He grinned and shook his head. “Well, then, that gives me a lot of options, doesn’t it?” he quipped.
Addy wanted to hit him for constantly confusing her emotions. Now he was being sarcastic, probably still angry for the way she had talked to him that morning after … One minute she felt she could almost love him, the next she hated him. One minute she thought there was some goodness left in him, the next he seemed as wild and worthless as the day she met him in the bank. One minute she felt sorry for him because of his little girl, the next she wanted to scream at him that turning to outlaw ways was not the answer. He drank and whored and gambled and robbed, yet he had saved her life twice now, and he had taken her on a journey into womanhood she would not soon forget.
Damn him! Why hadn’t he simply gone to Indian Territory in the first place, or stayed in Abilene? Twice she had primed herself to simply forget about Nick Coleman, then Cole Parker. Now here he was again, disturbing her heart and her ability to think straight. “Aren’t you too warm in that duster?”
He clicked the rifle shut and began loading cartridges into it, taking them from a pocket of the long duster. “Some. I’ll take it off in a minute. I like wearing it when I ride. Keeps the trail dust from dirtying up my clothes. When you have to pretty much stay in the same shirt and pants for days at a time, it helps to wear something to keep them from getting any dirtier than necessary. If you rode the open trail as much as I do—”
He stopped short, sitting up straighter, his blue eyes squinting as he watched the horizon. “Here they come. Get inside.”
Addy obeyed, and Cole followed. He closed and bolted the door. “They’re coming for their dead and wounded. I hope that’s the only thing they’re after.”
“Oh, no!” Jeanette crouched into a corner, and Rebecca and Addy both moved against the wall.
“Let’s hope coming for their wounded keeps them occupied enough to let old Orum get to the next station,” George told Cole.
Cole moved to the window and leveled his rifle through it. “Let’s hope,” he answered. “Keep that rifle over there loaded and ready. I’ll do the shooting.
George grinned. “I certainly won’t argue with you there.” He stood beside Cole, the extra rifle in hand. “How’d you get so good with a gun, Mister?”
Cole did not take his eyes from the approaching Indians. “I don’t know. I used to hunt pretty often. Had a family to feed and not a lot of money. I just seemed to have a knack for shooting straight. Nobody ever went hungry.”
George laughed nervously. “You were in the war, I’ll bet. The army must have loved getting somebody like you. You seem to have a touch of southern accent. Which side did you fight on?”
Cole didn’t answer right away. “Some things are better left alone,” he finally said. “The war’s over.”
“Some of us would like to forget it so easy,” George answered. “But me and Rebecca, we lost a son. He fought for the Union. We’re headed for Denver to be with our only other son. He lives there.”
Cole sighed. “Well, Mister, be glad you’ve got a second child. I only had one, and she was five years old when she was killed by Union raiders.”
George reddened and swallowed. “Oh. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought up the subject.”
“I guess not,” Cole said. “The point is we’re always going to be running into people from both sides, and a lot of men will try to keep the hatred going for a long time to come. It would be easy for you to think you should hate me, and the same goes for me; but right now there are about twenty more Indians out there who hate both of us and don’t give a damn whose side we were on. They’ve got a whole different reason for hating.”
Rebecca moved closer to Addy, clenching a handkerchief in her fist, her eyes wide with fear. “Can your friend take on twenty Indians?” she said in a near whisper.
“I … don’t know him that well,” Addy answered, realizing it was the truth, even though she had slept with him. Rebecca Bean would probably faint if she knew that. “He just happened to take the same train with me out of Independence. I only know his name and that he has a reputation as a sharpshooter.”
Cole took a moment to look back at her with a frown, and Addy glared right back at him, warning him he’d better not let on she knew him any better than that. He looked back out the window. “So far they’re coming in slow, probably not sure if we’re still here or if the one who shot so many of them is still around.” He spoke very softly. “What worries me is that if they could go back and get so many more that fast, where’d they come from? Is there a whole village not far away, maybe even more warriors? If so, they’ll be out for blood.”
Cautiously the warriors came closer. Some pulled travois behind their horses, and others dismounted and began loading bodies onto the travois. They leaned close and talked to the few who were still alive. They worked until every last body was retrieved, looking around defensively as they did so. Everyone waited tensely, and finally Cole seemed to relax a little. He turned from the window. “They’re leaving, but that doesn’t mean they won’t be back.”
George wiped more sweat from his brow. “Dear God, we’ve got a long night ahead of us, don’t we?”
Cole glanced at Addy. “Yeah.”
Everyone tried to rest, but it was nearly impossible in the stuffy sod dugout. Because of the darkness, they could not leave the door open, for fear the Indians would come back in the night. Addy and Cole could not talk about anything that needed discussing, as quarters were too close, and they did not dare let the others know just how intimately they knew each other. They spoke in near whispers, ate pieces of bread and drank water sparingly. Jeanette Booth sat in a corner the entire night sobbing quietly, and nothing Addy or Rebecca had to say could console her, until Addy told her that Cole Parker lost both a wife and a child. The others looked at Cole sympathetically, but Addy could see that the comment had brought new pain to his heart.
Jeanette finally fell asleep, and night stretched into dawn. There was still no sign of returning Indians. “Maybe they’re just happy to have the horses,” Cole said. He cautiously opened the door, and the fresh air that rushed inside gave relief to all. Cole walked out and looked around. “Anybody that needs to use the privy can go ahead,” he announced.
They all rushed out at the same time, even Jeanette, but Addy lagged behind. “I’m glad you came along,” she told him after they were gone. “We all are.”
Cole rubbed at tired eyes. “We aren’t out of the woods yet, and I’m so tired now I’m not sure I could shoot straight if I had to.”
“Well, Orum Brown should show up by tonight or tomorrow early, if he made it. If he didn’t, I guess we have to stick it out here a couple more days. I just hope the Indians haven’t raided the next station. That would mean no one can help us. Maybe the next regular stage won’t even make it.”
Cole looked at her, realizing she had more to say, wanted to say something much more personal. She was dirty and tired. He wanted to hold her, but couldn’t let the others see him do it. Besides, she had her defenses up. She probably didn’t want to be held, not by him anyway. The other night had been a big mistake, and she was still angry—angry that he couldn’t say he loved her. What she didn’t understand was the only reason he couldn’t say it was that he was afraid to love that way again. A man could only bear to lose so much.
“We’ll worry about that when we have to,” he answered.
Addy walked off the porch, her back to him. “I’m sorry for some of my insults, Cole. It’s just that you don’t seem ready—”
“You’re right. I’m not ready. I’m sorry if I hurt you. It just … happened.”
She did not turn around. “I need to hear you tell me again that you don’t think less of me.”
Cole took a thin cigar from inside his shirt pocket. “I only think less of myself,” he answered. “Go use the damn privy. I’ll go find a bush or something.” He walked off the porch, lighting the cigar on
his way. “And don’t make any fires,” he called after her. “If those Indians are still camped out there somewhere, they might see the smoke and decide to come back after all.”
Addy watched him go, studied his slim hips, the big steps he took with his long legs, and she wondered if and when reality would return to her mind and heart. She wasn’t sure that anything she was doing was right, and she still ached inside almost to tears at old memories, a life that could never be again. That was why she must not succumb to any feelings for Cole Parker. She had no way of knowing if those feelings were real, no way of knowing if the man would ever amount to a hill of beans, if he would be able to stop drinking, able to lead a lawful life. In fact, the law could catch up with him and take him away from her. She could not bear another loss, and she suspected he was thinking the same.
She walked back inside, found one more loaf of bread in the bread box and two cans of beans. She frowned at the thought of such fare for breakfast, and she longed for a strong cup of coffee; but Cole had said no fires, and that made sense. It was possible that the Indians who had come the day before thought they were gone, or had just decided they had their own great “warrior.” They did, in the form of Cole Parker.
She opened the beans, then left to use the privy herself, returning to find Rebecca divvying up their pitiful breakfast of beans and bread. The little group ate as best they could, and even Jeanette ate a little. Addy realized they owed their appetites to the presence of Cole Parker and his expertise with the rifle he kept by his side at all times.
The wait began, everyone quiet and edgy, praying Orum Brown made it through. Cole sat on the porch and smoked, and Jeanette sat in a corner speaking to no one. Rebecca and George sat on a cot holding hands, and Addy walked out to the stagecoach to climb up to the top, where she managed to open a carpetbag of hers and take out a book. She walked back to the sod house and sat down on the porch steps to read Charles Dickens’s Oliver Twist. She felt Cole’s eyes on her, knew they still had much to talk about if he was going to be along the rest of this trip, but they couldn’t talk about it here. She rose to go inside, and suddenly Cole jumped to his feet, literally pushing her through the door. “They’re coming back!” he said, closing and bolting the door after himself.
“Oh, dear God!” Rebecca groaned.
Already they could hear the whooping and yipping and thundering hooves.
“They must want revenge,” George said, hurrying over to the window beside Cole. “How many are there?”
Cole leveled his Springfield rifle. “More than before. I’m not sure how many.”
Addy felt sick. She picked up her purse from where it lay on the cot and she opened it to take out her small pistol, wondering what use it could be other than to shoot herself. What an odd way for her life to end, Addy Kane, twenty-five years old, a schoolteacher from a town in the East with bricked streets; dying out here in western Kansas by an Indian’s knife or arrow, after having spent a night of unbridled passion with a near stranger. How strange were the turns life took.
Jeanette just cringed farther into the corner, and minutes later Cole started firing, as rapidly as possible for a man to take aim and hit his target each time. “Damn!” he muttered. After several rounds he handed the rifle to George, who then handed him the loaded rifle kept at the station and began reloading Cole’s. “There are too many this time,” Cole said. The urgency in his voice filled the women with terror. “I’m doing the best I can.”
He handed the older rifle back to George and took his again, and by then they could hear horses thundering around the sod dugout. Cole had to duck aside when arrows began singing through the window. Quickly he closed the wooden shutters, turning to the others. “I’ll do all I can,” he said, looking at Addy.
They all looked at each other then in terror, and Addy clung tightly to her pistol. Dirt began to fall from the ceiling, and there came a pounding at the door. Rebecca screamed when the head of a hatchet cut partially through the wood, and Cole faced the door and fired. A hole splintered into the wood, and they heard someone outside cry out. More dirt fell then in bigger chunks, and it was obvious the Indians were chopping through the roof. Cole fired again, this time upward. There came a muffled cry, but more dirt fell, and a hole appeared in the rooftop. A warrior jumped inside, and the women screamed and jumped back. Cole shot the warrior, but then the rifle was out of bullets. Another warrior jumped in. Addy held out her pistol and fired, hitting him in the neck. He turned to stare at her in surprise, and Cole pulled his six-gun and put a second shot in the warrior. Addy watched the man fall, surprised she had actually shot him herself.
Another jumped inside, and again Cole shot. Then two more. George tried to fire at the intruders, but the older rifle jammed. Addy shot one of them in the chest, and Cole shot the other. His six-gun was empty then, and there was no time to reload, as yet another Indian jumped through the hole, tomahawk raised. Cole grabbed the older rifle from George and swung hard, bashing the Indian in the side of the head. He sprawled on the dirt floor with a grunt and by then the door was beginning to split. Cole grabbed his own rifle again, which a nervous George had not had time to fully load. He fired at the door, then whirled to aim at the hole in the ceiling again, but no one was there.
They all waited, and it took a few minutes to realize the sound of galloping horses and the screams of warriors had suddenly diminished. They heard gunfire somewhere in the distance, and Cole straightened, listening. “Someone’s out there chasing them off,” he said. He cautiously opened one of the shutters, which was full of arrows and wouldn’t open all the way. Still he could see out enough to get his answer. “I’ll be damned. It’s the Army.”
“The Army!” George pushed open the other shutter. “Thank God! Orum must have run into those troops somewhere along the way!”
Everyone began to breathe easier, and Cole turned to face them. “Everybody all right?” His eyes were on Addy, who still stood staring at one of the Indians she had shot, her pistol still in her hand. She felt numb.
“We’re all fine, thanks to you, Cole,” George told him. “If not for your fast action—and, by God, Mrs. Kane there! She got a couple of them with her pistol! You two make quite a pair!”
Addy raised her eyes to look at Cole, who only turned away to open the door. Six Indians lay dead inside. Cole stepped over three of them to walk out and greet a troop of soldiers who approached the station to see if anyone was left alive. Addy’s only thought was how hard it must be for him to face men in blue uniforms.
Eleven
Soldiers dragged the bodies of dead Indians to a far hill. This time there were none still alive, as Cole had shot most of them at close range. Addy watched the two she had shot carried away on an ambulance cot. She still felt rather stunned that she had managed to do such a thing. Some of the soldiers had tipped their hat to her when they learned what had happened, calling her a brave woman; but she felt more the coward. It had been pure terror that had made her pull the trigger.
Cole paced nervously while the captain of the troops explained they would stay around the station until Orum Brown got back with a team of horses. They had run into Orum while on patrol late the day before, and they had ridden to the station as fast as possible. Addy knew Cole did not like being around blue-coated soldiers yet, even though these had saved their lives. To Cole they were still Union army.
Addy sat down on the porch steps, and moments later Cole came to stand near her. “Good shot,” he told her.
She rubbed her hands nervously. “I don’t like the feeling. I never want to have to do that again.”
Cole sighed. “It never feels good, no matter how many times you have to do it, unless it’s for revenge.”
Addy looked up at him and saw him scanning the soldiers. “They aren’t the enemy any longer, Cole. They’re just regular army now, and they saved our lives. Orum should be here by late this afternoon and we can get out of here, with soldier escort, no less.” She
rubbed at her temples. “Thank God. I hope there is some way to bathe at the next station.”
“You’ll be in Denver in three or four more days. I hear it’s getting pretty big. I’m sure there will be places there to bathe, maybe find a decent hotel and rest up before going on to Central City. George Bean said he heard from his son that it’s a wild ride into the mountains, a dangerous road through a steep canyon, so you’d better catch up on your sleep before you go the rest of the way.”
“Have you changed your mind again about going?”
He removed his hat and ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. “No. But I’ll be going up on horseback. Sounds a lot safer than taking a coach on such a narrow road. I probably won’t even go up at the same time. I’ll take in the sights and job opportunities in Denver first. As soon as we reach the next station, I’m going on to Denver alone on horseback. These soldiers say they’re supposed to go to a fort near there themselves, and I can’t abide going that far with men wearing Union uniforms, even though they did save our lives. Besides, you would rather I stayed out of your life, and I don’t doubt that’s best. The sooner we go our separate ways again, the better.”
Addy frowned, feeling sad but also angry. “I thought we had settled that when you left my room back in Abilene. Yet you caught up with my coach, and now we have to go through this all over again.”
“I only came out here because I was worried about you traveling through Indian country. Now you’ll have army escort most of the way to Denver. You’ll be safe.” He looked down at her. “We’ve shared some damn wild times together, haven’t we?”
Addy felt her cheeks growing hot. “We certainly have.” Yes, he was right. It was best he stay out of her life for once and for all.
Their gaze held for several silent seconds. “I’m glad you’re all right,” he told her then.
She nodded. “I’m glad you are, too.” She turned away. “I’d better go talk to Jeanette, see if there is anything more I can do for her.”
Until Tomorrow Page 14
