A murmur went through the crowd as soon as he was finished and women began gathering their children, herding them toward their wagons to tell them what was expected of them. The men went to check their weapons and ammunition.
Derek looked for Julie and found her where he knew she'd be, in the Bascomb wagon with the baby. Without having to be told, Sujen took the infant from Julie and Julie joined Derek outside the wagon. Hand in hand, they moved from the wagon to the privacy of a clump of bushes.
She laid her head against his chest, ripples of warmth moving through her as his arms enfolded her. Nothing could harm her as long as she was in his embrace. She sighed. "You must try to talk to Myles. Please. I didn't think it was possible for him to withdraw any more than he already has, but he gets worse every day." She related a few stories, then said, "Sometimes I hear him crying. And he won't even look at the baby. I think he blames him for Teresa's dying, but he won't talk to me about any of it."
"He's got to work it out for himself," Derek told her firmly. "A man has to handle grief in his own way, and nothing anybody says to him will make any difference."
"But you aren't going to Fort Bowie," she said. "I wanted a doctor to see him."
"A doctor can't do anything, Julie," he said wearily. "Now don't give me a hard time, please. I've made a decision I feel is right for the welfare of everyone. I'll go and try to talk to Myles, though, if it will make you feel better. Then I'm taking first watch. You get some sleep."
Before they parted, he held her tightly against him and said, "Dream about me. Dream of how good it's going to be when we have another chance to be together."
He turned and forced himself to walk away, yearning to stay with her and knowing he couldn't.
He found Myles lying on his back beneath his wagon, arms folded behind his head, staring upward but not seeing anything. He had not even bothered to spread out his bedroll but lay instead on the hard ground. Derek squatted down and peered at him silently. If Myles saw him he didn't acknowledge him.
Finally, Derek spoke. "Have you got your gun and ammunition ready, Myles?"
Myles waited so long to reply that Derek was about to repeat the question.
"No need." His words were barely audible. "I'm moving out."
"No, you're not," Derek countered. "Every man is needed to protect this wagon train. What about Julie? Your son? You want to desert them?"
With great effort, Myles moved his head enough to look at Derek. His eyes were lost, lonely, the reflection of his wretched grief. "I deserted myself the night Teresa died. Or something like that. That's why I want to move on, to try to find something. Then I'll come back. You look after them while I'm gone. You're a better man than I am, Arnhardt."
"When you're down on your knees, it's easy to believe every man you see stands tall. You were a man once," Derek challenged. "Why don't you come out of it and start acting like a man again?"
Myles's eyes flashed, and Derek was pleased to see that much life in him. "Don't push me, Arnhardt. You've never lost a wife, a baby-"
"No, but I've known grief. I like to think it made me stronger. Now get this straight, damn it." He leaned forward. "You aren't going anywhere. You're going to stay and do what's expected of you. If you want to hide under this goddamn wagon at night and feel sorry for yourself, fine. But during the day I'll expect you to act like a man."
Myles didn't say another word. He seemed to retreat all the way into his own world, where he'd been for weeks. But Derek knew he'd heard and understood.
A little later, Julie saw Derek climbing to the rise where he would take first watch. She wanted to talk to Myles, but Louella called to her then, and she had to help with the baby. Sometime later, she made her way to Myles's wagon and called out to him, but there was no answer. Tired, she went inside and lay down on her pallet. Sleep came quickly, and with it, an extraordinary dream.
She was standing before an altar, wearing a dress of shimmering white satin, sheathed in delicate lace. There were tiny diamonds scattered below the waist, like twinkling stars, and cascading ruffles that trailed to the floor and beyond her in a delicately twined train. The bodice teased her breasts, but white netting modestly covered her smooth flesh all the way to her neck. The neck was circled by milk-white pearls.
The radiance of her love for the man walking toward her could not be obscured by the soft white veil that draped from the emerald-studded tiara atop her head to below her hips.
Appearing from a rose-colored mist, resplendent in a coat of sky-blue velvet, he had never been so handsome. Thick wisps of coffee-colored hair curled boyishly round the rugged face, and deep brown-black eyes spoke of all his desires.
He stepped to her side, possessive hands clasping hers, and they turned to face a minister who solemnly intoned the vows of marriage.
Her wedding to Derek. A long dream surfacing finally, to kiss away forever the lonely doubts. Love, always and ever, eternally together, the way it was meant to be.
Then there came a soft cry from somewhere behind her. Julie tried to turn around, to see where the sound came from, so mournful, so wistful, but some unseen power held her. Pain stabbed at the back of her neck as she struggled against the invisible bonds. Then something thrust her head upward, from the rosy mist to golden clouds dancing above. The face of Teresa hovered there, an ethereal glow lighting her lovely smile. Something fell on Julie's face, something infinitely soft, and as she lifted an upturned palm, there fell a delicate pink flower petal, then a yellow petal, then a blue one, then a white one. Suddenly the petals were raining down so thickly they began piling up at her feet, rising to her knees, then to her waist. She saw that Derek, too, was being buried in blossoms.
"My flowers!" Teresa cried. "Give me my flowers!" The blossoms became teardrops, and Teresa's smile became a horror-filled grimace. "My baby! Give me my baby!" she cried.
Derek was backing away, leaving her alone with the sweet face that had changed so horribly. The tears became flower petals once again, and they were raining down too fast, packing tighter, covering her nostrils, smothering her. Julie couldn't move though she willed every muscle in her body to run, run and be with Derek.
With a muffled cry Julie awoke, clawing at the blankets. It had begun as a dream and ended as a nightmare.
She stared about into the darkness. Something was not right. Something was terribly wrong.
She stood on shaky legs, groping in the blackness for her robe, then made her way among the cartons and boxes to the end of the wagon. The sky was tinged with the pink promise of a new day, but something told her she might not welcome this particular day.
She fell to her hands and knees, whispering Myles's name. There was no answer. She reached out and felt for him, but her hands did not touch his warm, sleeping body. Frightened, she jumped from the wagon and looked underneath it. Even as she knelt to look, she knew he wouldn't be there.
She ran to the supply wagon. There was no one there. Then she remembered. When Derek completed a watch, he sometimes slept on the rise instead of going to the wagon. She started running, calling out to him, not caring that her cries might awaken the others.
Derek, trained to awaken at the slightest sound, heard her and met her halfway down the slope. Quickly, she explained. "You've got to go after him!"
Derek ran his fingers through his mussed hair until the thing he was trying to grasp hit him all at once. "Where the hell is Thomas?" he demanded of the world around him, then took off down the slope in long, purposeful strides, Julie hurrying after.
Derek ran to the wagon belonging to Eugene Croom, where Elisa Thatcher had lived since she'd sold her own wagon. With one swift leap, he was up and inside, ignoring the startled cries of Eugene, his wife, and two small daughters. As he'd suspected, Elisa's pallet was empty.
His voice split the stillness of dawn as he bellowed Thomas's name, and almost instantly, a low growl of rage emanated from deep within him as Thomas emerged from beneath the Croom wagon, wearing only his long underwear
. Julie watched as Elisa, her hair long and tangled, scrambled to conceal herself.
Derek sent his fist slamming into Thomas's stunned face. He fell, and Derek grabbed his throat and jerked him up, holding him so hard he could barely breathe. "You son of a bitch! You were on watch!" Derek raged. "And you sneaked off to be with her! I ought to kill you!"
His free hand moved to hit Thomas again, and Julie threw herself between them. "Derek, no! There's no time for this. You've got to find Myles before he gets too far away."
Derek released Thomas, and he swayed for a moment, coughing and clutching his throat. "Myles is gone?" he croaked, looking at Julie, not daring to look at Derek.
"If you'd been on watch, you'd have heard him leave," Derek snarled. "You could have stopped him."
"Derek, please!" Julie repeated, desperate. "Don't waste time standing here arguing."
Elisa had crawled out from underneath the wagon as soon as she had her clothes on. Coolly, she said, "Really, Captain, I don't think you're in a position to condemn someone for doing the same thing you've been doing. I recall a few occasions when people were looking for you and found you... missing." She cast a look toward Julie.
"I was not on watch then," Derek growled, "and we can do without your interference, Elisa."
"I'll go after him," Thomas offered quickly. "I'll find him, Arnhardt, I swear I will."
"You damn well better," Derek told him, turning away. "I'll scout that blasted pass alone today, but don't you come back to camp without him."
"I'll go with you." Julie started away to dress, but Derek caught her and spun her around.
"You aren't going anywhere!"
"He's my brother," she cried, and didn't wilt before his glower. "You can't stop me."
He was suddenly cold. "Yes, I can, Julie. It's part of my job. You may not leave this camp. I've enough troubles without you causing more." He went for his horse.
Julie turned to go, but Elisa's fingers clamped down hard on her shoulder.
"Don't you dare look at me with that self-righteous face, Julie Marshall. I was only doing what you've been doing, and you should know how wonderful it is," she added with an arrogant toss of her head.
Julie retorted hotly, "I wouldn't think it was wonderful if I were married to another man, Elisa. I would think it was shameful—and so should you."
She walked away, wishing she had not said even that much. She kept on going, pretending not to hear as Elisa screamed, "You'll wish you'd never said that, Julie! I'll see you pay for that! You'll wish you'd never said it!"
Chapter 16
They rolled over the prairie, steadily jarred by deep-baked ruts. The air was thick and still, permeated by the tension that held every man, woman, and child old enough to comprehend the precarious pass just ahead.
Derek had scouted among the rocks and inclines and found no sign of Indians, but he knew this did not mean they were safe. The Indians knew the terrain much better than he did and if they didn't want to be seen, they wouldn't be.
Thomas Carrigan had not returned. When the wagons pulled out, he had been gone over twenty-four hours.
Julie guided her team, felt the firm leather in her hand through her thick gloves. Derek hadn't liked it, but there was no available man, so she'd had to take the reins.
She and Derek had had one brief, fierce argument before pulling out.
"I don't see how we can leave without Thomas and Myles!" she'd said.
He had no patience left. "I told you and everybody else, we can't wait. We've just enough supplies to see us to Tucson. Thomas knows the way. They can catch up with us. There's no choice, Julie." He didn't voice his fears that Myles had gotten too big a start and was farther away than they'd figured.
The pass loomed ahead, and soon proved to be awesome and frightening all by itself, without the anxiety that the Apache might be hiding there. Shadows played against the high walls of jutting rocks. Scrubs grew among the crags and stones. The wind whistled, bouncing from side to side like the songs of mournful ghosts singing their laments.
The first wagon entered the pass and disappeared. The second, with Jasper Jenkins's wife, Esma, at the reins, rolled inside. Julie was third, and she pulled back on her team to slow them down. The path ahead was littered with fallen rocks.
"I do not like the smell of it."
Julie whipped around quickly to stare at Sujen.
"I do not like the smell of it," she repeated quietly. "It smells... of death."
Julie shivered. "Please, Sujen. It's going to take most of the day to get through here, and it's spooky enough without you saying how spooky it is."
Onward they plodded, horses and oxen moving cautiously through the narrow, twisting, winding walls. A shroud of silence prevailed. They did not stop for lunch, or even to water the animals. That would have to wait. It had been decreed that once they began the journey through the pass, they would stop for nothing until they'd reached the other side.
The day wore on. Julie winced with pain each time the wheels jounced over a rock, because the reins were pulled tighter, aggravating the blisters on her hands.
Derek rode beside her for a brief spell. She had seen him that tense only once before, when the Ariane was running the Yankee blockade out of Wilmington. His face was tight, set, eyes narrowed, all his senses keyed to the slightest hint that anything was amiss. She knew he needed Thomas more than ever but stifled the impulse to say so, even as an attempt at comfort.
It was Sujen who finally broke the silence to say again, "It smells of death. I smell death many times and never forget—"
Her voice was drowned out by a loud, tortured scream. Stunned, Julie jerked the reins suddenly, stopping the horses. The scream echoed, bouncing from one rocky wall to another, filling the pass until it sounded like an entire choir shrieking in rounds.
As Julie sat there, frozen, the screaming woman came running into view from around the bend just ahead. It was Violet Callahan, waving her arms, her face a mask of horror. Her husband, Daughtry, was right behind her, his face white.
Violet Callahan's wail reached them. "It's Mr. Carrigan... dead!"
Julie scrambled from the wagon and ran toward the bend.
"Don't go in there, Miss Julie," someone cried.
Julie didn't hear. She stumbled, righted herself, and was just rounding the bend when Derek caught her. He gripped her arms tightly, refusing to let her move. Straining, she twisted her body and looked beyond him. What she saw stunned her with horror.
Thomas was hanging upside down, a rope tight around his ankles, attached to a rock or a tree out of sight. His arms hung loosely over his head, and his body swayed slowly from side to side in the moaning wind. His mouth hung open. His eyes were wide-open but unseeing. The agony of his final moments before death was reflected in those sightless eyes.
Arrows, thick with dried blood, riddled his bare back.
The flesh upon what had once been his warm, living chest had been peeled and hung in ragged strips of pulp. His heart was visible through the strips of gore.
Derek held her around her waist until she had finished vomiting, then led her back to her wagon.
"Take the reins, Sujen," Derek commanded. "As soon as I get everyone back to their wagons, we're getting out of here."
"No." Julie straightened, snatching the reins from Sujen. "I can do it." Later, there would be time for grieving, but right now there was a job to be done. She would not yield to either weakness or terror.
As Derek prepared to address the others, who were gathering around Julie's wagon, exchanging frightened murmurs, Elisa dashed to the other side of the Callahan wagon, out of Derek's reach, and darted toward the bend. When she looked up and saw Thomas's body, she simply fainted.
Derek got her and tossed her into the back of the Callahan wagon. Then, with swift movements, he scrambled thirty feet up the rocky wall and caught the rope that was holding Thomas's ankles. With a quick flash of his knife, the rope was cut. Gently, he lowered the body to the arms
of the three men who had run over to help. Then he roared, "Get the hell out of here as fast as possible, and when you hit the open spaces, just keep going till I catch up to lead you into a circle."
Julie watched as he mounted his horse and waved the first wagon on, urging the Callahans to follow. He looked at Julie anxiously. "Are you okay?"
"Of course." Her voice was high, unnatural, but she was fighting terror. Casting a fearful glance behind her, she wished she could see the Bascomb wagon, wished she had little Darrell with her.
Beside her, Sujen whispered tightly, "Chiricahua. I see the body. I know it is work of Chiricahua—and Cochise."
Julie turned away from Sujen, watching as the wagon ahead moved. Julie popped her reins and the wheels jounced up and down on the rocks. She and Sujen looked upward at the endless walls of rock, wondering if they would ever leave the pass.
The first wagon plunged out of the pass, then the second, and then Julie's. Dust from so many madly turning wheels masked the sinking sun in a cloak of deep burnt orange. One wagon veered from the line, heading north to a mountain ridge that appeared close but was at least ten miles away. Derek rode out after the wagon and turned them back, cursing them for their hysteria.
"You've got to keep your heads," he bellowed. "Join the others, make a tight circle. It's our only hope."
A sharp zinging sound knifed through the air. Bobby Ray Jeeter's arms were flung sky-ward. He screamed, an arrow sinking squarely between his shoulder blades. He fell to the ground, his neck snapping as he landed. Derek charged over, realized that he was dead, and rode on, screaming for the others to make a circle. Bobby Ray's wife, Susanna, reined up her team and was scrambling from the wagon, shrieking Bobby Ray's name over and over. Derek scooped her up in one arm and grabbed the harness of her lead horses, pulling them into a gallop.
He led the wagons into a circle, and when they were tightly together, the men quickly began to unharness the horses and pull them inside the circle. The women pulled out boxes of ammunition, yelling for the younger children to get out of the wagons and take cover behind barrels and cartons, which the older children were lowering from the wagons.
This Savage Heart Page 13
