Scars of the Heart

by Joni Keever

  “Where did those supplies come from?”

  His fingers curled around the neck of the bottle, but he sat motionless, his eyes closed, his breathing labored. “My people use this cave. We’ll restock what we use.”

  Blood still oozed from the hole in his right shoulder. He lifted the vessel with his left hand, pulled the cork with his teeth, and drank nonstop until one-third was gone. Wiping his sleeve across his mouth, Kade turned his expressionless gaze on Carly.

  “Want some?”

  “I don’t drink.” She squatted down by the fire and stirred the white-tinged wood with a stick.

  “Neither do I.” He took another long pull.

  “Really? You don’t give that impression.”

  “Perhaps it’s the company I’m keeping lately.” He watched her for a moment, then continued, softer. “We have no water, and I’m in no shape to get some just now. I need to rest a bit.”

  He offered the bottle again, and Carly took it after a moment’s hesitation. She placed the rim to her lips and tilted it skyward. Liquid fire poured into her mouth and throat. She gasped and sputtered, sending a fine spray of whiskey across the distance separating her and Kade.

  “Good God, woman. Just sip it.”

  Struggling for air, Carly caught the apple ring he tossed her and quickly took a bite. It helped ease the burning in her throat, so she took another and looked at him.

  He’d called her woman. So he knew. Of course he knew. Kade had seen what those men in the barn were doing to her.

  Tearing her gaze from his, Carly glanced down her chest. Her shirt lay open about two inches, ragged with strings where buttons once were. She clutched the fabric together and looked back at the cowboy through her lashes. A heavy silence filled the still air.

  Carly cleared her throat. “I guess I owe you a word of thanks.”

  The man sat quietly for some time. When he spoke, his voice was low. “So, Carl, what made you think you could run off on your own and not get in trouble?”

  “Carly. My name is really Carly.” She reached for another piece of dried fruit, then toyed with it as she spoke. “I—I guess it was stupid of me. But I . . . I mean, it’s just that—”

  “I suggest you get some sleep, Carly. We should be safe enough in here, but I aim to move on at first light.”

  She watched as his eyes closed, his head lolled back, and his breathing grew deep and even. She recorked the bottle, took a piece of jerky, and curled up in the dirt near the fire. Through the flames, she could see his face. The red-orange glow dusted his features with cinnamon and added bluish highlights to his long hair.

  That man back in Destiny had said Kade was wanted for murder. Carly didn’t know much about him, but he didn’t seem like a criminal. She thought back to the men who had tracked them that first day. They weren’t after her. It was Kade they sought.

  A shiver pimpled her skin, and she wiggled closer to the blaze. Carly studied her companion quietly until the black fog of sleep crept about her.

  #

  Strange sounds stole into her dreams. They distorted her pleasant Virginia garden party so that Carly soon found herself trapped in a cold, dark place with leering men coming at her.

  She bolted upright and peered about fearfully. In bits and pieces, the events of last night came back to her, and she recognized the cave where they’d sought refuge. Morning light poured through the entrance, and she blinked against its brightness. The sounds continued though she now sat fully awake. Carly turned to where Kade still leaned against the wall.

  His head tossed from side to side. Perspiration beaded on his face and forearms. He moaned and mumbled words she couldn’t understand. She scrambled over to him.

  “Kade? Wake up, Kade. It’s morning.” She placed a hand gently on his good shoulder to shake him, then jerked it away. He burned like the coals in the fire. Sweat soaked his shirt and pants, making them cling to his body like another layer of skin. She noticed the tattered hole in his shirt and wondered again at what lay beneath. Blood stained more than halfway down that side of his body. Carly knew she had to do something. But what?

  “C’mon, Kade. Wake up. I don’t know what to do. Wake up, and tell me how to help you!” He continued with his fitful sleep.

  The black stood near the cave’s entrance. His head hung low. His coat was matted with dry sweat from their urgent flight last night. He regarded Carly with a tired, helpless look.

  She stood and paced. Think, girl, think. What would Kade do? The empty water bag lay near him on the dirt floor. Carly picked it up, gathered the stallion’s halter lead, and went in search of a spring.

  During their travels, Kade had pointed out what should have been obvious—where there’s foliage, there’s water. Especially in this part of the country. She let her eyes adjust to the bright morning sun. She scanned the terrain and noticed a stand of trees and brush not very far away. Her gaze roamed the area again, checking for any sign of danger. Unconvinced yet determined, she set out with the black in tow.

  The trees looked nearer than they were. Carly was well out of breath by the time they reached them. She searched for some time before discovering a small spring. The horse nickered softly and pricked his ears forward. She allowed him to quench his thirst before she helped herself, then filled the strange pouch with clear, cool water.

  Eyeing the distance back, she turned her attention to the stallion. She would certainly reach Kade sooner if she could just ride his horse. Feeling proud of herself for finding the life-giving spring, Carly decided to try. She wasn’t nearly as frightened of the animal as she’d once been. In fact, he seemed pretty nice, as horses went.

  She led him to a large boulder and carefully climbed atop it. Holding the water pouch to her chest with one hand, she gripped the halter rope and a handful of mane with the other. Speaking what she hoped were words of reassurance, Carly slid her leg over. She sat there stunned for a moment, unwilling to believe it could be that easy. The stallion pawed the ground impatiently.

  With a deep breath, Carly thumped her heels against the animal’s sides as she’d noticed Kade do. With a lunge, the black started off, sending her reeling—first backward, then forward. Water sloshed down her chest to her lap.

  “Oooooh!” Carly wanted to close her eyes but realized she was the one steering. Or was she? All she seemed to be doing was holding on. The stallion moved deftly over the rocks and dead branches. He seemed to know where he was going, so she just held tight, praying he wouldn’t do anything unexpected.

  They reached the cave in no time, and Carly slid from the animal’s back. She gave him a grateful smile before hurrying over to Kade. He rested more quietly now, but a touch told her the fever raged on.

  She looked about for a cloth to wet, though she didn’t think she would find one. Carefully placing the bag between her knees, Carly reached for the cowboy’s shirt with hesitant fingers. They trembled as she undid the buttons. She glanced repeatedly at his face, half expecting him to wake up and catch her at her immoral conduct. Never had she undressed a man. But Carly knew, somehow, she must push herself beyond what was comfortable, what was deemed decent in her previous world of quilting circles and Sunday socials. Carly felt quite certain Kade’s very life lay in her hands.

  Chapter Twelve

  With great care, Carly uncovered the wounded area, feeling the shirt stick to dried blood. She slipped the material from her companion’s shoulder and down his arm. An angry black hole made her gasp and draw back. Bright-red blood trickled in a thin stream over the darker dry layers. Kade didn’t stir.

  Biting her lip, she leaned him forward, supporting his bulk with her shoulder. The charred hole high on his back seemed smaller, though none the prettier. Awkward with his weight and nearness, Carly maneuvered behind the man, moving the shirt across his back and down his other arm. His head lolled forward. She struggled to keep him from toppling. As she countered his weight, Kade fell back against her, pinning Carly between himself and the cool stone wall.r />
  Her sharp intake of air went unnoticed as she shoved with both hands against his broad shoulders. The intense heat that radiated from his body halted her effort. Decorum dissolved as she gazed down at his quiet features. Long, black lashes fanned across flushed cheeks. Carly’s fingers moved to gently clear stray strands of ebony hair from his face. Shifting slightly to a more comfortable position, she retrieved Kade’s shirt from the dust. Working awkwardly around him, she tore the material into strips.

  She soaked the cloths in the water, then alternately bathed his forehead and cleaned away the blood. When she tried to wash the wound, her stomach pitched. She stopped, taking several deep breaths, then forced herself to continue.

  The bullet must’ve passed clean through, tearing the muscle and perhaps splintering bone. Carly didn’t know and didn’t want to find out. She simply wanted to get his fever down so he would wake up and take them to a town where a doctor could properly care for him.

  His wound continued to seep. She knew she should bandage it, but she needed the strips to bathe Kade’s face with cool water. Once she lowered his temperature, she would try and wrap the shoulder.

  After soaking the cloth again, Carly moved it across Kade’s wide chest, squeezing droplets as she went. They ran quickly down the smooth skin, following the contours to the center valley. The rivulets lost momentum as they traveled the ripples of the cowboy’s stomach and finally disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants. She noticed with each gentle breath, his abdomen rose to meet that waistband. With each exhale, it fell away, creating a shadowy enticement. With leisure, she repeated the action, mesmerized by the droplets’ course across Kade’s sun-kissed skin.

  The third time, Carly discarded the cloth. She poured the cool liquid in her cupped palm. Her fingers trembled as she moved them over his fiery flesh. Never had she seen such perfection. His wide shoulders dwarfed her. Her hands, splayed across the solid plains of Kade’s chest, looked tiny and pale. Bronze skin stretched tautly over rigid muscle.

  As if caught in a trance, Carly continued to caress the man with the cooling liquid. She ran her trembling fingers lightly over his rounded shoulders and down tightly corded arms. Returning to his chest, she poured out more water, and her hands grew bolder.

  “You are so beautiful.” Carly wasn’t sure whether she had voiced the thought or if it simply echoed in her mind.

  The steady beat of Kade’s heart against her palm made her realize her own heart beat a wild rhythm against the solid wall of his back. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Her insides seemed to spin. She grew light-headed and dizzy. In a panic, Carly scrambled from behind him, putting several feet of distance between them.

  Slumped against the side of the cave, Kade rested, oblivious to his companion or her confusion. Dark hair had fallen across his face, shadowing his features. She knew he still slept from the steady rise and fall of his chest.

  Glancing at her own, Carly noticed the firm peaks of her breasts straining against the thin, sweat-soaked fabric. They reacted as if she were chilled, yet she felt far from cold. A fever raged within her like she had never known. Her palms burned with a warmth, as if seared by Kade’s flesh. She quickly gathered the tattered sides of her shirt together.

  Inching her way to the water bag, Carly kept her gaze trained on the sleeping giant. She raised the pouch above her head and emptied its contents on her face. Perhaps she was growing ill. She’d been without a decent meal or night’s sleep for days. That had to be it, she reasoned. A woman can only take so much.

  She looked to Kade, the confusion equal in her mind and body. Carly shook her head, willing her breathing to return to normal. Her thoughts struggled to make sense of her behavior; she shook those off as well. Another time perhaps. But now she was in need of a refill.

  Once again, the stallion did all the work, amazing Carly with his knowledge of what she wanted from him. She filled the bag and allowed herself a moment to wash her face and neck. Black soot from the livery fire floated on top of the water. She longed to wash herself completely—clothes, hair, everything. But she knew there was little time. Kade needed her help, and the men who hunted them could arrive at any moment.

  Carly lost track of the number of trips she made to the spring. She worked steadily through the morning, bathing Kade’s face and chest with the cool cloths. While she watched him sleep, she used his knife to cut strips of her shirttail. She planned to use some as bandages and utilized the others to tie her shirt together where it now lacked buttons. When Kade finally opened his eyes, Carly almost cried with relief.

  “Drink. I need a drink,” he choked out.

  Placing a clean piece of cloth to his lips, Carly squeezed water into his parched mouth.

  “Water?”

  His eyes were glazed, but Carly registered the surprise within them. She shrugged. “I found a spring. And I rode the black.” She allowed herself a small triumphant smile, then offered Kade more water. “How do you feel?”

  He blinked and tried to lean forward. Carly placed a hand in the center of his chest, stilling him lest his actions cause the wound to bleed again. Heat radiated up her arm to suffuse her entire body, a powerful reminder of her bold actions earlier and their unexpected effect on her. She felt the heat creep up her neck to stain her cheeks and was grateful when Kade seemed not to notice.

  “I’ve been better.” He raised his left hand toward the shoulder.

  Again Carly stopped him. “Don’t. I cleaned it best as I could. I’m afraid your shirt has seen better days as well.” She held out the strips she’d used on his forehead.

  “How bad is it?” He tried to focus just past his jaw to his shoulder.

  “I’m not sure. I’ve never seen a gunshot wound before. Truth is, I’ve never seen anything this bad before. What should I do?”

  “Get me the whiskey.”

  She did as ordered and sat waiting, hoping he felt up to travel. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. His head fell back against the hard wall, and his eyelids remained shut. Carly was afraid he’d gone back to sleep until he spoke.

  “If I get worse, I mean, bad at all, you have to go for help.”

  Carly shook her head no, but he couldn’t see her.

  “You have to take the black and ride due north. It’s a day, maybe two.” He took another swig from the bottle. “You’ll leave this ridge and cross flat country. There’ll be another mountain ridge, like this one. Head for it. They’ll find you. They’ll recognize the stallion and know what to do. They’ll know where to search for me.” His voice trailed away to a raspy whisper.

  “Who? Who will find me?” Carly shook him, anxious for an answer, but Kade had slipped back into unconsciousness.

  #

  The intense heat of the afternoon mirrored the fever raging within Kade. Carly worked diligently with the cool water and cloths, but she could see he grew worse. The area around the wound was dark and swollen. Though she continued to talk to her patient, his subconscious refused to relinquish its grip on him. When he slept quietly, Carly would lie down beside him. Each time, she rested shorter than the last. His fever climbed higher, bringing with it the fitful ramblings.

  She pressed the cool cloths to Kade’s head, begging him to wake up, begging him to be all right. All of a suddenly his eyelids flew open. He jerked away from her touch, knocking her hands aside with his arms. He jumped to his feet and stood crouched, like a wild animal ready to pounce.

  “Kade! It’s all right, Kade. It’s me, Carly.” The only answer was a nervous nicker from the black.

  In erratic fashion, the man’s gaze scoured the cave’s interior, never focusing on Carly. His eyes were glazed. Sweat shone on his chest and torso. She stood on quivering legs, unsure what to do.

  Approaching him cautiously, she tried again. “Kade?”

  With a guttural growl, he spun toward her, knocking her to the ground with a blow to the shoulder. She covered her head, preparing for the worst. But he didn’t advance. The cowboy continued t
o stand there, snarling and scanning the area with unseeing eyes.

  Carly rose to her feet slowly. She stared at this stranger, a man she both feared and respected, a man who had saved her from harm yet placed her in its path. A man so different from any she had ever known. As she watched him in the fading light, feral with fever and delirium, realization dawned.

  His eyes were as black as coal. His dark hair had come loose from its rawhide tie and hung in wild array about his face. His bare chest revealed iron-like muscles beneath coppery skin. He stood there like a crazy man, an animal . . . a savage.

  Carly’s throat constricted tightly. The dark ring of unconsciousness seduced her. She placed both hands to her mouth, fighting back a wave of nausea.

  “An Indian! My God, you’re an Indian!”

  Again he swiveled toward the sound of her voice. His eyes refused to focus. As Carly gawked, his muscles began to relax, his features softened, and, as his eyes rolled to reveal their whites, Kade fell to the ground near the fire.

  #

  Carly stood at the mouth of the cave, watching the moon float ever upward, undaunted by the heavy dark clouds that seemed to try and suppress it. The night was warm, but a shiver scaled her spine, causing her to wrap her arms about herself.

  She now knew who Kade had referred to earlier that morning. They were undoubtedly his people, his family, his Indians. He was a savage, no better than the barbarian who had killed her father and taken her captive. They could even be brothers, for all Carly knew.

  She almost laughed as she thought how he must’ve enjoyed her pathetic story of abduction. She’d made her feelings so clear, he’d obviously kept his secret to himself, making her easier to deal with. No wonder he had recounted the massacre at Sand Creek with such passion. Were those his people? Had he been there? Did he lose loved ones? Carly tried to disentangle her opinion of this man from the only image she had of an Indian, the one that plagued her memory and came to her in nightmares.