Dark Journey Home (55 page)

Once inside the coach, Logan and Claude settled on the
seat facing the ladies, as the cowboy, Harry, proceeded to stretch his long
lanky form across the rear seat, glad to be riding inside now, and out of the
cold wind.  Harry was a nice young ranch hand, and Claude had taken to him
immediately, offering him a job riding for the ‘Triple-B’.  He could leave in
the spring, as the winters were harsh in northern Wyoming.  Harry liked the Englishman,
and the thought of returning to Texas, where he was from, appealed to him. 
He’d told Claude he’d head on down Texas way when the weather permitted. 

<><><> 

Olivia had tried her best to hide the worry and fear
in her eyes from her Uncle Claude, though he assured her that the ruffians had
not been all that hard to subdue.  His blue eyes had twinkled as he noticed his
Amelia still absentmindedly clutching the handle of her trusty umbrella, her
knuckles white. 

“Young man.”  Amelia suddenly spoke to Logan, “Would you mind changing seats with me?  I’d like to sit next to my husband.  There
are a few things I’d like to say to him.”  Of course that would put Logan next to Olivia also. 

Crouching down, Logan assisted Amelia to his seat,
then he landed hard on the opposite seat, as the stagecoach rattled and bounced
over the rough trail. 

Amelia started in on her husband, “The very idea, at
your age, acting like some wild youngster, out there shooting up a storm.  Just
where is your dignity?  You old fool!”

Claude smiled down at his feisty wife, with adoration
in his blue eyes, and put an arm around her.  Amelia tossed her umbrella onto
the floor, saying, “Well, I suppose I won’t be needing that now.  I didn’t know
whether to come out there and use it on those road agents, or you.”  She
settled her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes. 

Logan
looked down at
Olivia, “How about you, ma’am?  Are you alright?”  He asked softly. 

She answered briskly, her sky-blue eyes sparking fire,
“Ma’am, is it?  You still don’t know my name, Mr. Wakefield?  And yes, I am
fine.  I was only in here calmly sleeping, all the while you men were out there
trying your best to get yourselves killed.  Why wouldn’t I be alright?” 

He grinned down at her, then asked, “Oh, you were
worried about me?”

“Now just why would I be worried about you?”  She
looked away, staring out the window, then continued, “I was worried about my
uncle.  I wouldn’t want to become an orphan once more.  And you, sir, are an
egotistical lout, out there shooting at those men.  You might have killed one
or more of them.”

“Oh, you were worried about those nice gentle
outlaws?  The same ones who were leering at you back there at the Way
Station?” 

“I don’t want to see anyone killed.” 

“Not even me?” 

“Mr. Wakefield, I am a civilized person, and do not
believe in violence.”  She continued staring out the window, as the countryside
rolled by. 

Logan
wouldn’t be
stopped, “What about your Uncle Claude?  Just what do you think he was doing
out there, in the snowstorm?  Enjoying the weather?”  He asked. 

“My uncle was only protecting us.  That’s different. 
You, on the other hand, were showing off, and being a bully.” 

“Our friend, Harry?”  Logan was baiting her, and she
knew it. 

“That young cowboy was……..well…..he was helping my
uncle.”  Olivia’s voice wavered, and she didn’t dare look at Logan now.  He
would see the fear, and lonely tears slipping from her eyes.  Oh, if he wasn’t
so appealingly ornery.  She always felt like slapping him soundly, when he
teased her like this. 

Why couldn’t she control these emotional outbursts? 
When she reacted like this, he only enjoyed it all the more anyway.  She had
promised herself time and time again, that she wouldn’t react in this manner,
and here she was repeating herself. 

“Would you like comforting, Olivia?”  He leaned over,
and whispered in her ear.  “I could put my arm around you.” 

Forgetting her tears, her head whipped around, and she
gritted her teeth, as she hissed, “Don’t…….you…….dare!” 

Seeing those beautiful soft blue eyes, with the tears
streaming down her lovely face, Logan softened, and reaching over, he put a
strong arm around her shoulders.  No matter how hard she struggled to pull
away, he held on tight. 

Finally Olivia heaved a deep sigh, and stopped
struggling.  Tired now, she relaxed, then let her head fall back onto his
strong muscular shoulder.  Closing her eyes, she said not a word.  Her Uncle Claude
and Amelia both had their eyes closed, and no one noticed them trying their
best to hold in the laughter. 

<><><> 

The small settlement of Comfort, Wyoming which, in the
past, had been named ‘Devil’s Rest’, had grown much more than Logan had
expected.  It was late afternoon when the weary team of horses pulled the stage
to a screeching halt in front of the long building that served as a combination
Trading Post and Way Station.  

The first thing they saw was the cavalry’s horses tied
to the hitching rail.  The soldiers were obviously inside the trading post, some
enjoying a hot meal.  Lieutenant Harrigan definitely would have been of no great
assistance had there been an attack on the stage by Indian renegades, but if
they could see him now, deep in the throes of intoxication inside the saloon
area of the Post, they would more than believe that fact.     

The wind had finally stopped blowing, but the chill in
the air was pronounced, as the travelers alit one by one from the vehicle.  Claude
assisting his wife, then arm in arm they walked toward the long building.  Logan
lifted Olivia down, and once on the ground she whispered a ‘Thank you’, then
attempted to walk away, but Logan had other ideas, and he took Olivia in his
arms, gazed down into her eyes, and said, “You know Olivia, that in the morning
we’ll be going on to Freeman, the town near my folk’s ranch. 

She nodded, then he continued, “From Freeman I’ll hire
a wagon, or a buggy, to take us out to the ranch.  We’ll be there in no time at
all.  However, we’ll likely be snowed in for the next three months, at least.”

“Yes, I remember you telling us that, Logan.”  She answered, gazing up into eyes the color of a stormy sea.

He continued, “I like you a lot, Olivia.” 

“Oh? You like me?”  She asked.  Coming from Logan, it was a puzzling statement. 

“Well, no…..that’s not what I meant.”  He kept staring
at her, hesitating to say more. 

“Oh?”  Now angered, she tried to pull away.  “You
don’t like me?  Then let me go.” 

“No.”  He sputtered, holding her tighter.  “No, that’s
not what I mean……what I meant to say is, it’s more…..I more than like you.” 

Olivia jerked out of his arms, put both hands on her
hips, and standing there in the freezing cold late afternoon, oblivious to the
fact that they were attracting attention, even from Amelia and Claude who had
stopped walking and turned to watch, she even shocked herself, as she just
blurted out, wishing all the while that it wasn’t really her own voice she was
hearing. “Logan Wakefield, if you don’t quit sputtering, and get down to the
business of proposing, I’ll never speak………”

Logan
grinned.  Taking
her once again into his arms, he said teasingly, “I never thought you’d ask.” 

Wrong answer.  As he leaned to kiss her, Olivia let
loose and slapped him soundly. 

“Now what did I say wrong?”  He asked, bewildered, holding
his cheek, as she stomped across the hard packed snow toward the Trading Post. 

As Claude and his wife followed, Amelia snickered, “When
does it end?”  She breathed.

Claude chuckled, “Theirs, no doubt, will be a stormy
marriage, though the spark of anger she shows only conceals the fires that burn
deep within her very soul.  I’m of the conclusion that Logan chap enjoys
watching the flames spark from Olivia.”

Amelia scolded, “Such an old fool you are, my love,
and so full of sentiment, while your niece wastes away, yearning for affection
and romance, from a cowboy whose dictionary is so limited in the words of
love.  That Logan Wakefield needs to take care.  Our Olivia may get weary of
the games he plays, and take up with the first young cowboy who knows how to
speak proper words of love.  Maybe even that fresh young Lieutenant.” 

“Hardly likely, my dear.”  Mused her husband, “Not
from the way I’ve caught my niece stealing glances in the direction of Logan.  Give the lass a little time.” 

Amelia scolded, “Ha!  Yes, her twenty-sixth birthday
is just around the corner.  How much more time does that girl need, before she
becomes a dedicated ‘Old Maid’?” 

“Olivia could easily pass for a youngster of sixteen,
my pet.” 

“Ten years from now, will you still be saying that?”

As they began walking toward the entrance of the
building, they noticed an Indian coming from the direction of the stable, and
Amelia gasped, “Mercy, now we have a savage Indian in our midst.” 

“I don’t believe the chap looks all that savage, my
dear.”  Claude offered, taking his wife’s arm.  While the Indian began
unhitching the team, another climbed up to remove the luggage from atop the
stage.  Amelia clutched her coat tighter around her, while Claude succeeded in
ushering her to the door, finally getting her out of the cold weather.

It was warm inside the Trading Post, and as Olivia
hurriedly stepped inside, she noted two large stone fireplaces, one on each end
of the long room, and loaded with blazing logs.  The beef stew, bubbling in an
oversized kettle on an iron stove, put out the most appealing aroma. 

As she walked towards the long table, where the stage
driver and his companion were seated, she didn’t notice the cavalry officer
pushing through the bat-wing doors leading into the saloon area, nor the way
his eyes lit up upon seeing her, nor the way he staggered quickly to approach
her, not until it was too late, and he was blocking her way.  Lieutenant
Harrigan stood so close at that point, that it was all Olivia could do to try
and walk around him.  He put a hand firmly on her upper arm, detaining her,
then slurring his words, he said, “Pretty lady come sit with me.  There’s a
table for two over by the fireplace.  There we can get better acquainted, just
the two of us.” 

Olivia could tell the officer had been drinking
heavily, and was unsteady on his feet, and she froze on the spot, not knowing
how to handle the situation, without creating a scene.  She’d already done
enough of that for one day.  She took a deep breath, then said quietly,
“Lieutenant, please let go of my arm immediately.” 

He would not be deterred, feeling in his drunken
state, that she was by herself for the moment.  He slurred, “Don’t be coy with
me, sweetheart.  Let’s go over there by the fire, and get better acquainted.” 
He followed the request with a deep laugh, not knowing that Olivia’s uncle was
quickly approaching the officer from behind, that is not until he felt a strong
hand grip the back of his collar, and jerk him around forcibly. 

“Unhand my niece at once, young man!”  Lord Beckford
hissed.  As the Lieutenant let go quickly of Olivia’s arm, he stumbled, and it
was all he could do to keep his balance. 

Claude noticing at once that the officer had been
drinking heavily, felt that he would have not acted so ungentlemanly, had he
been sober.  But with his anger up, it was all Claude could do not to strike
the man.  He settled for a very blunt threat, “If I so much as see you within
one-hundred yards of my niece again, soldier or not, I will blast you all the
way back to the nearest fort, then have you court martialed.  And believe me; I
can have that done in no time at all. 

Olivia backed away, now completely embarrassed by the
whole situation.  None had seen Logan enter the room, nor his approach.  His
eyes blazed a green fire, as he shoved his way to the drunken officer to
confront him, then hissed, “Your condition is no excuse, Harrigan, and as for
me, I’m not going to let you get by with insulting a decent woman.  In these
parts, men have been hung for less, but for now maybe this will do.  Without
warning, and before the officer could get out the sarcasm he was trying to
mouth, Logan’s hard fist doubled up, then shot forward, as it smashed into the
handsome young Lieutenant’s face, sending him flying backward.  The officer lit
hard, then slid across the polished wood floor, for about fifteen feet to end
at the small table near the fireplace, upending it, along with two chairs as
well.