Sweetwater (Birdsong Series)

by Addy, Alice

  Watching the slow swaying of mule’s head and the occasional twitch of his ears, she was lulled into a dreamlike state—a daydream filled with thoughts of Blake Donovan. Whenever Dr. Donovan entered her line of vision, she noticed her heartbeat increased its rhythm. At times, she felt breathless and lightheaded. She always had the strongest urge to run her fingers through his unruly hair, as it invariably, fell forward onto his forehead. She liked the way it curled over his collar. It looked soft and silky and always smelled clean.

  A bird swooped down at the mule, causing him to miss a step, bringing Emily back to the present. She looked around her and noticed she was nearly halfway to town. Although saddened by that fact, the sun was still warm and comforting and allowed her to proceed with her private thoughts and daydreams.

  Emily knew Blake was infatuated with her. Many men had been attracted to her in the past. She knew they thought she was ravishing. But when she peered into the looking glass, she simply saw a woman, a bit too tall and too thin. A woman with icy blue eyes, as cold as her heart. She didn’t smile as often as perhaps she should, but there had been so little to smile about . . . until recently. Her hair was nice, she thought. It gleamed and fell heavily down her back—past her waist—ending in a natural curl. Of course, she never wore it that way. Whenever she left the confines of her bedroom, her hair was tightly coiled upon her head or pulled back and gathered at the nape of her neck. Emily always thought she resembled a colt. She had long arms and long legs, but they were strong and well toned. She knew her breasts were too large for her frame, causing her blouses to never fit properly without being altered. No, she was definitely not the beauty that Eve, or even young Cassie was. Patty was gorgeous with her sophisticated allure. Her short curly red hair made her look years younger than her actual age and her large eyes were the bright green color of winter wheat. Her friends were the real beauties of Hays City.

  Snapping the reins, once again, Emily smiled. That was all true, she reckoned, however, not one of them had her green thumb. She could get anything to grow and flourish, and she was proud of that. Best of all, she had her own farm—well—almost.

  She could now see the dusty town spread out before her. It was a large town, thanks to the railroad and Fort Hays, and it had seen its share of infamy, in the early days. Wild Bill Hickok and Buffalo Bill Cody had resided there, almost twenty years earlier. In 1869, Hickok had even been marshal. The town boasted its own Boot Hill cemetery, where men killed in shootouts were buried. Hays survived a brutal fire back in ‘79, and Whiskey gloried in the telling of it.

  “Flames engulfed nearly the whole town, but Frieda Birdsong and me managed to fight it back and save our own little part of it,” he’d say. “The Six Gun Saloon sat right here, where the Birdsong Hotel sits today. Them were the days.”

  Emily chuckled. He was quite a character, she thought, and she loved him dearly. Nowadays, Hays City was changing, and becoming a good and decent place for families to put down roots and live peaceable.

  She could hear the sounds of the town drifting up the road toward her. It would be only a few minutes before she had to face the music. Perhaps she should have thought of the trouble she could be in, before she decided to return? Or maybe, she shouldn’t have left in the first place . . . but it was too late now. A little boy, with hair the color of scrubbed carrots, was running toward her, waving his arms around wildly, shouting at the top of his lungs. Emily had a very bad feeling about this, as she drew up at the first hitching rail in front of the stage office.

  Behind the young lad, a crowd was starting to gather, and slowly, it crept forward, in her direction. As the little boy grew closer, she could hear him calling out to the mule. “Percy! Percy! You’re back.” Tears were running down his dirty, little, freckled face and Emily felt the deep pangs of regret. What had she done? She’d stolen a pet! The small mule answered back with a heart-wrenching bray. He too, was glad to be home.

  As Emily gathered up her skirts, in preparation of stepping down from the wagon, she was startled as two large and very strong hands grabbed her by the waist from behind. Immediately she knew who held her so tightly. She could smell the scent of his soap and medicinal alcohol.

  “Doc!” she screamed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Blake could barely contain his fury and his relief at finally holding the woman he loved in his hands. “Shut up, woman, if you please,” he growled. He lifted her up off the seat and swung her over his shoulder, carrying her like a bag of feed.

  “Put me down! I must insist. Blake!” she squealed.

  “Not now, Emmie, not now! I should turn you over my knee in front of the entire town. You’ve been very bad and I promise you, you will be punished.”

  The crowd of curious onlookers parted, to allow the handsome and furious Dr. Donovan through, with the lovely lady thrown indelicately over his shoulder. Some of the townsfolk were giggling and laughing at the hilarious scene. To see a lady being carried in such a manor, in front of them all, was very entertaining. Naturally, there were those who thought she should be arrested for stealing that little boy’s mule and wagon. Others—mostly the men—thought the young doctor was well within his rights to treat her so.

  “You teach her, Doc,” some male voice hollered from the rear of the crowd.

  “Yeah,” shouted another. “Cain’t let her get away with runnin’ off on ya’.”

  “Please Blake, put me down. Everyone is laughing,” Emily cried. She squeezed her eyes tightly, but she could still hear their taunts and laughter. “I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

  “You damn well will tell me everything. I’ve been out of my mind with worry. Where the hell have you been?”

  Emily had to think. She didn’t dare tell anyone where she had really gone. The farm was not actually hers and it must be a crime to stay there, uninvited—even if she did polish it up and plant a garden. They’d think she was loco. No, she would have to invent something else. She remained silent.

  With one swift kick, the double doors of the hotel opened, revealing a very surprised Patty and Cassie standing just inside. “Emmie!” they shouted in unison, as they ran up to the furious doctor hauling their mortified friend, over his back.

  “Cassie . . . go and get Dora. Hurry,” Patty ordered. “Blake, is there something wrong with her? Why can’t you walk, Emmie?” Patty rapidly fired questions at them, needing immediate answers. “Where have you been? Did somebody kidnap you? Talk to me,” she pleaded. Standing with her hands on her hips, Patty expected one of them to explain.

  Patty was already developing a theory, and it made her angry to think that Emily had carelessly caused them all so much grief. “For God’s sake, Doc. Put her down and bolt the door, so she doesn’t take off again.” Patty was not amused.

  Blake put Emily on her feet and stood with his hands on his hips, a mirrored image of Patty.

  Emily’s knees began to shake as she heard the sounds of a woman sobbing as she ran in from the kitchen. It could only be Dora.

  The woman lunged for Emily, wrapping her arms around her, rocking her back and forth, the entire time, repeating her name over and over. “Ooooh, my pet. Where have you been, Emily, our darlin’ girl? We’ve been so worried about you. We were afeared we might never see you again.” She stopped just long enough to blow her nose on her hanky. “Oh, my darlin’, Emily. It must have been just horrible. Sit down and tell us all about it.”

  Dora pulled the young woman down onto the settee, where she brought Emily’s head to rest on her impressive bosom. She looked up at the doctor. “Sit down, Doc. You’ll need to hear this too. No sense in her tellin’ it twice.” Gazing at Emily with a pathetic look in her eyes, she whispered softly, “He’s been goin’ plum out of his mind, dear. Be good to him.”

  Everyone waited to learn what had happened to Emily. No one had a clue, really, but now that she had returned seemingly unharmed, they would finally discover the truth.

  A pin could have been heard to drop
in the next room; it was so quiet.

  They waited.

  And waited.

  “Emmie!” Blake shouted.

  “You needn’t yell, Doc. I was just finding the words. I’m not sure where to begin.” She was perspiring and very uncomfortable under four pair of inscrutable eyes. No thoughts were coming to her. Emily started to rub her temples, trying desperately to conjure up a believable story.

  “Oh, you poor lamb. It’s been awful for you, and here we are, demanding you tell us what I’m sure you’d rather forget. You got a headache, dear?” Dora asked.

  Emily nodded. “It’s terrible. I can’t think. I need to go to my bed, now. May we talk about this later?” she beseeched all the women, carefully avoiding Blake’s scrutiny.

  “Emmie . . .” Blake threatened, knowing full well she had no headache.

  “Of course, Em,” Patty quickly replied. Maybe she had been too quick to judge. Maybe Emily really had been abducted. It certainly wouldn’t do her friend any good to be interrogated if she was suffering. “You go on up and I’ll bring you some tea. It will help to relax you. Dora made some of the muffins you like so much, just this morning. Would you like me to bring you a couple?”

  Emily stood, weaving slightly—for effect. Very dramatically, she placed the back of her hand over her forehead, and looked as if she were ready to swoon. “Thank you, dear friend. That would be most kind of you. I’m going to retire now.” Her eyes darted toward the scowling face of Blake, before she turned away and floated up the stairs—the perfect picture of a woman suffering distress.

  The ladies bustled around the room with excitement. Everything would be all right, now. Patty hurried to the kitchen to prepare a tray. Dora followed right behind her. Only Cassie remained behind with the doctor.

  “Is she fakin’, Doc?”

  Blake smiled, but it never reached his eyes. “I’d bet on it, Cassie. She doesn’t want to tell us where she’s been.” He stared, his body stiff with anger. He would not let her—even his precious Emmie—get away with frightening everyone half to death. She’d tell him everything, by damn.

  Emily had dinner in her room.

  Blake skipped dinner, altogether. He had other things on his mind, as he knocked on the bedroom door.

  “Yes? Who is it?” Emily asked in her most pitiful voice. She waited a moment before repeating herself. “Who is there?”

  The doorknob turned and the door swung silently open, revealing the most desirable man she had ever seen. Blake appeared to be slightly taller and broader, just now. His eyes were dark with anger—or was it desire? His finely sculpted lips were drawn in a tight line. The cords in his neck were tautly pulled. Masculine strength poured from this man. Without speaking, he entered her room, shutting and latching the door behind him.

  “Blake,” she croaked. She was speechless with the onslaught of emotions suddenly overwhelming her. She should be frightened, but instead, she was excited. Every nerve ending in her body was burning for his touch. Her breathing was shallow and she was getting lightheaded.

  Silently, he walked toward the bed upon which she rested. Step by step, he approached, exuding a primal passion impossible for her to ignore. The very air reverberated with it. Slowly, he removed his coat and placed it across the foot of the bed. Next, he removed his vest. He wore no tie, so the first three buttons of his shirt were the next to go. Never blinking, his dark eyes never left her face.

  Emily licked her lips. He was hypnotic in his actions, and she could not turn her face away. Her gaze was fixed on those top three buttons and the fine brown hair being revealed as the shirt opened. She wondered how the curls would feel against her cheek?

  Blake removed his belt and turned toward the large rocking chair beside the bed. He unexpectedly sat down and softly spoke her name. “Emmie, come here.” He held out his hand.

  As if in a trance, Emily pulled back the sheet and put her feet on the floor. Not knowing why or what to expect, she did as he requested. Emily trustingly, put her hand in his and sat down upon his lap. She felt his other hand rest on her hip. She cared not that she was dressed simply in her nightgown, sitting on the lap of a partially dressed man. This was Blake.

  “We’re going to talk, Emmie. You’re going to tell me what you’ve been up to since you were gone. Where you went . . . who you saw . . . everything. Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Now, first things first. Why did you leave?”

  “Those men outside the saloon scared me. I think I knew them,” she said in a soft and quiet voice.

  “Who were they?”

  “I’m not certain, but the older man could have been my stepfather. The younger man was, more than likely, my brother, but it has been a long time. I . . . I could have been mistaken,” she stammered. “It doesn’t matter now, as they have probably left town. That’s why I stayed away so long—to give them time to leave.”

  “Are you that frightened of your stepfather and brother?”

  Emily thought for a moment, unsure of how much of her past she was willing to divulge. “Lucas was cruel to my mother. I was little, about five or six, when I watched him beat my mother with a whip. She was going to have a baby and he didn’t care. He was usually drunk. My brother, Dusty, was about ten or eleven, and too young to stop him. It looks as if he’s turned out to be just like Lucas.

  “I watched my mother die in childbirth . . . screaming for help that never came. He ignored her pleas, and when she bled out, he simply dug a hole and dropped her in it.” A sob shook her delicate shoulders. “Leaving me to clean up the room,” she whispered. Emily looked as if she was witnessing the terrible event, all over again. Another sob escaped her throat. Her eyes were unbelievably enormous, as she gazed upon the ghosts of her past. “The baby was dropped in with my mother—but I’ve never been certain the child was dead.”

  “What? Oh, my God, Emmie. You can’t mean he . . . ”

  “I mean precisely that. I vaguely remember the sound of a small cry, but he never allowed me to see the baby. He never mentioned the child or my mother again. He had my papa’s farm. He didn’t need her, or me, for that matter. My brother would be an asset in working the farm, but I was a little girl and of no use at all—except for one thing.”

  Emily said nothing for several minutes and Blake was wise enough to give her all the time she needed to find the words.

  “One night, Lucas brought a man home from the saloon. He was fat and greasy and smelled unwashed, soured with whiskey and cigars.” Her stomach was becoming unsettled just remembering the noxious odor. Emily took her face and tucked it into the space between Blake’s neck and shoulder, breathing in his clean masculine scent. She inhaled deeply.

  “Lucas said, ‘There she is. Take her if you want her,’ and the man took me. I was allowed to stuff what few things I owned into a bag, and the fat man dragged me to a buggy, and carted me off . . . away from Lucas, away from my brother, and all I knew.

  “He owned a big house in Sedalia, Missouri. It was called a fancy house, but it wasn’t fancy at all. It was dirty and smelly—just like him. There were usually seven or eight women working there at any one time. All types. He even brought in a young boy. I was to be a special attraction, after Miss Alta finished grooming me.” She looked up at Blake’s face with tear-filled eyes.

  “I was six years old, Doc. What kind of monster even thinks of such a thing?”

  Emily hadn’t noticed how Blake was slowly rocking her to and fro, as if she was a small child. His hand was stroking her beautiful, silky hair, in an attempt to comfort her. He placed his lips next to her ear and whispered, “I’m so very sorry, darling. So very sorry.” He kissed her face and snuggled in close to her softness.

  “I didn’t know what I was being groomed for, exactly, but I knew I didn’t like anyone in that house, and I had to get away. At night, they tied me to my bed to discourage me from running away, but in the daytime, I was given more freedom. One day, I pretended to have a stomachache
and I went to the outhouse several times. On the last trip to the privy, I crept around to the backside and took off as fast as my skinny legs could take me. It seemed like I ran for hours, not daring to slow down. I grew hungry and soon I became a thief.

  “I got caught stealing from an old couple. I must have looked more animal than human. I know I acted like an animal, but they were good people and could see I was a child in trouble. Without asking any questions, they took me in and gave me a home. It was the best home I had ever had, and I was content to be there. But still, I was frightened of the bad people. I could never relax. Sam and Alice tried to convince me that I was safe, but I couldn’t believe it. They shouldn’t have either.” Her bottom lip began to tremble, once again.

  “Hush, darling. You needn’t tell me everything, tonight. You’re upset.” Blake noticed the tears flowing freely down her cheeks. Gently, he took a finger and wiped them away.

  Emily shook her head. “I must tell you. I’ve been hiding this for years and it is ruling my life. It keeps me from you.” She kissed his chin, before proceeding.

  “I rode into town with these dear people, one bright autumn day. Alice asked me if I wanted to go into the general store with her. I declined, preferring to sit high on the wagon seat, breathing in the cool crisp air and watching the people go by. It was fascinating for me. Mothers pulled their children behind them, while young boys teased pretty little girls, causing them to giggle at the attention. Men stood laughing at tall tales and argued about the weather. It was a normal life—the life I had been denied, and yet still hoped to find.

  “Just as I was enjoying watching a boy play with three small puppies in a box, I was pulled down from the wagon and thrown to the ground. He’d found me. Lucas had blood in his eye, as he snarled at me. He yelled at me and called me a vile name. When Alice came to my defense, he . . . he kicked her down onto the street. It was horrible, Blake. I remember seeing her thin little arms flailing at air, trying to stop her fall. When I close my eyes, I can still hear the terrible sound of her head striking the ground. It was worse than you can ever imagine.”