Madeline Baker

by Prairie Heat

  She knew her lassitude was because she was worried about Jess, because she missed him so dreadfully, but knowing the source of her problem did nothing to solve it. She seemed to have lost all interest in life. It was an effort to get out of bed in the morning, a chore to prepare a solitary breakfast. Eating had become a necessity instead of a pleasure.

  Forcing herself to get up from the table, she went into the bedroom to get dressed. She combed her hair, took up her shawl and went outside, thinking that a walk might help. Perhaps seeing other people would give her spirits a much-needed lift.

  She was crossing the street when she heard someone call her name. Turning, she saw Josiah Thornton striding toward her, a broad smile on his handsome face.

  “Matilda,” he called again. “I thought it was you.”

  “Josiah,” Mattie murmured as he took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “What are you doing in Abilene?”

  “Business trip,” Josiah replied. His gaze swept over her, warm with admiration and affection. She was prettier than he remembered, softer, more feminine, though she looked a trifle pale. Looking closer, he saw there were shadows under her eyes. “Is there somewhere we can go and talk?”

  “I don’t know,” Mattie said, conscious of the eyes of the town, the wagging tongues.

  “I’ll understand if you’d rather not,” Josiah remarked. He released her hand and took a step back. “But it’s just a cup of coffee. Surely you can put up with me for that long.”

  “All right,” Mattie agreed reluctantly. “There’s a nice dining room in the hotel.”

  “Fine.” Josiah took her arm and they crossed the street.

  Mattie nodded to Mrs. Bentley and Mrs. Cambridge, wondering what they were thinking as they watched the marshal’s wife go into the hotel with a man who was not her husband. No doubt the story would be all over town by nightfall.

  She felt a twinge of anger, and then smiled inwardly. Josiah Thornton would have been her husband if things had worked out as planned.

  She chose a seat by the window, wanting everyone to know she had nothing to hide.

  Josiah ordered cake and coffee and then smiled at Mattie. “So,” he said, “tell me what you’ve been doing since I saw you last? Are you happy? Have you forgiven me for marrying someone else?”

  “I admit I hated you for a while,” Mattie said, “but I’m past that now. And I am happy, or I will be, as soon as Jess gets back.”

  “McCord?”

  “Yes. He told me the two of you had met.”

  Josiah nodded. “I remember him. Where’s he gone?”

  Mattie explained about Kane as briefly as she could, voicing her concern for her husband’s safety.

  “I don’t envy him,” Josiah admitted. “Elias Kane sounds like a real sonofa—a real hardcase.”

  Mattie nodded, her concern for Jess evident in her expression.

  Josiah took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sure he’s fine, Matilda. McCord struck me as a man who could take care of himself.”

  “I know, but Kane is a devil. You have no idea.”

  Josiah nodded, wishing there was something he could do to erase the sadness in her eyes.

  Mattie withdrew her hand from his as the waitress arrived with their order. They made small talk while they ate. Josiah told her about his store. He was doing quite well and he was thinking of buying another store in Abilene. And Eva was expecting.

  “I’m happy for you, Josiah,” Mattie said. “Truly I am. I know how much you wanted a family.”

  Josiah nodded. “I’m a happy man,” he said, and then he gazed at Mattie, his expression tender. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out between us. I think we’d have been happy together.”

  Mattie shrugged. “Perhaps. But maybe it was meant to be this way.”

  “Maybe. Are you busy tonight?”

  “No, why do you ask?”

  “I thought maybe you’d have dinner with me. I don’t like to eat alone.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Think about it, will you? I’ve got some business to take care of this afternoon. How about if I come by your place about five?”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Sure it is. I’ll stop by at five and you can let me know. If you want to go out, fine, and if you don’t, well, that’ll be fine too.”

  “All right.”

  Josiah paid the check, then took her arm and they walked outside. Mattie wondered what Josiah Thornton’s wife was like, and what she’d think if she knew her husband was walking down the streets of Abilene with another woman.

  And then she wondered what Jess would think if he knew Josiah Thornton was smiling at her, his gentle brown eyes warm with affection as he bade her good day?

  Mattie’s spirits were a little lighter as she made her way home. She sat on the porch and gazed into the distance, her thoughts drifting from Josiah to Jess and back again. How different her life would have been if she had married Josiah. She would be the wife of a successful shopkeeper, with a home of her own in Santa Fe. Perhaps she’d be pregnant with Josiah’s child.

  She felt a sharp pain in her heart as she recalled a tiny grave beneath a twisted pine, and she wrapped her arms around her stomach, as if to cradle the child that was no longer there. If she had married Josiah, her husband would be with her now, not off chasing after a scoundrel like Elias Kane.

  “Oh Jess, please come home soon,” she murmured, and knew she’d rather be married to Jess McCord than to any other man she had ever known, that no matter what the future held, she would always be his, just as she would always be grateful for the hours they had shared.

  Rising, she went into the house to work on the new shirt she was making for Jess. It would take the rest of the day to finish.

  Josiah Thornton would have to eat dinner alone after all.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Jess frowned as he reined his horse to a halt. Elias Kane’s trail had been easy to follow up until now. Kane’s horse had thrown a hind shoe so that it left a clear and distinct set of tracks. But it was the unshod pony tracks surrounding those left by Kane’s horse that caused Jess to swear softly as he realized his quarry had been overtaken by a dozen mounted warriors. And now Kane’s trail headed north, straight into Indian country.

  Jess sat back in the saddle, a muscle working in his jaw. Time and again, he’d had Kane within his grasp, only to have Fate, or Mattie, or Kane’s remarkable good luck step in and turn victory to defeat. And now Indians had captured Kane, cheating him of his prize once again. It wasn’t fair, he thought wearily. Dammit, it just wasn’t fair!

  He felt his frustration rise like smoke from a campfire. He’d waited so long, been so close, but it was all over now. He lifted the buckskin’s reins, about to turn and head for home, and then he hesitated.

  Kane had been captured by Indians before and managed to escape. It could happen again.

  Jess thought of Kathleen and the little girl Kane had killed in Lordsburg, of Molly Coulter, of the child Mattie had lost, and he knew he’d never be able to live with himself if he turned back now. He had to know that Kane was dead, had to be certain that the bastard would never be able to threaten Mattie’s life again.

  Following Kane into Indian territory involved a hell of a risk. It meant putting his own life on the line, but it was a chance he had to take.

  Jess drew in a deep breath, let it out in a long, slow sigh, and then he urged his horse into a lope, heading north.

  The village was sheltered in a shallow valley watered by a narrow winding stream. A large horse herd grazed in the distance. Tall trees lined the stream banks. And tied to one of the trees was Elias Kane.

  Even from a distance, Jess could see that Kane was in rough shape. He was badly sunburned, and there were long, bloody gashes on his arms and legs.

  Mouth set in a determined line, Jess rode toward the Indian camp, his throat going dry as he contemplated the kind of welcome he was likely to receive.
/>   They knew he was there, had known it from the minute he entered the valley. Now, as Jess rode closer to their lodges, a dozen warriors rode out to meet him. His first instinct was to run, but he knew that would be suicide. Even a dog that wasn’t hungry would chase a rabbit.

  Jess slid a glance at the warriors. They were Sioux, he guessed, or maybe Cheyenne. Their dark eyes were hostile, their expressions ominous.

  Heart beating with trepidation, Jess rode steadily onward, careful to keep his hands well away from his guns. He reined his horse to a halt in the center of the village; then, keeping his face impassive, he raised his right hand in the traditional sign of peace.

  “Hou, kola,” he said, hoping they were Sioux. “Hello, friend.”

  “Kola?” one of the warriors replied with a sneer. “Wasicun!”

  He’d made a big mistake, Jess thought as one of the warriors relieved him of his weapons. No doubt a fatal mistake, but it was too late for regrets now. Rough hands pulled him from his horse and stripped away his clothes, then he was dragged to a tree next to the one that held Kane. He clenched his teeth as his hands were secured to a sturdy overhead branch.

  He heard Kane’s softly mocking laughter as the warriors walked away.

  “McCord, you’re the most stubborn lawman I’ve ever known,” Kane remarked ruefully. “But I can’t say I’m sorry to see you. Hell, if my luck holds, I might get to see them carve you up before they do me.”

  “Some luck,” Jess muttered. He glared at the Indian kids who had gathered around to gawk at the newest captive. It was hard to maintain your dignity when you were buck-naked, he mused bleakly, hard to maintain an air of casual indifference when you were as vulnerable as a newborn pup.

  The novelty of a new prisoner soon wore off and Jess closed his eyes, willing himself to relax, to think. Damn, there had to be a way out of this. He had to get home, home to Mattie.

  He grunted with pain as someone jabbed a sharp stick into his right side. Opening his eyes, Jess saw a slender warrior standing before him. The Indian’s skin was not as dark as the others, and his hair was more brown than black.

  “What are you doing here, in the land of the Lakota?” the warrior demanded in brusque English.

  Wishing I was somewhere else, Jess mused.

  The warrior jabbed him with the stick again, harder this time. A thin trickle of blood dribbled down Jess’ side.

  “You will answer me, white man. What are you doing here?”

  “I was following him,” Jess said, jerking his head in Kane’s direction.

  “You are his friend?”

  “No.”

  “Why are you following him?”

  “I aim to kill him.”

  The warrior grunted disdainfully. “Your people like to kill. Two of my best warriors are dead because of that man.”

  “And you intend to kill him in return?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then we’re not so different, are we?”

  The warrior grimaced, but there was a spark of amusement in the depths of his eyes.

  Jess took a deep breath. “And do you also intend to kill me?”

  A faint smile tugged at the warrior’s lips. “Yes.”

  “Why? I’ve done your people no harm.”

  “You are the enemy.”

  “This man killed my first wife,” Jess said as an idea took shape in the back of his mind. “I have vowed to avenge her death.”

  The warrior nodded, his dark eyes alight with interest. The Lakota understood the need for vengeance.

  “You’re going to kill us both anyway,” Jess said. “But before I die, I’d like a chance to avenge my wife. Why not let the two of us fight to the death? Your people can dispose of the one who survives.”

  “I will think on it,” the warrior said. “A fight to the death between two white eyes might be amusing.”

  Jess slumped against the tree as the warrior walked away. There was little chance he could escape, but his dying would not be so bitter if he could first avenge Kathleen’s death.

  “Nice going, McCord,” Kane called. “I’d like a chance to sink a knife in your belly before I die.”

  Jess grunted softly. In all probability, Kane would be the victor in a knife fight. The man was sure-footed and quick, and he preferred a knife to a gun.

  But it didn’t matter. They were both going to die anyway.

  *

  Jess woke, shivering, his arms aching from being stretched over his head, his legs numb. He was plagued by a relentless thirst; hunger gnawed at his belly like an angry rat, but it was the cold that bothered him the most. A light rain was falling, driven by a gusty northeast wind.

  Glancing up, he tried to determine the hour, but the clouds blotted out the moon and the stars and he grinned faintly. What the hell difference did it make what time it was? He wasn’t going anywhere.

  The rain was falling faster now. The ground at his feet turned to mud and the wind whistled through the village, screaming like a soul in endless agony. A big yellow hound darted between the lodges, seeking shelter from the storm. The horses tethered nearby turned their backs to the wind, their heads hanging low.

  In minutes, Jess was soaked from head to heel, chilled to the bone. He gazed longingly at the nearest lodge. A small fire burned inside, and he pictured the occupants sitting around the fire, wrapped in buffalo robes, heedless of the wind and the rain, oblivious to the misery of the two white men who stood outside, cold and wet and hungry.

  He swore softly as a jagged bolt of lightning rent the blackened sky. Standing beneath a tree in a thunderstorm was not the safest place to be and he had a quick mental image of lightning striking the branches, charring the tree and burning him to a cinder.

  Jess closed his eyes, but sleep would not come and he stared into the distance, watching the rain pummel the earth, listening to the wind and the thunder as he tried to prepare himself for death. He thought of the Apache belief that the spirits of the dead lived below the earth, and of the white man’s belief in heaven, and he knew he didn’t care which was right, only that he wanted desperately to live, to hold Mattie in his arms again, to hear her voice, see her smile.

  There, in the last dark hour of the night, he prayed to Usen, beseeching the god of the Apache for strength to overcome Kane and avenge Kathleen, and then he prayed to Mattie’s God, asking for a miracle that would set him free so he could return to the woman he loved.

  His words were softly and sincerely spoken, filled with urgency, and when he finished praying, he closed his eyes and slept.

  *

  When he woke, it was morning. The rain had stopped, leaving a few clouds scattered across the cobalt blue sky. A double rainbow stretched across the eastern horizon.

  Gradually, the Lakota camp stirred to life. He saw men and boys heading for the river to bathe, saw women looking for pieces of dry wood, while others went to the river for water. A short time later, the aroma of roasting meat tickled his nostrils and his stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten for quite some time.

  “Damn,” Kane muttered. “You’d think they’d at least give us a last meal.”

  Jess grunted in agreement, though he knew the Indians weren’t likely to waste anything as precious as food on an enemy, not when the buffalo were almost gone.

  He let his gaze linger on the fading rainbow. Was it a good omen? A sign that his prayers had been heard? Or just one of nature’s daily miracles?

  Jess loosed a long sigh. He was tired of being cold and hungry. His arms ached, his legs felt like lead, and… He squared his shoulders and wiped the discomfort from his face when he saw the light-skinned warrior walking toward him.

  The man looked warm and well-rested, Jess thought enviously. He wore heavy elkskin leggings and a long-sleeved buckskin shirt. A thick buffalo robe was wrapped around his shoulders. Heavy moccasins protected his feet.

  “You will fight tonight,” the warrior said. “The winner will be skinned alive. Or perhaps we will u
se him for target practice.”

  “Not much of an incentive to win, is it?” Jess remarked with more bravado than he felt.

  The warrior shrugged. “A man cannot choose how he will die, or when.”

  And with that bit of Lakota philosophy, the warrior turned and walked away.

  Skinned alive, Jess mused, or used for target practice. Neither was particularly appealing. Better a quick death by a knife in hand-to-hand combat than a slow, agonizing death that might take hours. And yet, given the choice, he knew he would kill Kane and dip his hands in his blood, regardless of what manner of death awaited him when the fight was over.

  The day passed slowly, each minute seeming like an hour as he contemplated the night to come. He thought constantly of Mattie, recalling every day he had spent with her. Then, as the sun began to sink behind the horizon, he put all thought of Mattie from his mind and thought only of Kathleen and his son, and the man who had killed them both.

  At dusk, the warriors began to build a huge bonfire and soon every kid in camp was adding fuel to the flames, laughing and making jokes as they did so. Everyone knew about the fight between the two white eyes, and men and women alike were making bets as to which white man would win.

  Jess felt his nerves grow taut as he watched the Indians gather around the fire. The scent of roasting buffalo meat wafted on the breeze, making his stomach growl and his mouth water. He hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in over twenty-four hours.

  There was much laughing and lighthearted conversation around the campfire. Food was offered to the earth and the sky and to the four directions before the people began to eat. Scraps were thrown to the dogs that lurked in the shadows, and Jess thought he’d be more than happy to chew on one of the meaty buffalo bones.

  As the feasting came to an end, he forgot all about being hungry. His whole body grew tense as several warriors walked toward him. The Lakota were a handsome people, he noted absently, taller than the Apache.

  He took a deep calming breath as one of the warriors cut his hands free and shoved him toward the cleared space near the center of the village. Jess walked forward with his head high and his shoulders back, determined to prove that the Apache had as much courage as the Lakota.