a moment I thought I did. But, no, they’re strangers.”

  “C’mon.” Mason wrapped his arm around her shoulders again. “Get me to the wagon. I need my rifle.”

  The men drew closer, moseying along, not seeming to be in any big hurry. Rebekah was grateful for that small fact. As Rebekah and Mason approached the wagon, Katie and Jimmy came into view.

  “Nuh-uh,” Jimmy said. “I don’t care if I am dirty again, no one’s making me take two baths in one day.”

  “Uh-huh. Webekah will. You’s all dirty again.” Katie stood with her hands on her waist, looking like a little mama. Suddenly she caught sight of them. “Unca Mathon. You’s hurt.” Worry tilted her slim blond eyebrows, and she raised Molly to her chest in a fierce hug.

  “I’m okay, sugar. Don’t worry.”

  Katie studied him a bit to see if he was telling the truth; then she looked to Rebekah. She flashed the little girl a reassuring smile, and Katie gifted them with a dimpled grin. She gave Molly a kiss and a hug. “See, Molly, Unca Mathon’s only hurt a wittle bit.”

  “Popped out your shoulder again, huh?” Jimmy sounded like a knowledgeable old man as he tossed his wet and dirty quilt onto the wagon’s tailgate. Rebekah bit back a laugh, not wanting to embarrass him. She helped Mason to where he could lean against the wagon; then she climbed inside and found the rifle. As she exited the back of the wagon and jumped to the ground, the two strangers ambled into camp.

  Mason reached toward the rifle, but Rebekah pulled it away, shaki
ng her head. He couldn’t shoot one-handed. He gave her a questioning glare, but she cocked the weapon and aimed it at the men. Mason’s glare turned into an expression of surprise. She thought she caught a hint of wonder in his dark eyes before he turned back to face the two men.

  For once, she felt thankful for all the hunting Curtis had forced her to do. It had paid off—she now had a dead aim. She stepped in front of Mason where she could get a clear view of the strangers. Mason grunted a little moan of frustration, and Rebekah felt herself being pulled back beside him. He gave her another intense look, clearly letting her know she wasn’t in charge, even if he was banged up.

  “Jimmy, Katie, over here,” Mason ordered. The children must have caught the warning in his voice, because they both hustled forward. “In the wagon.” Mason nodded his head toward the Conestoga. Jimmy lifted Katie with a little help from Mason; then the boy scrambled in behind her. Both children ducked down and peered over the back of the wagon.

  In spite of her nervousness, Rebekah pursed her lips together to hide her smile. She’d never seen either child obey so quickly or quietly. She wondered if it had more to do with Mason being hurt or the strangers.

  “Howdy,” said the older of the two men, who looked to be in his late sixties. “Looks like y’all got a nasty taste of that cyclone what passed through. You folks all right?”

  Mason nodded. “Been better off before, but then again, we’ve been worse off, too.”

  The old codger chuckled. “I hear ya.” He nodded his head back toward the two horses he was leading. “These wouldn’t be yours, would they?”

  “Matter of fact, they are. I’m much obliged for your returnin’ ‘em.”

  “We saw them hightailing it away from the cyclone and figured somebody down this way’d be lookin’ fer ‘em.” The old man turned to the younger man, who looked to be in his mid-forties. “This here’s Beau, my son, and I’m Sam Tucker. Y’all mind if’n we share your camp for the night?”

  Mason looked down at Rebekah. She saw the wariness in his gaze. “I reckon that would be the neighborly thing to do, seein’s as you brought my horses back. Come on down and sit a spell. I could use a good sit-down myself.” Mason turned and looked in the wagon. “Jimmy, hop down and tend to the horses. Then get out to that field and fetch Hector back fore he wanders off.”

  Rebekah felt Mason’s arm go around her shoulders, and she looked up at him. Lines of pain and fatigue etched his face. “Help me over to that tree. Think I’ll sit and rest up a bit; then I’ll help get the camp back in order.”

  She uncocked the rifle and slipped one arm around Mason’s waist. She tried hard not to think of how nice it felt to be able to cling to Mason’s solid body, not to mention how having his arm wrapped around her felt better than being tucked into a toasty bed on a freezing cold night. She shook her head. She couldn’t afford to think thoughts like that. Denver was her future, not Mason. A sigh of longing slipped through her lips, and Mason tightened his grip on her.

  He leaned his head down next to her ear. “You all right?”

  How could she be all right with his warm breath tickling her cheek? She nodded, not daring to look up and be face-to-face with the man filling her thoughts. “I’m sorry about all this,” he whispered. “I know my getting hurt will mean extra work for you. And having these two men around might make things tense.”

  Mason’s concern sent a sudden warmth racing through Rebekah’s body. She ventured an upward glance. She never knew what she’d see in Mason’s black eyes. Sometimes he glared back, making her wish she were a turtle and could just crawl into her shell. Then other times, the looks he gave her sent her blood churning. The feeling rumbling through her body now fell into the latter category.

  “I don’t mind the work,” she said on a shaky breath.

  “You wouldn’t,” he said with a smile. “But you already do so much; I don’t know what I’ll do when you leave us.”

  Rebekah’s smile faltered. All he was worried about was how he’d get along after she left? What about her? How would she ever get Mason Danfield out of her mind? She’d best start right now. She helped Mason ease down to the ground and lean back against the tree’s rough trunk.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled.

  Sam and Beau Tucker had dismounted and were leading their horses toward the creek. She started to walk away, then felt a tug on the rifle. Glancing down, she caught Mason’s gaze.

  “I’d best hang on to that till we know for certain what these fellows are about.”

  “You couldn’t even use it if you had to,” she countered.

  “If I have to, I’ll manage. You can’t lug it all over camp with you.”

  Rebekah relinquished the weapon and turned to check her stew. A deep emotional exhaustion seemed to make each step harder to take than the next. She’d allowed herself to think Mason felt something for her, but now she knew the truth. No man had ever loved her, and no man ever would.

  She stopped in front of the campfire, trying to find the strength to stir the stew. Between the storm, Mason’s getting hurt, and her realizing the truth about her relationship with him, she just wanted to curl up and go to sleep, but she had too much work to do. Rebekah looked around the camp area. Her wooden spoon was missing.

  “Can I get down now?” Katie yelled from the back of the wagon.

  Rebekah forced her feet to move. A hug from Katie just might be what she needed to suck her out of her depression.

  Mason laid the rifle in his lap. Until he got to know these strangers better, he’d rather play things safe. He drew the rag from his pocket that he’d used to wipe the oil from his hands earlier. It would serve well to polish the rifle’s wooden stock and maybe distract his company from the real reason it rested in his lap.

  He watched Rebekah amble toward the fire. She looked tired. He couldn’t imagine what he would have done if she hadn’t been here. He admired her brave spirit. With just a bit of encouragement, she’d pushed back her fear and popped his arm back into place. With a little shrug, he tested his shoulder, instantly sorry when a sharp pain jolted his torso.

  Sam and Beau Tucker had watered their horses and filled their canteens and were making their way back toward him.

  Both men strolled under the tree’s shade and flopped down on the ground.

  “Whewee! That cyclone was a big un,” Sam said.

  “Yep,” said Beau.

  “The worst of it missed us,” Mason said. “I got Bekah and the kids tucked in a shelter next to the creek and went to secure the horses. Next thing I knew, somethin’ knocked me in the head. I’d just raised my arm to check my forehead when a branch or something hit me from behind.” Mason left the rag lying on the rifle as he rubbed his aching shoulder. “Ain’t too bad, though.” Until he knew what these men were about, he thought it best not to let them know just how badly he was injured.

  Katie skipped over with a tin cup, water sloshing everywhere. “Webekah says I’m s’posed to give you this.”

  Mason smiled and peered into the blue tin mug. Only about a half inch of water remained. He bit back a grin and swallowed it in one gulp. “Mmm, delicious. You reckon you could fetch me some more?”

  Katie giggled. “I can’t, but Molly will.”

  Mason smiled. “That would be fine. Tell Molly thanks.”

  “That’s a cute kid you got there.” Sam watched Katie skip off toward the water.

  “Actually, she’s my niece. Her name’s Katie. The boy is Jimmy, my nephew.” Mason resumed polishing his rifle.

  “So is Molly your wife then?”

  “What?” Mason looked up in surprise. “Oh, no.” He grinned. “Molly is Katie’s doll.”

  The three men shared a laugh as Katie, carrying Molly, tiptoed back with another cup of water.

  “That’s a mighty fine-lookin’ wife you’ve got. Lost my wife a couple years back.” Mason’s gaze darted toward Sam, and he studied the old man’s face, not sure how to respond to that. Probably just as well that they thou
ght he and Rebekah were married. Mason’s gaze drifted back to Rebekah. A smile tilted his lips. Life definitely would be interesting married to her. Too bad she was so dead set on traveling to Denver.

  “Yup, I lost my Hazel, and Beau lost his ma.”

  “Yep,” Beau echoed.

  Mason looked at Beau. The man dressed in faded overalls had to be near forty. So far all he’d said was “Yep.” Somehow Mason wondered if Beau wasn’t a few turnips short of a bushel.

  “Where y’all headed?” Sam asked as he rifled through his saddlebags.

  “Up Tulsa way,” Mason said. “We’re looking for the kids’ dad. The last letter I got from him was posted in Tulsa.”

  “Ya heard what’s goin’ on in the Unassigned Lands in the Oklahoma Territory?” Sam pulled a wad of beef jerky out of his bags and bit off a hunk, then handed it to Beau. He bit off a chunk and offered it to Mason.

  Shaking his head, Mason tried not to grimace at the thought of eating after these two less-than-clean men. They looked like trappers who had been up in the mountains for years. “Hillbillies” is what folks in this part of the country called them.

  Unassigned Lands. He’d heard about the lands originally plotted out for Indian reservations but never assigned to a specific tribe. Mason racked his brain, trying to think if he’d heard something about them lately. Finally he shook his head. “What’s happening in there?”

  “Ain’t you seen a newspaper lately?”

  Mason shook his head, not a little surprised that Sam could read. “Nope. Been travelin’ awhile.”

  “Well, that new president of ours, Benjamin Harrison, signed a bill opening up the Unassigned Lands in Indian Territory for settlers. There’s gonna be a big race—a land run. They’s callin’ it Harrison’s Hoss Race.”

  “How’s it work?” Mason asked, setting his rifle aside.

  “The Land Run starts at noon on April 22. Folks can race for a lot in town or a 160-acre plot in the country. The paper says ya gotta register in either Guthrie or Kingfisher in the