Heartbreak Creek

by Kaki Warner

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “Cougar blood. It’s all over you, too, and in your hair. It fell on you. Scared Pa half to death, didn’t it, Pa? Never seen you move so fast.”

  She shifted her gaze to Declan. His face had regained some color, but his eyes still showed fear. “W-what happened? I heard a shot, then—”

  “Pa got him! Right through the throat. Almost blew off his head, didn’t you, Pa!” Joe Bill glanced at the creek behind him, then at Edwina. His hazel eyes were round in his dirty face and seemed unnaturally bright. “Can’t believe you charged him. You’re crazy, you know that? Mad-dog crazy!”

  “Joe Bill,” his father warned.

  “Well, she is. Did you see her, Pa? Did you see what she did?”

  “I saw.”

  Edwina frowned up at the faces hovering over her. She was shivering and wet. She felt mauled and beat up and bruised, and was in no mood for Joe Bill’s foolishness. But when she opened her mouth to tell him that, she realized Joe Bill was grinning. At her.

  “Can you walk?” Declan asked.

  “I think so.” But her legs didn’t seem to work right, and if not for Declan’s strong arm around her, she would have crumbled back to the ground.

  “Crazy as Cooter Brown,” Joe Bill said, hovering at her side and getting in the way as Declan steadied her. “Going at a cougar with nothing but a pail of spinach. That’s just plain crazy.”

  Edwina wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard a note of pride in his voice. “It was poke salet.” She felt dizzy and her heart was racing so fast she could scarcely get the words out. Leaning against her husband, she paused to look back at the dead cougar, terror still coursing through her.

  It lay sprawled on the bank where Declan must have thrown it after he pulled it off her back. Its fur was matted with blood and plastered to ribs that showed through its mangy pelt. It looked a little sad lying there like a pile of trash. “I thought it would be bigger.”

  “It’s big enough,” Declan muttered.

  “And old,” Joe Bill chimed in, still crowding at her side. “Probably couldn’t hunt anymore. That’s why it came after us, right, Pa?”

  “Maybe.”

  Joe Bill sprinted on ahead, calling back as he ran. “I gotta tell them how you went at a cougar with a pail. They’re not going to believe it.”

  After she had washed away the cougar blood and changed clothes, Edwina suffered through the concerned comments and questions throughout the rest of the day, putting on a brave smile despite the soreness that grew more pronounced with each passing hour. But by suppertime, she was hobbling like an old lady.

  “What you need is a hot bath,” Declan advised—the most he’d said to her since they’d come back from the creek. She wasn’t sure why he was so quiet, but it was just as well; she wasn’t feeling that talkative, either.

  Every time she thought of that snarling face coming toward her, she started to shake. What if she’d gotten Joe Bill killed? What if Declan hadn’t come when he did?

  “You finished?” Declan asked.

  She looked down at the plate wobbling in her hands. It was still half full. She couldn’t remember what it was, or how much she’d eaten, or if she’d eaten anything at all. Rabbit stew. An image flashed in her mind. Amos bustling around the campfire, filling the plate and handing it over. “It’s delicious. I’m just not hungry.”

  Declan pulled the plate from her hands and set it on a rock beside the fire. “Come on then. The boys already carried up bathwater.” He rose, holding out his arm for her to take.

  She pulled herself up. Then, mindful of her manners, she thanked Amos for fixing supper, and the soldiers for working so hard, and the boys for carrying up the water.

  Declan’s sons were so engrossed in scraping the underside of the pelt a soldier had taken off the cougar, they barely looked up. The smell of the raw skin made her stomach roll. She paused to watch them, wanting to shake Joe Bill and hug him and tell him how glad she was that he was alive. Instead, she contented herself with brushing her fingertips over his blond hair, which earned her a scowl, then let Declan lead her toward the house.

  Big, solid Declan. There in the nick of time. A series of “what ifs” rolled through her mind, but Edwina pushed them away.

  Home, now. Safe.

  That was all that mattered.

  Grateful for her husband’s presence, for the sturdy strength of his arm beneath hers, she tipped her head against his shoulder and tried to ignore the ache in her back and shoulders.

  With each step, she felt a weakening of the taut control she had struggled to maintain throughout the day. Here in the dark, with no one but her husband to see, she winced at the pull of stiff muscles, bit off a gasp when her ankle turned on a rock and a shock of pain shot up her bruised back. She made it into the kitchen, but the stairs defeated her. Without a word, Declan scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the loft. Once in the water closet, he set her on her feet, then began undoing the long row of buttons down the front of her dress.

  “I can do that,” she said, uneasy with the idea of him undressing her. Then realizing how absurd that was after some of the things they’d done last night, she made only a weak protest—more out of disgust with her own helplessness than for modesty’s sake. “You needn’t bother.”

  “It’s no bother.” He slid the dress off her shoulders and down her arms, hung it on a hook, then began to untie the tabs on her petticoat.

  She studied him through her lashes, a bit confused by his reticence.

  Was he angry with her? Disappointed that she wasn’t more stalwart?

  The idea of that annoyed her. She couldn’t help being battered and sore. In addition to having a huge animal crash into her, she’d fallen into a rocky creek bed. Her palms were scratched, her chin scraped, and she would probably have bruises from head to toe.

  “Step out,” he said, holding her arm so she could balance.

  “Are you upset with me?” she asked when he turned to hang the petticoat beside her dress.

  “No. Raise your arms.”

  When he bent to lift the hem of her chemise, she put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Then what’s wrong, Declan? Why are you angry?”

  He straightened, hands planted low on his waist, his lips compressed in that resistant way he had. For a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then, without looking at her, he said, “I shouldn’t have let you go down there. I knew there had been a cougar hanging around. I thought with the soldiers there, it would have left, but . . .”

  He thinks it’s his fault? “Hush.” She touched her hand to his mouth. “You’re not to blame for this, Declan. Joe Bill and I are okay. The cougar is dead. It’s over.”

  Warm air rushed past her fingers as he let out a deep breath. He nodded and she took her hand away. “Go,” she said, softening the order with a smile. “I can do the rest.”

  He hesitated as if he intended to argue the point, then turned and left the small room.

  Edwina finished stripping, then stepped gingerly into the tub. Steam rose as she sank into the hot water, temporarily dimming the room as it fogged the glass chimney of the lamp bolted to the wall.

  She slumped forward, wisps of hair hanging down to brush against the water. Tremors rippled over her shoulders and along her arms . . . as if the fear still trapped within her body sought release.

  She never ever wanted to be that afraid again.

  Declan stood at the broken window and listened to her cry. She made little noise. But he had lived with an emotional woman for ten years, and he knew what that occasional sniffle and muffled sound meant.

  I could have lost her.

  Turning from the window, he prowled the room but still couldn’t outrun that thought. Eventually he stopped trying and sank down on the edge of the bed.

  Pictures flashed through his mind. Ed, charging—his son scrambling to his feet—the cougar crouched, ready to spring.

  Christ! He brought his clenched fist
down hard on his thigh, using the pain to drive the image away.

  I could have lost her. I could have lost my son.

  That realization made his chest hurt so bad for a second he couldn’t move. Then with a great, hitching breath, he sucked air into his lungs, and his heart resumed its furious rhythm and blood roared past his ears in a dizzying rush.

  They could have died.

  But they didn’t.

  They could be dead.

  But they’re not.

  Clinging to that thought, he closed his eyes and waited for calmness. When it came, he unclenched his fists. Flattening his hands on his thighs, he stared out the broken window at the aspens twisting in the breeze.

  He sat that way for a long time, his mind churning with images and memories and questions he couldn’t answer. But one thought kept circling around and around, like a half-remembered melody or a phrase repeated like a chant. Until finally he could no longer ignore it.

  He loved Ed. He loved his wife. And stupid bastard that he was, he almost had to lose her before he came to that realization.

  Edwina felt much better after her soak. The shaking had stopped, the terror had faded into memory, and all that was left was a bonedeep weariness, a tub of cold water, and two very puffy eyes.

  She added a dozen bruises to that list when she stepped out of the tub and saw how the hot water had brought out the colorful marks that her fall had left down the front of her body. She wished Pru were here to concoct a salve or a balm or plaster-something to speed the healing. Pru always knew just what she needed.

  She smiled, thinking of all the news she had to share with her sister when she got back. She wondered if Pru would have equally momentous news to share in return.

  Once she’d pulled on her gown, she turned out the lamp, then moving with a lot less pain since her bath, stepped around the screen.

  Declan was sitting in the dark on the far side of the bed. He was facing away, so she couldn’t see his face in the dim moonlight coming through the window, but she recognized that stiffness in his shoulders and back and knew he was fretting about something.

  He had shocked her earlier with his outburst of guilt. How silly to blame himself. It had been her decision to go to the creek and her decision to allow Joe Bill to accompany her. If Declan hadn’t come running, they might both be dead.

  That harrowing thought awakened the fear again, and Edwina had to pause for a moment to catch her breath and let her nerves settle.

  Declan must have heard her, because he twisted around, saw her standing beside the screen, and immediately rose. “Feel better?”

  She nodded. “Much better. Thank you.”

  “Good.”

  They stood in awkward silence, the bed between them. Edwina looked down at it and thought of all that they’d done here last night, and resolved not to let unspoken words rise between them.

  “You saved my life.”

  “You saved my son’s.”

  She gave a broken laugh and felt new tears clutch at her throat. “If I’d thought at all, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. I was just so . . . angry.”

  “You were brave.”

  “Pure hysteria. How could I have faced you if I’d let harm come to your son?”

  “Ed.” He started around the end of the bed. A moment later, his strong arms closed around her and pulled her against his body.

  She was crying again, and wasn’t sure why, and couldn’t seem to stop the tears no matter how often she blotted her face against his shirt. She drew in his warmth, his scent, his strength. She listened to the beat of his heart. And for the first time in more years than she could count, she felt safe.

  When she got herself in hand, she drew back just enough to be able to see his face. His beautiful, stern, beloved face. “But he’s okay, isn’t he? Joe Bill?”

  “He’s okay.”

  “We protected him. Just like you said. Just like parents are supposed to do.”

  “We did.” His voice sounded gruff, but his hands were gentle as he steered her toward the bed. He lifted the edge of the covers. “Hop in.”

  It was more of a crawl, she was so sore. “I’ll be a good mother, I believe,” she said as he pulled the covers over her. “When I think about how mad I got when the cougar went for Joe Bill . . .” She couldn’t finish the thought.

  He straightened. “You’ve got a temper, that’s for sure.”

  “I fear you’re right.” She took a deep breath, let it out, and felt some of the tension go with it. “I must have looked a sight, shrieking and jumping up and down and waving that bucket like a shrimper’s wife when the fleet comes in.”

  “It worked. Challenge a cat, back away from a bear.”

  “What are you doing?”

  He hadn’t moved away from the bed but continued to stand there, looking down at her. He faced the moonlit window now and she could see he was smiling. “Waiting for you to quit babbling and go to sleep.”

  She levered herself up onto her elbows. “You’re not coming to bed?”

  “You’re sore, Ed. You need your rest.”

  “You’re right. So quit nattering and get into bed so I can.”

  He hesitated, then started unbuttoning his shirt. “I should get paid for this.”

  “For getting in bed?”

  “For putting on another show. But since you’re my wife, I’ll do it for free.” Flinging the shirt aside, he plopped onto the mattress, tugged off his boots, then stood and began loosening his trousers.

  She watched, a feeling of possession moving through her, tempered by astonishment that this man was truly her husband.

  The ropes under the mattress groaned with his weight as he slid in beside her. She waited for him to settle, then rolled toward him, tucking in tight against him, with her arm across his chest so he couldn’t get away. He smelled faintly of horses and camp smoke and sweat. Much better than roses, she thought, yawning.

  He gently stroked her back. “Lieutenant Guthrie and the other troopers should be back soon. Then we’ll go home.”

  “This is home.”

  He hesitated, then kissed the top of her head. When he spoke again, something in his voice told her he was smiling. “To Heartbreak Creek, then. Tomorrow. Next day at the latest.”

  “I’m glad. I miss Pru and the children. Although I hope we won’t be staying in town too long. I don’t want our teeth to turn brown.”

  She smiled, anticipating the look on her sister’s face when she told her about the cougar. She should write a dime novel about it. Maybe make it into a theatrical production like that Buntline book, Buffalo Bill, the King of Border Men. She could star in it, herself. Have Joe Bill wear that nasty cougar skin he was so taken with.

  She yawned. Edwina Ladoux Brodie, Cougar Router.

  Her eyes closed. Beneath her ear, the sure, steady beat of her husband’s heart lapped at her senses like water on stone as she drifted into deep, dreamless sleep.

  When she awoke, Declan was gone and the sun was already high in a cloudless blue sky.

  Yawning, she rolled over, then groaned at the pull of sore muscles and various scrapes and bruises. It all came back to her in a rush—the cougar, Joe Bill sprawled at her feet, her mad, shrieking charge with the upraised bucket. Now that the danger was past, she had to smile at the ridiculous picture she must have made, flinging poke salet greens from the swinging bucket and yelling at a huge snarling beast to “go away.”

  But it had worked, hadn’t it? She’d held off the cougar until Declan had arrived to shoot the poor beast. Crazy-as-Cooter-Brown Edwina must have done something right.

  Wincing, she sat up and swung her feet to the gritty floor. Voices drifted up to the window. Rising stiffly, she padded over and looked out to see that the other soldiers had returned and Lieutenant Guthrie was standing at the well with Declan. As she watched, the lieutenant scooped a handful of water from the bucket sitting on the rim, tasted it, then he nodded to Declan.

  Ha, Edwina smirked. Bunkum,
indeed.

  She dressed and went downstairs. Declan must have repaired the stove because a pot of coffee was simmering on top of it and a tin cup sat waiting on the table. After pouring a cup, she stepped out onto the kitchen stoop into a crisp, cloudless day.

  “There she is!” Joe Bill left the group of soldiers gathered around the cook fire and ran toward her. Some of Guthrie’s men, Edwina surmised, since she didn’t recognize them as the troopers who had worked on the well.

  “Tell them, Ed,” Joe Bill ordered, showing a hodgepodge of gaps, baby teeth, and permanent teeth in a big grin. “Tell them how you ran off a cougar with a bucket. They don’t believe me.”

  Rout one cougar, Edwina thought, wryly, and suddenly she’s the hero of the hour. But she did have to allow that it was nice to have Joe Bill grin at her for a change, rather than send her his usual scowl or smirk.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” she called, stepping off the stoop and crossing toward them. “How did it go at the Parker place?” Edwina had never met Jubal and Mildred Parker, but she hoped they had been given a proper burial. She wished she knew if they had kin somewhere that should be contacted. She would remind Declan to check when they returned to town.

  “About what we expected, ma’am,” a sandy-haired soldier said. “We put markers over their graves so folks coming by would know whose place it was.”

  “Tell them, Ed!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” prodded a freckled soldier with a bucktoothed grin. “The boy here says you beat off a cougar bare-handed.”

  And the legend grows. “Actually I was armed with a bucket of greens.” Edwina sent a chiding smile toward her stepson. “Apparently cougars like poke salet no better than Joe Bill here.”

  “Kept yelling ‘go away’ like it was some sort of barn kitty instead of a killer cougar,” Joe Bill elaborated. “Told you she was crazy.”

  “And thank God for it,” Declan said, coming up behind her. “She’s a terror, that’s for sure. Morning, Ed,” he added, leaning down to kiss her cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Ready to dig through what’s left and see if there’s anything we can salvage?”