“If any of the rest of you bastards is feelin’ froggy, now’s the time to jump. You got two choices. You do what I say, or you saddle up and ride.”
Not a word was spoken. Even Wilkerson looked down at the toes of his boots. Russ relaxed, and when he spoke again, it was in a more genial tone.
“Now gather up some wood and get a fire going. The sooner these wounds are taken care of, the sooner they’ll begin to heal. Them wagons won’t be movin’ out for a couple more days, because of the mud. When they are able to move, they’ll be slow. We can ride ’em down on the trail, if we have to.”
The weather had warmed up to the extent that Mac ordered only one fire after dark, large enough to accommodate two coffeepots. There would be hot coffee throughout the night for the men on watch. But there was little sleep for the women, for by sundown, Red had a raging fever which lasted most of the night. The concern of the four women for his comfort was almost comical, and didn’t go unnoticed by Red’s companions.
“Damn it,” said Haze, “I never thought I’d envy a varmint who’d been shot, but I’m purely beginnin’ to wish it had been me, instead of Red. Laid up in a wagon with four beautiful females fussin’ over him.”
“Yeah,” Mac said, “and he don’t know a thing about it, ’cause he’s sweatin’ off half a bottle of whiskey and a burnin’ fever.”
Buck sighed. “That’s one of the most unfair things about the frontier. A man don’t ever get a bait of whiskey or women until he’s too shot up to appreciate either of ’em.”
But because of the narrow confines of the wagon, only one of the women at a time was comfortably able to remain with Red. The others divided their time among Mac, Haze, and Buck. After all they had endured together, there was an easy familiarity among them. Despite having spent most of a day with four stark-naked females, the Texans had in no way bully-ragged them or laughed at their expense.
“They’ve been perfect gentlemen,” said Trinity, “and I’m not in the least ashamed of my experience with them.”
“Neither am I,” Hattie said.
“Nor I,” said Rachel and Elizabeth in a single voice.
“You know,” Trinity said, now that they were alone, “I’ve been thinking. We’ve come all the way west to search for men the army swears are dead, while these Texans are very much alive. Maybe we should take another look at our priorities.”
Elizabeth laughed nervously. “Trinity, what a brazen thing to say.”
“I think Trinity’s right,” said Hattie. “I’ve never been more comfortable or felt more secure with men than with these.”
Rachel laughed. “Especially the wounded one, there in the wagon.”
“Yes,” Hattie said. “Especially Red.”
“Does he know that?” Rachel asked.
“Yes,” said Hattie proudly, “he knows. He’s already asked me if he can talk to me, provided our search doesn’t work out.”
“And you agreed,” Elizabeth said.
“I did,” said Hattie, “and after today, I’m ready to say to hell with the search, and go with Red, if he’ll have me.”
“Hattie,” Elizabeth cried, “how shocking.”
Rachel laughed. “I don’t find it shocking at all. With just a little encouragement, I’d share Buck’s blankets tonight.”
“My God,” said Elizabeth, “this wild, wicked country has taken our very souls. We’re behaving like . . . like—”
“Whores,” Hattie finished.
“No,” said Trinity, “that’s not the word. We’ve found ourselves. We’re taking life as it comes, without begging for allowances because we’re weak, unpredictable women. Think how easy it would have been, had all of us swooned, throwing ourselves at the mercy of a band of outlaws. But we stood up to them, risked being burned alive, and I believe that it meant something to these four men who rescued us. After today, they might have seen us only as four naked bodies, intended for the pleasure of men, but I’m convinced they did not. We have won their respect, and we won’t keep it by rushing to share their blankets.”
“You’re talking sense,” Hattie said. “I . . . I’ve never been so happy as I was when I saw Red standing on that wall, but I can’t . . . throw myself at him. What should we do?”
“Red told you what he expected of you,” said Trinity, “and I think that holds true for the rest of us. We’ll go on to Fort Griffin and have our confrontation with the army. If we really are free, we won’t have to throw ourselves at these men. They’ll come to us, and that’s as it should be.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Rachel said. “If you’re that sure of Mac Tunstall, then I’ve no reason to be concerned about Buck Prinz.”
“Who said anything about me and Mac Tunstall?” Trinity demanded, blushing.
Rachel laughed. “Nobody has to say anything, Mrs. McCoy. It’s in your eyes, when you look at him. He’d have to be blind not to see it.”
“I didn’t know it was that obvious,” said Trinity.
In the wagon, Red groaned.
“My God,” Hattie whispered, “I hope he hasn’t been awake, listening to us.”
“Get back in there and find out,” said Trinity. “If his fever hasn’t broken, he may be in need of more whiskey.”
With Red wounded, and only nine men, Mac had divided the night into three four-hour watches. The teamsters, three at a time, would take the first and second watches, while Mac, Haze, and Buck took the last and most critical watch. While Hattie remained with Red, Trinity, Rachel, and Elizabeth dozed, waking occasionally to add wood to the fire and put on a fresh pot of coffee. When the stars said it was two o’clock in the morning, the three teamsters on watch awakened Mac, Buck, and Haze. They were surprised to find Trinity, Rachel, and Elizabeth near the fire, drinking coffee from tin cups.
“What are the three of you doing, still awake?” Mac asked.
“Several reasons,” said Trinity. “We’re awfully sore, and those blankets awfully thin. That, and I suppose we’re still a little nervous about what happened yesterday. We just . . . need someone to talk to . . . besides one another.”
“We’ll welcome the company,” Mac said, “as long as you can stand losing the sleep. I’ll be at the north end of the camp, Haze at the south end, while Buck will be here close to the middle, near the fire. It’s up to him to keep the fire alive and the coffee fresh and hot.”
“I’ll stay here and help him,” said Rachel.
“Elizabeth,” Haze said, “I hope you’ll join me at the south end.”
“I intend to,” said Elizabeth. “Trinity would pull out what’s left of my singed hair, if I stayed with her and Mac.”
“I might do it anyway,” Trinity said, trying to sound as angry as possible.
Mac laughed, took his tin cup of coffee, and started toward the north end of the camp. Trinity followed, aware that Haze and Elizabeth were laughing at what Elizabeth had said. Trinity sighed. What did it matter? If Mac Tunstall was so thick-headed that he still wasn’t aware of her interest in him . . .
“We’ll perch here on the wagon tongue,” Mac said. “Beats hunkerin’ on the ground, and four hours is a long time to stand.”
“Sitting or standing, I feel like I’ve taken a beating,” said Trinity, “but lying down is the worst of all.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t have time to rig somethin’ a little more gentle than a cowboy’s lariat,” Mac said, “but after you set that cabin afire, we didn’t have much time.”
“We realized that,” said Trinity, “and we’re just thankful to have gotten out of there alive. I just feel like my . . . my bosom is higher up than it’s ever been.”
She laughed nervously, and Mac laughed with her, enjoying her frankness.
“It all looked pretty much in the right place and holdin’ its own,” Mac replied.
“I was afraid . . . after that . . . none of us would be able to look any of you in the eye,” said Trinity, “but you were all so nice. We looked so terrible, blackened with soot, and so much of our hair sin
ged and burned, you could have laughed at us.”
“All of you are ladies to us,” Mac replied, “and if nothing else, we’d have admired you for the courageous thing you did. I’ve considered you a beautiful woman from the first day I laid eyes on you, and you’ll never be more beautiful than the moment you were lifted out of that burning cabin.”
She was silent for so long, he feared he had offended her. When she tried to speak, her voice broke, ending in a sob. She dropped her tin cup, threw her arms around Mac, and he could feel her tears soaking the front of his shirt. His heart pounded like a nine-pound hammer on a blacksmith’s anvil, and he didn’t care that her hair still smelled of wood smoke from the burned-out cabin. When her tears ceased and she tried to draw away, he wouldn’t allow it. He tilted her chin, kissing her long and hard. She didn’t fight him, but responded with a fervor of which he had only dreamed. When they finally parted, they were gasping for breath.
“Oh, God,” she said, “you no sooner called me a lady than I behaved like . . . like a . . . fallen woman, a whore.”
“No,” said Mac. “Get that out of your head. You’re real, Trinity McCoy, and I never, ever had such an experience in my life. Only one thing bothers me. You know as well as I that this is more than just a one-time thing. If I can’t follow it to the end, I need to know . . . before I decide I can’t live without it.”
She leaned toward him, taking his face in her hands, and when she spoke, it was only a whisper.
“I want you to follow it to the end, but I feel compelled to travel on to Fort Griffin, to receive that final word from the army. The others—Hattie, Rachel, and Elizabeth—are wanting to accept the army’s decision, but it was I who convinced them we must take it to its conclusion. But I’m weak, and I don’t have the strength of my own convictions. I tried to be strong, to encourage the others, but there was nobody to encourage me. I needed to hear the words you said, to shed the tears that had backed up in me since we were taken by those outlaws. It’s difficult for a woman to comfort another woman, and I believe Elizabeth, Hattie, and Rachel feel the same way. I asked them to hold back their feelings until after . . . Fort Griffin, and . . . I couldn’t hold back my own. I feel like I’m being unfair to you, like I’ve cheated you, but God help me, I didn’t mean to. I want you to take me, body and soul, but I . . . I can’t turn loose until I know . . . I’m free. Until after . . . Fort Griffin . . .”
The words had been torn from her heart, and Mac held her close as she wept. Only when there was but an occasional sniffle did he bring her tear-streaked face near his own.
“I’ll respect your wishes,” he said, “but until we reach Fort Griffin—whatever should happen there—don’t hide from me. Talk to me, allow me to stand beside you in any way that I can. Am I being selfish when I say that if I can’t have all of you, that I still want the little that you feel comfortable sharing with me in the time that remains?”
“No,” she said. “Oh, no. I want that, and oh, so much more than that. My fear is . . . that things may turn out all wrong at Fort Griffin, and I . . . we . . . your rainbow will die. If it does, part of me will die with it.”
Mac said nothing, and while he trusted the army’s decision, he was still plagued by a lingering doubt that couldn’t be resolved until they reached Fort Griffin.
Rachel Price had driven from her conscious mind all that might take place when they reached Fort Griffin. She knew Buck was interested in her, and she wasted no time fanning the flames.
“I was positively mortified,” Rachel said, “having you see all of us naked, but there didn’t seem to be any help for it. What did you think?”
“Well, I, uh,” Buck stammered, choosing his words carefully, “I didn’t pay all that much attention to the others. My eyes were on you.”
“What do you think of me?” she asked, enjoying the moment.
“Before or after I—”
“Before you saw me naked, and afterward.” she said.
Buck realized she was enjoying his discomfiture, and seizing her by the shoulders, he kissed her long and hard. She started to say something, and he repeated his performance. Only then did he speak.
“Damn it, Rachel, the first time I saw you, clothes and all, I thought you was near the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. I ain’t what people call handsome, and I purely didn’t know what to say to you, to have you know that I care for you. Now I know that you like me, I can’t stop thinkin’ about you goin’ to Fort Griffin, and why you’re goin’. Suppose, when you get there, you learn the army was wrong? Am I goin’ to have to give you up, with nothin’ to remember except a few kisses and seein’ you jaybird naked?”
“I want to forget all about Fort Griffin,” said Rachel, “and so do Hattie and Elizabeth, but Trinity won’t let us.”
“I wish you could,” Buck said, “but I can understand Trinity’s thinking.”
“Oh, I understand her thinking,” said Rachel, “but I don’t agree with it. Would it be a shock, if I told you that you’re ten times the man Virgil Price ever was?”
“Yes,” Buck said, “if you’re sayin’ that, it is a shock. Whatever kind of bastard he was, you took him for better or worse, didn’t you?”
“I had to say that,” said Rachel, “but I didn’t mean it. Daddy caught us up in the hayloft and, using a shotgun, persuaded Virgil to marry me. Two weeks later, he joined the army, and I haven’t seen him since. Even if he’s alive, damn him, I’ll divorce him.”
“But you . . . didn’t he . . . ?”
“He never laid a hand on me, before or after I married him,” Rachel said. “I’m in no way used goods, if that’s what you mean.”
“Damn it,” said Buck, “that wouldn’t make any difference, as long as you ain’t tied to him legal. If you’d take me for what I am—just a Texas cowboy—then I’d take you with no questions asked.”
“Then let’s do it Trinity’s way,” Rachel said. “We’ll go on to Fort Griffin, and I’ll be sure I’m free. Then if you still want me, we’ll go from there.”
“I’ll still want you,” said Buck.
“Then let’s don’t worry about Fort Griffin until we have to,” she said.
She came to him then, and Buck Prinz selfishly hoped that nothing would take place at Fort Griffin to rob him of the girl in his arms and the dream in his heart . . .
CHAPTER 6
An hour before first light, Red’s fever broke, and Hattie slept until breakfast. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and for early October, the sun was hot. Armed with their Winchesters, Port Guthrie and his men again drove the mules out to graze. Before the sun was an hour high, Red was awake. He had a towering hangover and a thirst to match. Hattie filled a tin cup with water five times before he was satisfied.
“That’s why I’ve never been a drinking man,” said Red. “The damn stuff tastes like an almighty awful medicine, and the goin’ up ain’t never been worth the comin’ down.”
Hattie laughed. “A strong man never needs strong drink. Besides the hangover, how do you feel?”
“Like somebody’s been beatin’ me with a singletree. But I reckon no worse than you’re feelin’ after being hoisted out of that burning cabin with a rope cuttin’ you in half.”
“I’m awfully sore,” Hattie said, “and I’ll have to agree with Trinity. She claims her bosom is higher up than it was, and I believe mine is, too.”
Red laughed at her frankness, enjoying the easy familiarity that had blossomed between them. Without being asked, she brought him a tin cup of steaming coffee.
“Hattie,” said Red, as she knelt beside him, “you’re the kind of woman a man dreams about. Why couldn’t I have found you before you was roped and branded?”
It was Hattie’s turn to laugh. “I was roped yesterday, and I was stripped down to the hide. Did you see any brand?”
“Come to think of it, I didn’t,” Red replied, “but I was busy shootin’ outlaws. I only got to see the front, since you had your back to the wall. A brand is usual
ly on the left flank. I’ll have to examine the flank sometime, I reckon.”
“Perhaps that will be part of your reward for saving us,” said Hattie, “but here’s something you can claim right now.”
She kissed him once, twice, three times.
“Lordy,” said Red, when he came up for air, “I reckoned I was gonna heal, but now I find out I’ve died and gone to heaven. That leaves me needin’ just one thing.”
“What’s that?” Hattie asked, holding her breath.
“Grub,” said Red. “I’m starved.”
“I can take care of that,” Hattie said.
When she had gone, Red managed to get up, and was easing himself over the tailgate of the wagon, when Mac spoke.
“You reckon you ain’t bein’ a mite hasty about gettin’ up? I thought Hattie was doin’ for you.”
“She is,” said Red, “but she can’t go to the bushes for me. Besides, she’s gone after some grub. I’m near starved, and I got to rid myself of that damn whiskey taste.”
Mac laughed. “You ungrateful varmint. You drunk all the whiskey we had.”
“If them renegades come after us again,” said Red, “it’ll be your turn to get shot, and then you can drink all the whiskey. What happened after they plugged me?”
“We hoisted you up to the canyon rim,” Mac replied, “and then we went after those renegades. They seemed to forget about us, and were trying to save their saddles and bedrolls from the burning cabin. We caught ’em in the open and killed three more that we know of, and wounded probably a dozen others.”
“My God,” said Red, “that’s some shootin’, for three hombres. Even Texans.”
“Oh, we had some help,” Mac said. “Those four naked females begged the use of our Colts, and they’re better shots than you’d think. I don’t know if any of their shooting was fatal, but they accounted for some of the wounded.”
“Tarnation,” said Red, “ain’t they somethin’?”
“They’re all that, and then some,” Mac agreed.
There was no laughter in the renegade camp. The five mortally wounded men had died during the night, and only eight of the remaining twelve weren’t wounded. It fell to their lot to dig graves and do the cooking. After the burying was done and the men were drinking hot coffee, attitudes improved a little. Bilbo, one of the renegades who hadn’t been hurt, had a suggestion.
The Winchester Run Page 9