With his hat brim pulled low, head bowed and the daylight limited inside the room, no one paid attention to his arrival. That suited Charles just fine. He had no intention of staying one second longer than absolutely necessary.
Casting around for Johnny, he was surprised to note that the boy wasn’t visible. So, where had he gotten to? Since he wasn’t outside and had not returned to Annabelle, what had become of him?
Charles knew that continuing to linger by the door was out of place so he ambled over to a bench in a far corner and took a seat. The meal had been served as for a large family, meaning that anyone could partake of the food on the tables while it lasted. He picked up a biscuit and tried to take a bite, never dreaming it would be almost as hard as the rocks along the trail.
Chewing carefully, he peered at the others from beneath the hat’s floppy brim. If any of these men, particularly the ones from Washington City, had noticed the Indian boy, surely they would be acting excited rather than so sluggish and nonchalant.
He was about to try another bite of the hard biscuit when he felt a tap on the toe of his boot. Either the landlord’s dog was scavenging under the table or someone was trying to get his attention.
Johnny? If so, how had the boy recognized him?
By his boots, of course, the only part of his costume he had not altered!
A tap of his foot on the plank floor was followed by another rap against his ankle. It had to be the boy. So, how was he going to smuggle him out? And even if they did manage to reach the door, what was to keep them from being overpowered and apprehended there?
Charles tensed, held his breath and prayed that someone or something would cause enough distraction to aid them. If not, they might as well already be in chains.
Chapter Twelve
Struggling to ready the mare, Annabelle let her guard down enough that she didn’t notice a new arrival in the yard.
The gray horse, however, did, and when she turned her huge head she almost knocked Annabelle off the chunk of wood she was using as a step stool.
By hanging on to the bridle she managed to finish buckling it behind the mare’s ear before jumping clear. Behind her, she heard a man’s chuckle.
“Well, well, what have we here. You’re a much prettier hand than old Jed usually has workin’ fer him.”
She considered correcting his erroneous impression, then decided against making any response. Instead, she lifted her chin, crossed her arms and faced him as if she could not believe anyone could be so ignorant.
The man’s resultant guffaw was coarse, his leer suggestive. “What’s the matter, girlie, you too big for your britches?” With a half-toothless grin he spread his arms like an angry bear and started to lumber toward her. “Come to Papa.”
“You are drunk, sir. I suggest you go to the inn.”
“After I get me a little kiss,” he said, raking her with his gaze and continuing to advance.
“You’ll get nothing of the kind. Leave me alone.”
“Feisty little thing, ain’t ya?” He spit tobacco, wiped his chin with the back of his hand and laughed. “C’mere. Give us a kiss.”
The pitchfork was too far away for Annabelle to reach without turning her back on her adversary, and she doubted that a man who was already this filthy would mind being hit with a few horse leavings the way Caleb had.
The only objects close at hand were combs, brushes and the curved metal pick used to clean packed dirt and stones out of the natural depressions in the soles of hooves. The pick wasn’t even sharp...but the trimmer beside it was! Hooked and bladed, that tool was meant for shaving unshod hooves to even the soles.
Annabelle spotted the makeshift weapon at the same time the stranger did. He was bigger. She was quicker. Fisting the rounded wooden handle she brandished the blade, holding it out like a knife fighter.
Rather than subdue him, her efforts merely served to amuse. She knew she would employ the weapon if she were forced to, but clearly the man did not believe she was capable of defending herself. Truth to tell, a few days ago she would have agreed with him. Now, with the grace of God, she was ready for anything.
The heavyset traveler laughed and lunged for her.
Annabelle did what she had to do. She slashed at his closest hand.
Felt contact.
Heard him bellow.
And watched him whirl and run around the side of the inn, coattails flying.
* * *
When the front door was shoved open and banged back against the wall, everyone inside the inn froze. A lone traveler stood in the doorway, holding one bloodied hand in the other and screaming unintelligibly.
Just as Charles was getting to his feet, the dusky stable boy tugged vigorously on his sleeve and pointed in the opposite direction.
“Understood.” In one fluid motion the Cherokee reached under the plank table and grabbed Johnny by his sleeve.
They followed the other boy out through the rear and past a small building housing the summer kitchen. More servants were at work there but none paid undue attention to their passing.
Annabelle was standing in the open stable door. One arm was wrapped around her waist and the other was extended as if she were holding something loathsome.
The moment she spied Charles and the boys, she dropped the trimmer and called, “I—I cut him. I didn’t want to. He wouldn’t take no for an answer and...”
Charles was by her side in a heartbeat. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Yes, I unsaddled the other horses but I’m too short to put the saddle back on my mare.”
“I’ll take care of that.” Racing by, he shoved Johnny toward her. “Show him my new horse while I see to yours.”
He didn’t wait to see if she was obeying his orders. Her wise foresight had equipped them for a smoother escape than he had anticipated, and as long as he took care of the final details without delay, they’d be on their way before more trouble started.
After checking the bridle to make certain it was properly fitted, he slung a pad and saddle over the mare’s back, ducked to grab the girth and cinched it tight.
When he turned to call to Annabelle she was already waiting close by. “Come on. Up you go.”
As soon as she was seated comfortably, both feet in the stirrup irons, he handed her the reins. “I take it you know how to handle her by now?”
“Well enough.” Her wide-eyed gaze turned to the inn from which they could all hear shouting and mass confusion. “Let’s get out of here.”
“An excellent idea, madam,” Charles said, touching the front brim of his farmer’s hat in a gesture of courtesy. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to stay and dine.”
Annabelle nudged the mare forward, following him to his own horse. “I would rather starve than be forced to eat in there.”
She was making a disgusted face. He raised an eyebrow. “Prissy? You? I’d not have thought it.”
“There is a big difference between wanting my food to be edible and being overly fussy,” she countered.
Charles swung into his saddle and lifted the boy to ride behind him. “That there is. Ready?”
“I have never been more ready in my life,” she said, grasping the reins and urging the gray mare forward.
A confused knot of men was boiling out of the inn, pushing and shoving each other. All looked armed with pistols and at least one brandished a rifle.
“Kick her and let’s go!” Charles shouted, taking his own advice and putting his heels to the horse’s flanks. “Ride!”
* * *
Annabelle’s movements were not as well coordinated with those of the horse as she would have liked, although she did repeatedly give thanks that she was still aboard.
The sounds of shouting and cursing faded away as they galloped off. Finall
y, just when Annabelle was wondering if they were ever going to slow down, Charles reined his horse to a walk.
He swiveled in the saddle, looked at her over the top of Johnny’s head and smiled. “Ah, you’re still with us. Excellent.”
“You did lead me on a merry chase.”
“Looks as if you were up to it.”
“Barely,” she replied, returning his grin. “I can certainly see the advantage of men’s britches when traveling this way.” Her cheeks warmed unnaturally. “Not that I am suggesting such a thing for myself.”
“Certainly not,” Charles said, slowing to let her ride abreast and placing himself on the outside, meaning he had to duck an occasional overhanging branch.
She was thankful for his company, yet wished she were alone so she could at least loosen the strings of her corset a bit. The restrictive garment was not particularly uncomfortable as long as she had the opportunity to let her ribs breathe at night. Now, however, she yearned for a respite from being so tightly laced.
A lady would never admit that to a gentleman, of course. It wasn’t seemly. Even a husband might not be privy to such personal information, or so she had been told.
It was only now that Annabelle began to realize the complexity of her situation. She was traveling with two males, and although one was a child, that did not preclude her being thought of as a wicked woman. If she continued on like this, there was no way she could ever hope to be accepted in polite society again.
She sobered. Perhaps it was already too late, given the false charges levied against her. Once night fell and she spent it with Charles, her reputation would be well and truly ruined.
Blinking to clear her thoughts and shaking her head, she noticed that he was leaning closer, studying her. “What? Is my bonnet crooked?” She used one hand to pat the fitted white cap that covered the back of her hair and framed her face with a small ruffle.
“No. It’s fine. You looked unhappy.”
“Not entirely.” Annabelle heaved a sigh. “It’s just that I’m so unsure of my future.”
“None of us can know that.”
“True,” she said, “but a man has more choices than a woman does. If we are questioned, what should we say? I cannot very well admit that I am a single lady traveling with an unattached gentleman.”
“Scandalous.”
If she had not seen his lips twitch in a repressed smile she might have been less inclined to argue. “Well, it is. To me, at least.”
“What would you have me do?”
“If I knew the answer to that I would not be so perplexed,” Annabelle told him.
Observing his profile as they continued down the trail, and seeing his expressions change, she decided he must be doing some deep thinking.
When he finally spoke his mind she nearly gasped.
“I suggest we travel from here on as a family.” He glanced at the child before turning a steady gaze on her. “He has your eyes and all of my coloring. He could easily be our son.”
“Yes, but—”
“If it comes to that, we can make it official.”
Annabelle’s jaw gaped. “What?”
“Marry.”
“You should not joke about such things.”
“Believe me, I am not joking,” Charles said flatly. “It would not have to last forever if you didn’t want it to. That way your reputation would be safe.”
But how about my heart? she asked herself. What will keep it safe?
Logical answers eluded her. She could tell from Charles’s sober expression that he was waiting for her reply. This was not the courtship and betrothal she had dreamed of as a girl. She was not being swept off her feet by a handsome beau. There had been no mention of love. This man hardly knew her. What would possess him to offer marriage?
She swallowed hard, looking for her voice and hoping she was about to make the right decision.
“I thank you for your kind offer,” she said, speaking softly and wondering if she was going to be able to properly express everything she wanted to say. “If you are not toying with me, if you truly mean it, then my answer is yes. I will be beholden to you for such a gallant gesture.”
The boy, who had been virtually ignored during their conversation, tugged on Charles’s sleeve and let loose with a string of Cherokee. The tone was anxious, almost angry. And when Charles replied in kind, his communication sounded equally intense.
Annabelle did not have to understand the language to know the two were arguing, although she could not tell which one, if either, might be on her side. She supposed it didn’t matter. The man had not meant for their makeshift family to endure. He had made it clear he was merely offering her the status of wife temporarily.
That was enough. It would have to be. Happiness and cottages with flowers blooming by the door were for silly dreamers. The good Lord had provided an honorable man to guide and protect her. She would not argue, nor would she complain if this man did not truly care for her.
Her teeth worried her lower lip and she let her horse fall back behind the big plow horse so Charles could not see her if she failed to curtail her tears.
Why weep? she asked herself.
The answer was as clear as if it had been shouted in her ear. Because I will soon be the wife of a man whose heart does not belong to me—and whom I already love.
No argument arose to contradict that conclusion.
And silent tears began to slide down her cheeks.
* * *
Darkness approached stealthily, as if the canopy of trees was absorbing all the sunlight.
Charles knew they were going to either have to spend the night in the saddle or find shelter somewhere. Given that he had had no opportunity to plan for an extended excursion, he was not properly prepared to make camp. Nevertheless, he decided it would be best for them to try to rest rather than press on when there was little moonlight to illuminate the trail.
He slowed the bay and let Annabelle’s mare close the distance between them. “I’m going to take us farther off the beaten path. You’re not used to riding and we all need to rest.”
“I can go on,” she insisted. “You don’t have to stop on my account.”
Although little natural light was left, he could not miss her pained expression or the set of her jaw. She was game. And stubborn. But that did not mean she was right.
“We’re going to camp for a few hours, at least, to rest the horses. I won’t be able to offer you the usual comforts but I promise, as soon as we come to a settlement, I’ll bargain for the proper accoutrements.”
Annabelle yawned behind her hand. “Now that you have mentioned it, I believe I may be tired enough to sleep right here in the saddle.”
“That won’t be necessary. Just stick close to me so we don’t get separated and watch for low branches. I don’t want to be picking you up off the ground.”
The boy, who had said little since his outburst regarding Charles’s offer to marry their fair companion, suddenly began to chuckle and regale Charles with tales of Annabelle’s prior adventures on horseback, particularly her embarkation from the barge on the banks of the Potomac.
Although the conversation was conducted mostly in Cherokee, Charles could tell she was getting the gist of the child’s tale because she was making faces while Johnny gestured and laughed.
Gazing at her over his shoulder, Charles smiled. “I wish I had been there to see that.”
“And I am delighted that you were not,” she countered. “It was embarrassing enough as it was.”
“No doubt. I’m glad you’re a fast learner.”
“So am I. And the mare seems to be getting used to me, too. It’s actually quite soothing when she walks calmly like this.”
“Let’s hope there aren’t a lot more times when we have to gallop,�
� Charles said, making a face and elbowing Johnny when the boy made a comment in Cherokee.
Annabelle laughed. “I take it our make-believe son would be delighted to see his pretend mother flying through the air again.”
“Something like that.”
It didn’t take Charles long to choose a suitable clearing. Dismounting after letting the boy down, he went to Annabelle, paused beside her mare and reached up.
Although she hesitated at first, she did rest her hands on his shoulders and allow him to lift her down. He set her gently at his feet. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” She smiled up at him and his heart took off like a deer being pursued by a hungry wolf.
“I was afraid you might be in pain.”
“Don’t be silly.” She backed away, seeming a bit unsteady at first, then quickly regained her usual balance and vigor. “Where are we bedding down? And where do you want the horses?”
“Johnny can see to their needs,” Charles told her. He signaled to the boy. “Let them drink all they want from the nearest stream, then hobble them where they can reach good grass but keep them close.”
As soon as the boy led the animals away, Charles turned back to Annabelle. “You can use your coat as a blanket if you want. I’ll cut a few tender pine boughs for your pallet.”
“Just show me what to do and I’ll help.”
“No. You gather dry wood for a fire in case we decide to light one.” He pointed. “Pile it over there.”
“Won’t fire make us easier to find? I mean, suppose those men we eluded back at the inn have followed us this far? They might spot flames.”
“That’s why I’m not sure about starting one,” Charles explained. “As long as the weather holds and we can get by without it, it would be best to leave as little sign of our passing as we can.”
“If you don’t need a fire, I certainly don’t,” Annabelle vowed.
He believed her. For a woman who had been raised surrounded by luxury and with all the accoutrements of wealth, she was proving to be extremely accommodating. Of course that could change as their trek went on. Plenty of natural hazards lay ahead, not to mention the fickle weather in the Appalachians where they were bound.
Her Cherokee Groom Page 12
