With that, he left, and Connie wondered if he was really going out to hay. Shame immediately hit her. She had become so suspicious of everyone. Papa had said James could be trusted and had even encouraged her to ask him about the weapons house. She’d gotten so caught up in his stories that she’d forgotten.
She smiled at Christine as they headed out of the house. She looked around for James, but he was already gone.
“Does James always help others with their hay?” Connie asked, hoping it wouldn’t be too prying.
“The men help each other. Paul helped James harvest earlier. The land is very bad, and it is hard to bring in crops for people. It’s better to plant food for horses and cattle and sheep. It was hard to make a farmer out of a fisherman, but my James is good at both.” Christine chuckled. “He can do most anything. Next week James and Paul will fish together. We will dry a lot of fish for the winter.”
“He seems to be a very good man,” Connie declared.
Christine glanced toward Tom, who was retrieving the horses. “Your man is good too. I can tell.”
Connie didn’t know what to do or say, and at the sound of someone approaching on horseback, she gratefully turned to see who it was. The last person she expected was a uniformed soldier. The man dismounted and strode toward them like he was in charge and they were his minions.
“I want your tribal pieces,” he said to Christine. “I’ve come to buy them all.”
“I have none to sell,” Christine replied. Fear filled her eyes, and Connie stepped closer and put her arm around Christine’s shoulders.
“I doubt that’s true,” the soldier said. “I believe I’ll have a look around your house.”
“She said she had none to sell,” Tom said, putting himself between the women and the soldier.
“I didn’t ask you. If you’re smart, you’ll stay out of this. I have permission to be here and the right to search for artifacts.”
“By whose authority?” Connie asked before Tom could speak.
“By the authority of the US Army,” the soldier replied. “And the right of a white man to take whatever he wants from an Indian. Now, move aside.”
“I don’t think so.” Tom took a step toward the soldier, and without warning, the man drew his pistol and smashed the butt into Tom’s head.
It all happened so fast, Connie could hardly believe what he’d done. Tom fell to the ground unconscious, and Connie let out a scream as blood began to stream from his head.
This only irritated the soldier. In two steps he reached Connie and slapped her hard across the face, putting her on the ground not far from Tom.
“I can’t abide screamin’ women. Shut up.”
Connie struggled to get back on her feet, but the soldier kicked her. Thankfully her satchel took the brunt of the blow.
The soldier gave a holler and swore. “What do you have in that bag of yours, rocks?”
Connie tried to get up, but her legs were caught in the skirt of her gown. She fought frantically to free herself. At least Christine had been smart enough to go back into her house. With any luck, maybe she could slip out the back with her son and get to safety.
The soldier seemed to forget about his pain as Connie struggled to get on her feet. He looked at her in disbelief. “You’re a stubborn one, but if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay down. Otherwise, I’m gonna give you a beatin’ you won’t soon forget.”
“Then you’ll have to do it after you’ve bested me.”
Connie looked up at the new voice to see Clint pull his wagon to a halt just before their horses. She’d never been so happy to see someone.
The soldier turned and eyed Clint as he climbed down from the wagon. “Stay out of this, mister.” He flipped the pistol into the right position for shooting.
“Watch out, Clint, he has a gun,” Connie yelled.
“So do I, but I’m not going to need it to get the edge on this fool.”
In one fluid motion, Clint was on top of the soldier, who didn’t even know what hit him. His gun went flying, and he swung at Clint, managing to connect with the side of his head. It didn’t matter, though. Clint hit him back, and the cracking sound seemed to echo around them. The soldier went down and stayed there.
Clint picked up the fallen pistol. “Now he’ll have a broken jaw to deal with. Maybe that’ll keep him from molesting Indians and abusing white women.”
Tom had begun to moan, and Connie untangled herself from her skirt and rushed to his side.
“Tom? Tom, can you hear me?” She drew him up in her arms. There was blood where the gun had struck him. “Oh, Tom, please be all right.” She gently wiped his head with the hem of her skirt. The wound was bleeding something fierce. Connie pressed down on the cut, then looked up at Clint. “We need to get him to my parents’ house. My cousin Faith is a doctor and can take care of him.”
“I’ll put him in the wagon,” Clint said, frowning. “I was just out this way delivering grain. Menard’s was my last delivery. Let me unload the wagon, and I’ll be back.”
He took off, leaving the unconscious soldier there. Connie couldn’t help but worry. What if he regained consciousness? Then it dawned on her. She and Tom had been carrying a pistol with them wherever they went these days. It was in her satchel and was probably what the soldier managed to kick. She worked to hold pressure to Tom’s head while she retrieved the gun. If the soldier came to before Clint returned, she wasn’t sure what she’d do, but at least she had the means to protect herself if there was no other choice.
“Are you all right?” Christine asked as she and her husband came running. “I went to get James.”
“I’m fine, but Tom is hurt.”
Christine nodded. “James can carry him to your mother’s house.”
“No, Agent Singleton is bringing up the grain wagon.” Connie sighed. “I wish he’d hurry. I don’t know how to help.”
Tom’s eyes opened. He blinked a moment, then closed his eyes again. “You all right, Connie?”
“I’m fine, Tom. You’re bleeding, so lie still.” He didn’t reply, and Connie’s eyes filled with tears. “Tom?” He was unconscious again. “Please hurry, Clint.” Her voice was hushed. “Please, God, help us.”
Clint made short work of getting Tom loaded and the horses tied to the wagon. He started the wagon for the Browning house and every so often glanced over his shoulder to see what was going on. Connie fussed over the barely conscious young man and murmured prayers. Clint had been wrong about her. He’d thought Tom’s feelings were unreturned, but it was clear now that she was in love with him. She hadn’t even thanked Clint or asked how he was feeling. He might as well not even have existed.
He drove in silence, thinking back on the girl who used to follow him around, begging for his attention. Connie had thought he hung the sun and the moon. She had once told him he was the most admirable man she knew. The thought almost made him laugh. If only she knew.
“What . . . happened?” Tom asked.
“Lie still. That soldier back at the Menard house hit you with his gun. Christine went to get her husband, so they’re safe. Clint showed up in the nick of time and knocked that hoodlum out. He told James to bind him and deliver him to the government house so he can’t hurt anyone else.”
Clint glanced over his shoulder from the driver’s seat. “We’re nearly to the Browning house. Try not to bleed to death in the meantime.”
Tom squeezed his eyes shut and then reopened them. “I’ll do my best.” Clint saw Connie smile at this. Tom continued in a whisper, “Hurts like the dickens, though.”
“Of course, it does. Faith will stitch you back up, however. She’ll know exactly what to do.”
“What were you two doing out this far?” Clint asked.
“Interviewing the Menards. My folks are good friends with them and thought it would be a nice, easy encounter for us. I have to admit it was nice not to deal with hostility.”
“You’re prying into their lives. I can’t
blame them for being hostile,” Clint said, snapping the lines to encourage the team to pick up the pace. “I wouldn’t want anyone prying into my life—recording the details about me and my kin.”
“It might be interesting to know all about you and your kin, Clint,” Connie retorted. “It might answer a lot of questions.”
He laughed. “I didn’t know you had any about me. With our lengthy history, it seems you would have already found answers for all of your questions.”
She said nothing in response.
After delivering Tom to Faith, Clint joined Connie in the Brownings’ living room. Connie’s mother and aunt were busy helping Faith and had forbidden a very pale Connie to join them.
“Are you doing all right?” he asked her. “You look a little green.”
Connie had been gazing down at the blood on her dress. “Mama says I’m pale, and you say I’m green. Stop worrying about me. It’s Tom who needs our prayers.”
“Did that soldier hit you?” he asked, although he already knew the answer. There was a clear handprint on her face.
“Yes.” She put her hand to her cheek. “Goodness, I must be a sight.”
He frowned. “Did he hurt you otherwise?”
Connie looked confused. “What?”
“That fool of a soldier. Did he do anything else to you?”
“He kicked me, but my satchel took the brunt of it.” She pulled the strap of the bag over her head and set it aside. “I’m sore, but I’ll be all right.”
“Well, that’s more than I can say for that idiot.” Clint got to his feet. “Which reminds me—I have business to tend to. Let me know how Tom makes out. He’s a lucky man.”
Connie’s confusion did nothing to convince him that she wasn’t in love with Tom. Her concern over Tom’s wound and worry over his recovery was enough evidence to convince Clint that she had definitely put away her childish infatuation. He’d kind of hoped that by having her on his side, he might be able to accomplish even more than he’d planned.
He made his way out to his wagon and started to climb up.
“Clint!”
He turned to find Connie racing after him. He smiled and stepped down. “Yes?”
She surprised him by giving him a hug. “Thank you for what you did for Tom. I think he might have bled to death if you hadn’t come along.”
“I think you’re the one who might have faced a worse time of it,” he said as she stepped back. “I’m glad I could keep you from such a fate.”
Connie blushed and looked away. “I appreciate all that you did. I just wanted you to know. My father will no doubt extend his thanks as well, as soon as he hears what happened.”
Clint chuckled and climbed back up onto the driver’s seat. “Your hug was all the thanks I needed. That and our kiss will keep me happy for some time to come.”
She looked at him without speaking. Apparently he’d shocked her into silence. Well, good. Just let her think on that awhile. Maybe she’d start to believe that his feelings for her went deep. At least deep enough to serve his greater purpose and perhaps compete with the wounded Mr. Lowell.
Chapter 17
Clint stopped by to check on Tom two days later. He’d already heard from Adam that Tom was nearly ready to be back on his feet and that he and Connie would visit with some of the Molala people the following day.
Mercy Browning welcomed him at the door and pointed him upstairs. “Faith and Connie are up there with him. Go on up. First door to the right.”
Clint thanked her and made his way up the small, steep stairs. He heard Connie speaking in a hushed tone and paused outside the open door of a bedroom.
“We’re praying the truth will come out, and we’re doing what we can to find that truth.”
“Yes,” Tom answered, “but there are folks fighting equally hard to keep the truth buried.”
“Well, we have to figure it out before it’s too late,” Faith said.
Clint frowned. What were they talking about?
“I, for one, didn’t come all this way to stop now.” Connie spoke with determination. “This is too important to me.”
The trio fell silent, and Clint knew he couldn’t hide his arrival much longer. He stepped into the room. “I hope I’m not intruding. Mrs. Browning sent me right up.”
Connie was on one side of the iron-framed bed, and Faith was on the other, changing the bandage on Tom’s wound. Both women looked surprised—even upset. Clint decided to keep talking and hoped they wouldn’t worry about what he might have overheard.
“Well, it certainly looks like you have the best of it, Tom.” Clint smiled.
“I have a great nurse and an excellent doctor,” Tom replied. “And I understand I have you to thank for saving Connie and me from something much worse.”
Clint shook his head. “Rogue soldiers are always trouble. That man was absent without leave, so he’s now facing a court martial. But enough about him. How are you feeling?”
“Pretty good. I plan to get back to work tomorrow. Mrs. Browning and these two said I could do that if I promised to stay in bed for two days, and I’ve honored that commitment, so they must honor their part.”
“We only wanted to make sure his brain didn’t swell,” Faith said, finishing her work.
Clint glanced at Connie. She seemed attentive but not overly so. Maybe the attention she’d given Tom after the attack was simply due to her fears and nothing else. He knew Tom was in love with her, but until the attack Clint hadn’t seen anything to suggest she returned the feelings. Maybe Clint had conjured romantic motivations where none actually existed.
He frowned at Connie. “Your cheek is bruised.”
She nodded. “Yes, I’ve been told that more than once. It’s not a problem. Just a little sore.”
“I wish I’d taken the opportunity to give that soldier a good beating.”
“That would hardly have made my cheek feel any better,” Connie said with a smile.
“Maybe not, but it would have made him think twice before assaulting someone I care about.” He saw the look Tom gave him and added, “Seeing you two on the ground like that, with Tom bleeding, well . . . it didn’t sit well.”
“I feel just fine, though,” Tom continued. “A little headache still, but I think I’d forget all about it if I was actually able to work.”
“Faith agreed to let you work on preparing our first report to be sent in,” Connie reminded.
“That’s true, but while the bed is comfortable for sleeping, it’s not very good for working.”
“I can well imagine,” Clint said. “Still, you have two of the prettiest ladies to attend you. I wouldn’t complain too much.”
Tom grinned. “Yes, but one is married to a well-muscled riverboat captain, and the other is married to her job. It does me little good in either case.”
Clint laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t want it said that I encouraged breaking up marriages.”
Tom joined him in laughter.
“Oh, honestly,” Connie said, shaking her head. “You two are ridiculous.”
That only made the men chuckle all the more.
“Well, I hope you’ll soon feel completely well, with no more headaches. In the meantime, I need to get back to my office.” Clint headed for the bedroom door, but neither Connie nor Faith offered to see him out.
As he made his way downstairs, Clint wondered what the trio was up to. Maybe he hadn’t paid enough attention to them. He frowned, remembering that Connie had been down at the river the night the Indians were bringing in smuggled goods. She’d said she was just out for a walk, but now Clint had his doubts. What had she really been up to?
He made his way back to his office and found a telegram waiting for him. It was from his father. Clint read through it and frowned. His father was coming for a visit. Apparently he was headed home to California to encourage votes, since it was an election year. Four years earlier, the election had been hotly contested. Electoral votes in several states were disputed, and a
special Electoral Commission was formed to decide the outcome. Rutherford B. Hayes, the Republican, had been chosen as the winner, pledging, because of the controversy, that he would not run for a second term. He had stuck to that pledge, leaving both parties to come up with brand-new candidates. James A. Garfield was running for the Republicans, and Winfield Scott Hancock, a Civil War general, was the Democratic choice. It was clear who Clint’s Republican father wanted.
Clint crumpled the telegram. He didn’t need his father here right now. The senator had a way of disturbing even the most peaceful setting, and Grand Ronde was far from that. Clint took off his coat and hung it over the back of the chair. He was just going to have to make the best of it.
He had just sat down and gotten to work, still pondering what he could do that would be most beneficial to his own plans, when a knock sounded on the outer door. At one time, Clint had a secretary who handled visitors, but the government had cut back on staff.
“Come in!” he called.
To his surprise, Connie entered, with Faith close behind her. “Mama insisted we bring you this piece of chocolate cake. She meant to send it with you, but you got past her somehow.” She put the plate down in front of him.
“Is that her famous berry compote on the side?” he asked.
Connie chuckled. “It is.”
“I’ll be hard-pressed not to dig in.” He smiled up at Connie. “Thanks for bringing it by.”
“That’s quite all right,” she answered. “We’re on our way to Ann’s. Ruth is about to have a baby. She fell ill, though, and Faith has been trying to help. Of course, don’t say anything to Ruth’s husband. He and his father seem to hate all white people. They don’t want anything to do with our help.”
“Samson Sheridan and his father and brothers have been at odds with us since your father refused to help them run away to Canada.”
Connie nodded. “All the same, there’s no anger toward them on our part. My father misses his old friend and still tries from time to time to make amends.”
Forever by Your Side Page 18
