“How did you survive?”
“There were only ten or so of us that remained in Timber Creek through the war—Willow, Audrey, Asa Jeeters—the town drunk—and five women from the congregation. We were storing canned goods in the church cellar when the Yanks rode through. When we heard the commotion we hid.”
“They didn’t check cellars?”
“They checked, but some of us climbed onto the upper shelves and flattened ourselves behind jars of fruit and vegetables. The others hid in a small dug out area covered by a curtain along the back wall. A corporal took a quick look and slammed the cellar door shut.”
“And then you and your friends took up arms.”
She smiled. “You listen closely.”
He grinned. “I know all about your life. I’ve heard it repeated enough in Thunder Ridge.” He reached out and tugged a lock of her hair. “I’d like to see you face off with a Yank.”
“I was formidable.”
“I can imagine.”
“Ah…Thunder Ridge.” Her tone turned dreamy. “I used to resent that town and all its rain. I didn’t know how good I had it.”
“We seldom do until something worse comes along.” His manner indicated that he’d seen his share of extremes.
Copper sighed. “Sometimes I wish so fervently to be back there. I wonder how things are going between Audrey and Eli. He loved his Genevieve so dearly.”
“A man can love two women, but in a different way. Audrey’s patience will win out. The man’s in love with her.”
She glanced his way. Was he thinking of Susan now? “You don’t know Eli that well, do you?”
“I don’t have to know him to see how he looks at her. You forget that I spent a few weeks watching the relationship grow. He’s in love, but he’s fighting it.”
She smiled. “Why would a man fight the inevitable?”
“Because the man doesn’t yet know what is inevitable and what isn’t.”
This particular man was such a contradiction. Full of empathy one moment, fatalistic the next. She returned to the prior topic. “So…you have three brothers, and an estranged father in California.”
“If that’s what I said.”
“You did. You just said so.”
“Then it has to be true.”
But he’d not mentioned one word about Susan in Dallas.
“No sisters?”
“Nary a one.”
Before she realized it, the word slipped out. “Wife?”
He paused. “Wife?”
“Yes. Wife. I noticed that you write often to a Susan in Dallas.” There. She’d said it and she’d give anything to take the inquiry back, but it was too late.
His features closed and he sat upright. “Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?”
“No one but you, and I rarely listen to what you have to say.”
“If I had a wife, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you.”
Sobering, she realized that she had overstepped her bounds and she had to salvage what she could of the brief but personal conversation. “You mentioned that you thought the fort attack was fairly recent?”
He nodded wordlessly.
“Then the savages are still in the area?”
“Most likely.”
“What about the Newsomes? They took off yesterday morning, alone.”
“I sent Richardson after them. He tried to talk sense into Reginald—”
“—of Shreveport,” she reminded, since the label seemed to hold such importance with the affluent family.
“Frank warned him they could likely meet the same fate, but he insisted they would travel to the next town and stop. Milly and Florence found the stench here intolerable.”
Copper closed her eyes. “They say the Lord takes care of fools and idiots.”
“The Newsomes best pray that whoever claims that knows what they’re talking about.”
Copper didn’t want to think about the family meeting the same fate as the soldiers, but the victory at the fort had surely strengthened the Kiowas’ bloodlust. Four wagons would not stand a chance. And, of course, the Comanches might find them first.
The moon crept higher. She was glad that all were asleep. Some would find their late night conversation improper, but she sensed that this man needed impropriety tonight. But he wasn’t married. The thought rang in her head. Duty rested heavily on his shoulders, and once he took her back to Thunder Ridge, he still had a wagon train to get safely to their destination. Long miles of bad roads, Indians, and threatening weather lay in his future.
Sitting up, he suddenly drew her to him and kissed her. A long, possessive kiss that stole her breath. Too soon for her, their lips parted and their gazes met in the dim light. She wanted to ask why he had chosen that moment for their first kiss, but she’d already made one mistake by inquiring about Susan. She didn’t intend to ruin the moment.
She shook her head. “It’s late. I should be going inside.”
He nodded. “You should.” He stood and handed her the crutch.
She knew there was more to be said but she didn’t know what. Her feelings at the moment were foreign to anything she’d ever experienced. Was this emotion—this light-headed wooziness—the “love” that Willow spoke of when she talked about Tucker? The feeling was powerful, like being sucked beneath a swift current.
The thought struck her so clearly it might as well have been spoken. She’d gone and fallen in love with this man when she knew nothing about him. Nothing. She parted the back canvas and he gently lifted her into the wagon.
“Good night,” she whispered.
“Sleep tight.” He leaned over for one more kiss, then turned and walked off. Her heart was beating so loudly she thought she would wake the whole wagon.
Adele’s snores rose from her pallet as Copper put on her nightclothes and crawled between the blankets.
As the moon climbed higher, she stared up at the canvas roof with the very heady taste of Josh Redlin still lingering on her lips.
Chapter 17
A man or woman should have a proper burial. That was the central agreement over breakfast.
“Not much left,” one observed. “That Injun, what do we do about her carcass?”
“She’s still alive,” Josh said. “And the term you’re looking for is body, Rex. She’s a person, not a carcass.”
“I’ll not dig a hole for the heathen.”
“When it’s proper, I’ll dig her grave.” Josh met Copper’s eyes. “Ladies, we’ll be pulling out tomorrow morning. Ready the wagons.”
Copper caught the wagon master as the men manned shovels and picks and headed for the fort. “What about me?”
“Mike’s taking you back to Thunder Ridge.”
She paused. Back to Thunder Ridge. Once those words would have brought euphoria; now they merely stung.
“Just like that?”
He nodded, muscle working tightly in his left jaw. “Just like that.”
“You’re not going to take me?” She knew he had little choice in the matter. She couldn’t continue on the wagon train with no purpose, even if she weren’t a cripple. She’d be a burden to Adele and Sadie during the hundreds of miles of rough land ahead before they reached Colorado Springs. She couldn’t push or shove a wagon out of mud. She could barely manage her meals. Nobody wanted or needed extra baggage for the coming weeks, and that’s what she’d become. Surplus baggage.
Whirling, she started back to the wagon, willing back tears. What did she expect from Redlin? Did she expect that because he had lowered his guard for the briefest of moments last night, today he’d be a different man? He’d been bone-tired last night. He might not even recall those tender moments she’d taken to heart.
“Copper.”
His stern tone made her pause, but she refused to look at him. She couldn’t. What if she broke into tears and proved what a hopeless ninny she was? “What?”
“Give me my other choice.”
Closing her eyes, reality
sank home. He didn’t have a choice. His loyalty lay with the wagon train and getting these fine folk to Colorado. He owed her no special treatment other than her being a member of his train—a forced member.
Nodding, she limped on. “I’ll be ready by morning.” She supposed he nodded; she didn’t look. She couldn’t.
As she approached the wagon, Sadie stepped out. “There you are. Have you seen Redlin?”
“He’s on his way to the fort.”
“He needs to see this.” She brushed past Copper and hurried off in a trot. Copper’s heart sank. Now what? Dyson—
Parting the canvas, Copper spotted Adele bent over the doctor’s pallet. She turned when Copper eased into the wagon in a sitting position. “Come look.”
Copper turned away. “If he’s passed, Adele, have Mike take him to the fort so he can be buried with his company.”
A man’s deep voice answered. “I haven’t passed.”
Startled, Copper slowly pulled herself into the wagon and slid to the pallet. Dyson stared up at her, his eyes wet with tears.
“Dr. Dyson?”
He closed his eyes, evidently shutting her out.
She glanced at Adele. “He’s responsive?”
Adele nodded. “That’s the first words that he’s uttered, but he’s awake.” The older woman bent closer to the patient. “Doctor? Will you try to eat a bite?”
He turned his head.
Copper adjusted the blanket, her eyes pinned to the man. “He can’t talk, Adele. It’s too soon.” Images of the massacre tore at her heart. Surely such memories were consuming this man to the point where he would resent consciousness.
Sadie returned with Josh within the hour. He entered the wagon and knelt beside Dyson and snapped, “Doctor!”
Copper, shocked by his tone, brought a hand to her mouth.
Dyson opened his eyes.
“The name’s Redlin. Josh Redlin. We sent word ahead that we would be bringing a young woman to see you.” Josh still spoke in a tone she’d seldom if ever heard. Harsh. Demanding. Couldn’t he see this poor man was at the end of his rope?
Dyson covered his head and rolled to his side, but Josh rolled him to his back.
The man struck out, trying to knock his tormentor aside, but Redlin pinned him.
Appalled, Copper cried out, “Leave him alone! Can’t you see he’s devastated?”
“Stand back, Copper. Now!” Steel tinged his voice.
She stood back. Adele reached gently to move her closer to the back flap. “Honey, I know it seems what he’s doing is cruel, but Josh is doing the right thing. Now just hush, and let Redlin handle this.”
The doctor met Redlin’s eyes. “I need a drink.”
“A young woman needs your gift.”
Copper watched a silent message play between the two men. One Dyson didn’t want, one the wagon master commanded.
Shaking his head, Dyson spoke. “I can’t help her.”
“If you refuse to help, then you tell her.” He reached for Copper and eased her to his side. She met the doctor’s ginsoaked eyes, her heart heavy with the request. Hadn’t the man been through enough? What right did she have to make impossible demands of him?
“Tell him, Copper,” Josh demanded, still in that stringent tone.
“Tell him what?”
“Tell him you’ve traveled forty miles to seek his help. Days of constant pain, and he’s the only hope you have of walking normally. Ask him if gin is more important than the oath that he took to help the sick and injured whenever and wherever he can.”
“That’s cruel…”
“Ask him!”
“Dr. Dyson,” she whispered.
He closed his eyes; he was blocking her out. “Please. We see the evidence of what’s happened and we can only presume your misery.” She reached for his hand. “I know you have seen horrors that I cannot even imagine, but if you would only look at my ankle, just one look, then I can accept my fate and pray that in time you will accept yours. I can’t do anything to change what’s happened to either one of us. I deeply wish I could. But if you turn me away I’ll never know if perhaps you could have altered my life.”
“I have no powers,” he murmured. “Let me die.”
“My understanding is that the good Lord has given you a healing talent few people have.”
He slashed back at her. “Don’t you speak to me of the Lord!”
She drew back and Josh leaned forward, his tone gentle now. “Easy, now. You think about her request, Dyson. I’ll be back at the end of the day.”
“Don’t speak to me of the Lord,” he repeated. The restless repetition continued long into the afternoon. The doctor’s demanding litany bellowed from the wagon during suppertime, disturbing the meal and upsetting the women. Sometimes he yelled and sometimes he whispered, but always the refrain was the same. “Don’t speak to me of the Lord.”
Concerned mothers covered small children’s ears and hurried them back to the privacy of their wagons to eat while the men lingered in small groups. As Copper washed dishes, she listened to the talk.
“I buried three Kiowas,” one man said.
“I didn’t touch the savages,” someone else muttered.
The first speaker stared straight ahead. “A man ought to have a grave.”
“Those heathens bury their own differently than we do. Some are put on scaffolds. Why, I’ve even seen ’em hanging in trees. Some are buried in caves, others in graves. Those cold-blooded killers are a superstitious lot. I’ve seen ’em bury a warrior and then destroy his horse and everything he owned in an effort to provide help in the next life.”
“Don’t matter.” The other man said, “I buried these in the ground, but after putting three of those savages in their graves I quit. Redlin was foolish enough to dig one for the woman.”
“A waste of time and energy. There’ll be no one here to put her in it.”
The men’s conversation faded as Copper hung a dishtowel to dry, and then went to sit with a group of women near the fire.
“Understand Mike will be taking you back in the morning,” Adele said as she patted the seat beside her. “It’s not going to be the same around here without you, honey.”
Copper took a seat and warmed her hands. “Dr. Dyson’s in no shape to help.” She sighed. “I’ll miss everyone too, especially the children and our noon lessons.”
“Who would ever have thought this would happen?” Lil held little Carrie on her lap. The child’s eyes drooped.
Yes, who would have thought this would ever happen. Copper closed her eyes, recalling the pain she had undergone, only to meet with this destiny.
“Just doesn’t seem right, but I’ve lived long enough to know life can turn on you in a minute. Can’t really blame the good doctor. A body can stand only so much.”
Copper opened her eyes and murmured. “Well, will you look at that.”
Eyes turned to follow her direction. An unsteady Dyson stood in the canvas opening of Adele’s wagon. Grizzled, disheveled, and looking more like fifty miles of bad road instead of Copper’s redemption, there he stood, big as life.
He met the women’s stares. “Don’t just sit there; get me some strong black coffee.”
Chapter 18
Clouds skittered across a cold moon. Anxiety settled over the camp as women carried coffee to Dyson. Refusing food, he took the coffee and let the flap down. Talk once again centered on the fort and what lay ahead. All were relieved to be moving on come morning, but lingering concern tainted relief.
“Before we move on, I think Mike and Richardson ought to ride out and have one more look-see around.” A man drew his wife closer to his side. “We’re just as anxious to be on our way as the next person, but we want to be sure those Injuns ain’t waiting to jump us somewhere on down the road.”
Discussion erupted, and they took a vote. Caution won out. Mike and Richardson agreed to scout the area one last time before the wagons moved out.
Copper trailed Adele to
the wagon, knowing that sleep would be long in coming tonight.
“Copper?”
She turned to see Redlin approaching. Adele continued to the wagon as the wagon master approached.
“Got time for a cup of coffee?”
“Yes. Is something on your mind?”
A weary smile surfaced. “Just feel the need for your companionship.”
She smiled. Turmoil brought out the best in this man. “You heard Dyson has asked for coffee?”
“I heard, but don’t read anything into the request. The man wants a drink, not coffee.” They returned to the fire and Copper started toward the chuck wagon box. “Let me get that,” Josh said, as he retrieved two cups. “You don’t need to be taking any more steps than necessary.” The considerate side of him was always close to the surface.
Copper made a place for him next to her. He handed her a cup and sat down. “You wanted the train to move on, didn’t you?”
Nodding, she cupped the hot liquid in front of her face and breathed the fragrance. “Time’s passing. I love these people, and I want them safely to their destination before heavy snow flies.”
“Every day we sit brings us a day closer to worsening weather, but one more area search is wise. The red man is like the wind. Here one moment, gone the next.”
She settled next to him, absorbing the warmth of his body, which, oddly enough, felt completely normal. “I understand.”
His gaze fixed on the low-burning embers. “Do you?”
She glanced up. “Do I understand?” She wasn’t sure she’d caught the meaning of his question.
“You don’t think I’m making a mistake by not moving on quickly?”
“You? Misjudging a situation?” She sobered. “No, I trust your reasoning. Better safe than sorry. Isn’t that what they say?”
He glanced at her, and amusement hovered at the corners of his mouth. “Well, great day in the morning. We are making progress.”
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