by T. S. Joyce
Damn, she was a pretty woman.
“I’ll charge you half price for this one, and then you’ll have two to wear,” Trudy said.
“Do you like it?” Kristina asked me with the most appealing look of hope in her eyes.
I’d like it better on the floor of my bedroom, but she probably wouldn’t appreciate the compliment. Instead, I smiled easily and said, “That’s a fine dress for you.”
She lit up like the North Star.
Trudy bit one last knot and stood back to admire her handiwork. “I’ll have the other one done in a couple of days if you want to stop by and pick it up.”
“What do we owe you?” I asked.
“Does one-fifty for the dress I’m re-sewing and two dollars for the new one sound fair?”
I hadn’t a guess on what women’s fashion cost, but it likely would’ve been a pretty penny more at Marta’s. I handed the money to Elias while the girls said their goodbyes.
Trudy wrapped up the old whoring dress and walked back as far as Cotton’s to take her turn feeding the masses again. After she waved us off, Kristina put her delicate hand in the crook of my arm as she hummed a song I’d never heard before. Did she feel safe with me? The answer meant more than I ever thought it could.
Lifting her over the muddy street was something I didn’t mind one bit. She was so light and her body so warm where her clothes touched mine. “We’re going to have to get you a horse sooner than later,” I said. “And you’ll need to learn to drive the wagon in case you ever need to get to town without me or Jeremiah.”
Her arms wrapped slowly around the back of my neck as I walked. “Horses are terrifying.”
“I don’t imagine you’re afraid of much, Ms. Yeaton. You’ll do just fine on a horse. The mare you saw the other night would be the best one for you, but she’s got a foal on her now and won’t be ready to separate for a while.” I lifted her into the seat of the wagon and leaned against it until it groaned against my weight. From this position, we were almost eye level. The blue of her eyes rivaled a clear summer sky.
A beautiful challenge swam in her expression and her elegant nostrils flared slightly. “I saw a polka dotted horse one time. When you find me a polka dotted horse, then I’ll ride.”
Dropping my gaze to her lips, I matched her smile. I liked a challenge too. “A polka dotted horse it’ll be then. Wait here while I load up our order from last week. Do you need anything from the general store?”
She fidgeted. “I have enough money left from my travels to buy an apron if you get a cheap one.”
I nodded slowly. “An apron would probably do you good. Save your dresses in the kitchen and keep you from burning your hands. You can keep your money if you want to though, Kristina. I don’t mind getting you the things you need.”
“I’ve always taken care of myself, and while I appreciate you buying the dresses, I truly do, I need to buy my apron.”
Her hand stretched out with a small coin purse and it jangled softy as it hit mine. Our fingers touched for just a moment before she pulled away. Her hands were soft and smooth—a woman’s tender skin—and I would’ve given anything I owned to feel her fingertips on me again.
Turning abruptly, I made my escape before I said something that would really scare her off. I looked back once and she was watching me with the most confounding expression. Worry and intrigue all wrapped into one.
Chapter Eight
Kristina
The apron was made of cotton and edged in ruffled eyelet lace. The softness of the material brushed my skin as I ran revering hands over the folded fabric in my lap. It would make a handsome contrast up against the dark blue of my new dress. The first chance I got, I would sneak into Luke’s room and admire it in his full-length mirror.
Luke had been sending sideways glances in my direction the majority of the long buggy ride home, and a mixed feeling of pleasure and self-consciousness washed over me. Maybe he was looking because he liked what he saw, or maybe he liked me better in the other dress.
“Rains will be here tonight,” he said to no one in particular.
Jeremiah lay in the bed of the wagon with his hat over his face. “Yep,” he mumbled. “I feel it too.”
They had to be playing with me. The sky was a beautiful deep blue without a cloud in sight. The air smelled of late summer flowers and earth, and my hair, which curled into a wild bird’s nest at the first sign of moisture, was quiet and content under its pins. Luke’s face was passive as he pulled the team around a pot hole as deep as a grave. If he was joking, I was missing the punch line somehow.
The entrance to the Dawson ranch already seemed familiar, even though I’d only seen it twice before, and a little piece of me I didn’t know had tensed up relaxed when we turned for home. Funny how a place could feel so familiar this quickly. I’d worked a year at a brothel in Chicago with a tiny room of my own and everything, and not once did it ever settle in my gut as home. Maybe it had to do with my open door policy to strangers, or my discomfort with life there, but there had to be more to it than that. Something deep down and instinctual. Despite the wolf attack, which still gave me chills when I thought of it, and the threat of Indians, I hadn’t felt this safe in as long as I could remember. Though my mind skittered away from thoughts on what was wrong with Luke, and I knew there was something very wrong, my heart didn’t seem to care and pressed me to move farther inside his bubble of protection.
Not even a little piece of me doubted he would’ve made good on his promise to slit that man open on my account, but then he offered me his arm, and carried me across the mud so as not to get my shoes dirty. And he’d bought me lunch, and dresses and helped me out of the carriage. Admittedly, he frightened me, but he intrigued me much more. And besides, I’d seen real beasts of men in Chicago—horrible men with violent appetites. I’d lost friends to men who satisfied their needs by killing the women they bedded. It was a terrible way to go and more often than not, those monsters got away with murder.
I’d heard Trudy when she said to be careful, and I would. I’d be wary of his temper because I’d seen too much not to take heed to warnings like hers, but my heart sang that Luke had been telling the truth when he said he’d never hurt me.
“Whoa,” Luke said as he pulled the horses to a stop. “Jeremiah?”
“Yep, I smell them too.”
Luke’s nostrils flared and he jerked his head to the west. “Stay here with her. I’m going to see what they want.”
The wagon shifted and righted itself as he hopped off the side. A cold clenching feeling came over me. “What’s happening?” I asked.
“Indians,” Jeremiah said shortly as he jumped out of the back, rocking the buggy once again.
I held the apron tighter, like the fabric would protect me. I’d only seen a handful of Indians in my lifetime and they’d looked like terrifying warriors with fearsome face paint and animal claws hanging from necklaces.
Ten spine-chilling minutes later, Luke returned and three Indians melted out of the woods beside him. He talked to the one in front with a solemn look on his face, but he obviously felt comfortable enough to bend down and pluck a long stem of grass before putting it in mouth. The tan skinned men wore buckskin leathers and the one talking to Luke wore an elaborate head dress with a knot of animal tails trailing down the side. Various tendrils of beadwork snaked down his chest and his face was free of paint. His sun leathered skin was deeply wrinkled and his dark eyes seemed to miss nothing. The two men who followed silently behind wore similar clothing, but only wore a single feather in each of their braided hair.
“Kristina, this is Kicking Bull and his two sons. They are Ute and come down this way to trade from time to time. Kicking Bull, this is my woman, Kristina.”
The old man smiled, the white of his teeth a stark contrast to his dark skin. “It would take a wily she-wolf to tame this one.”
Luke cleared his throat and the slight shake of his head wasn’t lost on me.
Kicking bull s
aid something to his sons in Ute and they all laughed. One of them slapped Luke on the back and for all his reluctance, a grin still sprouted from his face.
“Kicking Bull says they followed a couple of men in. They came from the southwest, didn’t use a road and ended up at our house. He said they went through our home but didn’t take anything that he could see. The men left a few hours ago.”
I tried to keep my voice from shaking but my mind had gone to the darkest place. “What did these men look like?”
“Kicking Bull said one had long hair down his back the color of corn, and the other was short with a scar across his eyebrow.”
“Hells bells,” I breathed. I had no doubt my past would eventually come back to haunt me, but I’d never in a million years thought she would find me so soon.
Luke and Jeremiah’s eyes crashed onto me, and their looks of suspicion became eerily alike. “Thank you, Kicking Bull. Is there anything you lack?” Luke asked.
“Not now,” the old man said. “This information is to maintain our alliance.”
“Well, take these to your grandson’s just the same,” Luke said, pulling two peppermint sticks from a sack he’d retrieved from the general store. He tipped his hat before the men disappeared into the woods.
When Luke was seated again with reins in hand, he asked, “Mind telling us how much trouble we’re in, Ms. Yeaton?”
The formality of my proper name on his lips stung. I clamped my mouth shut, unwilling to talk about it before I sorted through my racing thoughts. I thought I would’ve been long married before her lackeys showed up. Luke would’ve had a reason to protect me then. But now? My heart pounded in my ears like the roar of a steam engine.
I was as good as dead.
The silence that followed was filled with a slow fury. Luke didn’t spare a glance for me the rest of the night. He was angry with my quiet refusal to tell him about my past, but every time I opened my mouth to confess the danger I’d put he and his brother in, the words got caught in my throat until I was drowning. The moment I told him would be the moment he told me to pack my bags, and the selfish, horrible little bits of me wanted to hang on to my home for every last second I could.
Dinner was a miserable affair filled with pushing my food around my plate and daring not even once to look into Luke’s disappointed eyes. He and Jeremiah disappeared after dinner to button down the hatches in preparation for the imaginary storm and I retired to my room to tidy the things Matthew Streider and Ricky Burns tossed around. I was angry with the idea that those awful men touched my undergarments. The only man I wanted seeing or touching those was furiously working to avoid me. If I listened hard enough, I could hear an occasional distant murmur as he and his brother tossed orders back and forth.
Damn those beastly trackers for ruining everything.
Sleep came fitfully. The boys hadn’t come in as far as I could hear and I was too cowardly to peek my head outside the door and check to make sure. I dreamt of horrible things—creatures with glowing eyes, and snarling fangs snapping at my ankles as I ran through the forests in search of safety. Just as I would feel I lost them, the creatures of the night would reappear in front of me and chase me back where I came from in a loop of endless circles. Though my legs never tired as was sometimes the case in the fog of dreams, I never got a break from the rampant fear that tore at me either. I woke with a start to the sound of my own screams, only to realize they weren’t mine at all. They were the screams of the wind outside my window.
How had those Dawson boys known? The smooth wood of the window frame was cool under the palms of my hands and I searched in vain for the voices I could’ve sworn I heard through the howling of the storm. There. One short yell wafted to me on the whipping currents. My eyes were strained, yet I still failed to see anything past the sideways rain that pelted the house.
What if that was Luke yelling for help out there?
I flew into action. I didn’t pay any mind to trivial things such as shoes or a shawl to cover the thin cotton of my nightdress. I only sought to get to him as soon as I could. Something had gone terribly wrong, and the very marrow in my bones sang with urgency. I fumbled in the darkness, but familiar enough with my surroundings, I searched the tables with the pads of my hands until they landed on an unlit lantern and a set of matches. My trembling fingers dropped the first but ignited the second and when it was lit, I shut the small hatch and turned the lantern up as bright as it would go. Bolting out the door, I didn’t even bother to shut it behind me.
I froze on the porch, desperate to realize the direction the yelling was coming from but the wind carried the sound to and fro in a frenzied fashion. Maybe he was at the barn. I scrambled down the steps toward its general direction as the rain pelted the side of my face until it stung. Sliding and slipping on the muddy earth, my toes scrabbled for purchase and as a great lightning flash lit the sky, I gasped and slid to a stop.
A black horse bore down on me in the rain, running full speed with a terrified look in the whites of his eyes. He didn’t turn his head from side to side as his hooves pounded the earth toward me, and I doubted he would be able to see me at all before he ran me over. Fear kept the scream lodged in my mouth and I backed up only a step as he thundered toward me. Another lightning flash lit his wet coat and he let out an animal scream as he rushed right for me.
A tremendous weight hit me from the side and the great animal passed so close the wind was blocked for just a moment from the proximity of his giant body. My lantern had been flung to the side and lay dark somewhere in the mud, but strong arms picked me up and an instantaneous relief flooded my veins. The stinging rain was relentless against my face and eyes, so I closed them tightly and held onto his neck. I’d made it farther from the house than I thought, and the journey back took a long time. So long, in fact, I frowned and tried to open one of my eyes against the rain. My feet hit the mud as realization dawned on me of my vital mistake.
Matthew Streider grabbed my hair in an iron grip as he covered my mouth with his giant hand. “Death by horse trampling is too gentle an end for you, girl,” he growled through foul breath.
I bit his hand until the taste of blood was bitter and iron against my tongue, but before I could scream, he slapped me hard enough to stop any warning I meant to give. The darkness was consuming as a million stars shone through the haze of rain and blurred the corners of my vision.
“No, girl. Don’t you pass out on me now. We’ve got a long way to go together.”
He hoisted me over his shoulder, and though I beat my fists against his back and kicked wildly, he only gripped my legs tighter with fingers that seemed to dig to my bones. The wind screamed louder than I ever could and I fought until I was exhausted.
Ricky waited in the woods with two horses, and after I was firmly tied by the hands to the back of a big bay, they mounted up and set out at a quick clip. I struggled to keep up. My feet were bare, and though the mud was soft between my toes, the tree roots, rocks, stickers, and other such cutting items didn’t care about my comfort. Desperate, I tried to step carefully and avoid a twisted ankle but it would be only a matter of time before I couldn’t use them anymore and would be dragged to my death behind the horse. Trampling by the great black horse would’ve been a much easier end than the one I was headed for.
A sob tore from my throat. I would never see Luke again. I’d die knowing he was angry with me. I’d die before I ever got to tell him the truth about myself; before he ever saw the real me.
My thin nightdress was soaked through and the fabric clung to me like a second skin. It didn’t hide a single inch of my body, but the men in front only had eyes for their escape with me as their captive.
We walked for hours in that awful storm before the first light of dawn hit the horizon. I’d never been so thankful for illuminating lightening as I was that night. It had prolonged my life, but as daylight drew closer, I wished I were dead already. My head and shoulders sagged with exhaustion and my maimed, bloody feet dragg
ed. Every muscle in my body screamed against its treatment, and the ropes around my wrists were soaked in the watered down blood of my struggles. My cheek had its own pulse where Matthew slapped me and my eye didn’t seem to want to open anymore. The rain slowed to a constant drizzle and fine water droplets fell from of the ends of my eyelashes.
Ricky pulled his horse up short and dismounted. “I have to take a piss. Grab some jerky out of your saddle bag so we can eat on the go.”
Matthew’s long blond hair was plastered to his back under a cowboy hat and he turned with a vicious grin. “You thought you was home free and now look at you.” His eyes traveled the length of my exposed body as he fished around for their breakfast.
My tied hands lay conveniently in front of my thighs, but my breasts puckered against the wet material with nothing to hide them. I lifted my chin defiantly. Nothing else in my life had broken me, and I’d be damned if Matthew Streider would be the one to do it in my last few breaths.
Ricky stood in front of me and undid his belt buckle. The corner of his mouth turned up in the most evil smile I’d ever seen, and he pulled out his filthy cock and began relieving his bladder on my knees. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of running. Instead I spat in his face.
The look of hellish fury made my insides turn to ice, but I kept my face carefully still. He wiped his face slowly and then lifted his fist. It would be my last blow and I started to close my eyes with the acceptance.
Luke came down like a ferocious hellion, moving so fast it defied what a man should be able to do. The flash of green in his eyes held only focus and unbridled savagery. He jumped on Ricky’s back as I scrambled out of the way, then slit his throat neatly. I stared in wide-eyed bewilderment as my tormentor’s neck split open and blood gurgled forth. Luke shoved his face in the dirt and swung his gaze to Matthew.