by Linda Broday
Brett clasped Bob’s hand. “Thank you, brother. Do you think you can teach me some of the ways of your people? I want to learn.”
“Yes. If Battle-ax does not kill me while I sleep.”
“I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Brett looked up as the sound of a galloping horse grew near. When it came closer, he made out Edgar Dowlen. Getting to his feet, Brett moved toward his neighbor before he could dismount. Something told Brett this wasn’t a social call.
“What can I do for you, Dowlen?”
The cattle rancher’s eyes glittered. He leaned on his saddle horn, waving his arm toward the orphans. “I want them gone. All of them.”
“You have a hell of a lot of nerve telling me what I can do on my own land.” Anger crept up the back of Brett’s neck.
“When it affects the rest of us, I think I have the right.”
“What is this about? We’ve never had a problem between us until now.” Though Brett kept his voice low and even, mind-numbing cold swept over him.
“There was only one of you before. I was willing to let that go. Then you brought the boy out here, and now you’ve got a whole damn reservation. I ain’t gonna stand for it. No one else will either. Give your kind an inch, an’ you take a mile. You’ll be overrunning me next, stealing my cattle.”
Brett was vaguely aware that Bob stood beside him.
“You kick us, treat us like dogs.” Bob thrust out his bony chest. “Spit on us. Orphans are sick. Dying.”
Dowlen dismounted and stalked to where one child lay. “Smallpox!” He leaped back, grabbed his neckerchief from around his neck, and slapped it over his nose and mouth.
“Hold on, Dowlen,” Brett said. “We don’t know that. We’ve sent for Doc. Meanwhile, we don’t want to cause panic.”
The rancher marched to his horse and put his foot in the stirrup. “You have until sundown. If they’re not gone, you’ll pay the consequences.”
A muscle worked in Brett’s jaw. “They’re staying where they are. This is my land. I say who comes and goes, not you.”
“You’ve heard my warning, half-breed.” With that, Dowlen turned his horse and galloped toward his property line.
Bob shook his fist at the neighbor’s retreating back. “Not brave like Comanche or Iroquois.”
Thick foreboding crawled up Brett’s spine. Edgar Dowlen was going to be trouble. Even so, Brett knew he wouldn’t back down. He’d fight to the last breath for these orphans who had no one else.
Eighteen
Adam and Doc Yates arrived soon after Dowlen left. Rayna welcomed the warmth of Brett’s hand as they hurried to meet Doc. She prayed they weren’t dealing with a smallpox epidemic. She’d seen what it did amongst the poor families of bone-pickers, and had even caught it herself, but survived. She was thankful because it would protect her now as she cared for these children.
“Thank you for coming back so soon, Doc.” She held his black bag while he climbed from the buggy.
“Adam said you found a bunch of sick children in a canyon.”
“We did,” Brett answered, falling into step with the sawbones. “Some were only dehydrated like Bob, but others have a high fever.”
“Bob?”
Rayna allowed a tired smile. “It’s the name I gave the old Indian.”
“Oh.” The old doctor blinked rapidly, as if trying to make sense of what she’d said. “Well, let’s see what these children have, Nurse.”
For the next twenty minutes she followed him from patient to patient, answering each question. The knot that had formed inside her chest when Brett first unloaded the orphans grew. She knew the meaning of Doc’s grim expression. It didn’t look good.
Finally he straightened. “I can’t be sure until more time has passed. They’re just starting to break out. It could be smallpox, though it’s most likely chicken pox. We’ll keep our fingers crossed that it’s the latter, or it’s going to cause panic.”
That had already happened with Edgar Dowlen. She shuddered to think what he’d do if the doctor confirmed smallpox. “What is the treatment?”
“Try to keep the fever down and give them plenty of water. Not sure they’ll be too hungry, but if so, only vegetables and fruits if you have any. No meat. Where did these orphans come from?”
Rayna told him what Sister Bronwen had said and added, “I feel sorry for them.”
“The Indian wars several years ago left hundreds without parents. Then sickness and disease are taking even more lives. Now we’re dealing with the aftermath.” Doc Yates rolled down his sleeves and picked up his bag. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“If we’re here.” She told him about Dowlen’s threats.
“That man is evidently a lunatic. Be careful. Send word if you have to move the children.”
“I will.” She saw him off, then her gaze sought Brett’s tall form. So proud and strong, his muscles straining against the black shirt he wore. She’d never known a man with so much honor and depth of heart.
She’d seen how he faced up to Dowlen and knew he’d die trying to save these children from anyone who wanted to hurt them. He and Adam were putting up some shelters. They stuck poles into the ground and stretched canvas over them. Simple but effective. Bob and Sister Bronwen supervised whenever they could stop fighting long enough, which wasn’t often.
With one shelter ready, Rayna hurried to the wagon and unloaded the blankets Adam had brought from town. Then she laid them under the canvas and began moving some of the children.
Dusk fell all too soon, and with it came a mass of jitters. Sitting around the campfire eating, she felt Brett’s unease. Every noise startled him, and sometimes he stood, silently gazing toward Dowlen’s land. She prayed trouble wouldn’t find them. And if it came, she prayed it waited until they could reinforce their small band.
But she knew from experience trouble had a mind of its own and didn’t come head-on. It sneaked up from behind and caught you before you could hide.
Trembling, she set her coffee cup aside and rose to go check on the children. Most were sleeping, but one girl about six years old was awake. The child smiled up at Rayna, shyly touching her hair when she bent over to tuck the blanket around the small body.
“You have the prettiest smile,” Rayna said, feeling her forehead and finding no fever. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Flower.”
“I like that. Do you hurt anywhere, Flower?”
The dark-haired child shook her head. “Water?”
“You sure can.” Rayna reached for a cup, dipped it into the pail she’d brought with her, and handed it to Flower. “Are you hungry?”
“No.” The child drank and lay back down.
When Rayna glanced up, she found Brett watching her. “You have a mothering touch. So gentle.”
“I care about these children. What’s going to happen to them? I’d take them all if I could.” Rayna stood.
“Haven’t figured that out yet.” He took the pail from her, and they walked toward the campfire. “I want you to sleep in the tepee tonight with Bob and the sister.”
“Why?” Rayna tried to read what he wasn’t saying.
“If Dowlen comes, I want to know exactly where you are. I may not have time to hunt for you.”
Her heart hammered. “Where are you going to sleep?”
“I’m not. Adam and I will stand guard.” He added a piece of wood to the fire. “After everyone beds down, will you take a walk with me?”
His voice was low and hoarse, as though he didn’t think he had a right to ask.
“Yes, as long as we stay close.” She turned to help Bob and Sister Bronwen into the tepee, and made herself a bed on the rugs for later.
Bob sat on his bedroll and bared his teeth at the nun. “I sleep with knife. Stay on your side, old woman.”
The sister inhaled a deep breath and blew out the lamp, plunging the abode into darkness.
“I warn you, Battle-ax.”
“Sh
ut up, Bob, before I come over there and give you a good shaking,” the sister warned.
Rayna let out a sigh. It was going to be a long night. She left the two still bickering in the pitch black and went to sit by the campfire. She didn’t see Brett. As the night fell like a heavy wool cloak around her, she closed her eyes for a moment, thinking of Edgar Dowlen’s threat. She was so weary of trouble. Before she could stop it, her mind drifted back in time. Frightening memories rose up, their intensity suffocating her.
She could see blood pooling beneath the man’s body, smelled the stench, tasted the fear that clogged in her throat so thick she couldn’t breathe. She had taken a life, and now his ghost haunted her, determined to make her pay for what she’d done.
“Oh, Mama, where are you? I need you.” Her whispered words melted into the still air. A sound made her jump.
“Tell me about her.” Brett stood beside her with a folded blanket under his arm.
“Nothing to tell,” she said a bit too sharply, embarrassed he’d overheard.
“If it’s not something, you wouldn’t have said it.”
“Just me being crazy. Sometimes I talk to myself. Forget you heard me. Is everything all right? I take it you’ve been checking for trespassers.”
“No sign of anyone, but the night’s young.” He held out his hand. “You said you’d walk with me.”
The minute Brett’s hand curled around hers, her pulse started racing. An invisible thread seemed to tie them together. His gentle touch went straight to her heart. He was just a friend, she reminded herself. For now, anyway.
Rayna swung into step beside him, but her short legs were no match for his long ones, and she was huffing, trying to keep up.
Finally he noticed and slowed. They took a few more steps to a flat boulder and sat down.
She tried not to notice the hard feel of his body settling next to hers, but every fiber of her being was alive with excitement as the essence of him washed over her. His hands brushed against her as he unfolded the blanket and draped the warm wool around her shoulders.
Gazing up at the brilliant stars overhead, she inhaled deeply. “The sky is so beautiful. My grandfather once told me to make a wish on the first star of the night and it’ll come true. But I learned not to believe him.”
“My wishes didn’t come true either,” Brett said softly.
She turned to look at him. “Tell me one thing you’ve never told anyone, and I’ll tell you something about me.”
Brett was silent for so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Finally he said in a quiet voice, “One time in the orphanage, I tried to run away. I was about seven years old, and Mr. Simon had laid into me with this thick razor strop after I laughed during the blessing of the food. This kid next to me was imitating the hawk-nosed Simon, and I couldn’t help myself. Each time the strop hit my backside, Simon called me a red savage heathen. Said he would beat that out of me if it was the last thing he did. That I never cried always worked him into a fury.”
Her heart ached to think of how he suffered. “I’m so sorry. I don’t blame you for running away.”
“They caught me right away. After whipping me again in front of the whole group of ragged kids, Mr. Simon tied me to the orphanage gates like some dog and left me there for three days as a warning to the others.”
Rayna clasped her hand over her mouth. The scars he carried were as deep and lasting as hers.
“Cooper and Rand hid scraps of food in their pockets and snuck it out to me at night. They stayed with me until almost daylight. A year later, we escaped from that orphan train they put all their troublemakers on.”
“I can’t imagine how horrible your life must’ve been.”
“The orphanage was pure hell. But I survived, and I’m stronger for it. These children are never going to have to endure anything like that if I have a say in the matter.”
“Me either. They have no one to protect them except us.”
“It’s your turn,” Brett reminded her. “What one thing have you never told anyone?”
Stillness washed over her. Her hand trembled as she clutched the blanket tighter. Why had she suggested this? She’d buried so much inside. Too many painful things she never wanted to share. “Forget this game. We need to go back.”
Brett laid a hand on her arm, anchoring her to the rock. “Nice try. You started this, lady. I told you mine.”
Which one would be easiest without revealing too much? She glanced at the horses huddling together nearby. For warmth? Or for companionship, so they wouldn’t be alone? After her mother and Hershel were gone, she’d had to face the darkness by herself.
Now that Brett was with her, the horrors didn’t seem so bad. She reached for his hand and clutched it for more courage.
After a minute, she sighed. “I’m sure you’ve wondered why I can’t bring myself to eat meat.”
“I have been curious.”
“My father never needed an excuse to be cruel. He took such delight in it, especially when he’d been drinking. This one time he thought he’d put the fear of God in me. He didn’t know I lived with that fear every second of every day. I tried to run, but he grabbed my hair and dragged me through a thorn patch and then…”
She took a shuddering breath, still shaken by the memory. “He took a handful of this raw meat black with flies that had been sitting out in the hot sun all day and stuffed it into my mouth. I gagged the second it went in and that awful smell went up my nose. When I tried to spit it out, he sat on top of me, holding his hand over my mouth and nose until I swallowed every last rotten morsel of it.”
Brett put his arm around her shoulders and gently wiped the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Why?”
“To teach me a lesson to eat whatever he said. Do whatever he said. Raymond Harper was always in control, and when I didn’t obey, he found ways to bend me to his will. Though I puked most of the meat up later, I was sick for two weeks. Couldn’t even keep water down. I’ve never eaten meat since.”
“Easy to understand why. I wish I’d have been there. If I had, I probably would’ve tried to kill your father.”
Rayna laid her head against his broad chest. She was so tired. But it felt good to get one nightmare out. She’d bottled it up too long inside. “Why do we have to go through so much grief and misery?”
Brett pulled her closer, and she heard his heart beating against her ear. “I guess so we’d be stronger. Or maybe it’s so we’d recognize the good times when they came. You’re away from him, and you’ll never have to go back.”
“Sometimes I dream I’m back there. I hear his gravelly voice saying such hurtful things, feel the force of his fist. And when I wake up, I’m drenched with sweat.” She felt Brett’s chin lightly resting on the top of her head. She snuggled against him, placing her palm on his chest, reminding herself that she was free of the likes of Raymond Harper.
But would that ever truly be possible?
Her hand came in contact with a soft leather pouch she’d never seen him wear before. “What’s this?”
“A medicine bag. I’ve always had it, but until today I didn’t know what it was or why it was in the basket when I was left at the orphanage. Bob told me it holds my power, things that have meaning only to me.”
He paused a moment, and when he spoke, his voice sounded rusty. “Rayna, I have a request that may sound odd.”
“You know I’ll do anything I can.”
“Would you mind if I cut a small piece of your hair to put inside?”
His request surprised her at first, then warmth rose at the thought that she meant this much to him. She raised her head. “I would be honored to have a lock of my hair in your medicine bag.”
She moved from the circle of his arm. He pulled his knife from its sheath and, holding a curl between his thumb and forefinger, cut it. Then he opened his leather pouch and laid it inside. A pleasant glow spread through her chest.
Part of her would always be with him. Her eyes misted.
Flutters quivered in her stomach. When she leaned into him, he dropped a kiss on her cheek before moving away.
Though she wished for more, she’d learned to be grateful for what she got.
She had these peaceful moments and shared secrets with Brett to cherish forever. Maybe she was starting to heal.
A glance toward the sleeping children told her with certainty that there was no time for Brett and her now.
Even more things blocked their future.
Adam’s dark figure moved next to the fire. The kid seemed to be adjusting. Rayna knew the calming balm the Wild Horse offered had been exactly what he needed.
Maybe this land could heal her ragged spirit, too, and help her live with the things she couldn’t go back and fix. If she had a mind to.
But some things just needed doing even if they scarred your soul.
Nineteen
According to the moon, it was nearing midnight as Brett sat propped against a tree where his property butted up to Dowlen’s. His rifle lay across his lap. The things Rayna had told him crowded his mind. It certainly explained the loathing she had for her father, and it was no wonder she steered clear of meat. What else had Raymond Harper done to her? Somehow, Brett knew she’d suffered more.
Anger rose up so fast it startled him. One day he hoped to make the man pay for the horrors forced upon his daughter.
Rayna deserved a life free of abuse and suffering.
He touched the medicine bag hanging around his neck. Her hair would mean nothing to anyone but him. It was his most treasured possession. He brought the supple leather to his mouth and kissed it.
His eyes sought Adam’s lanky figure and found his nephew crouching under a tree about a hundred yards away. He also had a rifle that he’d brought back from town.
A sudden sound alerted Brett. He made out the form of two men moving by foot onto his land. One would most likely be Edgar Dowlen, by his size, but the other?
Brett got to his feet and raised the rifle to his shoulder. “I hope you have a good reason for trespassing, gentlemen. Sneeze, and I’ll blow you into hell.”
