Destiny's Bride (37 page)

Tired of listening to Luke’s boasting, Cecile welcomed the opportunity to climb into her bedroll. She was exhausted from her emotional departure from
Silver City and weary from the day’s ride. The cool night air made her bedroll quite comfortable. For once, she had no complaints about sleeping on the hard ground. Her mind played forward to her homecoming.

The melodic sounds of the crickets in the nearby grass made her drowsy. Just as she drifted off, Walt and Luke joined in a duet of snoring, making sleep impossible. Passing time, she watched the last embers of the campfire die, and focused on Lone Eagle and what his reaction would be to seeing her. She imagined what holding Two Clouds in her arms, reveling in the feel. Finally, despite the raucous war being carried on next to her, the weariness of the day won out and her thoughts stilled and slumber beckoned.

***

Walt acted withdrawn. The guilt of leaving him behind overshadowed her happiness at going home. Although both agreed they could never get back what they had had, she sensed he still loved her. Knowing he still had feelings for her made parting more difficult.  She’d always love him, but not in the husband and wife way.

Cecile kept any conversations light-hearted and avoided any mention of Lone Eagle. Most of the time, conversing wasn’t a problem since Luke kept retelling the same stories over and over. As boring as she found them, they were better than awkward silence or trying to find words to fill the void.

The horses plodded through the drying grass, continuously stirring up dust. The thick powder rose upward and deposited itself onto everything. Cecile used the tail of her shirt to wipe the gritty dirt from her face, a futile attempt since her clothes were already filthy. Maybe they’d reach water soon so she could wash away the coating of grime.

They camped for the second night without a creek or stream in sight. Tired and dusty, Cecile barely mustered strength to finish the meager fare they shared for the evening meal. “I can’t believe how I worn out I feel,” she complained, tossing the last of her biscuit into the grass. She stretched out on her bedroll, sure her pregnancy had something to do with being overly tired.

“You women ain’t made for travelin’ is all. You need yer fancy wagons and carriages, not like us men folk.” Luke’s annoying voice grated the air. She rolled her eyes.  No doubt he was about to begin his usual string of boring yarns.

She didn’t protest; there was no need to bait him.

“Maybe yer so tired cuz of those extra jugs you have to tote.” He had a flair for making things sexually explicit. Besides, his constant alluding to intimacy in his stories made her uncomfortable.

“That’s enough, Luke. Keep it civil or be quiet.” Walt’s voice was firm.

The fire had reduced to glowing embers when they finally settled down to sleep for the night. The air had cooled drastically, and the lack of fire in camp created a blanket of darkness that easily encouraged sleep. Cecile rose and toted her bedroll on the other side of the camp, partially because she felt guilty lying close to Walt, but mostly because she wanted to distance herself from the noisy snoring. She snuggled down, willing sleep to come. She knew when the sun rose in its blazing fury, there would be no curtains or shutters to close to steal some extra sleeping time.

Visions of Lone Eagle, Two Clouds, and the rest of the Sioux people drifted through her thoughts into dream. They were rudely snatched from her mind when a crushing weight pressed against her, and a massive hand covered her mouth, stifling the scream that formed in her throat. Terrified, she opened her eyes, trying to focus in the darkness.

Cecile knew from the assailing stench it was Luke. A cloud covered the moon, stealing light enough to see. She imagined the look on his face—the same one she’d seen over and over again portraying the animalistic lust he felt for her. She tried to wrestle free from his steel-like grip, but the weight of his arms and legs restrained her from movement. His free hand fumbled under the covers, trying to tear at her clothing.

The bedroll she’d found so comfortable moments ago held her captive for this horrible man. His noxious odor assailed her nostrils, making her stomach churn. No matter how hard she fought, she couldn’t wrestle free. She could only make guttural noises against the hand over her mouth. Her heart thundered.

His callused fingers yanked at her clothing until he maneuvered his hand under her shirt. , “I know this is what you want. You can’t fool me.”  His intimation turned her stomach

While he groped her breast, he slobbered kisses along her neck and cheeks. His breath sickened her. Removing his covering hand, he tried to hold her whipping head steady and place his lips upon hers.

Cecile let out a bloodcurdling scream. Walt was out of his bedroll in a split second. His giant strides rumbled the ground, crossing the distance between them. He grabbed Luke’s arm and spun him around and off Cecile, and with a walloping punch, connected with Luke’s nose.

Luke had no time to think, let alone react. Walt pounded him a second time, sending him sprawling across the dirt. Cecile drew herself into a fetal position, praying Luke wouldn’t fall on top of her.

After the second punch, Luke struggled to rise, but rolled over onto his back and covered his face with his hands. The moon now free of its shroud showed blood oozing through the trader’s fingers. “You son of a bitch. You broke my nose.”

Walt stood over him in a threatening stance. Like a rattlesnake, he was poised for another strike. “Get up, I dare you. Get up!”

Luke wobbled to his feet. Holding one hand out as a signal of surrender, he cupped his nose with the other. “Please don’t hit me again, I’ve had enough.”

He staggered over to his bedroll, collapsed and pressed a kerchief to his face.

Walt knelt by Cecile. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine. Thanks to you.” Her voice quivered,

“It won’t happen again, Cece, I promise you.”

Luke sat on his bedroll, dabbing at his face. “You didn’t hafta break my nose.”

With anger etched on his face, Walt crossed to Luke and stood over. “You’re lucky I didn’t kill you. I warned you to treat her like a lady. You got off easy this time, but if you so much as lay a hand on her again, you’ll be sorrier than you are now. Do you get my drift?”

Luke looked up and nodded.

Walt squared his shoulders. “I want you gone. We don’t need help from the likes of you. I expect you out of here at first light.”

Mumbling something under his breath, Luke stretched out, turning his back to them. Walt snatched up his own bedroll and placed it closer to Cecile’s, then walked to his saddle and pulled his rifle from its sheath.

He came back and lay down, keeping one hand on the rifle. “Cece, go ahead and get some rest. I’m here to make sure nothing else happens.” He rose and his elbow and turned in Luke’s direction. “I’m a very light sleeper, so you don’t have to worry.”

She rolled to her side, still shaken by Luke’s attempt to molest her. Her thanks seemed so trivial. Thinking about what could have happened if she’d made the trip alone sent a cold chill rippling through her. She pulled the blanket up under her chin, still fighting mixed emotions.

Morning came much too soon for Cecile. She felt as if she’d just drifted off. Hearing noises, she sleepily opened her eyes, then recalling last night, sat bolt upright.

“I can’t believe yer making me leave without at least a cup a coffee,” Luke complained.

Walt stood over Luke as he rolled his blankets. “I told you I wanted you gone at first light. So get your things and go.”

Luke didn’t challenge him. He cowardly mumbled under his breath and continued packing his belongings.

Cecile, still in her bedroll, thought it strange that a man as large as Luke cowered before Walt. Although he was tall and well built, Luke outweighed him by at least fifty pounds. Evidently brawn and bravery weren’t always a match.

Luke’s horse was saddled and ready. When he grudgingly pulled his hefty frame astride, Cecile stifled her laughter. His nose was swollen twice its normal size, and he sported two very black eyes. She turned to Walt. “I knew from the first minute I saw him he was bad news. Thanks to you, he got what he deserved. And… from now on, I’m going with my gut instinct about people.”

Luke didn’t say a word, just shot a deadly glare, urged his horse into a gallop, and left the two in a giant swirl of powdered dirt.

Cecile held the blanket up to her nose until the dust settled. “What a relief. I’m glad he’s gone,” she said. “Thanks again for looking out for me. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“I’m sorry I trusted Luke to behave. I should have known better when I saw how he looked at you.”

“I understand why you trusted him. He saved your life.” She touched his arm. “Let’s just forget about him and have some breakfast and get ourselves moving.”

Walt smiled that same dazzling smile that had attracted her the first day he rode into
Silver City. She was reminiscing, when he invaded her thoughts. “Maybe we should forgo the coffee for the sake of saving water. Without Luke to point us in the right direction, we might have to do with what we have on hand.”

“You’re right. Better to be safe than sorry.”  While gnawed on a two-day-old biscuit, she wished for something to wash it down. They’d brought plenty of ready-to-eat food, if only they’d brought more water. Besides wanting a great big drink, she wanted to wash her face. But they ate, packed up their belongings, saddled their horses, and resumed their journey.

The conversation lagged without Luke and his stories, but Cecile was happier not contending with his vile language and obscene looks, especially when he thought Walt wasn’t paying attention. She heaved a sigh. “Notice how much nicer it is without Luke’s constant prattling?”

“Sure do. If only he spent as much time killing those bears as he did talking about it, he’d have enough fur to last him a life time.”

She and Walt shared a good laugh at Luke’s expense.

Near
midday, Walt suggested stopping. “Let’s have a bite to eat. The horses can graze for a while before we push on.”

“Sounds good to me. My backside is tired of being in the saddle.”

Walt spread out a blanket. “I can’t guarantee the ground is much more comfortable than your saddle.”

The sun beat down directly overhead. “It’s so hot,” Cecile grumbled. “Why didn’t we find a tree to rest under?”

“Really, Cecile. If you haven’t you noticed, they aren’t plentiful on the prairie. Look around. Do you see one? Trees generally grow in groves, and they’re usually miles apart. We could’ve waited a couple more hours to find one, but I thought you might be tired and hungry.”

“Sorry, I guess I’m just cranky. Here you are trying to be nice and all I can do is complain.” She sat and took a sip of water, careful to draw only enough to quench her thirst.

The horses nibbled on the tall range grass. Cecile wondered how they went so long without drinking. She wiped beads of perspiration from her brow.

Walt scanned the horizon. “We just need to keep riding south for another day. Once we get to the river, it’s a cinch to find your village.”

“You mean we’re only a day from water?”

“Yep.” He took out the food bundle.

Her village… it sounded strange. As elated as she felt to be going back, she still worried about Walt.  How was he going to feel when he had to leave her?  She took the bread he offered and resolved to deal with things as needed.

With no breeze, it was too hot to sit motionless beneath the baking sun. “Why don’t we just eat while we ride?” Cecile suggested. “I’m burning up. At least if we’re moving it feels like there’s a breeze.”

They munched on the salt pork and biscuits Aunt May sent—the pork not a good idea when trying to ration water, but since water wasn’t far away, Cecile didn’t have to sacrifice long. The dry prairie grass, already brown and brittle from the heat, snapped beneath the synchronized movement of the horse’s hooves. “Oh, I wish I’d worn a hat.” She mumbled.

Walt turned and smiled. “I recall you complained about the same thing while we worked on the barn. Do you remember?”

“Of course, I do.” She wanted to bite off her tongue for inspiring the memory. She pushed back stray strands of hair and scanned for water, hoping the subject didn’t lead to more painful recollections.

She’d been conservative with her water, but her thirst was starting to get the best of her. Walt, however, didn’t appear to have the same problem.  He filled his hat from his canteen and let the horses drink from it. She felt pressured to be strong. If he could go without, so could she. The more she thought about it, the thirstier she got. She lifted her canteen to weigh its contents.

She drank slowly, making sure to lick the last precious drop from her dried lips. That little drizzle would have to last a while. No telling what time tomorrow they’d reach water.

Tired of the constant plodding, Cecile spurred her horse into a gallop for a change of pace. Walt teasingly sped by her. She hadn’t meant to issue a challenge but he’d evidently seen it that way. Still, the faster pace created a refreshing breeze. Cecile dug her heels into her horse’s flanks, urging it to a full run to try to catch Walt. She was gaining on him when suddenly, to her horror, his mount stumbled and fell. Walt flew over the animal’s head, landing several feet in front of the fallen steed.