Prairie Song

by Cheryl Anne Porter

  Kate bowed her head and swore right then that from here on out, she’d be the best and most loving mother and fierce caretaker of everything in her keeping that she could be. She had to be, she felt, or maybe they too would be taken away from her. She looked up, feeling the tightness in her chest, like iron bands wrapping around her and constricting her breathing. If that happened, if she lost one more thing she held dear, well, then, she wasn’t sure she’d want to live. As if hearing her own maudlin tone, Kate rushed to assure herself that she wasn’t being an overwrought miss, by any means. Just a practical one.

  After all, if she couldn’t even hold on to one tiny thing that mattered to her, if she continued to lose everything and everyone who did matter, if she was never right, no matter how good and kind she tried to be, well then, maybe she just didn’t know how to live. It was really that simple. And that hard. Because sometimes, it seemed to her, certain folks just didn’t make it. They got eaten up by their troubles and never seemed to recover. They just dried up and blew away in a wind very much like the one blowing now. Was she one of those lost people? she wondered. Or could she go on?

  She had no idea. She just figured that the day-to-day living would bear out her fate. And her measure of toughness. Kate paused there a moment in her thoughts. She’d never thought of herself as tough. That word, to her, seemed more likely to fit someone like Cole. Kate smiled. Cole. He was such a good man. Before he’d ridden off for the border, he’d given her strict orders to stay here and stay hidden until he got back. He’d then handed over his rifle to her and had even shown her how to fire the weapon. Her arms still hurt from the rifle’s weight. She hadn’t proven very good with firearms, but Cole had told her if worst came to worst, just aim and shoot. It’d make an impression on anyone threatening her, he’d assured her.

  Also before he left, as he’d sat atop his roan and had looked down at her—surrounded by three kids and an old hound dog—he had told her again that he loved her. Just right out loud and in front of them all. The boys had gasped in embarrassed surprise and Willy had poked at Joey until Cole had told him to settle down. With Lydia wrapped around her legs and caught off guard like she’d been, Kate had lowered her gaze to the ground … and nodded. That was all. A nod. She hadn’t known what to say. He’d quickly covered the awkward silence by telling them all to stay put and that he’d be back as soon as he could.

  Kate took the time now to think about her feelings. Did she love Cole Youngblood … her husband? She did. His nearness made her yearn for his touch—and she’d never thought, after Edgar Talmidge, that she’d ever want a man to touch her again. But she did. She wanted Cole’s touch on her skin, his kiss on her mouth … and only his. The truth was, she wanted nothing more than to be able to lie in his arms for the rest of her natural days. She wanted every morning and every night to hear his words, his voice … they were music to her ears. And his laughter healed her.

  Yes, she loved him. But she couldn’t afford to allow herself to be taken over by her love for him. Because he didn’t intend to stay with her once her home was built. A stab of pain knifed through Kate’s heart. Of late, she reflected, her life had been about losing—everything and everyone she loved. Especially Cole. It was plain to see that his home was his saddle. And his comfort was his gun. She knew that and had no reason—his professed feelings for her aside—to believe that he’d stay forever. And that being so, saying those three words aloud to him and thereby making them even more real and hurtful to live with once he was gone from her life—well, it just made no sense.

  Exhaling her cares and woes, as well as her thoughts of Cole, Kate focused on the moment and all its problems. Looking about and turning slightly, she hit her foot against something. Looking down, she saw the loaded rifle she’d laid beside her on the spongy ground when she’d come up here for a few minutes by herself. She certainly hoped she didn’t have occasion to use the gun today. It seemed to her that she’d lived through enough excitement and horror in the past two weeks to last her a lifetime. So hopefully today would come and go without a hitch, and by this evening, she and Cole and the kids and Kitty would be resting on her land.

  Her land. It was hers—despite its also being in Cole’s name and despite him being the one to actually make the run. And yes, she painted a pretty picture in her head of how it would be, she knew that. But the truth was that as the day wore on, she hardly cared if it rained or shined. She hardly cared if Cole got the land for her or not. She’d said she cared. She’d told him the land meant everything to her. And it did. Or it would … later. But not today. No, today—on a morning already too full of loss—all she wanted to do was lie down and cry and think about her baby. But if she did that, if she began crying, she feared she’d never be able to stop.

  Just then, the mid-morning April breeze blew cool and lifted the long hair off Kate’s neck and shoulders. Its kiss felt strangely like a warning and made her shiver. Heeding it, and recalling Cole’s warning to be on the lookout for Edgar Talmidge, she again looked all about her. But nothing out of the ordinary met her eye. She hadn’t expected it would … because poor old beat-up Kitty wasn’t barking. When he was quiet, all was well. Still, Kate chastised herself for relying solely on the hound as her beacon.

  Because hadn’t she only just counted, among her responsibilities, remaining vigilant over these three kids, four mules, and one ornery hound dog? That Kitty, I swear. Kate said a silent thank-you that, mercifully, Kitty sported only a lump on his head but no other injuries from his attempt to protect her yesterday. Today he seemed fine. Kate wished she could say the same thing about herself.

  No. No feeling sorry for myself. I need to be more like Kitty and not think of myself. I need to stand prepared to do whatever it takes to keep us all together and to let the children know they’re safe and loved. Hearing herself, Kate took a moment to bask in the rightness of that sentiment. It was a good way of thinking. She liked herself for thinking it. And thought maybe Charlotte Anderson would, too.

  A smile came to Kate’s face. She felt certain that she’d somehow formed a covenant between herself and Cole’s deceased sister. This filled her with a sense of wonder … and told her that perhaps all was not lost. Because Charlotte Anderson’s children were now hers, and in ways she hadn’t even understood until this morning’s … event. In ways she couldn’t even think about yet. Too much else was pressing in on her right now—in much the same way that her hand was pressing against her swollen belly, Kate belatedly realized. Evidently, while she’d been lost somewhere in her thoughts, a part of her mind had allowed her hand to stray there. My baby. Kate’s chin came up. She closed her eyes, slowly shaking her head … my baby. And wanted to die.

  Just then, a childish scream—Lydia’s—rent the air. Wrenched out of her sad reverie, Kate jerked around, looking down the back slope of the hill to where the children had been moments ago when she’d last checked on them. She expected to see one or the other of the brothers messing with the little girl. That always got a squeal out of Lydia—

  Kate gasped … and froze with fear. Her heart leapt painfully in her chest as a cold numbness seeped through her. Her warning for the boys died on her lips. She lowered her hand.

  At the base of the hill stood Edgar Talmidge … with a howling Lydia clutched tightly in his arms. Next to him, holding the reins of their two horses, stood his driver, a surly, rough-looking fellow who, Kate knew firsthand, had no qualms about his employer’s underhanded goings-on. Yesterday, more than once, he’d been pleased to handle Kate roughly.

  “Good morning, Kate,” Edgar Talmidge called out to her, a triumphant yet conniving smile on his face, even as he fought to keep a hold on the crying and protesting Lydia. “Did you sleep well last night after murdering my wife?”

  Kate licked at her lips, felt her chest tighten. Edgar Talmidge looked plumb crazy. All wild and dirty, much as if he’d spent the night in the woods, perhaps digging a grave with his own hands. While one part of Kate’s mind paid strict attent
ion to the danger that he posed, another part insisted on running through a litany of fearful concerns that crowded her consciousness. Where are the boys? Where’s Kitty? Why didn’t he bark? What’s Mr. Talmidge done with them? Kate, pick up the gun. Use it—no, be careful. He might shoot you before you can pick it up. Watch out for Lydia. I can’t shoot at them. I might miss and hit the baby. Oh, Cole, where are you?

  Spurred by Lydia’s cries, and by all her worries, Kate lurched forward … toward her hated and very dangerous enemy. But his driver instantly pulled his gun and trained it on Kate. She stopped, afraid of what he’d do, afraid he might choose to shoot one of the children instead of her. Kate cut her gaze back to Mr. Talmidge. With his arms wrapped around Lydia, he looked as threatening as a big poisonous snake.

  “Let her go,” Kate called out. “You’ve got no quarrel with her. Just put her down and leave her be.” She couldn’t believe the calm steadiness of her own voice—or the pleading note that came into it with her next words. “She’s just a baby.”

  Mr. Talmidge smiled … an evil sight, to be sure. “A baby, huh?” He turned the scared and sniffling little girl about in his arms, looking her over as if he’d not realized it before now. “I believe you’re right, Kate,” he called out, again directing his gaze up the hill to where she stood. “I came here to get a baby. And look … now I have one. Imagine that.”

  He means to keep Lydia. Fright burst through Kate, weakening her knees. Fighting it, she fisted her hands, digging her nails into her palms. “I said let her be. It’s me you want. Not her. Just put her down.”

  As she watched—and agonized over her own helplessness, even with such a powerful rifle so close at hand—Edgar Talmidge, a bearishly thick man of light coloring, again held Lydia out at arm’s length and looked the little girl up and down. Kate feared he meant to dash the crying child to the ground. Over my dead body, he will, she thought … as she surreptitiously eyed the rifle at her feet.

  A metallic click—a trigger hammer being pulled back—accompanied the driver’s called-out warning to her. “Don’t even think it, missy. I see you looking at that gun up there with you.”

  Kate tensed, meeting the gunman’s gaze. His eyes were shaded by his floppy-brimmed hat. But Kate remembered from yesterday that his eyes were watery blue and empty-looking, much as if he had no soul. He wouldn’t care what he did or who he shot, she believed, because he had nothing to forfeit to the devil. “That’s a smart girl,” he said. “Now keep your hands where I can see them.” He then turned to his boss. “Go ahead, Mr. Talmidge. Say your piece.”

  “Thank you, Hedges,” Mr. Talmidge responded … as if this were a drawing room and they were all polite society. He then turned to Kate. “Now, Kate. At last, it’s just me and you. Like old times, isn’t it?”

  A surge of hatred swept through Kate. “There never was a me and you,” she told him. “Never. There was only you taking from me. And I’m not going to let you do it again.”

  Looking at him now, watching the effect of her words on him and even seeing his expression harden, Kate wondered why she’d ever been afraid of him. Because suddenly she wasn’t. In fear’s place, a murderous hatred now coursed through her, a hatred that meant his death—if she got even half a chance.

  “You’re not going to let me?” His chuckle rang derisively. “I don’t need your permission, Kate. The Talmidges take what we want. You should know that by now. Especially since it’s my seed already growing in your belly.”

  Leaving Kate to seethe in her helplessness, Edgar Talmidge turned his attention to Lydia and wiped at her tears as they coursed down her cheeks. He cooed some quiet words at the baby … words that didn’t quite reach Kate. Words that didn’t succeed in quieting the child.

  Kate’s breath caught. To have that man’s hands on this child almost killed her. No doubt, he’d made the gesture to prove to Kate that he still had the upper hand … because he still held Lydia. The message wasn’t lost on Kate. Her chest constricted with fear for the little girl. Just then, Lydia shoved Edgar Talmidge’s hand away from her face and shrieked, “No. I don’t want you. I want Kate. Her’s my mommy.”

  She called me mommy. Kate’s heart nearly tripped over itself. She looked at the girl’s red contorted face as she renewed her struggles against her captor. She expected Edgar Talmidge to be angry and insulted. But instead of frowning, he was grinning at Lydia. An illness engulfed Kate. She’d been right. He meant to keep her. Oh, dear God. She had to do something—and now. Divert his attention somehow. “Where are the boys? What did you do with them?”

  Mr. Talmidge shifted Lydia in his arms—the little girl fisted her hands and rubbed at her eyes while sobbing quietly—and exchanged a glance with his driver, who looked this way and that around the campsite. Then Edgar Talmidge turned to Kate. “Boys, Kate? I assure you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  For some reason, Kate believed him. Relief coursed through her. The boys were okay. But where were they? Had they wandered off and didn’t know what was going on? She immediately rejected that. In the time that had elapsed between her last check on them and Lydia’s scream, they couldn’t have wandered far enough away not to have heard their sister’s piercing yell. Perhaps, having a good hold on Kitty, they were hiding and watching. If so, Kate hoped they stayed hidden. The last thing she needed was three children being held captive.

  “But that brings up a fascinating point, Kate. Tell me something,” Edgar called out, jerking her out of her fearful thoughts. “Tell me about this fascinating ability of yours to attract children to you. How do you do that?” When Kate didn’t answer him, he let her know his displeasure. “What’s the matter, Kate? You don’t feel like talking to me? Maybe the cat’s got your tongue.”

  Kate swallowed, feeling a trickle of sweat run down her back. She focused on her enemy now, knowing the moment drew nearer when she’d have to risk everything—or lose it all. “Nothing’s got my tongue, Mr. Talmidge,” she finally called out as she started down the hill … slowly putting one foot in front of the other. She divided her attention between the man she hated most in the world and his armed henchman, who still had his six-shooter trained on her—and could at any moment pull the trigger. “I’m coming down now. And I’m leaving the gun where it is in the grass. I’ll go with you—”

  “No, Miss Kate! Don’t do it. Don’t go with him!”

  Horrified, Kate lurched to a stop and jerked around. Behind her, not twenty feet away, stood Joey at the top of the hill. Willy, wide-eyed and struggling, was next to his older brother and had his arms wrapped around Kitty’s neck. For his part, Kitty strained and jerked against the boy’s hold on him and snarled in the direction of Mr. Talmidge—who held the dog’s beloved Lydia. They must have crawled through the underbrush and then skirted the hill to get behind me, Kate thought.

  Before she could move or say a word, Joey did the most heart-stopping thing Kate could have imagined. He grabbed up Cole’s rifle, hefted it to his shoulder, and cocked it. Gasping in fear because she knew that all the men standing below her had to do was move over a few feet and Joey would be their target, not her, Kate stretched out a hand to the armed little boy and yelled, “Joey, no!”

  “Get down, Miss Kate,” he yelled right back. “I mean it. I aim to shoot that man holding on to my sister.”

  “Joey, for God’s sake, put the gun down!” Kate grabbed up her skirt, meaning to run up the hill toward the boy. But her legs didn’t seem to work right. With her muscles locking and burning, she fell down on her stomach. Pain surged through her, but Kate’s only thought was for the boys. Dear God, help me, she cried out in her mind. Don’t let me lose these children, too. She struggled to her feet and again held out a cautionary hand to Joey. Even though sheer terror for all of them coursed bone-deep through her, she noticed her hand wasn’t shaking in the least. Could it be that her prayer had been heard?

  She had to believe that it had. Anything else was unthinkable. And so, she gained in strength and c
almness—a calm that allowed her to talk rationally to the scared but brave little boy trying to defend his family. “Listen to me, Joey. I want you to think about something. How would you feel if you missed him and accidentally shot Lydia?”

  With the rifle held steadily at his shoulder, Joey sighted down its length, his black eyes never wavering from his intended target. “I ain’t about to miss and hit Lydia. Now, get out of my way, Miss Kate.”

  Kate licked at her dry lips and shook her head. “No, Joey. I’m not going to do that. I can’t.”

  Joey exhaled sharply. “Why not?” he wanted to know.

  Kate wrestled for the right words, even as she wondered why the two armed men behind her were so quiet, why they hadn’t already killed the lot of them. What were they waiting for? Then, with blinding clarity, it came to her. They didn’t shoot now for the same reason that Edgar Talmidge, after hiring a killer to end her life, had apparently changed his mind and come out here himself to stop Cole from killing her. This greedy man, with his father dying and his wife dead, desperately needed Kate’s baby to inherit his money. Therefore, he still needed Kate alive. Although not these three children.

  Kate exhaled, felt the day’s growing warmth and her strength’s steady waning. She looked into Joey’s black eyes—so like his uncle’s—and knew she had to find the right words to convince him to put the gun down. Those words, she knew, would have to be the hardest ones of all, the words from her heart. “Joey, honey, I won’t get out of your way so you can kill that man. I can’t.”

  His frown said he didn’t like her answer at all. “Why not?”

  “Because, Joey … because I love you. It’s that simple. And I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. But it could if you don’t put that gun down right now.” He didn’t move. The rifle didn’t even waver. Kate swallowed, felt the renewed pounding of her heart. “Please, Joey? I’m asking you to do this for me.”