“I do not like to wish bad things on anyone. But in his case, God forgive me, I cannot help it.”
“Doesn’t bother me one bit wishing the worst. Trouble is, bastards like MacKinder never die. That big, loud-mouthed braggart will probably find a way to hang on. He’d just better never let me see his face again.” A chilly wind picked up, and dark clouds came spinning from over the top of the mountains to the west.
“Storm coming—and fast,” Josh said. He handed Marybeth the wagon handle and grabbed Delores’s arm. “You get on my horse. We’re going to run.” He helped her up, then grabbed up Danny into one arm. “Bring the wagon, Marybeth. Let’s get all of you under cover.”
Cap was already slowing the wagons and telling women to get inside, as rain began to pepper their faces. Marybeth was beginning to grow accustomed to the wild, unpredictable weather in this land, and learning not to be afraid of it. The wind was almost constant, a hot, dry wind that made her wonder if she would shrivel into an old-looking woman at an early age. Now the temperature dropped in a matter of seconds, the endless wind changing to cool and wet. The mountains seemed to do strange things to the weather, and often hid approaching storms until suddenly clouds broke over the mountain tops and came swirling down on whatever was on the other side.
Josh helped Delores and Marybeth into his own wagon, handing Danny up to Marybeth and hanging the little wagon on a hook outside the bigger one. He tied his horse to the back of the wagon and ran to help young Ben Harper calm the oxen. Suddenly they all heard a loud pop, with a horrendous clap of thunder coming at almost the same instant. Women screamed and children began crying at the sudden noise. Marybeth held Danny to her and rocked him, trying to calm his own wailing.
“Oh, dear God,” Delores exclaimed then. “Someone’s wagon is on fire!”
Stalking Bear, leader of the band of Crow warriors, knelt over the dead body of his blood brother, Black Wolf. “They put a knife through his heart,” he said, rising. He turned angry, black eyes to the others. “White men did this!”
“White Feather has a bullet in the head,” one of the others told him in their native tongue. “She wears no clothes. She has been used by men many times.”
Stalking Bear, walked away from them to hide the pain in his eyes. Black Wolf and White Feather had come to this place in the forest to consummate their marriage. For many months Black Wolf had courted the young, pretty maiden, whom he had loved since she was but a child. Stalking Bear’s rage was great. He pulled a knife from its sheath and stabbed it into the trunk of a pine tree over and over while the others watched. When he finally stopped, he was shaking.
“White men must die for this!”
“Two sunrises past, I see white man’s wagons going by not so far from here. Perhaps they were the ones,” one of the others told him.
Stalking Bear turned to face him, his bare chest shining with sweat, his jaw flexing in anger. “Red Foot and Jumping Crow, you take Black Wolf and White Feather back to the village for proper burial. Tell White Feather’s mother we have gone on to seek revenge for this!” He ran his eyes over the rest of them. “We go through the flatland and find the white man’s wagons. Men riding free on horses can catch them quickly. We will wait until they are in the hills, where we can use the trees and rocks for shelter.” He slammed the knife back into its sheath. “Come! Let us paint our faces and pray for proper vengeance! White men must die!”
Chapter Twenty-One
Again, those who had survived the calamities that had beset the wagon train since leaving Independence, stood over two more graves. Lightning had struck the wagon of a childless couple, setting it and its occupants aflame in an instant. Josh and two other men who had tried to get inside the wagon to rescue the man and woman were haunted by the sight of blackened, smoking bodies.
“Ashes to ashes,” Raymond read. Josh shuddered at how fitting were the words.
Rain fell lightly now. Marybeth wore her hooded cape, and Josh wore a rubber raincoat, keeping it over Danny as he held the boy. Marybeth was grateful for the way Josh could keep Danny calm. The boy was growing fast, energetic and strong, and often a little too rambunctious for occasions such as funerals. Josh had a stern but gentle way of making the boy behave, and Marybeth’s heart swelled with love at the way he had so easily and thoughtfully stepped in as father.
They all sang a hymn, again acutely aware of how near they all were to death’s doorstep. Those left had survived windstorms, cholera, accidents, snakebite, and an array of sickness and infection. Since leaving Independence they had lost five men to death, plus five women and nine children, as well as an assortment of oxen, cattle and horses that died from over-exertion, from disease, or were stolen away in the night by Plains Indians. They had lost an additional two men and a woman, when Abel and Henrietta Lake turned back after losing all four of their children to the cholera; and when John MacKinder had been banished from the wagon train.
The oxen that belonged to the burned wagon had survived, but two oxen belonging to another wagon had been struck down by lightning. The surviving oxen were given to the man who had lost his own.
The bodies of Harold and Eileen Rogers were lowered into their graves, and people quietly left the site while men shoveled dirt into the gaping holes.
“We’ll camp right here for the night,” Cap told Josh. “This thing has held us up till it’s too late to go on. We’ll be in those foothills to the west of us by noon tomorrow. I don’t like all these delays, but there’s nothing any of us can do about it. Either one of you know them people?”
Josh shook his head. “They were always pretty quiet.”
Cap sighed. “Well, I’ve got their names wrote down on a list I always make before we start off—where they’re from and all. When I head back next spring I’ll get word to next of kin as best I can.” He shook his head. “Every spring there’s always folks at Independence or St. Louis inquirin’ about family members they ain’t seen in a year or more. Must be hell watchin’ a daughter go off in a wagon, never knowin’ for months, maybe years, whether or not she made it. The looks on their faces when I have to tell them they didn’t is right pitiful.”
“I can imagine,” Josh answered. “Which reminds me, I’ve got to send a letter to my sister and younger brother back in Kansas—let them know about my new wife and that I’m all right. Any possibility of finding a letter carrier at Fort Hall?”
“Sometimes. You never know. Might be you’ll have to wait till we reach Oregon. Either way, it will be months before they know.” A wary look entered his eyes then as he turned to see Murray MacKinder coming toward them. “Be alert,” Cap told Josh.
Josh handed Danny to Marybeth, who put her cape around him to protect him from the rain.
“You see those graves?” Mac asked, storming closer. His breath reeked of whiskey. “My son is probably dead out there somewhere, and he won’t even get a decent burial! Do you realize what this is doing to me and my wife?”
“John should have thought of that before setting fire to Josh’s wagon,” Cap answered.
“I want him back here,” Mac snarled. “Send one of your scouts back to find him. They could do it easily enough. He’s going to die out there.”
“Somehow I can’t imagine John MacKinder not being able to handle himself out there,” Josh put in. “But if he doesn’t survive, it sure won’t be the fault of any of us.”
“You stay out of this, Rivers! This is all your doing in the first place.” The man ran his eyes over Marybeth as though she was a naked harlot. “You! You as much as killed my son!”
“That’s enough, MacKinder,” Josh told him, stepping closer.
“Get on back to your wagon, MacKinder,” Cap told the man. “If you’re worried about your son, go look for him yourself.”
“You know I can’t do that!”
“Then get back with your wagon and leave these people alone.”
The man glowered at Marybeth, then stormed off. Marybeth watched him, trembling.
“I ought to give him what’s coming to him, just like John,” Josh growled.
Cap touched his arm. “You just let it be.” He walked away, and Josh looked down at Marybeth.
“Don’t you let anything that man says upset you.”
“I don’t anymore. The only thing that upsets me is the fact that they’re near us at all, the memory of what life was like with them.” She looked up at Josh. “I love you. Every time we bury someone I realize how much I need you. You’ve made me so happy, Josh.”
He took Danny from her again. “God has been with us so far. He’s not going to stop now. As far as MacKinder goes, I think he realizes he’s lost all the way around. If he wants to be civil and admit he’s been wrong, he’s welcome to see his grandson.” He held Danny in one arm and put the other around Marybeth. “You’ve beat them, Marybeth. You did what you knew was right and you’ve beat them. There won’t be any more problems with the MacKinders.”
Mac turned and watched them, then returned to camp and kicked a bucket several feet into the air. “Damn them,” he grumbled. “I feel so helpless,” he said, turning to Bill Stone.
“You’ll figure something out,” Bill told him. “And I have a feeling John is just fine.” He drank down some whiskey and offered some to Mac. “We’re here for the night. Might as well take advantage of it.”
Mac grabbed the bottle and guzzled. Ella watched, hoping he would drink enough to put him into another deep sleep. She longed to go and see Danny again.
John threw off his blanket, cursing at its dampness. He had managed to find a drop in the flat land, where a shelflike rock overhung a slight indention in the narrow dropoff, just enough room for a man to curl up under it and be at least a little protected from the torrential rain that had fallen the day before and had turned to a drizzle the rest of the night. He moved out from under the cramped shelter and stretched to sunshine that he hoped would dry out his clothes and gear. It was a little cooler, a good day to ride.
He scanned the horizon. Somewhere up ahead was the wagon train. He wondered if the storm had given them any problems. He walked to where his horse was tied, grateful the old mare had not managed to break free and run off on him during the terrible storm.
He took a can of beans from his gear, wishing he could taste more of the succulent deer meat John Hanna and the others had given him three nights ago. That night had been one of the most pleasant he could remember in a long time: male companionship, good food, whiskey and a woman. The young Indian girl’s resistance had only made his adventure with her more exciting, especially when he imagined doing the same to Marybeth, watching her squirm and fight him, imagining her resistance turning to passionate desire once she discovered how he could make her feel.
“I’ve got a lot more to offer her than Josh Rivers,” he grumbled, shoving a knife into the can and twisting it open.
He held the can to his lips and let beans fall into his mouth, his eyes scanning the horizon again. He wondered where Hanna and the others had gone after Hanna showed him the trail and went back to their camp. He had been surprised to find out just how close he was to the wagon route, after thinking himself lost. He wondered if the Indian woman was still with the men and decided he wouldn’t mind having a squaw along himself. He could understand now why he’d heard mountain men often took Indian wives. It sounded handy, having a woman along who could be discarded whenever necessary.
But there was one woman he would not discard, if he could ever get his hands on her. He had always wanted her; and he had thought after Dan’s death, it would be easy to claim her—her and the boy who rightfully should have been his own, not Dan’s. It angered him that all the trouble he had taken to make Dan’s death look like an accident had gone for naught. Sometimes he woke up with nightmares, remembering the look on Dan’s face when in that instant before he fell into the molten steel, he realized his own brother had pushed him. But it had been necessary. John was convinced of that. The problem was, it had not been so easy stepping in and taking Dan’s place.
His frustration was painful and maddening. He was determined to dog the wagon train, determined one way or another to make Marybeth his own. His feelings for her were mixed now. He still desired her, but he also hated her. Now he wanted her not because he thought he loved her, but because she made him feel defeated, and John MacKinder did not like that feeling. It was bad enough losing a contest to a man, but totally unacceptable to lose one to a woman. Marybeth had to pay. Somehow he had to win, to see the look of defeat in her eyes—defeat and desire.
He heard horses then, heard odd shouting and hooting. To the east he saw several riders coming hard. Instinct told him that in this land everything new could mean danger. He quickly pulled the old mare behind a growth of yucca bushes just barely wide enough to hide him and the horse. He watched through the shedding bushes as the riders passed by perhaps a hundred yards away.
“Indians!” He whispered the word, his heart pounding with fear. They were painted and shouting, and they looked angry. Had they found the Indian man Hanna and the others had killed? Maybe all of them were dead. Whatever had happened, these Indians were mad, and they were headed in the direction of the wagon train. His first thought was of his father and mother. Were these Indians aiming to attack the wagon train? He realized there was nothing he could do alone to help. He knew nothing about fighting Indians, and there was no way on God’s Earth his old mare would catch up with and out-run the painted warriors so that he could warn the wagon train.
“All we can do is follow, you useless old nag,” he grumbled. He quickly gulped down more beans, then threw the can aside. He draped his damp blanket over the horse and mounted up, waiting until the Indians were nearly out of sight. He looked around, hoping there weren’t more of them, then rode off behind them, heading in the direction of the wagon train.
Marybeth stirred a pot of peas and onions, relieved when she looked up to see Josh riding in with an antelope draped over his pack horse. She loved the way he looked on a horse, was fascinated by how well he handled things like horses and guns.
“In Texas, instead of a cradle and a rubber toy, your folks stick you on a horse and put a gun in your hand when you’re born,” he had teased once. She was beginning to think his exaggeration was not far wrong. He dismounted and patted his horse’s neck. “Sorry, boy, but you’ve got to stay saddled for a while yet.” He turned to Marybeth, a teasing glitter in his eyes. “You care if we just eat what you’re cooking there and wait till tomorrow for some of this meat?”
“I suppose not. Why?”
He grinned. “I don’t want to wait for the meat to cook. Ben and Cap are going to take care of skinning the antelope and divying it up. They’ll salt down our share for us. I want you to get Danny to sleep. I have something to show you.”
“Show me? It’s getting dark, Josh.”
“Doesn’t matter. Just don’t ask questions. I’m taking this meat back over to Cap.” He tied his lead horse and led the pack horse away. They were camped in rolling green foothills, with a steep, winding road heading upward ahead of them. Everyone gathered water from a fresh stream they had just crossed, where the animals had stopped to drink, delaying the crossing and making supper very late. The sun had set behind the mountains, and Danny was already sleepy. Marybeth climbed inside the wagon and fed him; within minutes he was sound asleep. She put him to bed and returned to the pot of peas. Josh came back and climbed into the wagon, and Marybeth watched curiously when he came back out carrying two blankets with something rolled up inside them.
“Josh Rivers, what are you doing?”
“No questions. Let’s eat some, then you and I are going for a ride.”
“A ride? Josh, it’s dark. And what about Danny?”
“I told you not to worry about the dark. Besides there’s a big, bright moon up there. And Florence said she would keep an eye on Danny. You know how attached she is to him. She’ll watch him like a hawk.”
She sighed. “Well, I
can see I have no choice.” She dished some of the peas onto a plate.
He took the plate, grinning. “You’ll like it, I guarantee.”
She smiled in return, dishing up some food for herself. “I have a feeling what it is, and it is more than a little embarrassing to realize others know, too.”
He laughed lightly. “I never said living with me wouldn’t have its embarrassing moments, did I?”
“No, but you also did not warn me that it would happen nearly every day. You are a terrible tease, Josh Rivers.”
He hurriedly gobbled the peas, a man with a big appetite she knew would keep her busy in the kitchen whenever they got a house of their own. “Better to laugh and be a little embarrassed every day than to cry and be afraid, right?”
Her smile faded as she thought of the MacKinders, and her heart swelled with love for the man who had changed it all for her. “Yes,” she answered quietly.
He gave her a wink. “Hurry up and eat.”
They finished their food, and Josh plunked her on his horse, then tied the blankets onto his gear. He mounted up behind her and guided the horse off into the darkness, moving an arm around her waist and pressing her close as he kissed her neck.
“Josh, how can you see where you are going?”
“Woman, you are a profound worrier, aren’t you? When are you going to have confidence in my riding? Besides, horses see very well in the dark—a lot better than humans. Ole’ Sunset here won’t go stepping into any holes.”
“I didn’t know horses could see in the dark.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t know. I’ve got a lot to teach you when we get that ranch started, don’t I?”
She leaned her head against his chest and enjoyed the soft, night air. “All right, I won’t look and I won’t worry.”
“That’s the spirit.” He leaned around and kissed her cheek, his hand moving to her breasts. “I love you, Marybeth. There is some real rough country ahead, Cap says, the most dangerous we’ve come on yet. The men will be doing a lot of hauling with ropes, cutting trees to drag under the wagons on downslopes, things like that. We’re going to be awful damn tired at night, and so will you be when you get done climbing some of those passes.” He looked ahead, guiding his horse around boulders that looked eerie in the moonlight. “We won’t be having much chance to make love, or the energy to do it.” She could hear the sound of water falling then. The horse splashed across a stream. “I believe you were complaining farther back about wanting a real bath. We’re going to take one.”
The Bride Series (Omnibus Edition) Page 100
