Hetty opened the box and found the small jar with the salve Bao had told her would ease swelling. “This one,” she said certainly as she picked it out of the many jars inside the box.
Bao nodded. “I go take care of Boss.”
Hetty caught the Chinaman by the elbow and asked, “Is Karl badly hurt?” In hindsight, she realized she should have doctored him and let Bao take care of Dennis. Next time she would know better.
“No bad,” Bao said. “Black eye. Cheek bleed. Be well soon.”
Before she could ask more, the Chinaman was gone. She turned back to Dennis, who was sitting on the split log staring up at her with a frown between his brows.
“I didn’t think you cared about Karl,” Dennis said. “In fact, I would have bet my bottom dollar you dislike your husband.”
Hetty was startled into blurting, “You’re wrong. I admire Karl enormously.”
“Ah. But will you ever love him? That’s the question.”
Hetty flushed. “That’s between me and Karl.”
Dennis yelped as she dabbed at the blood on his chin with the damp rag.
“Don’t be a baby,” she chided.
“That hurts!”
She looked him in the eye and said, “I’m sure Griffin’s face hurts, too. Where you slapped him.”
Dennis had the grace to look ashamed. “I’m not used to dealing with kids. Especially not a brat like—”
“Don’t you dare call my son a brat!” Hetty said. “He’s a little boy who made a mistake.”
“That kind of mistake can be fatal out here,” Dennis countered. “What if I’d broken my neck coming off that horse? What if those kids can’t find my buckskin? A man on foot in this wilderness is a dead man. There’s no room for mistakes, Hetty. Not even for kids.”
Hetty dabbed more gently at Dennis’s chin and caught her lower lip between her teeth as she contemplated what he’d said. “I guess we all have a lot to learn,” she said at last. Most especially her.
She set the rag down on the log, then opened the jar and smoothed salve on the darkening bruise on Dennis’s cheek. “I’ve taken away Griffin’s slingshot, and I’ll admonish him to be more careful in the future.” She stopped what she was doing and looked into Dennis’s startlingly blue eyes. “But I give you fair warning. I won’t tolerate anyone striking a child of mine. Not for any reason.”
Dennis grimaced as he pursed his lips, which pulled on his injured chin. All signs of romance were gone from his face as he said, “You keep a tight rein on those kids of yours, and we’ll all get along fine.”
Hetty realized that was likely all the apology he was going to make. She was glad. She needed reasons to dislike Dennis, to keep her from so readily feeling the physical attraction that arose whenever he was near.
She closed the jar of salve and put it away in the box. “I’m done. You should change your wet clothes, too. It’ll be dark soon, and the temperature is brutal once the sun goes down.”
He grinned crookedly, a look so charming it made her breath catch, then saluted her and said, “Yes, ma’am.”
Hetty grabbed the box of medicines and hurried toward the back of the wagon almost at a run, searching for her husband. She would have to keep her distance from Dennis. She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. Apparently, she couldn’t even take his hand to lead him to a seat without it being misconstrued or look into his eyes without him seeing an invitation that she didn’t intend.
She found Karl standing at the tailgate of the wagon in dry clothes, a sticking plaster on his cheek, but Bao was missing. “Where’s Mr. Lin?”
“I asked him to go keep an eye on the kids.”
She studied Karl’s damaged face. “Is your eye badly injured?”
“Bao says not,” he replied, reaching up to gently probe the swelling around his eye.
“Does it hurt?”
He laughed, then groaned and grabbed his ribs. “Don’t make me laugh. Everything hurts.”
“Your poor eye!”
He reached up toward his awful-looking left eye again but never touched it. “Bao says it’s going to snow tonight. I’ll be able to put something cold on it tomorrow morning to get the swelling down.”
“What are you doing for the swelling right now?”
“Bao said you have some kind of salve that’ll make it feel better.”
“Oh. I do.” She set the box down on the open tailgate and retrieved the jar of salve. She put a dab of salve on her finger, then hesitated. “Your eye looks tender. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“If that stuff will help, go to it.”
She was as gentle as she knew how to be, but he still winced as she applied the salve. He looked at her the whole time with the one brown eye he could see through. Hetty felt aware of his gaze, warmed by it. It was a totally different experience from what she’d felt when Dennis had gazed at her. Less threatening, she decided at last. More comfortable. More appropriate. Because he was her husband and had a right to look his fill.
Dennis did not, but he’d looked anyway. So why had she felt thrilled by his regard?
Hetty didn’t understand herself. She was frightened by her feelings. Was she doomed always to court disaster? Her head told her that encouraging Dennis in even the smallest way was a bad idea, but she couldn’t control her beating heart, which speeded up whenever Dennis Campbell looked her way.
And yet, she’d found Karl’s kiss thrilling, enthralling, exciting. What kind of person was she? Why couldn’t she confine her romantic responses to one man?
Hetty gestured Karl to sit on a nearby stump so she could reach his face better, then took her time with his eye, making sure every swollen inch of it was covered with salve. “Is that better?” she asked when she was done.
“Not much.”
Hetty was surprised by the discordant sound of his voice and looked into his one good eye. It was focused on her right breast, which was exposed as she leaned over to tend to him. She hastily backed away, her face flushed. “I’m so sorry.”
“No need to move on my account,” Karl said with a smile. He groaned as his left eye tried to crinkle and couldn’t. “I should get into a fight more often, if it means this kind of attention.”
“Karl,” Hetty began. She wasn’t sure where to go from there. She didn’t want him ever to fight Dennis again, but she wasn’t sorry he’d stood up for Griffin. She wasn’t sure whether to applaud or admonish him.
“What?” he said when she didn’t speak.
“I’m glad you defended Griffin,” she said at last.
“That boy deserves a walloping,” Karl replied. He held up his hands when he saw the horror on Hetty’s face. “But I suppose he’s getting enough punishment hunting down Dennis’s horse. On the other hand, a spanking wouldn’t kill the kid. And it might do him some good.”
Hetty shook her head. “I took away his slingshot and—”
“He can make another one,” Karl interrupted.
“I’ll have a talk with him. Dennis explained how dire the situation might have become if he’d been hurt worse. Or might become if the children can’t find his horse. Griffin isn’t a bad boy—”
“He sure as hell is an angry one,” Karl interrupted again. “What happened to him, Hetty? Why is he so mad at the world?”
Hetty didn’t know why Griffin was so angry with everyone and everything. She could guess. She’d spent a lot of time herself being mad. At the Great Fire for taking away the wonderful life she’d known. At her parents for dying. At her uncle for abandoning her and her siblings in an orphanage. At the dreadful Miss Birch for being so cruel. At herself for being so selfish and stupid. And at God for tearing her family apart.
Tears welled in Hetty’s eyes as she thought of the family she’d lost and might never see again. “Griffin’s life hasn’t been easy.”
“Yours either, from the look on your face,” Karl said.
“What look is that?”
Karl brushed away a tear that had fallen wi
th the rough pad of his thumb. “Those beautiful eyes of yours had such a look of pain just now. Can you tell me about it?”
Not without spilling the beans, she couldn’t. She swallowed over the sudden knot in her throat. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over and done.”
Karl’s hand dropped, and his voice sounded curt as he said, “I’d better get the fire started. Those kids’ll be cold and hungry when they get back.”
Then he was gone.
Hetty felt abandoned. And yet, Karl’s only thought had been for the comfort and well-being of her supposed children. She wished she could tell him the truth. She wished she’d never started this charade. She wished she could go back and tell Mr. Lin, No, I won’t pretend to be a mother. And I don’t want to be anyone’s mail-order bride.
It was too late for that. For better or worse, she was Karl’s bride. And she was the only mother those two children had. She would have a talk with Griffin when he returned. She would explain everything Dennis had told her. And she would ask Griffin to try harder to be a good boy.
Hetty stopped herself right there. That sort of lecture was liable to have the opposite effect of the one she intended. She had a better idea. She would tell Grace what she’d learned from Dennis, and let Grace advise her brother to curb his behavior. Griffin seemed to have a soft spot where Grace was concerned.
Hetty wondered if she would ever become a good wife to Karl or a good mother to Grace and Griffin. All she could do for the present was pretend and hope that by pretending and pretending, she would one day become the real thing.
She was drawn from her reverie by a shout. She listened hard and heard the same word again. Her blood froze when she realized what it was.
Indians!
It was one Indian. And he was friendly. But it took a long time for Hetty’s heartbeat to return to normal.
The Salish brave, appearing out of the bushes on a pinto pony with Dennis’s horse in tow, had frightened the wits out of Grace, who’d shrieked “Indians!” at the top of her lungs.
As Hetty ran toward her child’s fearful cry, she relived the Indian attack the day Hannah’s husband, Mr. McMurtry, had died of cholera. Because they’d been forced to leave the wagon train when Clive and Joe had fought over her, she and Hannah and Josie had been alone, unable to defend themselves, although Josie had given a good account of herself with the bullwhip used to drive the oxen. The Indians had laughed at her efforts, until she’d managed to knock one off his pony.
Hetty’s throat was choked with the remembered terror of standing in the back of the wagon and seeing a war-painted face staring back at her, and she shuddered recalling the horrific pain of the arrow that had pierced her flesh. Hannah had been crouched in the back of the wagon beside her husband, who’d died only moments before. Apparently, the sight of her identical twin suddenly standing up beside her had spooked the Indians, who’d grabbed Josie, freed the oxen, and galloped away.
Hetty felt anew the guilt and grief over the unknown fate of her sisters and for Mr. McMurtry’s death, which might not have occurred if they’d still been traveling with the wagon train.
The wagon master had already warned Mr. McMurtry once to curb Hetty’s flirtatious behavior toward Clive and Joe, which had caused a previous altercation between the two men. Hannah had spoken to her as well.
Hetty had felt only the power of her beauty and the exhilaration of finally being free of the oppressive rules under which she’d lived at the orphanage. She’d been giddy with the knowledge of Clive’s fierce attraction to her and determined to make him bow to her will and marry her before they reached Cheyenne.
Hetty wore her guilt like a millstone around her neck. She was oppressed by the catastrophe she’d caused, which had ended with three men dead, one sister lost in the wilderness, and one captured in a vicious Indian attack that had left her family scattered.
Her whole body shivered as she stared at the savage sitting across from her. The two children were huddled as close to her as possible, the three of them crouched on a wool blanket not five feet away from the dark-skinned, sharp-nosed man. He had two long, grease-laden black braids with black-and-white feathers attached and wore a long-sleeved, beaded buckskin shirt, fringed buckskin leggings, and knee-high moccasins.
To Hetty’s amazement, Karl was able to converse with the Salish brave in his native tongue.
“What does he want?” Dennis asked Karl.
“Two Feathers says he found this buckskin running free, so it belongs to him. He wants us to trade for it, if we want it back.”
Dennis shot a dark look at Griffin. “What’s that going to cost us?”
Hetty put an arm around the boy, but he shrugged it off and glared back at Dennis.
“He wants sugar, tobacco, and whiskey,” Karl said.
Dennis raised his eyebrows. “Now I understand why you brought along so much tobacco when you don’t smoke.”
Karl shrugged. “The Indians asked for it all the time last summer.”
“I’m not so sure it’s a good idea to give him any whiskey.”
“I told him we don’t have any.”
Dennis glanced at the Salish and said, “Did he believe you?”
“I offered him a Bowie knife instead. He seems willing to bargain.”
Grace leaned close and said to Hetty, “That Indian doesn’t look so frightening sitting there beside Karl. I thought my heart was going to stop when I first saw him.”
Hetty hoped Grace couldn’t tell she was still trembling. She was supposed to be the strong one, but her stomach was cramped so hard she thought she might be sick.
The savage spoke again in guttural tones.
“What does he want now?” Dennis asked.
Karl glanced at Hetty. “If we don’t have whiskey, he’s willing to forgo the sugar and tobacco and give up the horse in exchange for Grace. He likes her red hair.”
Hetty lurched to her feet in horror and cried, “No!”
The Indian remained where he was and calmly spoke again.
Karl replied in the strange language.
Hetty was trying desperately to control the hysteria that made her want to grab the children and run. “What did he say?” she demanded. “What did you say?”
“He said if I wanted to keep the red-haired girl, he’d be happy to have the yellow-haired woman instead,” Karl replied. “I told him he can have sugar and tobacco and a sharp knife. Or nothing.”
“Oh,” Hetty said. That sounded like an ultimatum. She felt Grace tugging on her skirt and sat down, hugging the girl tightly to her. She would never give her up. Never.
What if the Salish wouldn’t accept Karl’s offer? The Indian wasn’t tall, but he looked strong, and he had an old-fashioned rifle that had never left his side. What if he decided to try and take Grace anyway? And how would they retrieve Dennis’s horse if the Indian wouldn’t take trade goods for it? Would they have to fight him?
Hetty was beginning to understand the enormous, far-reaching consequences of Griffin’s small bit of mischief. They’d lost half a day of travel and perhaps Dennis’s horse, or at the very least a quantity of sugar and tobacco and a knife. Their very lives had been put in jeopardy by the appearance of this savage. No wonder Dennis had been so angry. Perhaps she’d judged him too harshly. He’d apparently foreseen difficulties of this sort, even if he hadn’t known the exact form they would take.
Karl and the Salish were conversing again, and Hetty waited with bated breath and a hurting heart to see the result of their discussion.
Karl and the Indian grasped arms, and Karl nodded. The Indian rose and crossed to the wagon wheel where he’d left Dennis’s horse tied. Meanwhile, Karl retrieved a ten-pound sack of sugar, a five-pound bag of tobacco, and a Bowie knife from the back of the wagon. The Indian handed Karl the reins, and Karl handed off the items he’d collected.
The Indian grunted an assent and disappeared into the forest beyond the fire.
“Do you suppose that’s the last we’ll see
of him?” Dennis asked.
“I hope so,” Karl said, staring off into the darkness. “I’m glad we’ll be where we’re going before he has time to get home and show off his loot. The last thing I want is a band of Salish braves catching us on the trail.” He turned and said, “Griffin, come here.”
Griffin sat where he was for a moment before Hetty gave him a surreptitious shove. The boy rose and crossed to Karl, his chin upthrust.
Karl handed Griffin the reins and said, “This poor animal needs some attention. Unsaddle him and give him a good rubdown, then feed him some corn before you picket him.”
To Hetty’s surprise, Griffin accepted the reins without a word of protest.
“I’m not sure I want that kid handling my horse,” Dennis said. “How do I know he won’t scare him off again?”
Hetty held her breath, waiting to see how Griffin would react. She knew Grace had spoken to her brother about behaving better, but Hetty wondered if Griffin had listened to anything his sister had said.
“I’d never hurt your horse on purpose, Mr. Campbell,” Griffin said sullenly. “I told you, it was an accident.” He glanced at Grace, then turned back to Dennis and mumbled, “I’m sorry for the trouble I caused.”
“You should be!” Dennis said.
Hetty didn’t give either Griffin or Dennis a chance to start a quarrel. She rose abruptly and said, “That stew should be ready by now. Griffin, go take care of Dennis’s horse. You can eat when you’re done. Grace, come help me dish up plates for everyone.”
“Oh!” Grace said.
Hetty whirled to find out what was wrong now. She found Grace staring up into a sky where the sunlight had disappeared behind lowering gray clouds, her hands held out before her.
“What is it, Grace?”
Grace turned her gaze back to Hetty, her eyes alight with wonder. “It’s snowing.”
Montana Bride Page 9
