“Shush, Robbie,” Mary whispered. “Listen.”
“When Lord Bertilak leaves, the lady tries to kiss Gawain, but he refuses her. Finally, he does give her one kiss, but nothing else. When Lord Bertilak returns, he gives Gawain the deer he killed that day, so Gawain gives him the very thing he received that day.”
Robbie snickered.
“What did Gawain give Lord Bertilak?” Tess asked him.
“A kiss.” He rolled forward, chuckling.
The adults all laughed, too.
“That’s right,” Tess replied. “The next day, Lady Bertilak tries again to kiss Gawain, and succeeds in giving him two kisses. So, when the Lord returns with a boar, which he gives to Gawain, he’s rewarded with two kisses from Gawain.”
Tess grinned as Robbie continued to laugh.
“On the third morning, Lady Bertilak comes to Gawain once again, but instead of kisses, she offers a gold ring, but Gawain refuses this. So, she offers him a green silk girdle instead, saying that it will keep him from all physical harm. He accepts this. She also manages to give him three kisses. That night, Lord Bertilak returns with a fox, which he gives to Gawain, and in exchange he’s given three kisses. But Gawain keeps the girdle for himself.
“The next day Gawain goes to the Green Chapel wearing the girdle. The Green Knight is there with a very sharp axe. As agreed upon, the Knight is allowed one blow to Gawain, but he is unable to behead him. Gawain is protected by the girdle. At this point, the Green Knight reveals himself to be none other than Lord Bertilak himself. He tells Gawain that the entire adventure was a game arranged by Morgan le Fay, King Arthur’s mischievous sister.”
“Sisters are mitch-ee-vis,” Robbie said, looking at Molly Rose. She stuck her tongue out at him.
“So Gawain is embarrassed, but he and Bertilak depart on good terms. Gawain returns to Camelot still wearing the girdle as an outward sign of his shame for not following the rules of the game. Thereafter, the Knights of the Round Table wear a green sash in recognition of Sir Gawain’s adventure. The End.”
“That’s a good story,” Robbie said. “I would’ve followed the rules.”
Tom ruffled his son’s hair. “But then you’d be beheaded. I wouldn’t like that very much.”
“He’s right,” Señor Walker said. “A smart man can tell when someone is trying to hurt them by making too many rules.”
“Does that mean mama is trying to hurt me with all her rules?”
Everyone grinned.
Mary stood and faced Robbie. “All right, off to bed with you.”
“I’ll go with you,” Tom said. “Evie’s probably hungry again.”
“You’re going to feed her?” Mary teased.
“No, but I’ll bring her to you.” Tom turned to Cale. “Good night.”
Señor Walker nodded.
“Good night, Cale,” Mary said. “Good night, Tess.”
Robbie and Molly Rose gave a hug to Tess, and she held them tight. This would be the only goodbye. “Buenas noches Sir Robbie and Lady Molly,” she whispered.
“Buenas noches, Lady Tess,” Robbie replied.
Tears threatened to clog her throat. Everyone departed, leaving Tess alone with Cale.
“You’re a good storyteller,” he said. “I remember that tale. It was one of Hank’s favorites.”
“No doubt because of the questionable morality at play.” She looked into the fire until she was certain no wetness remained in her eyes.
“Hank believed in surviving, and it didn’t bother him to break the rules. He was comfortable living in the shadows.”
“Are you?” Her gaze snagged his, refusing to let go. The longing to know the answer surprised her.
He watched her, sending a shiver down her spine. Cale Walker was unlike any man she’d ever encountered. She knew it in an instant, deep in her bones. An almost physical tug stirred in her belly, compelling her toward him. But it was that very thing that put her senses on alert and caused just as swift a recoil.
She could never afford to let a man close. She knew, in great detail, what such an action cost.
“Sometimes,” he answered. “The world isn’t black and white.”
“That, I know. So, what’s your plan? How do you mean to find my father?” She knew full well he wouldn’t tell her the truth.
“Not quite sure. I think I’ll sleep on it. We can decide what to do tomorrow.”
“Well then.” She leaned on her cane to stand. He was suddenly at her side, grasping her arm to help steady her. “I’m fine, really. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”
Ambivalence played across his face, then was gone. “In the morning, Miss Carlisle.”
She moved away from him and his solid presence, still feeling the heat from his touch.
Damn him.
Damn them all.
She’d find Hank all on her own.
Chapter Three
Cale departed the Simms’ homestead just before dawn, quietly leading Bo into the darkness, headed west. He would go to Tucson to gather more supplies. Hopefully, Tom would explain his abrupt departure. And, just as hopefully, he’d explain it to Tess.
Cale wondered what would become of her. He knew Hank loved her—he’d spoken of her often enough, as well as her mother, Isabelle— but Hank had never been able to settle down and stay put long enough to give them the stable life they certainly deserved.
Cale thought about the attack on Tess. He mentally listed several men he’d known while with Hank—Jim Bennett, Walter Lange, and, of course, Saul Miller. It was Miller, and Hank’s inability to rein him in, that had prompted Cale to walk away from his mentor and not look back. Any of those men could have perpetrated the violent act, although, if he had to pick, Saul was at the top of that list.
Cale shook his head and cursed Hank. He never should’ve taken his daughter into the wilds with him, to be near him while he worked. The men, and women, he often came in contact with certainly put her in jeopardy more times than should have ever happened.
Hank, you bastard. How could you?
Cale entered Tucson, stopped at a mercantile, and purchased flour, coffee, beans, dried meat and fruit, and tobacco. He replenished two jugs and four canteens with water, then bought a bag of oats for Bo and several boxes of cartridges for his Winchester and two Colt revolvers. His supplies had dwindled to nothing during his trek from Texas. Once the purchases were made, he realized he had too much for Bo to carry so headed to the granary/stables to purchase a mule. Only one was young enough for his taste, a placid looking male named Moses with the coloring of a bay horse. His long ears twitched above his thick head, and Cale paused to have a look into his eyes. He liked what he saw .
As the sun rose above the eastern horizon, Cale left Tucson in the direction of Tubac, approximately fifty miles south, with Moses trailing behind and loaded with supplies. If they made good time, he could be there by late tomorrow.
About two miles out of town, a wagon sat, listing left, with its wheel stuck a foot deep in what had once been mud. The ground had quickly dried out, trapping the round appendage. A young woman stood off to the side, and another woman, her back to him, was attempting to tug at the wheel. As he approached, recognition slammed into him.
Tess!
“What’re you doin'?” he demanded.
She glared at him over her shoulder, then continued her exertions. Her tight-lipped expression matched her prim clothing—a checked skirt and petticoat clear to her boot-clad feet, and an ivory long-sleeved blouse buttoned to her chin. Her hair was tightly braided and tucked at the base of her neck, and a wide-brimmed hat covered her head. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was a school marm.
He dismounted, nodded to the woman watching from a slight distance, and did the only thing he could think of. He slid his hands under Tess’s arms and lifted her up and away from the trapped conveyance.
“You’re wasting your efforts,” he said. The look she gave him was of pure disgust, and he wasn’t sure
if it was her frustration with the wagon or with him.
He gathered a rope from Bo, tied it onto the wooden pintle ring at the rear, then used his horse to pull it free.
“Oh, thank you,” the younger woman said. “My husband has gone back to town on our animal for help, but he should be returning any time now.”
“Then we should wait with you,” Cale said.
“I’d be most grateful, but you don’t have to.”
“It’s no trouble. It’ll give me and Miss Carlisle a chance to talk.” He shifted his attention to her mutinous glare.
The other woman moved to her wagon to tend to the contents. Cale turned his attention to Tess, where she stood, leaning on her cane.
“What’re you doin’ out here?” he asked.
She lifted her chin. “I’m on my way to Tubac.”
“You don’t say.”
“You and Tom seem to think you can keep me from finding Hank.”
“We’re just trying to protect you.”
“I don’t want protection. It didn’t make any difference before, why should it now?”
“So, you accept the fact that this could be dangerous?”
Her gaze became shuttered. “I’ve seen death, Señor Walker. It’s time to not live in fear.”
Her admission stopped him short. He understood now what drove her—a combination of anger, resentment, and vengeful resolve.
“Then we should travel together,” he said. It was the only way he could look out for her.
“That’s what I’d thought all along. You and Tom changed the rules yesterday.”
“My mistake.”
“At least you admit to them,” she said. “Most men don’t.” She turned away to await the return of the woman’s husband, who appeared a few hours later. Then, she and Cale began their journey to Tubac.
* * * *
With steady progress all day, Tess felt both satisfied that Cale wasn't one to dawdle but also deeply fatigued from being in the saddle so long. She wasn't accustomed to long journeys, at least not since her time with Hank a few years back. She'd never appreciated how much of a wanderer her papá was until she'd accompanied him, chasing bounties along with his endless dreams of...what, she was never quite certain.
This was the first time she'd travelled from home since then, having stayed firmly situated in the Simms' household, shattered in a million pieces from the attack. Slowly, she'd found a way back to some semblance of balance that suited her from day to day. Mary had become like a sister, loving her in a way she'd not felt since her abuela. But it was the children, ultimately, that had saved her. Robbie and Molly Rose brought her back to a place in herself, a childlike version that saw wonderment and happiness in the smallest of things—a night sky filled with stars, a mud fight in the rain, an innocent kiss on the cheek.
But she'd left all that, and now here she was—in the middle of nowhere with a man she hardly knew. She hoped she made the right decision. She hoped that at the end of this journey, she could understand why Hank had left her, why he hadn't returned in over two years. If, perhaps, he even still loved her.
Cale dismounted. “I'd say we're still a day or more from Tubac. We'll camp here tonight.”
Tess glanced around as he led his horse and mule to a rocky outcrop. The land was flat and dry and desolate. But she'd lived her entire life in this area, and rather than feel frightened by the wide open space, a surge of freedom filled her.
It was time to make her way in the world.
There was no water here. Earlier in the day, they'd refilled their canteens, pouches and jugs at a ramshackle trading post along the route.
Tess came out of the saddle and winced when her feet hit the ground. She was stiff and sore, and pain shot through her injured leg. She gritted her teeth to keep from making a sound. She didn't want Señor Walker to think she couldn't hold her own. She reached for her cane, removing it from a loop alongside the saddle. She could get around without it for short periods, but her leg ached now. She would need it.
Cale removed saddles and gear, and with a dented copper pan, he watered the animals. Tess carried her saddlebags and satchel to a makeshift camp and decided to gather scraps of mesquite for a fire. By the time she was done, the animals were ground-tied and seemed content.
“I can do that,” Cale said, taking the wood from her one arm. “Why don't you rest?”
“I know that I'm somewhat limited, Señor Walker, but I can still help.” He stood so close that she could see the bright blue of his eyes. Flustered, she looked away.
“You're tall for a Mexicano.”
“My Irish heritage, I suppose. I towered over mi madre and mi abuela.”
He grinned as he knelt and stacked the wood, along with scraps. He struck a lucifer and blew on the flame until it took to the kindling. “You have Hank's eyes.”
“I’ll choose to take that as a compliment.”
“They look much better on you.”
As Tess watched him, frustration pushed at her. Or maybe it was impatience. She wasn't quite certain. Cale Walker was younger than she'd imagined him to be. His broad shoulders flexed as he walked to his gear. He moved like a puma, with grace and innate strength. What would he look like without his shirt covering muscle and bone?
That thought snapped her from the haze that clouded her thinking.
She never thought of men, not in that way, not since the attack...not ever, if she was to be honest. Such ruminations repulsed her. What men did to women, how they used them, how they hurt them—she couldn't fathom that she'd ever want a man, could ever love one, in that way. But then she’d think of Tom and Mary. Sometimes she saw the way Tom looked at his wife, and it had made Tess's breath catch. The love, the longing, the hunger. It piqued her curiosity, but at the same time, it scared her. So, she buried any awareness of the male creature, along with her own body blossoming into womanhood, deep down.
“I don't know how much cooking we'll accomplish with this fire,” Cale said.
“I have food we can eat, at least for tonight.” Leaning on the cane, Tess walked stiffly to her belongings and sank to the ground. She tried not to sigh aloud from finally resting her legs. She bent her right leg but kept her injured limb straight—she would bend it later for further relief, but it usually required a bit of muscle kneading first. .
“Flour cakes and cheese.” She unfolded the food from the cloth she'd wrapped them in and handed half the contents to Cale. “They won't keep much past tomorrow, so we'd best eat them tonight.”
Cale's long fingers took the food. “You won't hear me complain.”
“I saw you once,” she said, “when you first started with Hank. It was in Tucson , and he’d gathered men to go searching for some bandito who was headed to Phoenix. I was about twelve.”
Cale laughed, but Tess sensed an edge to it. “That was a long time ago. How'd you know it was me?”
Because even then, you had a way about you. “Hank always spoke of you. I think you were his favorito protégée.”
“That's a mighty fancy word for what Hank offered us youngsters.”
“You were hardly that. You must've been twenty, twenty-one?”
“Yep. Just left the army. I didn't want to go home to Texas. I met Hank, and it seemed a good fit to work with him. He was smarter than most men.”
Tess turned away. “I don't know about that. He prided himself on a flawless gut instinct. He claimed it's what kept him alive, what helped him track his bounties.” She shifted her gaze to the food in her hands. “But he wasn't infallible.”
“You wanna talk about it, Tess?” Cale had finished his food and now gave his full attention to her. “Tom told me you were shot.”
Her eyes flew to his, shocked. Panic began to stir in her belly and build.
Does he know all of it?
“You can trust me,” he continued.
Unable to speak, she shook her head. She’d told Hank of the rape, the following day, and his response was to dump her at Tom
and Mary’s and never return. She'd only confided in Mary because there was the threat of pregnancy, which, by the grace of God, hadn’t occurred. That Tom knew, and possibly shared it with Cale, angered her. But beneath that white-hot response burned the real culprit—shame.
“I'm very weary.” She lay down on her pallet and turned away from Cale Walker. Tears seeped from the corner of her eyes, and she squeezed them tight, to staunch a potential outpouring of unrestrained grief.
She'd had much practice at it .
Chapter Four
Cale guided Bo along the worn trail toward Tubac, followed by Moses on a long lead, and thought of the woman trailing behind him. He'd only spent two years on manhunts with Hank, but during that time, Cale came to think of the Irishman as the father he wished he’d had. God knew his own hadn't lived up to the job. Although Hank had spoken often of Tess and Isabelle, he'd never introduced them. But Cale had met the abuela, Dolores, once.
Hank had said his daughter was as bright as the sun and as connected to the earth as his own Irish mama had been. He’d marveled at her curiosity, her insatiable love of stories, and her gusty laugh when he shared tales of the ridiculous events he'd witnessed in his travels.
Where was that girl now?
He shouldn't have brought up her attack the previous night, but it slipped out before he thought better of it . He'd had to hold himself back from insisting on doing all the camp chores, seeing the difficulty Tess had navigating with her injured leg, knowing it was worse for wear after hours in the saddle. He had some healing skills—learned during his time with the Apache—and wanted to offer his assistance, but he sensed it wouldn't be welcome.
So, he’d turned away when he noticed a pained look on her face, or when she struggled to perform simple tasks, such as preparing a bed for the night. Otherwise, he would insist she stop and let him do it for her. He knew this wouldn't help her, to coddle her in that way, but he found it a challenge to suppress the instinct.
He glanced back at Tess over his shoulder. She still wore her school marm attire but at least she’d rolled the sleeves to the elbows. It was August, and it was hot. Her hat was pulled low and fastened snuggly with the stampede strings, but her black hair had loosened in the braid and now swung free down her back.
The Blackbird Page 3
