Love's Tender Fury

by Jennifer Wilde

  “Was he traveling alone?”

  “Wuzn’t anybody with him at the moment, no, but—”

  Jeff hesitated, looking indecisive again, wondering how much he should tell me, how much he should hold back. I managed to maintain a calm expression that belied the apprehension inside. There was a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach, and it was all I could do to keep from trembling, but Jeff saw only the composed features, the level eyes. When he finally continued, his voice was flat, his eyes grim.

  “I might as well level with you, Marietta. I feel pretty sure the fellow was headin’ back to his own camp. He was movin’ along like he knew exactly where he was goin’. Don’t think his buddies heard his shriek—I doubt their camp was that close—but by this time they’re gonna have missed him, they’re gonna have found him with a great hole in his threat, and they’re gonna be lookin’ for whoever did it.”

  “That’s why we’re not on the Trace?”

  He nodded. “They’ll go racin’ down the Trace first thing, assumin’ that’s how we’re travelin’. One good thing, they ain’t found us by this time, chances are pretty strong they aren’t gonna. We’re miles away from the Trace, and it’s a great big forest. I’ll feel even better when we get several more miles behind us. If we ride hard, I think we can make the cave by nightfall.”

  “The cave?”

  “Place I know. It’s small, just a hole in the side of a hill, really, but it’s big enough to hold us and the mules, and the entrance is completely hidden by bushes. I hid there once before when the Indians was lookin’ for me some years ago. We’ll be safe there.”

  We resumed our ride, moving on through the forest. It was dim and shadowy, trees close all around, only the faintest amount of sunlight sifting through the heavy, leafy limbs overhead. Sound seemed to echo strangely, the steady clopping of the mules thrown back at us, distorted. A vivid red cardinal burst out of a thicket, wings flapping vigorously. I gave a little cry, almost falling off the mule. Ordinarily Jeff would have laughed and made some teasing remark. He didn’t now. On and on we went, twisting this way and that to avoid the trees. I had long ago lost all sense of direction. I prayed that Jeff knew where he was going and could get us back on the Trace eventually. The woods seemed so ominous and forbidding.

  Hours passed. I had never been so weary, but I didn’t complain. Jeff was tired, too. His face looked drawn. There were faint gray smudges beneath his eyes, slight hollows under his cheekbones. Healthy and robust as he was, he was showing signs of the hard push and the worry. We had never traveled so hard, so long, and neither of us had had a bite of food all day. The mules, at least, had been able to nibble at the grass when we had taken our break. I was ravenously hungry, but I wasn’t going to complain about that, either.

  The sun was going down now. The trees cast long black shadows over the ground, shadows that stretched and merged together in a dark network. The sky was a deep-violet gray, the air filling with a thickening blue haze as the final rays of the sun vanished. We were in a less densely wooded area now. Although there were still hundreds of trees, tall, gigantic trees that reared up like leafy giants, they weren’t growing so closely together, weren’t choked with underbrush. There was a stream up ahead. I could hear the water gurgling over sand and rocks. I wondered how far we were from the cave.

  “I guess we’d better stop for a few minutes, catch our breath,” Jeff said. “It’s at least another hour to the cave. Too, I want to fill the canteens and let the mules drink.”

  There was a small clearing perhaps fifty yards from the stream. We dismounted. Jeff stretched, flexing his arms, and then he looked at me in the fading light and saw my grim expression and smiled. It was a beautiful smile, tender, not at all like the engaging grin he so frequently wore. He stepped over to me and placed his hands on my shoulders.

  “I think we’re in the clear now,” he said. “I think we’ve foxed ’em. They’re probably still chasin’ up and down the Trace on their ponies, huntin’ for us.”

  “You really think we’re out of danger?”

  “Not completely, o’course. I’d be lyin’ if I said that. We’ll keep to the woods for a couple more days, then turn back on the Trace.”

  “You’re sure you can find it again?”

  “We ain’t more’n a quarter of a mile from the Trace right now. We circled around, and we’ve been runnin’ more or less parallel to it for quite a while. How’re you feelin’?”

  “Tired. Hungry, too.”

  “’Fraid we’re gonna have to make do with beef jerky and parched corn tonight—emergency supplies I got in the pack. Can’t risk a fire, not even in the cave. We’ll have us a nice long rest and see what tomorrow brings.”

  “All right.”

  “You’ve been terrific, keepin’ right along with me, never complainin’, showin’ true mettle. Most women—but, hell, it ain’t even fair to try ’n compare you to anyone else. You’re pretty unique, ya know that?”

  “Am I?”

  “Ain’t never encountered another woman quite like you. I’m right proud of the way you’ve been holdin’ up. You’re a magnificent wench, no question about it.”

  He squeezed my shoulders, still smiling, and then he gave me a quick kiss. I placed my hand on the back of his neck, feeling closer to him than I ever had before. Jeff drew back, eyes twinkling mischieviously.

  “I’ll take the mules down to the stream and water ’em, fill up the canteens, and then we’ll move on to the cave. I’m hungry, too—and not just for food. I’m gettin’ a mighty strong yen—”

  “You’re incorrigible,” I teased.

  “Reckon I am,” he admitted.

  “We’ve been riding since dawn, expecting Indians to attack at any minute. We’re exhausted, bone-weary, and we haven’t had a thing to eat all day, and you think about—”

  “I’m always thinkin’ about it.”

  “Go on,” I said, “go water the mules. After we get to the cave, after we’ve eaten your wretched beef and parched corn, we’ll see what happens. I’m not making any promises.”

  “’Fraid you ain’t got a choice,” he told me.

  Jeff grinned, slipping back into the jaunty manner as he would slip into old clothes. He pulled my rifle out of its leather pouch and handed it to me, explaining that he wouldn’t want it to slip out and fall into the water, and then he took out his own rifle, gathered up the reins and led the mules down the sloping ground to the stream. Tall trees arched heavy boughs over the water. There was a particularly heavy oak tree with thick boughs just a few yards from the spot where Jeff stood with the mules, pulling the canteens out of their packs as they greedily drank. I held the rifle at my side, watching them, feeling relaxed for the first time.

  It had been a hard day, but it was almost over now. The immediate danger was behind us. Jeff was relaxed, too, and that was a good sign. He had been so tender and affectionate, treating me like someone very precious, and I had been deeply moved. I was very fond of him, and I wished I weren’t. It was impossible not to respond to that warmth, try though I might to resist. Later on, when we reached civilization, I could harden myself against him. Right now I could only consider myself lucky that he was the man he was.

  The light was almost completely gone, just a faint afterglow remaining. Jeff and the two mules were in silhouette. He was kneeling, filling up the canteens. One particularly thick bough of the oak tree stretched almost directly over his head. As I stood there, feeling pensive, feeling at peace, I saw the leaves of the bough move ever so slightly.

  Something moved in the tree. I couldn’t believe my eyes. One minute the thickness was there, and then it started to move, edging back toward the trunk of the tree. The stream rushed along, splashed over the rocks with a pleasant noise that was loud enough to drown out the faint noise of the body inching slowly backward on the bough. Jeff capped one of the canteens, slung it on the ground behind him, kneeled down to fill up another. In the bough I saw a silhouette, rising now to its knees,
and then it dropped softly to the ground and stood poised there for a moment, not more than six or seven yards from where Jeff was kneeling.

  I saw a tall, powerfully built body, and I saw a muscular arm raising back, saw the tomahawk, all black, in silhouette, and I was so stunned I couldn’t cry out. The savage crept slowly toward the kneeling man. I was screaming inside, unable to make the screams audible, and then I realized I was holding the rifle. I reared it up into position and covered the silhouette with the sight and pulled the trigger. There was a blinding orange flash and a puff of smoke and the silhouette moved crazily like a puppet on jerking strings, then fell on the ground in a broken heap.

  I dropped the rifle. I raced toward Jeff. He caught me in his arms. I began to sob. He held me tightly, peering over my shoulder at the Indian on the ground, and, ironically, the mules continued to lap up the water, unperturbed by the explosive blast. I turned in Jeff’s arms, glancing down at the body sprawled out there on the ground, arms and legs akimbo. The light was stronger here and I could see the bronze skin smeared with war paint, the bear-tooth necklace, the feathers. The Indian was naked but for a thin loin cloth and moccasins. Half of his face was missing, and I was glad the light was no stronger.

  “Good shootin’,” Jeff said. “Now we’ve got to get the hell away from here.”

  “He was in the tree. I—I couldn’t believe—”

  “We’ve no time to waste, Marietta. If he’s here, the others can’t be far away. They’re probably on the Trace. He was probably an advance scout. In less than ten minutes this place is going to be swarmin’ with Indians—”

  “Jeff, he was going to kill you. He had his tomahawk raised and—”

  “Come on! You can tell me about it later. That rifle shot could be heard for miles around. Pull yourself together! Here, help me with the mules—you’ve had enough to drink, you little bastards! Don’t you dare try to balk now—”

  Moments later we were on our way again, and in the distance we could hear hooting, yelping noises that caused my blood to turn cold. We urged the mules on, tearing away through the woods, and my heart was pounding so loudly I couldn’t hear the yelps any longer. Ten minutes passed, fifteen, and still we rode. We were racing down a hill now, and then we turned the mules and were moving along the bottom of the hill. Thick, scrabbly bushes grew there, half-concealing the face of the hill. Jeff came to an abrupt halt and swung off the mule. He hurried over to help me dismount.

  “Okay, follow me. It’s tricky. I’ll lead the mules.”

  He took the reins and started toward the bushes, pushing them aside as he reached them. I followed close behind, my heart still pounding. In a moment or so we were completely surrounded by bushes, and Jeff simply disappeared. The mules disappeared, too, and I stumbled on through the bushes. They slapped my arms, tore at my skirts. I saw the narrow opening then and, stepping through it, found myself swallowed up in darkness. The air was damp and cold, the ground soft, spongy. I could hear something stirring, but it was impossible to see.

  “Here we go, fellow,” Jeff said quietly. “Hate to do this, hate to put a muzzle on you, but can’t have you decidin’ to bray. There, that comfortable enough? Now it’s your turn, Jenny.”

  “Jeff—”

  “Be with you in a minute.”

  “It’s so dark.”

  “Your eyes’ll soon get accustomed to it. There you are, Jenny. Snug, but not tight enough to hurt. I know it’s humiliatin’, lass, but that’s the way it has to be. Marietta?”

  “Over here.”

  He moved toward me, reached for me, pulled me up against him, wrapping his arms around me. I rested my cheek on his chest, the buckskin rough and scratchy against my skin. Cold air swirled around us in clammy currents, and there was a noise like heavy breathing as some force sucked the air toward the rear of the cave.

  “Guess I can thank you for savin’ my life now,” he said.

  “I—I just shot. I didn’t even remember I had the rifle in my hands for a moment. I was terrified, so terrified I couldn’t even scream, and then I just—just swung the rifle up and fired—”

  “I’d uv been a goner if you hadn’t. The water was rushin’ along and the mules was makin’ so much noise drinkin’ that I couldn’t hear him. I liked to jumped outta my skin when I heard the blast, saw that redskin leapin’ up in the air with half his face gone. Glad I taught you to shoot, wench.”

  “They won’t find us, will they?”

  “Not a chance,” he told me. “If you didn’t know this cave was here, you’d never be able to find it. I—uh—I gotta leave you alone for a little while, Marietta.”

  “You’re not going back—back out there?”

  “’Fraid I have to,” he replied. “We left some pretty obvious tracks, and I’ve got to hide ’em. Don’t worry, I won’t let ’em catch me. I’ll be back ’fore you know it. Here—I want you to take this.”

  I felt him fumbling, and then he took hold of my hand and placed something cold and heavy in it. As my fingers closed around it, I realized it was his pistol.

  “If anything should happen—not that anything will, mind you—I want you to use the pistol, Marietta. Do you understand what I’m saying? If I shouldn’t come back, if the Indians should find you—you’re to use the pistol on yourself before they can take you.”

  “Please don’t go out there,” I whispered. “Please!”

  “It’s something I gotta do, Marietta. As it stands right now, we might as well paint a big arrow pointing to the cave entrance. Ten, fifteen minutes of work, and our tracks’ll be gone.”

  “It’s insanity. They—even now they’re probably—”

  “I know my way around. Don’t you worry none. I’ve been eludin’ Indians for years. They won’t see hide nor hair of me, won’t hear me, neither. There’s just enough light for me to see how to erase our tracks. If I wait any longer—”

  “I won’t let you go!”

  But Jeff had already gone. I realized that I was alone in the pitch-blackness, and I was terrified, afraid for Jeff more than for myself. I heard the bushes rattling softly as he moved through them, a faint, barely audible rustle I wouldn’t have heard at all had I not been listening for it, and then there was only the soft swoosh of the air, as though the cave itself were breathing. Minutes crept past, and gradually my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. A faint suggestion of light seeped in through the opening, and the dense, impenetrable blackness melted into a deep gray, enabling me to make out the damp stone walls and the mules standing placidly at one side, muzzles in place. I heard tiny squeaking noises coming from above me. Peering up, I could barely discern the furry brown masses hanging from the rock. There must have been two dozen bats. I could see their eyes glowing.

  I leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. The bats frightened me almost as much as the Indians. My cheeks were damp with tears I hadn’t even known I had shed. I had never felt so utterly defenseless. I felt like a small, abandoned child, and the tears continued to flow down my cheeks. He pretended there was no danger, claimed he had been eluding Indians for years, but if there was no danger, why had he given me the pistol? They would catch him, kill him, burn him at the stake as they had burned Joe Pearson, and then they would come after me. Would I be able to use the pistol? If they came, if they found me, could I put the gun to my head and pull the trigger?

  The mules stirred restlessly. The bats squeaked. Fifteen more minutes passed, at least that many, and still he didn’t come. The light seeping in through the opening was tinged with silver. The moon must be unusually bright. Far, far away I heard a gobbling noise, like a wild turkey, and then there came an answering gobble from another direction, then a third, and I knew it was the Indians, knew they were signaling each other in the woods. Had they spotted him? Was that what the calls were about? I prayed, silently, fervently, and then I heard the shrubbery rustling and my heart leaped.

  “Marietta—”

  “Jeff! Thank God!”

  “Took me
a bit longer than I expected. Our tracks are all gone, and I left some new ones to take their place, tracks leadin’ down to the stream. I broke a few branches, left a bit of handkerchief on a thorn, dropped an old powder horn on the bank. They’re gonna think we moved up the stream a ways and then crossed over to the other side.”

  “Thank God you’re back.”

  “Almost walked smack-dab into a brave,” he said, jauntily, bragging just a bit. “He was standin’ there with his back to me, still as could be. It was dark as hell, and I thought he was a tree! Then one of his buddies let out a turkey gobble and he gobbled back and I popped behind some shrubs. It was a pretty close call!”

  Jeff reached for me, pulled me into his arms. He touched my face and felt the tears.

  “Hey, you’ve been cryin’.”

  “I couldn’t help it.”

  He kissed the tears away and wrapped his arms more tightly around me. “It’s all right now. They’re gonna do a lot of prowlin’ around, and they’ll make a little noise, but they ain’t gonna find us. Hey, no need to tremble. No need at all. It’s all right.”

  He stroked my hair and then wrapped his hand around my chin and tilted my head back and kissed me. I clung to him, savoring his strength, his warmth, his goodness.

  “You still hungry?” he asked after a moment.

  “I’m too frightened to eat anything.”

  “Reckon we’ll wait a while then. Here, we’ll just make ourselves comfortable.”

  Holding on to my wrist, he sat down and pulled me down beside him. Leaning against the rock, he pulled me over until I was snuggled against his chest. He held me loosely, stroking my arms, comforting me as one might comfort a child, and after a while my trembling ceased and I grew still. He had taken the pistol from me earlier, and now he set it down on the ground beside him, within easy reach. I turned in his arms, resting the back of my head against his shoulder. He curled his arm around my throat, gently, leaning down to brush his lips against my temple.