by Indiana Wake
If she stayed …
She awoke with a scream in her throat and strong hands encircling her wrists, holding them still. In the darkness, she could see nothing but the gleam of a face above her. The scent of her fear filled the room and cold sweat soaked her nightdress. The scream escaped and seemed to take all her remaining reason with it.
Not again.
“Miriam, hush. You were dreaming.” The voice was not her brother’s, but it brought a measure of calm with it. “Hush, dearest, you’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”
The quiet murmurs continued to sooth until she stopped fighting and Miriam found herself caught against a broad chest. Strong arms wrapped around her shoulders and chased away the horror. Part of her seemed to stand back, shocked that she allowed a man, not her brother or father, to hold her while she sat on a bed clothed in only her nightdress. But the larger part accepted the comfort; assured that with this man she was safe.
For a moment longer, she enjoyed the comfort and safety his arms offered. But then she had to pull away. Conventions were there for a reason.
“Thank you.” Her throat was raw from screaming. “I haven’t had that dream in a long time. I thought I was done with it.”
Sam allowed her to pull away although he wanted to continue holding her if only to protect her from the monsters of the world. “What happened? Who hurt you?”
Miriam shook her head, unable to think the name with the memory so vivid in her head. “It was a long time ago and no longer matters. It is probably the strange room and being so tired from traveling.”
But the sinister whispers still echoed in her mind, proving the lie. Black eyes like snakes, seemed to peer at her from the corner of the room. She shuddered and wrapped her arms around her chilled body.
“Are you sure?”
She could hear the doubt in his voice.
“I’m fine Sam. Truly.” A thought came to her. “Why are you here? How did you know?” she eased another few inches away from him. Had it been just a dream?
“The coyotes were at the chickens. I lock ‘em up in the henhouse at night, but they were puttin’ up a terrible fuss. I had to walk past the house to check on ‘em.” Sam hesitated. “I heard you cryin’ as I walked by. I knocked, but you didn’t answer. Then you screamed … the chickens didn’t matter after that.”
His words had the ring of truth, and now that she listened, she could hear the yipping of a coyote and the nervous cackling of the chickens. “Well, I’m better now. You better go check the hens or there will be no eggs for breakfast.” Miriam smiled into the darkness even though she knew he couldn’t see her.
“Thank you, Sam.” The words seemed so inadequate for what she was feeling. Taking a deep breath, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth and made a decision. Leaning forward, she pressed a hesitant kiss on his cheek. Sharp stubble pricked her lips and the softer hairs of his mustache brushed against her cheek before she pulled away.
Her stomach pinched with her daring.
“Thank you.” She whispered.
He looked at her. She could see the faint gleam of his eyes reflecting the light coming through the windows. He drew a finger down her cheek, making her shiver at the touch. Then he stood up and ducked past the curtain.
The darkness closed in around her and threatened to squash her under its weight. She nearly called him back so that she wasn’t so alone. Then she heard the oven door open and warm, comforting light danced over the curtain once more.
“Good night, Miriam.”
The house door opened and closed and he was gone, but he had left light to chase away the darkness.
Chapter 8
She slept no more that night, and when the sun peeked over the far eastern horizon, Miriam was sliding the first stack of flapjacks onto a waiting plate. They were Zach’s favorite and she hoped it would ease the blow.
The men came in with freshly washed faces and hands leaving their hats on a hook beside the door. With an exclamation of pleasure, Zach headed straight for the table and scooped the larger portion of flapjacks to his plate.
Sam hesitated in the doorway. It was the first time she had seen Sam in the daylight without his hat. His thick chestnut curls showed signs of a recent trim and framed a high forehead.
Pa had always said that a high forehead and wide-set eyes was a sign of intelligence and common sense in both horses and men. Sam had both. His eyes were the color of rich, fertile soil freshly turned and waiting for seed. Right now, they were searching hers with concern.
“Good morning, Sam.” Miriam felt her cheeks pink at the memory of the night before. “Breakfast is ready if you can get some away from my brother.”
“Are you well?” Sam continued to search her face, making her cheeks heat more.
“I am well.” She smiled at him, trying to send him a hint of her decision. “I am more than well. Please come eat. We have a busy day ahead.”
Zach looked up at that, pausing in mid chew. He swallowed hastily. “What do you mean, ‘a busy day’?” he glanced down at his plate, his face lighting. “You decided to come home. Miriam, you made the right choice, you won’t be sorry.”
Sam looked up from the flapjacks he was drizzling with molasses, the sweet, sticky stuff continuing to ooze across his plate unheeded.
Miriam smiled at him then turned to her brother. “No, Zach. I’m staying. I was up most of the night thinking. I have decided to stay here with Sam.” Her stomach churned and she fought to keep her voice level. “If he still wants me.”
Sam righted the pitcher of molasses and set his fork down in the thick brown mess. Without taking his eyes from hers, he stood and made his way around the table until he stood before her. He didn’t say a word, just stared with some deep emotion she couldn’t identify.
Miriam twisted her hands in her apron as she looked up into his face. Had she misjudged him? Did the knowledge of her past, for surely he had to know her shame after watching her dream, did it change his wishes? Was she truly ruined beyond repair?
Tears blurred her vision at his continued hesitation. She closed her eyes to shut away the face she could no longer see, to shield her from the rejection she knew would follow.
A warm hand untangled her cold ones from her apron. She opened her eyes to see Sam kneeling at her feet.
“Miriam Owen, will you consent to be my wife. Will you share with me in the joys and trials of running a farm, and perhaps, with God’s blessing, in raising a family of our own?”
Miriam looked down into his dear face. Her heart leaped to agree, but a dark shadow of memory had her pausing. Leaning in she whispered so that only he could hear. “Sam, you know that I am … that I’ve been …” She had never said the words aloud, but this time she had to. She had to make sure he knew and truly understood. With her lips almost at his ear she whispered, “I am … defiled.”
Sam’s hands trembled once around hers and his mustache tickled her ear as he replied, “Do you think I hold you responsible for the sins of others? I’m not a saint. The thought of another man touching you maddens me. But the anger is towards him, not you. Once I find out who it was, I will kill him.”
The matter of fact way that he spoke chilled her, even as she hoped he would do as he promised.
“I hate to break up this tender moment, but I have some say in this.” Zach banged the table with his fork. Miriam watched as he wiped his face and hands thoroughly before continuing.
“As Miriam’s only living relative, and head of the house, I refuse to give my consent to this marriage. You cannot think of bringing her into this hovel to live, not to mention you don’t really own the land until you have ‘proved up’ for the full five years. You’re only halfway done. What happens when your crops fail and you have to leave or starve? What happens to my sister then?”
Slowly he stood and leaned on the table. “Miriam, go pack your things we’re leaving.”
“No.” Miriam stood her ground and faced her brother whom she loved m
ore than anyone in the world. “I’m sorry Zach, but you aren’t Pa and you can’t decide for me. Even Pa would have no say since I am far past the age of needing his permission.”
She went to stand beside her brother, but he refused to look at her. “Please understand Zachariah, I can’t go back. I need this wide-open land. I need a new start.” Even if Bart followed you? The words whispered through her mind, dark and insidious like the man himself. She shook them away and reached out a hand to touch Zach’s arm, but he yanked it out of her reach. With one burning glare, he slammed out the door.
Chapter 9
The ride to town was quiet. Zach sat in the back of the buckboard leaning against his small carpetbag. He hadn’t said a word since leaving the cabin and Miriam could feel the anger and confusion roll off him in waves. She wished she could make him understand, but he would have to figure it out for himself.
Right now, she was content to be sitting beside the man who would be her husband in a few short hours. He drove the team of horses with the reins held firmly in one hand. The other hand held hers under the folds of her skirt. Not even Zach could see it.
The intimate touch was a secret between the two of them, sealing the bond that had begun the night before in the darkness. In the place between hope and fear.
The ride to town seemed shorter than the trip out the day before had been. Yet it was noon by the time the false-fronted buildings appeared on the horizon. Sam took his hand from hers to turn the horses onto the main street. The sun baked street dozed in the dusty heat. The only sounds came from the jingle of harness and the tinny notes of a cabaret piano drifting through the air from the saloon.
There were none of the smells or sounds that had welcomed her the day before. No herd of cows, and no menacing cowboys.
The tension in Miriam’s shoulders eased. She hadn’t realized that she had been anxious about facing him again. With the cows shipped out on the train, the cowboys who had herded them would doubtless be gone as well.
Now she could enjoy her wedding day.
Sam guided the team to a shady spot behind the livery stable and set the brake. He jumped down from the seat and turned to lift her down as he had the day before. This time he kept his hands around her waist for an extra few seconds until Zach cleared his throat loudly.
“Well, are we going to get this over with?” Zach snapped. “I’ve got a train to catch.”
Miriam sighed; he was going to be disagreeable.
Sam merely smiled and pumped some water into a nearby trough for the horses and held out his arm for Miriam to take.
“You can wait in the hotel while I hunt up the preacher. Most everyone is taking a siesta during this part of the day, but he will come quick enough when he learns there is to be a wedding.” Sam smiled and patted her hand. “He is happy to do anything to break up the monotony of funerals on boot hill.”
“Boot Hill?” she asked.
“The cemetery at the other end of the street.” Sam jerked his thumb to indicate the direction. “They call it that because it’s full of people who died with their boots on …usually in gun battles.” He added at her confused look.
“Are there many gun battles here?” Miriam looked around as if the bullets would start flying any minute.
Sam shrugged and stepped up onto the boardwalk that led to the hotel. “Sometimes. It’s not as bad as it was; now it’s mostly when the big herds come in and the cowboys are blowing off steam.”
“Like the herd that came through yesterday?” Miriam suddenly remembered the sinister gleam of guns on the hips of the cowboys. Her blood went cold and she shivered.
“That was a small herd. Chances are they loaded them onto some boxcars on yesterday’s train then left early this morning.” Sam held open the door to the hotel’s wonderfully cool interior. “That is why the town is so quiet today.”
He led her to the nearly empty dining room and pulled out a chair for her. “You wait here while I go find the preacher.” He motioned the waitress over, “Nancy here will fix you a nice cool drink while you wait.”
Sam gave her fingers a quick squeeze before striding back out into the heat.
Zach lingered awkwardly by the door shifting his carpetbag from one hand to the other. He couldn’t quite meet his sister’s gaze, but some of the anger seemed to have left him. He was never one to stay angry long, it wasn’t in his nature.
“I’m going to go see about a ticket.” Zach shrugged. “If your mind is made up, there’s no reason for me to stay.”
“Looks like just you and me, Honey.” The waitress shook her head with understanding. “Are you the lady that’s come out to marry Sammy?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Miriam eyed the middle-aged woman with the wide hips and wider smile, wondering how well she knew Sam to call him by such a familiar name.
The woman laughed “Don’t you worry none about me, dearie. I knowed the boy’s ma real well before she died. Sammy sometimes comes in to talk when he is lonely for her. How ‘bout I go get you a lemonade, on the house.”
Miriam watched her go. Maybe when the woman came back, she could ask her some questions about her husband-to-be. What was his favorite color, what did he like to eat, what did he like …?
“So the hillbilly found her way out o’ the hills.” Her enemy spun a chair around and sat on it backward facing her with his arms crossed over the back. His leering grin had ice creeping down her spine, but she was better prepared than she had been yesterday.
Chapter 10
“This isn’t West Virginia, Bart. You aren’t in the employ of the big mines here.” She knotted her fingers together to hide their trembling.
“I know that, hillbilly.” Bart’s scowl darkened his face even more than usual. “I know that very well. You know that ‘cousin’ you kept from me a while back? Well, guess what? She wasn’t your cousin. She was a runaway from the mine. You know what else, she married herself a union man and had the guts to come back an’ start preachin’ about ‘justice’ and ‘fair wages’.”
Bart leaned closer until she could smell the whiskey on his hot breath. “You know what else? I was blamed for lettin’ them live and come back. Putney’s put the mark on me and I had t’ run t’ this God forsaken place to escape. If I ever go back home, I’m good as dead. So I figure I’ll start me a new life out here. I seen you an’ thought, ‘well there you go, Bart, a little piece of home just for you’.”
Miriam controlled the shudder with an effort. “I am not here for you. I’m getting married today and my husband will be back any minute.”
“Husband?” Bart cursed and stood up, flinging the chair against a nearby table. “You think a husband will keep you safe from me?”
He leaned down and wrapped a strong hand around the back of her neck holding her still as he bent toward her. Miriam slapped a hand to his chest and tried to push him away, but she may as well have pushed a mountain.
“Does your ‘husband’ know about us, about the fun we shared down by that creek?” Bart’s black, glittering eyes and foul breath strained Miriam’s control. Helpless tears burned her eyelids, but sheer force of will kept them from falling.
“He knows.” Miriam fought to keep her voice steady. “He says that when he finds you he will kill you.”
Bart’s snake-like gaze flickered at that. The grip around her neck loosened just enough for her to pull away. Quickly, she stood and put the table between them.
“Go away and never speak to me again.” Miriam drew her shoulders back and lifted her chin, taking back the confidence he had stolen from her. “Go.”
For a moment, she thought her enemy would take her advice, but then his eyes narrowed. “You ain’t told him who it was.” He sneered. “You afraid he ain’t up to the task?”
“I just don’t want him to soil his hands with your filth. Now go, and don’t ever let me see you again.”
“Your lily white husband ain’t man enough to take me.” Bart stalked around the table. Miriam retreated until her bac
k pressed against the wall. Her enemy smirked as he placed a hand on either side of her, trapping her. “How ‘bout I go find him. Then we can go somewhere nice and quiet and get reacquainted.”
He leaned in as if to kiss her, then he was gone.
Sam stood between her and the jumble of tables where Bart had landed. A muscle pulsed in Sam’s jaw and his hands curled into fists as he waited for the other man to get up.
“He’s the one, ain’t he, Miriam.” Sam’s already deep voice was a savage growl. “He’s the one who hurt you.”
“That’s right, sodbuster.” Bart untangled himself from the chairs where he had landed. “I broke her in for you, but now I think I’ll keep her for myself.”
“Over my dead body.” Sam snarled.
“That’s the general idea.” Bart launched himself at Sam. The former mine guard was strong and used to fighting dirty, but he was used to beating miners who had lost all hope of winning.
Sam was no half-starved, over-worked miner. He was a farmer, used to working with his hands, breaking up sod, plowing, cutting hay and wood for winter. He had worked hard and eaten well for most of his life and he was fighting for the woman he loved.
There was no contest.
Out of deference to Nancy and the hotel, Sam caught Bart by the shirtfront and tossed him out the door and into the street. There, in the dust of the street, among a gathering crowd of spectators, Sam gave Bart a beating that was the topic of dinner table conversation for many months to come.
Finally, with Bart lying still in the stained dirt of the street, Miriam caught Sam’s hand before it crashed into the bloody face again. He could have easily pulled out of her grip, but Sam let her gentle touch restrain his fury.
“It is enough, Sam,” Miriam spoke low, for his ears alone. “Don’t kill him. Let him live and deal with the consequences of his evil. To kill a man is a heavy burden, and not one I would want you to bear.”
