Leaving Independence

by Leanne W. Smith

  Suddenly all four of the Baldwyn children were there and while Abigail was vaguely aware of it, she couldn’t seem to stop herself. The torrents of her feelings had gotten beyond her ability to hold.

  Hoke easily deflected her blows.

  They had become a spectacle. Caroline Atwood’s mouth was open and Josephine Jenkins tried to cover Lina’s eyes.

  Hoke feinted left as she swung an arm, and then he scooped her up below the knees and threw her over his shoulder.

  “Put me down!” Abigail beat on his back, pulling and tearing at the golden shirt she had just pieced back together. That shirt—like her heart—kept getting ripped and bloodstained.

  “Put! Me! Down!”

  “Show’s over,” Hoke told the onlookers. “Go on about your business.”

  “Where are you taking me?” she demanded as he walked away from the wagons.

  “To cool off.”

  “I never said you could call me Abby.” She punched his back. “My father calls me Abby and we are not on good terms.”

  “I didn’t ask your permission!” The sudden passion in his voice startled her. This was the old Hoke—the pre-Hadley Hoke.

  Hoke walked toward the creek, Abigail wriggling on his shoulder like a mewling calf, before he unceremoniously dumped her in a waist-high pool of water.

  Her body landed with a slap, the cold water engulfing her in a sudden freeze that, by all appearances, only made her hotter. Hoke turned to leave but, indignant, Abigail shot up and came after him, knocking him off balance and sending him sprawling on the bank.

  He got up, despite her flailing and slapping at him, and held her at arm’s length.

  James Parker, Colonel Dotson, Gerald Jenkins, Mr. Austelle, and Doc Isaacs watched from a rise on a small hill several yards away.

  “My money’s on Mrs. Baldwyn,” said James.

  Colonel Dotson shook his head. “She’s no match for Hoke.”

  “I don’t know . . .” James chewed on a maple stick. He and Hoke had decided sugar maple was the best-tasting option out here. “She’s givin’ him as good a run for his money as anyone I’ve ever seen.”

  “That’s ’cause he won’t hit her back,” said Mr. Austelle.

  Doc Isaacs looked concerned. “He better not hit her back.”

  “Or we’d have to step in,” said Mr. Austelle.

  Jenkins shook his head. “I don’t relish the thought. What set her off like that, anyway?”

  “Irene ruffled her feathers.” James chuckled. “She’s always so composed, you know? I knew Corrine had spirit, but . . . I figured she got it from her pa.”

  Abigail had gotten past Hoke’s defenses and socked him in the ear. Irritated, he threatened to hold her head under the water.

  “You don’t think he’d hurt her, do you?” asked Doc Isaacs.

  “Naw, he’s in love with her,” said the colonel.

  The other four men turned in unison and looked at Colonel Dotson in surprise. James had known it, of course, but he’d thought Hoke had done a fair job of concealing it from the others.

  “I could tell it that day he met her, before we left Independence. That’s why I put her wagon in his company.”

  “But she was supposed to be married!” said Jenkins.

  Dotson grinned. “Wicked of me, wasn’t it.”

  With Hoke’s arms locked around her, her skin soaked and her hair fallen out of its knot, Abigail finally ran out of steam. She ducked her head out of Hoke’s hold, backed up to a shallow sand bed, and sat down hard on the uneven rocks that lined it.

  The water was muddy brown from their fighting. She heard it trickling downstream for the first time. Her boots felt strange filled with water, and her clothes stuck to her body, the skirt dragging heavily and swirling in the current. It wasn’t like the last time she’d gone into a creek, seeking to purge herself of Hadley.

  Her knees splayed out with her elbows resting on them . . . a most unladylike position. Abigail tried so hard to conduct herself with grace and dignity. But Irene had gotten the better of her.

  She hated to have so publicly displayed that she was human after all. But . . . there was also a certain measure of relief in it.

  Hoke took his gun from its holster and laid it on the sand bank before sitting down beside her. “You sure pack a wallop.” He smoothed his black mane and felt his jaw, which needed a shave again. “And you tore my favorite shirt.” He cast her a dark, sideways glance. “Every time I get this shirt fixed, somethin’ else happens to it.”

  “I’ll fix it,” she offered, her energy spent. “I thought you were going to shoot me, for a minute, taking that gun out.”

  “I don’t like to get it wet.”

  They sat for several minutes, each collecting their breath and their thoughts.

  Finally, Hoke ran his hand around her hip and said, “Come here.” He pulled her close, raking her butt across the sand and gravel.

  She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Why is it always you? Every time I need something, it’s always you that shows up and takes care of it.”

  “That is odd, isn’t it?” Hoke looked up the hill at James. “Now I’ve gone and got attached to you.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.”

  Abigail pulled back and looked him in the eyes—those piercing, gold-rimmed eyes. “You have? You’re not? You don’t think I’ve manipulated you? Because . . .” Hurt sprang up in her voice. “That’s what Irene said. Did you tell her that on one of your rides together?”

  “Oh, stop it.” He pushed a wet leaf off her forehead. “You know how I feel about you.”

  “I do?”

  “You ought to. James says I’m not good at showing it. He’s felt the need to give me pointers of late.” Hoke plucked a stick out of her hair and grinned. “I like you so well I’ve decided to sell you my white horse.”

  Abigail raised her eyebrows. “That much?” Then they fell again. “Did you forget I’m low on money? Because I haven’t forgotten. I’m going to have to sell an awful lot of needlework to buy a house.”

  “I’ll build you one.”

  “You’ll build me one?” She knew hurt and doubt were both written on her face, but her ability to hide her feelings was depleted. “When? You told Irene McConnelly you might go to Oregon City!”

  “Woman”—Hoke looked her deep in the eyes—“why would I be sittin’ here pickin’ creek trash out of your hair if I planned to go to Oregon City with Irene McConnelly?”

  A warm rush—better than whiskey—started from the base of her neck and flowed toward her damaged heart. “Are you sure you don’t just feel sorry for me?”

  Hoke’s eyes blazed. “Sorry for you? I don’t feel sorry for you. I want you. I want everything you’ve got.”

  Abigail raised her eyebrows.

  “I was just giving you a little time before I ask you to marry me, that’s all.”

  She felt a slow, silly grin spread across her face. Then she scowled again. “Why?”

  “Why was I going to ask you to marry me?”

  “No, why were you waiting? If you knew how sick and tired I was of the very word waiting—”

  Hoke pulled her into the crook of his arm so fast she didn’t have time to finish her sentence. His kiss sent her head sinking back toward the water. He pulled her body over his and together they began to float downstream, spinning in the current: first the back of her head bobbing up, then his, causing the men on the hillside to walk back to the wagon train out of common decency.

  “Well . . . it’s nice to see they got that worked out,” said the colonel.

  Hoke and Abigail finally hit a shallow spot in the creek and came up for air. He pushed the wet hair off her face.

  She pulled back and let her arms float in the water. “I tried not to need you, Hoke. I wanted to pull my own weight.”

  “You have pulled your own weight, but what’s wrong with lettin’ somebody else make your life a little easier?”

  Abiga
il looked down. “It’s bad if you leave me one day.”

  God amighty, she had long lashes! Those blue eyes were going to be his. “Hey, look at me.”

  Hoke lifted her chin and forced her eyes to meet his. “I will never leave you—at least not of my own accord. That’s my promise to you, and I don’t break my promises.” Then he added low, “Robert didn’t leave you of his own accord, either.”

  Her face threatened to crumple, but he wasn’t having any more of it.

  Standing up, he pulled her from the water. “Marry me now. Not because you need me, just because you want me.”

  “Now? With my hair looking like this?”

  “I like it that way. Come on.” He stepped out on the bank taking it in strides, water sloshing in his boots, pulling her behind him, back to where his gun lay.

  He picked it up and stuffed it in its holster, then turned up the bank back toward camp, never letting go of her hand.

  “Hoke, wait a minute!”

  He stopped and turned. “You’re not backing out?”

  “Don’t you think we should give it a day or two?”

  He took her in his arms again, kissing her slower this time, exploring not only her lips but also the curve of her neck and the space behind her left ear. “No,” he breathed huskily. “You said you were tired of waitin’.”

  She pushed on his chest. “It seems so impulsive. I hate for people to think I’m being rash.”

  He cradled her head in his hands. “If you knew how much willpower I’ve had to call on while you chased your fake husband all the way out here, you wouldn’t think this was impulsive.” He pulled her along several more steps, then stopped and turned again. “Do you have any idea how crazy you’ve made me?”

  He kissed her again. Good Lord, it felt good!

  “Charlie!” yelled Hoke when they got back to the wagons. “Come here, and bring Jacob.” He pulled Abigail over to where Corrine was getting supper.

  “Where’d you go?” asked Corrine. “And why are y’all all wet?”

  “We’re having a family meeting,” said Hoke. “Go get Lina.”

  Corrine looked at her mother, then at Hoke, then back to her mother. They were all wet, holding hands, with silly grins on their faces. And her mother looked . . . sheepish.

  She went to find Lina.

  In a minute all four children were there, along with several others: Colonel Dotson and Mrs. Chris, Melinda, James, Doc Isaacs, and Tam.

  “Charlie, Corrine, Jacob, Lina . . . I aim to marry your mother,” announced Hoke, holding Abigail’s hand tightly to his chest. “Any objections?”

  Lina put both hands over her mouth. The children looked at each other, then back to Hoke and Abigail. They shook their heads. No objections.

  “All right, then. Tam, where’s Harry?”

  “Do you mean to marry her this instant?” Tam looked at James, who was watching Corrine’s reaction. Corrine stole one quick look at James before looking away.

  “Yes, I do.” Hoke clutched Abigail’s hand to his chest as if he’d never let it go. “I mean to marry her this instant.”

  The sound of a metal pot hitting the iron of a wagon wheel made them all turn and look. Irene McConnelly eyed them darkly from across camp, the pot rolling to a stop at her feet.

  The group ignored her and turned back to Hoke and Abigail.

  Tam nudged Abigail. “Well, say something!”

  Abigail had fallen silent under the vehemence of Hoke’s feelings. His whole body stirred and his eyes swirled like lava. Abigail, by contrast, was the picture of peace . . . perfect peace.

  “I love him,” she said simply.

  Hoke was quick to shut his eyes, but everyone could see the sudden flow of emotion that rushed to them, so powerful was the effect of Abigail’s words on him.

  When he could talk again, he growled, “Where’s Harry?”

  CHAPTER 33

  A most vehement flame

  Harry was located and Abigail, insisting that she’d at least like to be dry and wearing her best, held Hoke off long enough to don the blue dress. She also hinted that he might like to shave. Since the gold shirt was wet, he wore his green one.

  As they stood before Harry—with Charlie and Jacob standing up for Hoke and Corrine and Lina standing up for Abigail, a profusion of wildflowers in their hands—Abigail whispered in Hoke’s ear, “Are you still charging me for the white horse?”

  He gave her a sideways smirk. “We’ll work somethin’ out.”

  “Set me as a seal upon thine heart,” read Harry, “as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death . . . the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame.”

  Hoke’s announcement that he wanted to marry their mother hadn’t completely taken Charlie by surprise, but it had Jacob. Later, when they were lying on their bedrolls looking up at the stars, Jacob sat up and turned to his older brother. “Hoke’s our new father, Charlie!”

  Charlie laughed. “Yeah, I guess so.” He looked up at the wagon where his mother and Hoke would stay together in a day or two. It was their first night as a married couple, though, and Hoke had made a little camp off-site for just the two of them. He said he didn’t want to be under the ears and noses of the wagon train—not yet.

  Charlie thought about Emma and wondered what it felt like to be married. He hadn’t kissed her again since that time playing hide-and-seek, but he thought about it all the time.

  “It’s weird,” said Jacob looking out in the direction of Hoke’s camp.

  Charlie glanced that way, too, then back up at the stars. “I don’t know. It doesn’t feel that weird to me.”

  “It changes Mama’s name, don’t it? What about us, does it change our name?”

  “No. I’m keeping Pa’s name.” Charlie respected Hoke, but his father’s name was all he had of Robert Baldwyn—that and his memories.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Charlie knew he still hung the moon for his little brother, and he didn’t take it lightly.

  “But Mr. Hoke is pretty spectacular, as men go,” continued Jacob. “He’s so . . . tough. You think he’s tougher than Mr. Sutler?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Tougher than Mr. Sims?”

  Charlie grinned over at him. “Yes, Jake. I think he’s tougher than all of ’em, except maybe Colonel Dotson, but the colonel’s getting old. Did you see Hoke that day the Indians attacked? And he killed a man to save our mother. I reckon he’s earned the right to marry her.”

  “You don’t think he’ll whip us, do you?”

  “Naw. You kidding? I don’t think he’ll act a lot different than he’s been actin’.”

  “Yeah. He already acted like our pa, didn’t he? He took us huntin’.”

  “Yes, he did.” Charlie grinned over at Jacob again. “I’d think twice before making him mad, though.”

  Jacob nodded. “Yeah, I ’spect we better.”

  Corrine and Lina had a different conversation in the wagon.

  “Corrine,” whispered Lina in her ear. “Mr. Hoke is our father.”

  Corrine rolled onto her side so Lina could scoot in closer. Lina had grown used to sleeping in the crook of her mother’s arm on this trip. Corrine wondered how that was going to work now that Hoke was part of the family.

  “Stepfather,” she corrected. “Strange, isn’t it?”

  Lina laid her small hand on Corrine’s arm. “No. I asked Jesus to make Mr. Hoke my father.”

  “You did? When?”

  “Remember when the Indians came? And Mama got a bullet in her side? Right after that.”

  Corrine studied the top of her younger sister’s head in the moonlight that streamed in through the opening of the canvas. “How did you know our real father wasn’t coming back?”

  “Jesus told me. Pa’s with Him.”

  It took Corrine off guard. “In heaven? Did you dream that, Lina?”

  Lina looked up at her and blinked. “I guess it was a dream.” She inched her head under C
orrine’s chin. “I love Mr. Hoke. He took me to Mama. I knew she liked him.”

  Corrine stroked Lina’s hair absently. “I guess I did, too. She’s always been different around him, like she was trying to act like she didn’t like him.” It was the same way Corrine acted around Mr. Parker. She didn’t want anybody to know she liked Mr. Parker—especially not Mr. Parker.

  “You don’t mind, do you, Corrine? You’re not mad at Mama, are you?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. She could have waited longer than five seconds after finding out Pa was dead.”

  Lina reached up and patted her cheek. “Don’t be mad. I hate it when y’all argue.”

  “It’s just weird, that’s all.”

  “You’ll be married one day, Corrine.”

  “No, I don’t think I will.” Paul Sutler was boring and James Parker was probably only teasing with her. She wasn’t having any of it.

  Hoke made them a crude shelter in the side of a hill walled by a thick stand of cedars. The fire had burned low. They lay on a bed of pine needles covered by blankets. Hoke was propped on one elbow playing with the end of a lock of Abigail’s straw-colored tresses. “There are things I want you to know . . . but I’m not used to tellin’ ’em.”

  She traced his jawline with the back of her hand. “We’ve got time. You can tell me when you’re ready.”

  He caught her hand. “I hope you’re going to listen to me from now on. ’Cause twice you’ve scared me senseless.”

  “I’m sorry.” She reached up with her other hand and ran her fingers through his black mane the way he always did. “I’ll be cutting your hair from now on.”

  He took both her hands in his so she’d look him in the eye. “I’m bein’ serious. I didn’t think I could feel this way. I didn’t expect to ever love anyone or have them love me.”

  “Hoke, you’re bound to have broken hearts all the way to Texas and back. You’re too sure of yourself for me to believe you’ve had no experience with women.”