Even in the bad light Ella could see how Harrigan paled as he looked behind them. She felt the chill of the rain enter her veins as fear clutched at her heart. Although she did not really want to see what had a strong man like Harrigan looking so afraid, she also glanced behind them and felt her heart almost painfully skip a beat.
“We’re dead,” she yelled, her voice hoarse and unsteady.
“There’s one slim chance for us,” Harrigan shouted back.
“We can’t outrun that.”
“Nope, but we might be able to get the hell out of its way.” He slapped her mare on the rump. “Ride south as hard as you can.”
Ella did not need to be told twice. She clung tightly to her horse and gently spurred the mare on. Polly needed no encouragement, apparently relieved to be given full rein to run for her life. All Ella had to do was direct the terrified animal so that the mare continued to try and outflank the storm, not outrun it. She could hear Harrigan and the other horses keeping pace, and concentrated on staying in the saddle.
“Head toward those rocks,” Harrigan yelled as he rode up beside her and pointed to a circular mound of boulders.
“Are we far enough away from that thing?” she yelled back.
“Let’s hope so, because by the time we reach those rocks, we’ll have run as far as these poor beasts can take us.”
The moment Ella reached the boulders, she flung herself out of the saddle. A narrow passage cut into the rocks and she dragged her exhausted mare into the center of them. Harrigan and his two horses quickly followed her. It was crowded, but Ella slumped against the rain-slick side of one boulder and felt a little safer. A small voice in her head told her that the tornado could reach her even there, but she ignored it, preferring to accept the security of the thick, solid rock, even if it was a false one.
“Where are you going?” she asked Harrigan as he cautiously started to climb to the top of one of the smaller boulders.
“I want to see where that cursed thing is going,” he answered.
“If it’s headed straight toward us, I don’t really think I want to know it.”
Harrigan kept climbing and, after taking a deep breath, she moved to follow him. He caught her by the arm and held her steady when she reached the top and crouched beside him. When she saw that the tornado was already a goodly distance away from them and looked as if it was beginning to lose its power, she was almost glad that she had made the climb.
“Do you think it will produce any more?” she asked as he helped her back down the rock.
“Could be. I think we should stay right here until the weather clears.”
“That could take all night.”
“I know, so I’ll try to make us some kind of shelter. Wait here.”
“As if I have any place to go,” she muttered as he slipped away.
For a brief while she sat pressed against the rocks, shivering as the rain poured down on her. When she began to feel as stiff as she was cold, she stood up and searched through their supplies for anything that could hold water. By the time she had set their bowls and cups on the rocks, even tenuously balancing their canteens in a small trench at the base of one boulder to catch the runoff, Harrigan had returned.
She stood out of his way, hugging herself in a vain attempt to stay warm, and watched him fashion a rough lean-to against the rocks using sticks and his and George’s trail coats. The moment he was done, she ducked inside, relieved to be out of the rain even though she was already soaked to the skin. Harrigan quickly joined her, carrying their bags and the blankets, which had been kept dry by an outer wrapping of oiled canvas. As he struggled to build a small fire, she shed her wet dress and wrapped herself in a blanket. As soon as Harrigan had stripped down to his drawers, he draped another blanket over both of them, and tucked her up against his side. Ella wondered why, after such care, she was still cold.
“Sleep, Ella,” Harrigan urged her. “We can’t do anything in this downpour, not travel, not even cook, so you might as well get some rest.”
“This was far more rain than I wanted,” she murmured as she tried to press even closer to his warmth.
“I don’t think even this is enough to end the drought. This land will need several more storms like this to revive.”
“Please, God, let me be away from this place before they arrive.” She yawned and closed her eyes, still chilled to the bone, but suddenly too tired to care. “I also pray that I never see one of those tornadoes again,” she added in a tremulous whisper.
“I heartily echo that prayer. We were fortunate today. I’m not really sure how we eluded it. I suspect it turned a little to the north even as we rode south. We just made a damned lucky guess as to which direction to run.”
“I’m very sorry I don’t have some sugar, or an apple, or something. Those poor animals deserve something a little special. Are they alright?”
“Yes. Unsaddled and securely tethered. The rain won’t hurt them.” He rubbed his hand up and down her arm when he felt her shiver. “I’m not so sure it’s good for you, however.”
“I’ll be okay once I’m dry. It’s nearly summer. It should not be this cold.”
“As soon as the rain and the wind die down, it’ll warm up.”
“I think I’ll cease wishing so hard for a bath.”
Harrigan laughed softly, then frowned when he looked at her and realized that she had fallen asleep in a heartbeat of speaking. She was sleeping soundly too, and, although her breathing was even and quiet, it troubled him. He picked her arm up a few inches and dropped it, but she did not stir. It was as if she had been knocked unconscious. Harrigan was sure that falling asleep that quickly and that deeply was not right.
What Ella needed, he decided, was a good long rest in a soft bed, a few hearty meals, and a little pampering. The journey on horseback over a hard land, sleeping on the ground, and a steady diet of beans, biscuits, and coffee had to be taking a toll on her. It was certainly wearing him down.
He was astounded that she did not want to kill him simply for making her travel so roughly, especially when he was taking her somewhere she did not want to go. Instead, she rode along with few complaints, made sweet love to him in the night, and held to her promise not to discuss Harold and the right or wrong of returning her to her guardian. At times she even readily promised not to try and escape and held firm to that promise. While it was true that, most of the time, she had no idea of where they were or where she could run to, he suspected that she might still try to flee if given a chance.
It suddenly occurred to Harrigan that, in word and deed, Ella continuously revealed an innate sense of honesty. He grimaced when he realized that she probably saw his refusal to believe what she said about Harold as a deep insult. It was certainly a plausible tale she told, but he could not allow himself to accept any more than the fact that she honestly believed what she said. Too many people relied on him to finish the job he had been hired for and to collect the money owed him.
He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on the top of her head. It was a good thing she had agreed that they would not discuss Harold. Simply thinking about the matter both confused and discomforted him. There had to be a solution that would give her what she wanted and give him what he needed. Once they reached Philadelphia he was determined to find it. But first, he mused, as he prepared to go to sleep, he was going to find Ella some place comfortable to rest and recoup her strength. Harold and all of the questions and troubles that went with him could wait.
Harrigan cried out in alarm when he saw Ella sway in her saddle then slump forward. She had been groggy and somewhat disoriented since they had woken up, but she had insisted that she was fine. In the ensuing two hours he had grown progressively more concerned about her. She had not said a word and had continually started to fall asleep only to jerk herself awake again. He flung himself out of the saddle and caught her in his arms even as she started to slide off her horse.
“Ella,” he said, shaking her slightly as she
lay in his arms, but she did not even open her eyes.
He cursed and sat her on his horse. As quickly as he could, he hitched Polly to the same lead George’s horse was on. Holding Ella’s limp body steady, Harrigan remounted and enclosed her securely between his arms as he took up his reins again. He saw no outward signs of fever or of any other illness, but something was wrong, and he knew he had to find shelter and aid.
As he rode, Harrigan tried very hard to find someone to blame for Ella’s condition, someone besides himself, but to no avail. He was the one who had dragged her from her secure, happy life with her aunt to take her back to Philadelphia. He was also the one who insisted they ride the open trail like cowhands or prospectors because he dared not stop in a town where he might have to elude or do battle with Louise. Harold may have started the game, but it was he, Harrigan Mahoney, who was the key player. He decided that, if he could find no one else to help Ella, he would hurry to the nearest town where the railroad passed through and find Louise.
Harrigan was already following the road to a town by the time he saw a small homestead. He nudged his horse into a trot. Once at the gate of the rough-hewn rail fence, he dismounted and took Ella into his arms. Pausing only to loop his mount’s reins over a post, he walked to the front door and knocked.
It did not surprise Harrigan to be met by a man armed with a rifle. People in such desolate places had to be cautious. A young, plump brunette warily peered out from behind the tall, burly man facing Harrigan. It was hard to push aside his concern and recall his manners, but Harrigan managed a small nod of greeting for the woman before fixing his gaze on the black-bearded man blocking the doorway.
“I hate to impose, but I desperately need some help,” he said.
“Is your wife sick?” the man asked, relaxing a little as he looked the unconscious Ella over carefully.
Harrigan barely stopped himself from correcting the man’s false impression. A man and his wife traveling together would be welcome. A man dragging a young, unwed woman back to a place she did not want to go to would be met with suspicion, perhaps even anger. If these people found out the truth about him and Ella, he could easily find himself on the wrong side of the big man’s rifle again. Harrigan decided to let the man believe that he and Ella were married and pray that, when Ella was sensible again, she would allow him to continue that lie.
As succinctly as he could, Harrigan told them everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. He was not really surprised when he was immediately invited inside. As the man went to tend to the horses and get their bags, the woman showed him to a seat then hurried to freshen the linen on her bed. She ignored Harrigan’s protests over putting the couple out of their own bedroom.
Willie Lindon and his wife Rose proved to be far more helpful than Harrigan could have hoped for. Rose was certain that Ella had no real illness, that she was simply exhausted from her ordeal. At the woman’s insistence, Harrigan helped her bathe Ella, Willie dutifully heating up the water they needed. They dressed Ella in her modest white nightgown, dried her hair, and tucked her up in the Lindons’ bed.
Ella roused herself only a little throughout it all. Harrigan found it somewhat comforting that Ella stayed conscious enough for long enough to eat a small bowl of Rose’s hearty venison stew. Although Ella did manage to say a few things, to Harrigan’s relief she said nothing that could expose his lie to the Lindons. She murmured no more than a few confused questions and well-practiced expressions of gratitude.
Harrigan put aside his concern for Ella long enough to have a meal and visit with the Lindons. Hungry for information, they asked him a disconcerting number of questions. He answered everything carefully, not wishing to lie too profusely. It not only seemed an ill return for their kindness, but he did not want to tangle himself up in so many half-truths that he was unable to remember everything he had said. Ella could be sicker than Rose thought and they might end up being guests of the Lindons for a few days.
“I can’t thank you enough for all your kindness,” Harrigan said to Willie as he sat on the front porch with the man, enjoying a neatly rolled cigarette as Rose cleared away the remains of the meal.
“Glad to help,” Willie replied, handing Harrigan a cup of homebrew. “Nice to have visitors. We don’t get into town much since it takes most of a day to get there, and the town ain’t grown enough yet so that folk have moved out closer to us. It’ll happen soon. People coming here all the time. Have a lot of folk who just get weary of traveling and stop here rather than going on to California or some of them other far-off places.”
“After all of the traveling I’ve done, I can easily understand that.”
“Haven’t seen too many folk headed the other way, going back East to them crowded cities.”
Harrigan smiled and took a cautious sip of the strong liquor, struggling not to cough as it burned its way down his throat. “Wyoming doesn’t have much use for what I’m skilled at and I need to make a living.”
“Not a farmer or a cowhand, huh?”
“No. Born and raised in the city. Perhaps I just need to learn a few things before I try to be a pioneer.”
“I don’t mean no disrespect, but maybe your wife ain’t one of them women who can set out from all she knows and start anew. She’s just a little bit of a thing.”
“She is, isn’t she?” Harrigan laughed softly. “She’s a lot stronger than she looks, spirited, determined, and quick-witted.” He shook his head. “Hell, I was getting tired and sore. It’s no surprise that she collapsed. I just hope that your wife is right, that Ella is simply very, very tired, that running from that tornado sapped the last of her strength.”
“My Rose is real skilled at healing folk. If she says the girl’s just tired, that she just needs a good rest and some good food, then, mark my words, that’s exactly what ails your wife.”
“I really hope so. Guilt has a very sour taste.”
“Don’t feel so bad. She made her choice.”
Harrigan inwardly winced, but managed a brief smile for Willie. “I’ll remind her of that when she starts to complain.”
It took Harrigan longer than he liked to finish Willie’s eye-watering liquor, and he was already feeling its potency by the time he excused himself to go to bed. He held the door open so that Rose could step out and sit with her husband, then lingered just inside for a moment as he tried to shake free of the homebrew’s grip. When Rose and Willie began to talk, he knew he ought to move away, at least far enough away so that he could not eavesdrop on their conversation, but then he heard his name.
“You know, lovey, there’s something not right about Harrigan and Ella,” Willie said. “Not bad, mind you, but just not right, either.”
Rose laughed softly. “You probably sensed that they’re not really married.”
“You mean we’ve been lied to?”
“Not really. We said wife. He didn’t.”
“Not sure we oughta have given them our bed then, sweetie.”
“Oh, they aren’t bad folk, dear. Fact is, I wondered if maybe they’re running away to get married. I think that little lady is of society, born and bred. Now, Harrigan’s a gentleman, sure enough, but I think it’s newly learned.”
“Still not sure it’s right.”
“It’s perfect, dear. Those two are in love.”
“Didn’t hear it said.”
“Didn’t have to. It was there in the way Harrigan looked at little Ella, in his deep and very real concern for her, and in every word he said about her. They aren’t married by law, but they’re married in spirit and that’s good enough for me. Now, hush, enjoy the company, and give me a sip of that poison you call Willie’s Brew.”
Careful not to make a sound, Harrigan moved away from the door, and tiptoed into the bedroom, silently shutting the battered door behind him. As he undressed, he could still hear Rose’s words in his mind. He wanted to chuckle at the endearing romantic fancies of women, but he couldn’t.
Standing at the si
de of the bed, he watched Ella sleep. The word love stuck in his mind and he found himself wondering if Rose could be right. An attempt to blame such thoughts on Willie’s potent brew failed. He found that he was both afraid and deeply curious.
He slipped into bed and gently pulled Ella into his arms. When she cuddled up to him, mumbling his name in her sleep, he grimaced. He could not deny that he felt something for her, something a great deal deeper and more complicated than anything he had ever felt for a woman. Cautiously, he admitted that he cared for her, liked her, enjoyed her company, and desired her more than he had ever desired a woman. He dared not call it love.
Love meant commitment. Love meant marriage and children. Love of Ella meant that he could not possibly give her to Harold Carson, he could not collect his pay, and he could not help his family. He closed his eyes and tried to convince himself that Rose was wrong, that she had just misread the depth of his feelings for Ella.
Chapter Twelve
“Where the hell are we?” Ella asked in rising panic as she started to sit up in the bed.
Harrigan quickly pulled her back down, retucked the worn blanket around her, and tugged her back into his arms. “Hush, you’ll wake the Lindons.”
“The who?” Ella warily looked around the small, roughly plastered room.
“The Lindons. You were very unsteady yesterday, the day after the big storm. I didn’t realize just how unsteady until you nearly fell off Polly’s back. I set you in front of me and brought you to the first house I could find. The Lindons graciously took us in, Mrs. Lindon helping me tend to you, and even gave us their bedroom to sleep in.”
“I don’t recall any of that.” She frowned and cautiously stretched, feeling only slightly weakened. “I couldn’t have been too sick as I don’t feel very bad now.”
“I believe it was mostly exhaustion that felled you. You have slept soundly for almost fourteen hours and that doesn’t include all the time you slept while we traveled here.”
“I’ve never slept that long,” she whispered, her voice weakened by shock.
Wild Roses Page 14
