“Could you get Josh off his horse?” she called. “It would be best for him to come in the house to lay down.”
Ethan and Angus, the other prospector, heaved Josh from his mount. With one man on either side of him, one arm slung across their shoulders, they followed her to the front door. Josh groaned. He raised his head and looked up from beneath heavy eyelids.
“You’ll be able to rest here, Josh,” Danica said softly. She inhaled deeply, then knocked on the door. It didn’t seem right to simply walk in, even though this was her home. Several minutes passed, and no one answered. She knocked again.
The door suddenly opened a crack, and a stout woman with gray hair peered through the opening.
“Martha?” Danica said slowly. The door swung open fully.
“Miss Dani? Oh my goodness, Miss Dani.” Wide-eyed, the woman’s hands flew to her mouth, then she clutched at her ample bosom. Her arms reached out to sweep Danica into an embrace. As quickly as she hugged her, she pulled back. Her eyes shot to Danica’s stomach. Her pupils grew wider still, and her mouth dropped open. She shot a hasty look at Danica’s face, then her eyes moved to focus on something behind her. For the briefest of moments, her eyes narrowed, and her mouth tightened in a firm line. Danica could almost hear her thoughts. Martha’s reaction was expected. The older woman’s gaze moved from the two prospectors, and settled on Josh, who was slumped between the men.
“He’s gettin’ mighty heavy, miss,” Ethan complained.
“Can we come in, Martha?” Danica asked. The woman frowned, but stepped aside. Danica motioned for Ethan and Angus to come across the threshold. She led them through the parlor into the living room, and pointed at the settee.
“You can lay him down on there,” she said. The two men quickly deposited Josh on the cushions, and looked around nervously. Danica doubted either of them had ever been in a house such as this before. She turned to the housekeeper, who shot disapproving looks at the dirty men in her clean living room, and at Josh lying on the settee.
“Where’s papa?” Danica was nearly afraid to ask. She faced Martha, whose eyes seemed to be locked on her protruding abdomen.
“He’s . . . he’s over at the saloon. It’s where he’s been spending a lot of his time since . . . since you . . . Oh, Miss Dani. You’re alive!” Martha’s hands flew to her face again, and tears poured from the woman’s eyes.
Danica reached out and hugged the housekeeper. “Did anyone else return?” she asked quietly.
“No. Everyone was presumed dead. The army came through town, asking questions. They knew a group from Virginia City had traveled through the park, and by the looks of things, were attacked by Indians. They said the bodies were mutilated beyond recognition.”
Danica’s eyes flooded with tears. She didn’t want to remember that day, or the days and weeks that followed.
“I survived,” she whispered.
Ethan and Angus made grunting noises behind her, and Danica stepped away from Martha.
“Is there food available for these men, Martha? They helped me get home. I owe them something. And is there a doctor in town?”
“No, the doctor left months ago.” Martha shot a worried look at Danica’s stomach again.
“Not for me. For him,” she gestured with her chin to Josh. “He’s been shot and needs a doctor.”
“The best I can do is fetch some clean linen for bandages, and some salve, Miss Dani,” Martha said, casting a distasteful look at Josh. “If your father finds an Indian in the house . . .” She let her words trail off.
Danica loudly expelled the air from her lungs. “Josh Osborne is not an Indian,” she said adamantly, and gave the woman an accusing look. “He’s as much a Christian as you and I.”
Martha raised her eyebrows, giving Josh another skeptical look. “He looks like an Indian,” she said.
“His father is a well-respected member of this community, Martha. I would have never guessed you to be prejudiced.” Danica’s voice rose in anger. The housekeeper shot her an apologetic look.
“I’m sorry, Miss Dani. It’s just that after everything that’s happened, people are nervous. Indian raids have become more frequent in the area.”
Danica chose to ignore her. She was tired, hungry, and Josh needed care. This was not the time to argue with the woman. “Can someone fetch Papa? How is he?”
Martha’s forehead wrinkled, and her mouth drew taut. “He’s been worse since . . . you disappeared. First Jacob was killed by Indians, and then his daughter. He’s not been himself. He keeps to the bottle now.”
Danica was surprised at those words. Her father was distraught because she’d disappeared? He never seemed to care much for her. It gave her hope.
“Okay. If you could offer these men something to eat, and if there’s money in the house, give them something for their kind help. I’d appreciate it. And I’ll need those bandages, too.”
Danica didn’t wait to see if there was a reaction from the housekeeper. She settled herself on the settee by Josh. She had to push and prod his long limbs aside to make a little room before she could sit. Gently, she touched his forehead, and swept his hair from his face. Josh groaned. He was still hot.
His eyes opened, glazed over and unfocused. “Kate?” he asked, his words merely a dull rasp.
Danica smiled. “No, it’s me, Dani.” She assumed he was referring to Kate Russell, his cousin’s wife. Danica knew she and Kate looked similar. They both had long blonde hair.
Josh grimaced. “Kumaa ekon nawipin,” he whispered, and Danica recognized the name the Shoshone had given her. “Tammayain nawipin might suit you better,” he added.
“What the hell does that mean?” she asked in exasperation. Josh hadn’t told her what the name meant when she’d asked before. A weak smile spread across his face, but he didn’t answer.
“Urgh. You are an insufferable man, Josh Osborne.” Danica balled her hands in a fist. The urge to hit him and wipe that smile off his face came over her. She heaved herself off the settee instead.
Martha and the prospectors were gone. She heard the housekeeper’s loud voice in the kitchen. “Wash that filth off your hands before you touch anything,” she scolded. “I’ll lay out the sandwiches, and when you’ve gone to fetch Lars Jensen from the saloon, I shall pay you.” Danica smiled when all she heard was grumbling from the men.
*****
While the two prospectors headed for the saloon to find her father, Danica busied herself cleaning Josh’s wounds with warm water and soap. She applied salve, and wrapped freshly cut bandages around his torso, and his shoulder. Martha had produced some soup, and Danica sat on a chair next to the settee, and slowly spooned the food into his mouth. She could tell he hated feeling like an invalid. The dark looks he shot her, and his perpetual scowl would intimidate a hardened criminal.
“Would you like me to have someone send for your father?” she asked, when he seemed a bit more alert.
“No. He and my aunt and uncle left months ago. They’ve moved to Helena.” His voice was raspy and faint.
“Oh.” Danica was speechless. She assumed Josh might have decided to bring her here so he could visit with his family. That he had escorted her for no other apparent reason than to help her sent warm ripples throughout her body. The man had a kind and thoughtful side to him, after all.
Josh laid his head back against the cushions, and closed his eyes. A slow smile spread across Danica’s face. He was weak, and still in obvious pain, but he looked peaceful, and her insides warmed, just watching him. The front door slammed opened and shut with a loud bang, and she turned her head. Seconds later, her father stormed into the living room. He stood rooted to the spot when he caught sight of her, his eyes narrowing as they darted from her to the man lying on the settee.
“Hello, Papa,” Danica said, and rose awkwardly from her chair. Her father’s bloodshot eyes widened, and she could see the skin reddening under the whiskers of his unshaven face. His mouth set in a firm line. Her father’s app
earance was disturbing. He’d been drinking heavily for years, but the gaunt, sallow look to his face, the sunken eyes, shocked her. Worse, the sudden anger in his eyes disturbed her more than anything.
“So it’s true,” he sneered. “You’ve returned, with one of them heathens, no less, and carrying that heathen’s spawn.” To emphasize his words, he pointed a finger at her protruding stomach.
Danica’s mouth fell open, and she gasped. This wasn’t exactly the homecoming she had envisioned. She knew she would have some explaining to do, but her father’s cruel accusations before she even had a chance to speak caught her off guard. Josh groaned, and shifted behind her. She straightened her back, and raised her chin, even as her father looked disdainfully at her from head to toe.
“Yes, I’ve returned, Papa. I would think you’d be happy to see me.”
He gave a short, bark-like laugh. “We were told everyone was killed in that party. I buried you last summer.”
“Well, I don’t know who you buried, but it wasn’t me. I’ve been alive, trying to find my way home.” Her voice rose in sudden anger.
“You’ve lain with one of them,” he nearly shouted, wagging his finger at her stomach. “No decent, God-fearing woman lays with a savage.” Spittle shot from his mouth as his voice rose even louder.
“I did not, as you put it, lay with a savage,” Danica yelled back. How could her father be so cruel? She hadn’t been given a choice to what fate had in store for her. Her father made it sound as if she willingly gave herself to the man responsible for her condition. Was she filthy now for what she had endured?
Her friend Maddie had fought and screamed when the Indians dragged her off onto one of their horses. She had become so hysterical, the men had beaten her into submission until she passed out. Danica had made a decision to cooperate, and bide her time to figure a way out of her predicament. She’d done what she had to in order to survive. While she and Maddie were taken away from the site of the raid, half the warriors had stayed behind, and Danica never knew what happened to the rest of her party.
“You have brought shame into this house. I will not have it,” her father bellowed. “You will not defile my home or name in such a manner. How could you do it? Any proper woman would have done what was right, and killed herself, rather than allow a heathen savage to touch her. Since you’ve brought this on yourself, you’ll live with the shame for the rest of your life. I’ll see to that.”
Danica stood rooted in shock. She’d always known her father despised all Indians, but she never realized until now how deep his hatred ran. She looked past him to see two men walk slowly into the living room. They looked rough, with dark leers on their faces when they saw Josh. Danica took a step forward, hoping to deflect their attention to her. Josh had no hope of fighting these two in his current condition. She suddenly feared for his safety. How was she going to get him out of here?
“Plumb shame,” one of the men said, fingering the butt end of his revolver. “Your daughter’s sure nice to look at, Mr. Jensen. But no decent man’ll have her now.”
“Waste of a good woman, if you ask me,” the other man said.
Danica’s father glared at the men at his side, and waved his hand through the air. “Go get Preacher Halpin, if he’s not too drunk yet. My daughter’s getting married.”
“What?” Danica shouted. “What are you talking about, Papa? I’m not marrying one of . . .one of them.” She pointed at the two men. “Martha said you haven’t been right in the mind. I think she’s right. Too much whiskey has addled your brain.”
Her father lunged forward, and grabbed her by the arm, his fingers biting into her skin. She glared at him, refusing to be intimidated. “If you enjoy those Indians so much, you can be married to one. Since no white man will want you, it’ll be your punishment in the eyes of our Lord. At least I’ll have done my duty as father to you, and get you married off.”
Comprehension dawned. Danica’s eyes grew wide. She glanced over her shoulder. Josh struggled to rise from the settee, pulling his legs to the ground and clutching at his side in an effort to stand. One of her father’s men walked up to him and stuck his gun in Josh’s chest, preventing him from getting up.
“He’s not an Indian, Papa. He’s Samuel Osborne’s son. Surely you know him, and his family. He and the Russells have always been respected members in this community. Josh is no more a heathen and a savage than you or I.”
Her father laughed, a short, disdainful laugh. “Everyone knows Samuel Osborne had an Indian wife. It’s almost as bad.” Impatiently, he turned to his second man, who still stood next to him. “Go fetch that preacher, and tell him to make it quick, and have a legal marriage document with him.”
Danica folded her hands across her chest. “You can’t make me get married. I won’t do it.”
“I can, and I will,” her father boomed. He shoved her toward the settee. With hate filled eyes, he glared at Josh, who sat silently, his dark eyes trained on the man who held the revolver to his chest. His expression was unreadable, but the air around her nearly crackled with his fury that he no doubt felt. If he hadn’t been injured and weak, Danica knew those two men wouldn’t stand a chance.
“Make one move, Injun, and I’ll put a bullet in your gut,” the man with the gun said, a menacing smile on his face. Josh’s lips twitched in a snarl.
“Is he the one who begot that bastard you’re carrying?” Papa just wouldn’t stop. Tears of anger and shame at her father ran down her cheeks. She looked toward Josh, wanting him to know she hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. What had she been thinking, bringing him here into the house? She knew her father hated Indians. She wished she had asked the two prospectors to take Josh somewhere else, and she could have dealt with her father on her own. The man was drunk and out of his mind. He couldn’t force a marriage on her, or on Josh. It wouldn’t be binding.
“Hold on just one minute,” Josh spoke for the first time, his voice weak and forced. His eyes glowered at her father. “I don’t even know this woman.” He hadn’t so much as glanced at her.
“She certainly seems to know you,” her father snorted. Turning to Martha, who stood by the entry to the living room with a horror-filled expression on her face, he said in a harsh tone, “Go fetch me that rope from the shed, Martha. And make it quick.”
The housekeeper stood still, and shot an uncertain look at Danica. “Go get that rope, dammit,” Danica’s father boomed. With an apologetic glance, the old woman scurried from the room.
“What are you going to do?” Danica asked, her voice raised in panic. Her enraged father seemed almost capable of anything.
“That’s none of your concern, girl. Now keep your mouth shut until the preacher gets here.”
“I won’t keep my mouth shut,” she said heatedly, and took a step toward her father. Before she realized his intent, the back of his hand connected forcefully with her cheek, and she lost her balance. She stumbled backwards onto the settee. A warm hand steadied her back.
“Well there, that’s more like a happy couple about to get hitched,” the man with the gun said.
“I apologize for my father’s behavior, Josh,” Danica said quietly. She couldn’t even look at him. “He can’t make us get married. This is ridiculous.” He removed his hand from her back, leaving a cold spot in its place.
The front door opened and closed again. Seconds later, the man her father sent for the preacher strode back into the living room, followed by another man on unsteady legs. He was tall and whip thin, and he carried a black-bound book in his hand. Bringing up the rear, Martha scurried past both of them to hand a coiled rope to Danica’s father.
“About time you’re here, Preacher Halpin,” Danica’s father grumbled, and grabbed the rope from Martha’s hand. He tossed it to the man who’d gone to get the preacher. “Tie him up, Harris, and save enough for his neck.”
Danica gasped.
Preacher Halpin glanced around the room, his eyes bloodshot. His thin body swayed precario
usly, like a young sapling bending in the wind. He clasped his hands together and smiled, revealing a gap between his upper front teeth. His speech was slurred when he spoke. “So, where’s the happy couple what’s asked me to marry them this fine evening?”
Chapter 6
Josh blinked and tried to focus. The pain in his shoulder was nearly unbearable. Danica had done the right thing when she cauterized it the day before. The bleeding had stopped, but the burn, and the wound from the bullet hurt like hell. The pain from the flesh wound in his side wasn’t as agonizing unless he moved too much.
He struggled to stay awake and listened to the shouting all around him. He couldn’t afford to pass out now if he wanted to get out of here. The fever that raged through his body was making him weaker than a newborn, and his head pounded fiercely. He hated the feeling, but try as he might, he couldn’t make his arms and legs cooperate. Trying to stay mentally focused proved to be a challenge.
Danica’s father was insane. Why any man would treat his own daughter with such disdain was beyond his comprehension. He couldn’t make sense of what she had done to provoke such wrath.
He did understand that the man apparently held a deep hatred for Indians. He seemed to be under the outlandish impression that Josh had fathered Danica’s child. If the situation wasn’t quite so serious, he’d get a good laugh out of it. Why she hadn’t denied the allegation didn’t sit well with him, but the man could think what he wanted. Once he got the hell out of this house, he’d never have to deal with Danica or her crazy father again.
The girl had nearly fallen on top of him when her father hit her. Steadying her fall had caused him to nearly black out from the pain in his shoulder. He wanted nothing more than to hit the man in return. No woman, no matter how annoying, deserved to be hit by a man. His own father had instilled in him a deep respect for the weaker gender. His mother had died violently when Josh was barely two years old. He had no memory of her, but his father raised him to never lay a hand on a woman, something that hadn’t always come easy when he was little. He’d grown up with four female cousins.
Yellowstone Dawn (Yellowstone Romance Series Book 4) Page 5
