Cora's Deception (9781476398280) (4 page)

He shrugged. “I think we came in a fairly
straight line. If we go back the same way, we should come out of
the woods about where we came in.”

Cora scrambled to her feet, brushing leaves
from her skirt and coat. She clutched the full basket. “You lead
the way.”

Each snowflake that fell seemed to be
followed by two more until the air danced with the cold, white
crystals. Cora tried to shield her face from their sting. She kept
up with Ben as he trudged ahead of her, his gun slung over his
shoulder. Fluffs of white gathered on tree limbs, and the ground
looked like a white-patched carpet.

Cora envisioned the log shelter the men were
building. It wasn’t a real house, but it would at least block the
wind. A fire in Mother’s stove would send out rays of warmth into
each corner. If only she could feel its warmth now. Her hands ached
from the cold, and her feet grew numb.

The wind that had been gentle grew in
intensity, sending swirls of snow toward them. As they wound their
way around trees and over fallen logs, Cora tried to keep her back
to the wind, but it was no use. Either the wind changed directions
or they did.

She stumbled as she lifted one foot after
another. The wind lashed out in fury, slanting the cold, wet
curtain of white almost horizontal. Only an occasional leaf stuck
its point above the snow-covered ground.

Ben and Cora bent against the driving
snow

Even while she thought of freezing to death,
Cora realized her feet were not so cold now as faint warmth settled
in them. She concentrated on her feet, letting drowsiness steal
over her. The warm, soft mattress waiting at camp called to
her.

In a haze, she saw Ben turn. His lips moved,
but no words reached her ears. She yelled at him, telling him she
couldn’t hear. She was sleepy. Why didn’t he stop?

She tried to take another step, but
something tripped her, throwing her toward a wide, bark-covered
wall. Her hand flew out in a futile attempt to break her fall.
There was nothing there. As if a door opened in the huge tree, she
fell inside.

In an instant, Ben shook her. “Cora, get up.
Your feet are out in the snow.”

She fought against hands tugging her coat,
pulling her into a sitting position. Why wouldn’t he let her sleep?
Her eyes opened and she tucked her feet under her, but they were as
chunks of ice against her upper legs taking her breath away.
Quickly, she straightened. More awake now, she tried to see the
dark interior of their shelter. “It’s warm in here. And dry.”

“The rotting wood gives off heat. And we’re
out of the wind and snow too.” Ben sat beside her. “What about your
feet? Are they all right?”

“I don’t know. I can’t feel them.”

“Take your shoes and stockings off.”

Pain shot through her foot when he began
rubbing it. “What are you doing?” She tried to jerk away, but he
held fast, rubbing until the color returned. “Now give me the other
foot.”

“No.”

“Do you want frostbite? If we don’t get the
blood back, you could lose your foot.”

Cora stuck her other foot out. “What about
yours?”

“Just a little cold. My boots are
waterproof.”

When he finished wrapping her feet in her
woolen scarf, she tucked both under her long, heavy skirt. The
warmth surrounding them felt wonderful. “Now what do we do?”

Ben shifted close beside her. “I guess we
wait the storm out.”

“Mother will worry.”

“I know. But it’s better she worry a few
hours than the alternative.”

A shiver moved down Cora’s spine. Maybe the
danger wasn’t over yet. Maybe the storm would go on for days and
they would freeze to death. Her stomach growled. If they didn’t die
of starvation first.

Her pecans. She looked toward the open
doorway of their small shelter. There, covered with snow, were her
precious pecans. Beside them lay the crumpled basket. She shifted
to a kneeling position and reached through the opening. As her hand
closed over the wet snow-covered basket handle, she felt Ben’s arm
brush hers.

“Let me. You’ll freeze your hands.” He
scooped up several pecans.

Cora moved to the side. “I’m glad we didn’t
lose them all. Father would’ve been so disappointed.”

“Yes, I guess so.” Ben’s voice faltered.

A sob caught in Cora’s throat. “You don’t
think we’ll get back, do you? Ben, I’m scared. We’re going to die.”
Tears choked her voice as a new thought came to her. If she died,
she’d never see George again.

Ben pulled her close, and
her tears erupted in a torrent. As she thought of her own death,
fear settled in her heart. The meteor shower had been a warning.
Maybe this was more than a warning. She wasn’t ready to die. She
was terrified.
God, please spare my life.
Mine and Ben’s.
She wiped her eyes and
took a shuddering breath. A sharp crack ricocheted through the
small enclosure and she lifted her head from Ben’s
shoulder.

“Here. Supper’s ready.” She felt a pecan
pressed into her hand. “It’s a little dark to see how to pick it
out, but you’ll know if you bite into a shell.”

The storm raged while they ate the pecans
Ben broke by squeezing two together in his hand. Cora lost all
sense of time as the light outside dimmed, and the drone of the
wind whipped past the small opening in their tree.

Cora huddled with her brother in the
confines of their shelter, sharing what little space and warmth
they had. Ben leaned against the inside wall of the tree while Cora
curled into a ball with her cheek against his coat. The wind
calmed, and a wintry silence descended on the hollow sycamore
tree.

~*~

Cora shifted position. Her body ached beyond
belief. As the haze of sleep lifted, her memory returned. She and
Ben had taken refuge in a tree. They hadn’t frozen to death during
the night.

“Good morning.” A narrow ray of sunshine lit
Ben’s smiling face. “The storm’s over.”

Cora sat up, popping stiff joints with each
movement. Ben straightened, rolling his head from side to side.
“We’d better try to find our way home.”

“I need to put my shoes and stockings back
on.”

Ben nodded. “While you’re doing that, I’ll
step outside.”

Cora reached for her shoes while Ben crawled
through the small opening. A sharp twang and the crack of a brittle
branch above his head sounded. He jerked back while small pieces of
bark flew in all directions.

“Someone shot at me!” Disbelief edged his
voice.

Cora’s heart jumped and raced. She stared at
Ben. “Who? Why?”

It was Indians. George said they hunted
here. Every atrocity she’d ever heard relating to Indians filled
her memory.

“I don’t think they know we’re here. I’m
going out.” Ben started forward again.

“No!” Cora grabbed his coat. “They’ll kill
you.”

The words no sooner left her mouth than
another shot rang out going through the tree several feet above her
head. Dislodged rot fell. Cora ducked and covered her ears with her
hands. Grit and grime showered down on them.

“Well, this tree isn’t going to stop a
bullet. I’m going out before he has time to reload.” Ben scrambled
through the opening, yelling. “Stop! Don’t shoot!”

Cora grabbed her stocking and pulled it on
as quickly as her trembling fingers would allow. She heard Ben’s
footsteps crunching through the snow away from the tree. He thought
he’d find a hunter who didn’t know they were there, but what if it
were an Indian or maybe an outlaw who did know? What if they took
Ben captive?

Her cold fingers fumbled with her shoes. She
peeked outside. Silence greeted her. On hands and knees now, Cora
pressed her face close to the edge of the opening and peered out.
Nothing but snow and trees. Ever so slowly, she stuck her head out
farther. And stopped.

There, just inches from her own, was a pair
of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. A young man near her age
grinned at her. “Hi. You Ben’s sister? He said you was in the old,
holler sycamore.”

Warmth crept into Cora’s cheeks. She brushed
disheveled hair from her eyes. What a sight she must be. She
nodded. “Yes. I’m Cora Jackson.”

He offered his hand, and she allowed him to
help her stand. She’d never seen such blue eyes before.

“I’m real sorry about shootin’ at ya” A wide
grin complemented his twinkling eyes, making him quite handsome.
“Honest, we didn’t know you was in the tree.”

“We?” Cora tore her gaze from him. Were
there others in this forsaken land?

“Sure, me and my brother. He’s over there
with yours.” He pointed to the two young men deep in conversation.
“I’d druther tell you Aaron was the one shootin’ at you, but I’ll
have to ’fess up.” He pointed at the tree. “There was a squirrel
sittin’ right there on that branch. Never did hit the rascal. I’m
most of the time tolerable good at gettin’ squirrels too.”

He launched into a tale of a successful
hunting experience, but Cora didn’t listen.

She interrupted as soon as he caught his
breath. “Where do you live? Are there more in your family? What
about other families?”

He laughed “You want me to quit babbling’,
do you?”

Her face flushed, and he laughed again.
“Don’t worry none. Ivy says I talk too much.”

“Who’s Ivy?”

“My baby sister. Worse spoiled brat you’ll
ever meet. She was a puny baby. Got used to bein’ pampered. She
takes after Aaron. They’re always puttin’ on airs. Only trouble is
we got mighty slim pickin’s most the time at our place, so I can’t
see the need for pretendin’ otherwise.”

“Baby sister? How old is she?”

“Eighteen come February.”

Only a year younger than her. Maybe she
wasn’t as spoiled as he made her sound. A friend would be wonderful
in this horrible place.

“Then there’s Ma and Pa.” Again, his grin
flashed as he stuck out his hand. She took it, and he pumped
furiously. “I’m Ralph Walter Stark.” He bowed slightly. “I’m real
proud to meet y’all, Miss Jackson.”

“Cora Jackson. We just got here from St.
Louis.” Something hard and round crunched under Cora’s shoe. One of
her pecans. She bent and plucked it from the packed snow of her
footprint.

“Well, I’ll be.” Ralph knelt beside her. “I
never knowed sycamores to grow pecans afore.” He brushed snow
aside, uncovering another.

“I dropped them last night.” Cora reached
into the tree for her battered basket. “Maybe I can find enough to
take to my father.”

Together they sifted through the snow,
picking up pecans until the bottom of her basket was covered.

“You must’ve had a rough night out here in
the woods, Miss Cora.” Ralph’s grin was infectious.

Cora smiled. “I’m sure it could’ve been
worse.”

“Ralph, you ready to go?” The deep voice
came from above them.

“Sure ‘nuff, soon as we get Cora’s pecans
picked up.”

“We better get goin’. Ben says he knows the
way home now. I promised Pa we’d be back shortly. He needs help
with the fence.”

Ralph stood and dropped two more pecans into
Cora’s basket. He grinned at her, but spoke to his brother. “You’re
the boss.”

Cora straightened to see a taller, older
version of Ralph. Yet there were differences. His face was more
slender, his jaw firmer. He’d be better-looking than Ralph if he
weren’t so stern and solemn. Not that she cared. There were others
living nearby, and one was a girl near her age.

Following Aaron’s directions, Ben led Cora
back to camp. She could see the two wagons and the new shelter as
soon as they came out of the woods. A thin spiral of smoke rose
from the shelter as a beckoning welcome.

With flying steps, Cora crossed the distance
to her waiting family only to learn her father and John were out
looking for her and Ben.

Mother hugged them both. “Father went out
last night when the first snowflakes fell, but the storm came so
quickly he was forced back.” She laid a hand on Ben’s arm. “He said
you’d find shelter. He trusted you to know what to do.”

Ben chuckled. “We found shelter, even if it
was accidental.”

“They promised to check in by noon.” A frown
touched Mother’s forehead. “I hate the thought of them out looking
when there’s no need.”

“We must have missed them somehow.” Ben
looked toward the woods. “I’ll go see if I can find them.”

“Oh, Ben, what if you get lost again?”

“Don’t worry, Mother. Our footprints are
easy to follow in the snow.”

While Ben replenished his supply of powder
and lead shot before leaving, Cora looked with sinking heart at the
large piece of oilcloth spread over the beds.

Sunlight came through the cracks of the
walls, making a striped pattern on the room. Melting snow on top of
each log ran down the inside walls to the ground. A drop of water
landed with a splat on Cora’s head. She looked up, appalled to see
snow melting through thick layers of cedar branches that served as
a roof.

“Mother, everything’s getting soaked.” Cora
turned anxious eyes toward her mother.

“I know.” Mother sighed. “There’s nothing we
can do about it. The beds are covered. Everything else will
dry.”

“But—”

One look from her mother stopped Cora’s
complaint. “Remember, Cora, a lady does the best she can with what
she has. It does no good to whine about the things we don’t
like.”

Cora shut out the depressing sight before
her as much as she could. “Ralph’s so friendly. You’ll like him.
He’s a little taller than Ben and has a really nice smile.” She
thought of Ralph’s slaughter of the English language and wondered
what George would think about him.

“Sounds like you’re the one who likes him.”
Eliza’s light brown eyes twinkled above her grin.

“I do not.” Cora blushed in spite of her
efforts to remain nonchalant. Ralph was good-looking, and he seemed
pleasant. Even when his older brother had been unfriendly, Ralph
made light of it. Of course, she could never care for anyone but
George.