“Very well, thank you.” She stifled a yawn. “I was quite comfortable.”
Of course she was, she had all the cover, but then it had been his idea. He strode back to the fire and placed the pot atop a flat stone in the center of the flames. “I hope weak coffee and stale bread are to your liking. I’m afraid I don’t have anything else to offer…unless of course you fancy fish again.”
She puckered her face. “I’ll pass on the fish. It just doesn’t sound appetizing this morning. I’m sure what you have is just fine.”
He dug to the bottom of his supply coffer and pulled out the hard tack. “Have a seat.” He gestured to a flat rock. “The coffee will be done soon.”
Still babying her leg, Sarah sat across from him. “Now that I’m not babbling, I wanted to thank you again for saving my life. I have no doubt that had you not come along, I would have died.”
He shrugged. “Folks say things happen for a reason, and although I’m hard pressed to understand why a whole lot of innocent people had to die, fate must have sent me to find you.” He held out a piece of stale bread.
She smiled and accepted it, eyeing it with trepidation. “Hmm, maybe I’m not as hungry as I thought.”
“You best eat it. It’s all I have left. I hadn’t planned on needing anything after joining up with the train, so I left everything here in the cave. Meager though it is, I’m glad I did.”
“How did you sign on to scout for Mr. Simms?” Her brow rose in a sensual arch. Wolf disregarded the extra beat inside his chest. Why did she have to be so pretty, even in the morning?
“I met him in Independence, when the wagons were getting ready to depart. I’ve had some experience scouting for the army, so it seemed like a good way to earn money.”
“You called this your home.” She gestured to the stony shelter. “You were kidding, weren’t you?”
“No. This is the only place where I feel welcome. I go into Independence now and again. There’s a nice lady who owns a boarding house, and she hires me to do all her odd jobs, but I need something that pays a little more regular.” He poured coffee into a tin cup and handed it to Sarah, then poured one for himself.
Sarah bit into the bread, her teeth grinding through the crusty outside and tearing off a piece. She chewed and swallowed, the strain showing on her face. “Now I know why this is called hard tack. I must say it isn’t very tasty, but I’m certain it’s filling.”
He grinned. “Hopefully, we can find some nice berries on our journey, but first you have to tell me where it is you want to go.” The hand holding his coffee lowered to rest on his thigh while he took a bite of his unappealing breakfast.
Her face sobered. “Any where but Hannibal. I never want to lay eyes on that place again. There’s nothing there for me.” She chirped a small ‘humph’. “Actually, there’s nothing for me anywhere. Everything I had, including hopes, ended when the wagon train was attacked. All I have is what’s on my back and the few things in my valise. Thank you for bringing it along.”
“You’re welcome, but you don’t have to keep thanking me. I only did what was right.”
He puzzled over the look on her face. Something about what he said bothered her, but she didn’t respond, instead only hung her head.
“So, do you have a destination in mind?” He said, certain her thoughts had drifted.
She looked up. “I’m sorry. What?”
“I was asking if you know where you want to go.”
Sarah shook her head and shrugged. “How about you? What are you going to do now?”
“Go back to where I started, I reckon. I have to find a job to earn the remaining money owed on a piece of land. It’s that or forfeit my dream. My aim is to be a cattle rancher someday.”
“That makes two of us… finding a job, I mean. Maybe I could travel with you to Independence and find something there. Would that be all right?” A child-like anxiousness lit her eyes.
“It’s fine with me, if you can stand the company. We have a few towns to pass through before we get there, so don’t be alarmed if people don’t take too kindly to you being with a breed.”
Sarah squared herself and glared at him. “Don’t belittle yourself because people are small-minded. Just pay them no never mind.” She took another bite of bread and quickly washed it down with coffee, showing the effort it took to swallow.
Wolf sipped from his own cup to hide his budding grin.
Guilt washed over Sarah like pouring rain. How could she ever admit she left him for dead? And stole his horse, to boot? She’d been a fool for even mentioning trying to mount one. Surely, now that they prepared to travel, the question was going to arise again—where was her horse? She took a deep breath and smiled nervously across the campfire at him.
“We should probably gather our things together and head out.” He announced. “If we leave before noon, I know a place we can camp tonight that’s far enough off the trail to be safe and private.”
“Packing won’t be a problem. I travel light.” She chuckled. Her heart filled with dread. Surely he’d ask about the animal any minute now. What in the world would she say?
“More coffee?” he offered.
“No thanks. I’ve had my fill.”
“Me, too,” he said, leaning forward and dousing the fire with the remaining liquid. The flames sputtered and died, sending a small spiral of white smoke upward. “It wasn’t much more than hot water anyway.”
Her mind spun about the absent horse. She cursed herself for bringing it up, but after all, she was delirious at the time. Standing, she swept the dirt from her pants, and turned toward the overhanging rock. “I’m going to get my bag.”
She scurried inside, thankful for the break in conversation, but she’d just finished running a brush through her hair and stowing it back in her valise when Wolf joined her. Wordlessly, he hunkered down and tucked the bead-decorated pouches holding his personal effects into his sleeping robes, rolled them into a bundle, and secured all with a rawhide tie. He swiveled and faced her. “We best get started. We can only ride double for so long before Scout gets tired. I’ll walk for a while.”
She held her breath, waiting for the obvious.
“I imagine your horse must have bolted the moment it heard the snake rattling. No tellin’ where the animal is now. Sure would be nice to have two mounts.”
The lump in her throat slid down and she swallowed it—it and the truth. Praying that God wouldn’t strike her dead, she nodded in agreement, feeling relief flow through her body. “I’m sure you’re right…about having two horses, for sure.”
The words tasted bitter on her tongue, but she refused to divulge the truth. Wolf might leave her to fend for herself, and that scared her far more than being labeled a liar.
* * *
Sarah’s behind was numb, and her legs ached from hours riding bareback. She and Wolf had left the camp right after breakfast, stopped at a small creek for cool water and a handful of berries, then pushed onward. She dared not complain because he’d been afoot most of the way, allowing her to ride to avoid walking on a sore leg. She was just about to voice her need for nature’s call when Wolf halted Scout. “We’ll stop here for the night. This is the place I told you about; water close by, a shelter in case of a sudden rainstorm, and a place to tether Scout and hide her from prying eyes. Horse thieving is big in these parts.”
Sarah gratefully slid to the ground, barely listening to what Wolf said. “Thank God,” she mumbled, rubbing her behind. “Although I appreciate the use of your horse, I never realized how hard it was to ride without a saddle. I’ve never been much of a horsewoman, but give me leather between me and that abrasive hair any day.”
Wolf laughed, as he led Scout to the creek for a drink. He dropped the mare’s lead rope and walked back, carrying the bedroll and coffee pot.
Sarah eyed the tin container. “I thought we were out of coffee.”
“We are, but I thought you might like some warm water to wash up. I’ll gather wood a
nd dried grass and get a fire started. How does that sound?”
“Wonderful. I feel like I’m wearing half the trail on my face.” She picked up the bedroll. “Where should I make the beds?”
“Over there,” he pointed, “beneath the outcropping. I slept there a few months ago, so I’ve already cleared most of the big rocks and pebbles. There’s no tall grass, so you don’t have to worry about snakes.
She swallowed hard. “That’s nice to know.”
“Oh, and if you need some privacy, use the stand of oaks over there.” He pointed to the opposite side of the creek.
Making a beeline for the trees, she found it easy to ford the creek, using the flat stones Mother Nature had conveniently placed across the shallow flow of water. Within a few minutes Sarah returned, a smile on her face and feeling relieved. Wolf was busy collecting fair-sized rocks to add to the partial circle that remained of a fire pit.
In the time it took Sarah to spread the buffalo robes and blanket where Wolf indicated, he’d completed the ring of stones and had a healthy fire burning within its center. When she realized the closeness of their bedding, she bent and pulled her pallet a little farther from his. She straightened to find him watching her, and her cheeks warmed beneath his gaze. His eyes held such depth and beauty—certainly a mirror to a good soul. Still, his attention caused her continual guilt.
The coffee pot already sat amid the flames, and Wolf squatted next to the fire. “Would you mind if I use your valise to help catch dinner?”
“How in the world…”
“Easy. It’s going to become a rabbit snare. First you tie a piece of string to it, then you turn it upside down over a piece of bait, prop it on a stick, and wait for a rabbit to get nosy enough to venture underneath. Can you bring me the tie from the bedrolls, please?”
Sarah retrieved the piece of rawhide and handed to him. “What do you plan to use as enticement?”
“The only thing I have is a last piece of hard tack. I hope the rabbits around here aren’t picky.”
Sarah moved back to the bedroll and crouched down to empty her bag. Grabbing both sides, she turned the case upside down and shook the contents onto her pallet. The gun fell with a thud. She’d totally forgotten she had it. Did Wolf know? Did it matter? It wasn’t unusual to carry a weapon, especially when traveling.
He was busy searching for a stick, so she stowed the weapon beneath her bedding, feeling foolish for hiding it. Surely he must have seen the weapon when he rifled through her bag in search of dressings for her leg. Still, firearms made her nervous, and it was best to keep hers hidden.
She walked back over to the fire in time to see Wolf removing the coffee pot. He pulled his sleeve down to protect his hand from the heat, and set the utensil in the sandy soil.
“You might want to let it cool a bit.” With a smile, he took the valise she held out to him and ambled toward the trees she had visited earlier. “While you clean up, I’ll try and catch dinner,” he called over his shoulder.
* * *
She finished her toilette, enjoying the feel of clean skin. Wolf had disappeared from sight, and Sarah felt a mite edgy being alone. She dared not call out and frighten her supper away. Her mouth watered at the thought of something tasty, but she didn’t hold out much hope that any animal would find a piece of stale bread very appealing, unless perhaps a bird.
The sun began its descent, setting lower in the sky, casting shadows of the tall trees across the ground in front of Sarah. She sat next to the fire, waiting patiently for Wolf to return, while trying to imagine what the future held for her. Without Wolf, she wouldn’t be alive to plan one. Lifting her torn pant leg, she eyed the limb that, only days ago, had been swollen twice its size. The bite was barely visible, and normal coloring returned to replace the angry red. She sighed then tried to stifle a yawn. It had been a very long day and she was bone tired.
A noise drew her attention.
She looked up. Her heart seized as her gaze locked on three Indians, standing less than six feet from her. With faces painted in bright hues, feathers protruding from their ebony braids, and dangerous weapons clasped tightly in their hands, they leered at her. She opened her mouth to call for Wolf, but his name couldn’t get past the lump of fear in her throat.
Chapter Eleven
Sarah’s heart raced as the trio stood, unmoving and silent, glaring at her. Feeling the weight of their stares, terror rooted her to the ground. She swallowed hard, trying to rid her throat of the choking fear. Surely she didn’t survive the wagon train massacre and a snakebite just to meet her death now. Her eyes momentarily scanned the sky while her mind once again whispered a silent prayer for deliverance.
The shortest of the three Indians approached her. Holding her breath, her gaze followed him as he circled her like an animal would its prey. He drew nearer, stopping near her right shoulder. Sarah watched from the corner of her eye, shuddering as he dared stroke her hair. Instinctively, she recoiled.
He spoke to his friends in a strange tongue, this time lifting a long lock and letting it fall back into place, then laughing. Horrible images of her scalped traveling companions passed through her mind. Was that what he had planned for her?
When he reached for her again, she slapped his hand away and scrambled to her feet. If she was going to die, she refused to go easily. She squared her shoulders and locked gazes with him. “What do you want?” She licked her lips, her mouth devoid of all moisture.
His two companions chuckled at him, pointing and speaking in the same unfamiliar language. The short one’s eyes turned to black ice as he leered at Sarah. Clearly, she had embarrassed him in front of the others.
The yellow lightning bolt on his cheek twitched, and a dark flash of anger crossed his face. Sarah stood her ground. He leaned in, stopping when his nose was just inches away. Dropping his weapon on the ground, he grabbed her forearms.
Sarah sucked in her breath, stifling the scream mounting inside her. Where was Wolf? Oh God, where was he?
The Indian’s smooth brow deepened as his gaze scanned her. “You make plenty sons.” His breath splayed across her face as he spoke in broken English.
Her mind raced. Had he just said he planned to take her as a wife?
She leaned back and gazed at him, fear gnawing at her innards. Feigning a smile, she cleared her throat. “Ah...I…I already have a husband.”
If he understood, he disregarded her lie, and with one hand firmly locked around her wrist, he bent and picked up the hatchet-looking piece he’d dropped on the ground. Straightening, he tugged at her, forcing her to follow. Sarah dug in her heels, glancing hopelessly at the place where Wolf had disappeared into the trees.
Fingernails dug into her skin. The adamant Indian was much stronger than she, and with a jerk, he almost pulled her off her feet. “Come!” His stony stare made his meaning perfectly clear.
Stumbling along behind, her arm burning beneath the Indian’s grasp, Sarah searched over her shoulder, praying to see Wolf. Her heart thudded with despair, realizing it would be three against one if he did appear. If he had good sense, he’d stay well hidden. He didn’t owe her anything. Maybe this was her punishment for leaving him behind when she should have stayed and made sure he was all right. The Indian’s fingers dug deeper into her skin.
“Haho!” Wolf’s voice sounded behind her.
Tears of relief stung the back of her eyes when her captor released her and backed away. Wolf crossed the creek and walked to her side.
The short one made hand strange gestures, using some form of obvious communication with Wolf.
Wolf turned his gaze to Sarah, dropping the rabbit and valise he carried. “He wants to know who I am.”
“Miyelo ca kola,” he answered to the brave, while clasping his own hands in a shake. “I told him I am a friend in both my language and in sign.” Wolf explained.
She wanted to fall into his arms, thankful for a friendly face, but she refused to show weakness. “I think this one wants to marry
me.” Her voice trembled as she used her chin to point out the brave who’d backed away from her.
“Mitawan,” Wolf said, raising his voice so that all heard. At the same time he placed a hand on each side of his head, hooked his fingers and stroked downward, as if combing his hair, and then he joined his two index fingers side-by-side, pointing to the other man.
“What’s that mean?” she whispered.
“My wife.” He draped his arm around her as if it was the most natural thing in the world, his gaze fixed on his aggressor. “First I signed female and then showed him we are joined. There are many languages among the people, but most all can speak with their hands.”
She squared her shoulders, feeling safe in his presence.
The shortest brave held up two fingers in a ‘vee’ and identified himself as Yellow Dog, again in barely discernable English. He raised his hands, and then moving them in a semi-circle, struck them against one another.
Wolf rolled his eyes. “It seems that this Pawnee wants to trade for my woman.”
A shiver ran through Sarah and she held her breath. Why should Wolf fight for her? She meant nothing to him. Frozen, she waited for the next translation.
There wasn’t one.
Wolf dropped his arm from around her, pulled his knife from its sheath and, with a menacing glare, walked toward Yellow Dog.
“Mitawan,” Wolf yelled again.
Yellow Dog showed resignation by his immediate signing of friend—shaking his own hands in front of his body. “Friends,” he gestured to his companions, his right hand moving in a horizontal circle—“all.”
The three turned and walked back to where their horses were tethered, leaving Sarah on wobbly knees. Wolf turned and smiled at her.
“What did you say?” she asked, feeling as though she’d just run a mile.
“I simply reminded him with a little show of force that you are my wife, and suddenly they became my friends.”
Sarah's Heart Page 8
