Prairie Song

by Cheryl Anne Porter

  Kate stopped at the fire’s stone-encircled rim and, with him still holding her arm, still assisting her, sat upon a thick branch he’d evidently pulled over here sometime this evening. He sat beside her and finally answered her. “After I made sure the boys were sleeping, I went to talk to some of the other men close by. About tomorrow, like I said.”

  “I see.” Kate refused even to think of her own dangerous plans for tomorrow as she commented, “About moving down through the Cherokee land to the border?”

  “Yep. Most everyone’s planning on doing that, on going down early.”

  Kate nodded, knowing she planned to do the same thing … if she lived that long. “I guess, um, you’ll be going with them?”

  He nodded, eyeing her, his expression quizzical. “That was the plan, Kate. You knew that.” Then he sobered. “There’s some talk going around about how some are sneaking in sooner than they’re supposed to and staking their claims before the official run.”

  Fearful disbelief—in her mind the land Cole had only this morning described to her was already hers—had Kate’s heart thumping leadenly. “But they can’t do that. It’s wrong. That land is mine.”

  Cole chuckled—the first time she’d heard him do so. But the sound of it said plain enough that he thought her an innocent. “Well, not yet. But try telling them that.”

  She tsked at that. “Won’t the army stop them?”

  Cole shrugged. “I expect so. If they see them. But there’re hundreds of miles of border all around that million acres, Kate. I imagine some will get through and get their land in an underhanded way.”

  Kate fell quiet, knowing she was planning on doing the same thing. Not going in earlier than the law permitted. But certainly her plan for getting her land on her own was underhanded, from Cole’s point of view. She swallowed, staring at him now as he leaned over to stoke the fire back to life. She tried not to notice how big, how strong, how intimidating he was. Her chest tightened, and she could only breathe through her open mouth. What a mess her life was. She’d give anything for someone with a calm mind to talk to, someone she could trust. Then she blinked, again seeing Cole sitting right here next to her. Wasn’t a woman supposed to be able to turn to her husband with her problems? Well, maybe so, but not in this case—

  “You’re awful quiet, Kate. What’s eating at you?”

  He’d been watching her again. Her eyes wide, Kate cast around desperately for a subject. “Tomorrow,” she came up with. “It’s, um, a big day … I suppose.”

  Reflected firelight had flames dancing in Cole’s eyes. It terrified Kate. He almost looked like a kind of scary imaginary monster, the kind mothers conjured up to frighten young children into behaving. Except this man wasn’t imaginary. He was all too real. And onto her, she was sure. He was playing a cat-and-mouse game with her, waiting for her to let her guard down, waiting for her to blurt the truth, tell him who she was … so he could kill her.

  He opened his mouth to speak. Terrified, Kate half expected brimstone to issue forth. But all he said was, “Nice evening, huh? Hear it won’t last, though. There’s talk of rain later.”

  Relieved, Kate exhaled sharply, then looked up and gasped for more air.

  Cole immediately put a hand to the small of her back. The warm, firm pressure of his touch did nothing to calm her. “You okay? You sick again?”

  “No. I’m not sick. I’m fine,” came her raspy answer.

  “You don’t sound fine,” Cole Youngblood—her husband—said.

  “Well, I am. I’m fine. I’d know if I was fine or not, wouldn’t I?” Kate froze, hearing the snappish tone in her voice, hearing her desperation. Had he picked up on it?

  Apparently so. Because there was only silence between them following her outburst. And Cole’s hand stayed where it was. Finally, he spoke. “Joey has a mighty interesting notion about why you might be getting sick like you did this morning.”

  “Does he?” Kate’s heart pounded like a racehorse coming down the home stretch.

  “Yep. He thinks you’re … well, going to have a baby.”

  “Me?” Kate feigned surprise, putting a hand to her chest. A shaking hand. “A baby? How funny. And what did you tell him?”

  Cole considered her for a moment and then moved his hand away from her back, resting it now atop his thigh as he turned, directing his gaze off into the night. “I told him that couldn’t be. That until today you didn’t have a husband. So you couldn’t be carrying a baby.” Then he leaned over, scooped up a tiny twig from off the ground, and gave his attention over to rubbing it slowly between his hands, hands that intimately knew the working end of a gun.

  He knows. Kate’s throat all but closed. She stared at his face under his Stetson. Shadows, planes, and angles. The curve of his cheekbone, the stark straightness of his nose, the firm set of his mouth. She was as good as dead. So why not tell him and get it over with? Because she just couldn’t do it, couldn’t go through with her own plan. The truth was, she was about as well equipped to take care of herself as Lydia was. So, once again, she changed her mind. “A woman,” she said into the quiet space between them, “doesn’t always have to have a husband to have a baby.”

  Cole’s hands stilled, then he edged them apart, wide enough for the twig to drop away and fall to the trampled grass of the ground. “No, I don’t expect she does,” he finally said, now looking her way, his black eyes boring into her soul. “But it was enough of an explanation for a seven-year-old boy.”

  Almost numb with fear, Kate still managed to nod assent. And then further tested the troubled waters with her next statement. “I wasn’t quite truthful with you earlier.”

  Cole chuckled … as if he’d known that all along, too. “Oh?”

  With her cheeks warming, Kate firmed her lips together. “Yes. Just now, over by the wagon, you asked me what I was looking for. I was looking for you.”

  “Is that so?” He tugged his Stetson off, ran a hand through his black hair, and then settled the hat atop his bent knee.

  Kate watched, fascinated despite herself. What he’d done seemed so intimate somehow, as if he’d taken off his shirt in front of her. He now turned to her, catching her staring at him. Embarrassed, not understanding her reaction to him—she’d been so sure, after Mr. Talmidge, that she’d never, ever want to see another man disrobing—she looked down at her hands folded in her lap.

  “Go on,” he urged. “You wanted to talk to me. About what?”

  Kate cut her gaze over to him. “I, um, wanted to speak with you about the children.”

  “The children. They behaving for you?”

  “Yes, they’re behaving just fine,” she rushed to tell him. “Like you said earlier, they’re good kids.”

  “Yes, they are. They’ve been through a lot, to be so young.” His jaw set, his expression hardened … and Kate felt certain, even though he hadn’t moved, that he’d locked a big hand around her throat and was squeezing. “I’d hate to see them go through any further upset, Kate. In fact, I’d probably do more than just hate it. A lot more.”

  The snapping twigs in the fire crackled. An owl asked whoo-whoo. And Kate stared silently at Cole. The words wouldn’t come. She knew what she wanted to say, what she needed to say, but her mouth wouldn’t form the words. And her heart, beating above where her unborn child was even now forming, wouldn’t allow her to speak the words that could cause her to lose her own life. She had more to think about, it reminded her with every beat, than her own self. More to protect than only Cole Youngblood’s—her husband’s—niece and two nephews. Her niece and nephews now.

  All of that meant she had to go through with her desperate plan, the one she’d come up with in the schooner. The one where she left.

  “What about the kids, Kate?” Cole prompted.

  “Um, yes. The kids. Well … it’s nothing.” Her decision made, her fate sealed, Kate braced her hands atop her knees and made as if to stand up. “Nothing that can’t wait until the morning. So I believe I’ll t
urn in now.” She levered herself up and stood there, looking down at Cole, at the man who had every legal right to tell her where she’d sleep tonight. Again her heart picked up its drumming beat. She feared he could hear it, could divine her thoughts … and would hold her to her vows.

  “Wait a minute.” He plucked up his Stetson and came to his booted feet in one smooth-muscled motion. A good six inches taller than she, and broad-shouldered enough to block the night, he held his hat in one hand and held her gaze with the sheer force of his own dark eyes. “If you’ll remember, I said I wanted to talk to you, too.”

  “That’s right. You did.” Kate twisted her fingers together nervously and stiffened her knees against a sudden urge to flee into the night. Aiding her urge was another gust of wind, with its captured leaves and dust, which flirted around her hem. “What about?”

  “About … today. Partially, anyway. About the justice of the peace. And our being married.”

  Kate licked at her suddenly dry lips. “Yes?”

  He edged his Stetson’s brim around in his hands, slowly turning the hat in a complete circle. “It appears that word has spread around the camp—most likely by those men in the land office—about us getting married. And me being who I am. And what with folks worried about you yesterday. Well, something like this, even with all the land-grab fever, is news.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “No, I didn’t suppose you had. But anyway, folks know. They might say something, like congratulations. Or they might not. I didn’t know how you’d feel about that. But still … I thought you should know.”

  Kate nodded, felt a smile tug at her mouth. He actually sounded shy. “Thank you. It’ll be okay, if they do. I’ll just smile, if you will.”

  He nodded and settled his Stetson back on his head, fitting it low on his brow. “I also wanted to talk to you about something else. About tonight’s sleeping arrangements.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Sleeping arrangements?” Kate finally choked out. Her worst nightmare come to life, even despite her earlier moments of attraction to Cole. Taking its place now were shock and fear and a flashback memory of New York and Mr. Talmidge. Kate put a shaking hand to her mouth and stared at Cole—her husband, a man with complete legal rights over her, no matter the nature of their private bargain. Finally she gathered her courage and challenged him. “It’s not that kind of a marriage. You know that. And you promised me.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Promised you what? I don’t know—”

  “Yes you do. You do know. This is a business arrangement between us. Nothing more. You’re not sleeping with me. Or doing anything else with me.” Kate had just realized, as well, that she’d never get away tonight if he were with her. And tomorrow would be too late. But right now, tomorrow was the least of her worries. Because this night’s implied intimacies ruled her growing panic. And had her stepping back, away from the gunslinger just then bracing his legs, settling into his stance, and facing her.

  “I know our arrangement. You don’t have to spell out the particulars for me.” Cole’s expression could have been cast in stone. “I’m talking about the weather, the wind coming up just now. It’s getting cooler, and there’s talk of rain. I was thinking of moving the boys into the covered schooner with you and Lydia. That’s all. I meant no disrespect to you.”

  The boys. He means the boys. Nothing more. Relief washed over Kate. She took a deep breath and turned away, fighting the weakening in her knees. Putting aside her added worry about getting away tonight in the rain, if it came to that, she said, over her shoulder, “I’m sorry. I spoke before I thought.”

  “No harm done,” he said from behind her. And then, more quietly, “I wouldn’t force myself on you, Kate. Or any other woman.”

  Kate’s breath caught. She pivoted, turning to face him. “I didn’t think you would. It’s not you. Not that you’re not.…” Desirable. She couldn’t say that. “Not that you … It’s me. I can’t—I won’t—”

  “I said it’s okay. No harm done.”

  She took another breath, rubbed at her forehead, felt awful—for him and for herself—and then met his gaze. Black and glittering, it almost took away her nerve. “Where … um, where will you sleep … if it starts to rain?”

  Silence met her words. Then, his voice quiet, his gaze steady, he asked, “You worried about me?”

  Kate stiffened, began fiddling with her fingers. “Well, no. I mean, yes. I mean, you’re a grown man and all. But still, I—”

  He held up a hand to stop her. “Don’t worry about me. I know how to find dry ground.” Then he looked her up and down. “Unless you just want me to sleep in the wagon with you. Do you?”

  Intense discomfort, on more than one level, tore at Kate’s insides. For one thing, she didn’t want to trip over the man in the dark as she stole his horse and money. But she also knew that wasn’t the only reason she’d asked where he would spend a rainy night. Surprisingly, she did care. She did feel bad about him possibly taking a drenching while she and the children slept high and dry in the wagon … when there was room for one more. But she’d be darned if she could bring herself to suggest it. She just couldn’t, married or not, caring or not. Thinking all this, she shook her head no—

  “I didn’t think so.” His expression mirrored some emotion … disappointment? “Just help me with the boys. Or I can get them, if you’ll untie that canvas flap for me.”

  Kate nodded, glad for the suggested activity. Doing was better than thinking. Feeling as if she walked on surer ground now, she started for the wagon. “I’ll do that and then get them a place ready. Give me a minute to move some things around.”

  But Cole stepped to her side, keeping pace with her … instead of heading for the buckboard. “Let me help. There’re some mighty heavy things in that wagon.”

  The last thing she wanted was Cole Youngblood that close to her in the narrow confines of the wagon. A protest came to her lips, but before she could get out the words, Cole surprised her by chuckling and shaking his head. “I have to give Mack Anderson—he was my sister’s husband—his due. I was certain he didn’t intend to come back for my sister and the kids. But with all this evidence here—everything a body would need to stake a claim and then build on it—I have to rethink the man. Because I swear Mack brought everything that wasn’t nailed down.”

  Kate chuckled, completely disarmed by this personal insight he’d shared with her. Caught up in the moment, she heard herself say, “Well, I’m glad he did bring everything. I’m going to need it all to make me a place to live.”

  Too late, Kate caught her slip. Her expression fell. She’d said me, not us, not her and the kids. Just her alone, once she slipped away tonight. Never mind that she wouldn’t have access to or be using any of the building materials that Mack Anderson had brought. Cole Youngblood didn’t know that, either. Nor was she going to tell him. But would he notice her slip-up? He sure as shooting noticed every other thing she said and did.

  But luck was with her. Because Cole didn’t react, not that she could discern. Maybe he was lost in some thought of his own. Which proved to be true when he suddenly stopped and gripped Kate’s arm, startling her and stopping her with him. As instantly as he’d gripped her arm, he released her and put his hands to his waist. “I hadn’t thought about that. Damn. How are you and three kids going to build a place to live? Do you even know how to do that? How to construct a house? Even a one-room one, Kate?”

  Before she could think, she shook her head no. An honest response. And the wrong one. She knew it instantly. Just as she knew he’d have no reason, after tonight, to worry about sticking around to build her a cabin. Because she wasn’t taking the kids or the wagon. No, come tomorrow, he’d still have both. And she’d have his name, his horse, and most of his money. The only thing, then, he’d want to build for her—if he found her—was a scaffolding with a hangman’s noose swinging from it. But he didn’t know any of that, so she either had to say, yes, she did want
his help. Or come up with a darned good reason why she didn’t. And all that without giving away the truth. “We’ll be fine, I expect. I can—”

  “Like hell.” Then he stood there, silent and shaking his head. Kate had only long enough to note the agitated outline of his body before he added, “I can’t leave you like that, with only a wagon to live in. You need a decent place to keep yourself and those kids.”

  “No I don’t. I mean, yes I do. But I really think I can make do—”

  “No. It’s settled. I’ll stay and build you a decent place.”

  Kate licked at her dry lips. “What about your cousin?”

  Cole’s expression mirrored confusion. “My cousin? What…?”

  “Your cousin. Remember? You’re going to go find her and then take the kids to her? That’s what you should be concentrating on. You don’t know how long that will take you. And I don’t think the kids should be with me all that much longer, but they would if you stick around to build a cabin before you go hunt for her. Because I’ll only come to care more and more for Joey, Willy, and Lydia. And them for me. And then, come several months later”—when my condition is obvious—“you’ll come back and cart them off, with all of us crying.” She was babbling and knew it and had to stop. “And who wants to see that?”

  There. She’d gotten it all out. While she concentrated on breathing after all that talking, he blinked and looked … bewildered. Because of her speech? Or because he’d forgotten that he’d told her he meant to hunt for his cousin? Kate had to wonder if this woman even existed. And that was Kate’s original fear with him, that’d he’d hightail it out of here and never come back. A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. “You are still going to go find her, aren’t you?”

  Cole’s gaze suddenly narrowed, his expression firmed. “I am. But not until after I see you settled in safely. There’s a hot summer right around the corner. You need to have shelter and a good supply of food laid in before then.” As if his pronouncement alone settled it, he set off again for the schooner.