“No. No. I … I just want to leave.”
His gaze took on a hard glint. “You just suddenly want to leave. And you want me to run with you like a whipped cur with his tail between his legs.”
Anger shook his voice. Laine realized she had gone about this all wrong. But she was a woman fighting for her man’s life even if he was too blind to see that.
“Matt, I know you are not a coward. But last night you became my lover. That gives me the right to want to see you safe. Away from here. Away from men who want to kill you.” Her hand curved over her belly. “What if there’s a child?”
The idea stunned him. He’d been so lost in her, he never gave thought to what he’d always been so careful to prevent.
“Is that what this is all about? You know it won’t make a bit of difference to me. I asked you to marry me. But you know Laine, that works both ways. I’ve asked you three times what’s wrong, and you haven’t answered me.”
The mutinous set of her mouth told him he was beating a dead horse to pursue this.
“All right, Laine. We’ll do it your way. I guess I was wrong to think you trusted me. You pack. I’ll tend to the stock. But remember, being your lover and soon to be husband gives me rights too. Don’t ever forget that. I sure as hell won’t.”
He walked outside, hands clenched into fists, and headed for the lean-to. “Sugar to sludge, hell,” he muttered. “This one went all the way to the manure pile.”
Matt stood and stared at the offending pile of droppings and soiled straw that Tater had mucked out. When the garden went dormant, this would be spread on the soil, wet down and turned into the soil. His father believed feeding the land made for a richer yield. If a man had land enough, he could allow fields to lay fallow for a season.
But land and crops weren’t his problem.
Laine was.
There was no question she’d been frightened yesterday after Claiborne left. But then she came to him last night, shy, yes, but that was expected. Then she was eager. The images piled up, one after the other, until he shook his head repeatedly as if that would clear his mind. It didn’t do a bit of good. And he needed clear thinking if he intended to find out what she was hiding.
Maybe he should have kept her with him, the way she wanted. But he worried about Rachel and Tater’s reactions. He’d put no shame on his woman if he could help it.
When he had carried her back to the cabin, they had kissed and kissed until neither could breathe. It was as hard for her to go inside as it was for him to let her go.
Matt rubbed the muscles corded at the back of his neck to relieve the tension seizing hold of him. What the hell had he said?
He had to get his priorities in order. How could any man know what was in a woman’s mind? Everything had been so clear; now it was muddy as swamp water.
He glanced back toward the cabin. What was Laine thinking?
Laine stood where he left her. Matt didn’t understand that a woman wanted to protect those she loved as fiercely as a man needed to do it.
Had she the right to keep secrets from him about what had happened to his home? Even if her intentions were good?
Laine rubbed her forehead, willing the pain to go.
To confess would send Matt riding for his home. And when he saw the violent, senseless destruction he’d go gunning for the men who did it.
Alone.
As she would once more be.
It shamed her to have such a selfish thought.
Weighed against Matt’s life, she didn’t care.
She went looking for Rachel. She would get all the cooperation she needed. Rachel would have her wish to leave here, even if she’d have to wait to celebrate her birthday.
It was a tired, somber group that came together in late afternoon for a quick meal.
Matt took one look at the pile of belongings waiting. He didn’t say a word. But even at her most stubborn, Laine knew one mule was not packing that load away from here.
There was cornmeal-fried fish, rice and beans, sweet potato biscuits, salad greens, and a pitcher of mint tea.
Matt glanced again at the pile. Laine and Rachel had worked hard and still managed a fine meal. With the lanterns lit the room had a cozy glow. Matt was reminded of his first supper here. A protective urge swept over him. His woman and soon-to-be brother and sister to care for. Nothing else truly mattered.
“Matt, Laine said when we get to Fort Worth, I can have my own horse.”
“That’s right, Tater. You’ll need one.” He was thinking about the two horses Laine owned. They had age against them. Both needed new shoes. Another delay, for he would have to go to the settlement’s livery to get that chore done. But he could pick up at least two mules and those big army saddlebags from the mercantile.
It was quiet for long minutes as plates were filled and hungry appetites were appeased.
Laine had trouble swallowing. Matt was still angry with her. He hadn’t once looked at her, or addressed one word to her. She knew withholding what she knew was as bad as lying to him. How could two people who had shared what they had be on opposite sides?
Your fault.
Yes, it was. And somehow she would manage the guilt. But there was no denying how much it hurt.
Matt enjoyed his meal for the simple reason that it would be a long while before he saw its like. But he knew he had to tackle the problems facing him before the night was over.
He debated waiting until he got Laine alone or just bringing it up now.
Laine took the decision from him. She took him off his high horse, too. She was so sweetly reasonable, he had to grit his teeth to keep quiet.
“No matter how hard Rachel and I tried to sort what was needed as opposed to what was wanted, we ended with too much for one mule to carry. Even if,” she pointed out with an apologetic smile, “Rachel and Tater ride double, the additional horse won’t be enough. We’ll need to stop at the livery and see what’s available. I still have money left from the sale of the cattle.”
“I agree.” Those two words cost him. He had to swallow hard to keep the rest back. But it rankled that she’d implied he couldn’t provide a few lousy mules for them to take whatever the devil they wanted!
Laine caught the tightening of his jaw, the glint of fire in his hazel eyes, the clenched fingers gripping his fork.
Tater saved her before she opened her mouth.
“If we go now, Matt, we could be back before dark.”
“We?”
“Sure. I gotta go with you. How am I gonna learn to pick out good stock if I don’t? When it’s time to get my horse, I wanna know what I’m doing.”
“Your logic is just like your sister’s. Makes me feel smothered in honey at every turn.”
“Huh?”
Laine glared at Matt.
“When you’re older, Tater, I’ll explain.”
“Oh, another later answer. But can I go?”
“Yeah. I need new shoes for the horses, so saddle one for yourself, unless your sister objects.”
“Laine?”
“Go.” She smiled at her brother. She would never knowingly put Tater in danger. Her brother was as good a protective guard as could be found. No matter what Matt learned, he’d never endanger Tater. If he found out what had happened, that first flush of rage would be tempered by time. Maybe. If her prayers were answered, he would leave here without seeking revenge.
Watching Matt and Tater ride away, she was gripped by fear. She almost ran after them.
“Laine, we still need to sort Papa’s trunk.”
“Coming.” Dear Lord, watch over them.
Matt set a hard pace to the settlement. Tater barely managed to keep up. It was a test of sorts. An unfair one, Matt admitted to himself, but necessary. He didn’t have the luxury of time.
There wasn’t even a horse hitched in front of the saloon when they pulled up at the livery. Matt didn’t know the man who came out from the shad
owed interior. He dismounted, untied Apple’s reins as Tater swung down and led Goober beside his stablemate.
“Howdy. Horses need shoeing. Be obliged if you can do it now.”
Matt stilled his impatience while the gray-haired, wiry man sized him up.
“Owner says you got to pay with Yankee dollars or gold.”
“I can pay.”
“Saying it don’t make it so, mister. You being a stranger and all.”
Matt was so conscious of Tater watching his every move and listening to every word that he bit back a sharp reply. He reached into his shirt pocket.
“How much? Wait. I’ll need a couple of mules. Last time I was here there were four of them.”
“Those are gone. Got two. Ain’t the best stock, but I seen worse in my time. Got a gelding, too. Gaunted some. Nothing good feed won’t cure. They’re in the corral out back.”
“Let’s go, Tater.” Blueboy followed Matt eagerly. He knew the smell of a stable. This is where he got grain. But Matt tugged him along until they stood out back.
Tater ran for the corral pole fence. He climbed to the top rail, watching the brown gelding tear into a flake of hay like he couldn’t remember his last meal.
So began Tater’s lesson on what to look for. The boy’s excitement was catching. Love shone from his eyes when he stood by the gelding’s head, rubbing his nose and chattering to him. Matt performed his own examination. The horse was about five years old. Matt ran his hands over his legs and body. The hostler hadn’t lied. Grain would fill him out. He had a placid nature, was built on the small side, just right for a boy’s first horse.
“Matt?”
“Let’s see what kind of a deal we can cut.”
“If we buy him … can I … I mean, can I name him?”
“That’s usually how it works.”
Matt was set for some hard bargaining, but to his surprise the man quoted a fair price.
“Fifty for the gelding and fifty for the two mules. Took them off a farmer heading west. Just eating their heads off. To sweeten the deal, I’ll throw in shoeing your horses for the hundred dollars.”
Tater’s eyes widened at the price. To him this was a fortune. Laine had taught him about money. He didn’t say a word, but his heart was breaking, so sure it was too much for Matt to pay.
“The sorry condition of that gelding puts his price about twenty-five.”
“He’s strong enough to carry the boy.”
“Throw in a saddle and bridle and we’ve got a deal.”
The man gave him a sour look but held out his hand.
“Matt?”
“So what are you naming him?”
“He’s really mine?”
The boy’s hug nearly took Matt off his feet. He ruffled Tater’s hair before he counted out the money. All but the last twenty.
“You get that when I get back from the mercantile.”
Tater cast a longing look toward the far corral, but went along with Matt. He was full of questions, which Matt answered as they walked to the store.
Larson shot him a startled look when he entered the mercantile. “Didn’t expect to see you still around, Matt?”
“Why’s that?” Matt wasn’t paying attention. He had his eyes on the packsaddles he wanted. “How much, Larson?”
“Ten dollars each. Those are army packs. Good sturdy saddles. Roomy, too.”
Matt pulled out four of them. With his mule they’d each have a pack animal.
“Larson, you know everyone hereabout. Know of any mules for sale?”
“Not offhand. Most folks leave with all their stock. But what do you need with four packs? Wouldn’t figure you’d have anything left that couldn’t fit into a saddlebag.”
Matt yanked harder than necessary on a pair of nearly new saddlebags. He burned to demand what the devil the old man was talking about. He felt Larson’s eyes on him. Calm, he warned himself. Just stay calm.
“Here, Tater, take these to the counter. Canteens still in back?”
“Third shelf up. Guess you’re planning on leaving, son.”
Tater shrugged. He didn’t like the look on Matt’s face that came after Larson’s last remark.
“Got any slickers?” Matt called out.
“Nary a one. Got to go up to Cedar Bend for those.”
Matt came to the counter with three canteens. “Total the damage.”
Larson scribbled. “Forty-six fifty. Guess you’re not riding out alone.”
“Guess not.” Matt counted out the money. He spotted the candy sticks. “And fifty cents’ worth of those.”
“I want you to know I was real sorry to hear, Matt. Knew your pa. He’d built a fine house.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“The fire.” Larson caught the fire in Matt’s eyes. He swallowed and took a few hurried steps back. “Where have you been? We could see the smoke from here. Must’ve burned all day.”
And then he knew what Laine had hid from him. But how? How could she know? Yet nothing else made sense.
“Like I said, I’m real sorry.”
“Yeah. Me, too. I’ll be back for the packsaddles. Let’s go, boy.”
“Ain’t you gonna ask who done it?”
“Already know who.”
With the canteen strap slung over his chest, Tater grabbed hold of the saddlebags, the other two canteens, and the thick paper twist of candy. He had to run to keep up with Matt.
“Did they really burn your house?”
Matt turned a look so forbidding on Tater that the boy stopped in his tracks. It took him a few moments to realize the look wasn’t for him.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m not running like a whipped cur with his tail between his legs.”
But Matt could do nothing while he had Tater with him. No wonder Laine didn’t fuss over his coming to the settlement. She knew what he’d find out. She knew he wouldn’t put her brother in any danger.
She knew.
What else had she done? Demanding that they immediately leave. Rushing around, wanting to go. She knew, all right.
Matt stopped dead. Last night? Was that part of her deceit?
Chapter Eighteen
Just past dusk, Laine saw Tater ride in, leading two mules and their horses.
“Where’s Matt?”
“Gone by now. He saw me safe across the swamp. Said he’d be back in the morning to see us to Fort Worth.”
“See us there?”
“That’s what he said. So what do you think about my horse? Matt bought him for me. I got my own canteen and saddlebags, too. I’m calling him Little Blue. Matt said that was fine with him. Blueboy even nickered, so I guess he didn’t mind none.”
Laine stared at the empty path. Matt! she cried.
The only reason why he wouldn’t come back was he that he knew. For nothing. All of it was for nothing. She should have told him.
This time he was more prepared for the fire that had destroyed his home. But the rest? It was vicious, senseless ruin. The fields he had labored and dreamed over to plow and plant had been ripped as if a drunken hand on the plow guided an equally drunk mule. Nothing, anywhere he looked was still living.
He tore down the sign naming him a traitor. He was about to smash it when he thought better of the idea. He knew how and when to use that sign.
Matt felt a raging anger, but sadness overtook it. Sadness and sickness.
And if his Laine saw the wanton destruction, he could understand her wanting to hide this from him.
He could understand that protective need.
But he wasn’t ready to forgive what she had done.
Dawn broke the night with a pink blush sky and the cooing of doves. This was the last morning Laine would watch the sun rise over the lake. She shivered in the last of the night’s chill. Everything they could take was packed. Rachel had stripped t
he garden. It was a sad sight now.
She walked around the cabin, touching the logs, saying her silent goodbye to the home her father had provided for them and that she had struggled to keep.
But all the while she was straining to hear Matt’s arrival.
The sky tinted to hues of lilac and pale blue. She smiled to think they would have good weather. A good omen to a new beginning. Capt. Tate came to her side, padding silently as she continued her walk. She had come to appreciate the dog. When he took off for the thicket, she didn’t call him back; he’d return soon enough.
She really shouldn’t linger. There were last minute items to pack, canteens to fill, a last walk through the cabin.
It was hard to keep her mood positive, her thoughts from dwelling on the fear that Matt wouldn’t come. She squared her shoulders. There wasn’t a choice. She had to face him or go on alone.
She came around the corner and almost screamed.
Hartly Oakes had entered the cabin.
With a wild-eyed gaze she searched for others, or for his horse. Nothing. And her gun was hanging on the wall peg behind the door.
Slowly, Laine backed to the woodpile. She hefted a piece of split wood. The axe was already packed. Trying hard to be quiet, Laine went to the open door, wishing the dog was here.
Hartly was bent over the pile of packs just as Rachel came from her room. She froze when she saw him stand tall.
“What … what are you doing here?” Rachel felt like a cornered fawn caught in a thicket with the hunter too close. She saw Laine creep up behind him. “I asked,” she demanded loudly, “what you’re doing here?”
Laine launched her blow at his head. Some sound made him half turn, and she hit his shoulder with all the force she could muster. He made a one-handed grab for the wood. Laine saw the gun in his hand.
“Rachel, run!”
She danced out of Hartly’s reach, ready to swing at him again. He turned to fully face her. Laine moved back, hoping he would follow.
The Homecoming Page 15
