Dorothy Garlock - [Annie Lash 03] (5 page)

“Do you reckon he’ll try?”

“I’d not doubt it.”

*  *  *

Light was uneasy about the presence of Delaware in the area. He wanted to get past them and over into Osage country. In a few more days, if he read his map right, he’d reach the spot where the river made an abrupt turn northwest. He intended to cross over there and head straight west to the mountains.

Each day after they had skirted the Delaware encampment, he would leave Maggie concealed in a thicket and backtrack. Then he would ride swiftly through the thick woods to a high point from which he could see the open space below and scan the terrain with his spyglass, a gift from Jefferson Merrick. One day his vigilance paid off. He saw two warriors loping along the route he and Maggie had taken, following the tracks made by their horses.

The braves were on foot. Light reckoned they had broken away from a hunting party when they spotted the horses’ tracks and were planning to try to steal the animals. A Delaware brave who owned a horse would have considerable prestige among the people of his tribe.

Light collapsed his spyglass, dropped it inside his doeskin shirt, and hurried back to where Maggie waited. Without telling her of his concern, he insisted that they press on and keep to the higher ground.

In the late afternoon, the sky darkened as thunder clouds rolled in from the southwest. When he and Maggie came to a break in the trees, Light used his spyglass again to survey the land ahead and behind. Although there was no sign of the Indians, that did not mean they were not there. The Delaware would follow for days, if not weeks, in the hope of seizing the horses.

On one side of the knoll where Light and Maggie stood, the ground sloped down to the river, and on the other lay a vast open space.

Light carefully scanned the bank where the river made a sharp turn and he noted, above the bushes along the wall of rock, a dark hole that could be a small cave. He motioned to Maggie and they rode toward it. Blackthorn bushes grew thickly along the riverbank; and, as Light expected, on a rocky shelf above the river, partially covered with the bushes, he found the entrance to a cave.

Waving Maggie to a stop, he dismounted and handed her the reins. With his rifle in his hands, he approached the opening. He tossed a large stone inside, waited a few seconds, then tossed in several more. He walked back to hand Maggie the rifle, then gathered a handful of dry grass and twisted it into a torch. On a flint he drew from the bag tied at his waist, he struck a spark with his knife.

In the torchlight he could see that the cave was quite large. Its floor was sand and the ceiling was high. The remains of a fire was evidence that it had been used by man, but not recently. Light checked carefully for snakes, then went out to bring Maggie and the horses inside.

Leaving Maggie to unpack the horses, he gathered firewood before the rain began, then cut brush to conceal the cave opening.

Light and Maggie worked well as a team. Quickly and quietly they set up camp for the night while thunder rolled and lightning flashed. The small fire Light had built so that they could see was almost smokeless. What little smoke there was disappeared overhead. While Maggie made the last of their cornmeal into mush, Light took the horses one at a time to the river to drink.

The rain came suddenly. It spilled out of the sky like water pouring from a bucket. The raindrops were large and wind-driven. Light welcomed the rain. It would wash away any tracks they might have left; and the Delaware, if they were still following, would hole up somewhere until the rain lessened or stopped. He and Maggie sat cross-legged on a blanket and, in the dim light of their small fire, ate their meager meal.

Maggie had added a few dried berries to the mush. While water was heating for tea, she cracked a handful of nuts with Light’s tomahawk. With loving generosity, she fed him two of the nutmeats for every one she ate.

“What are you thinking, my pet, when you gaze at me so seriously?”

“That yo’re beautiful,” she replied and popped a nutmeat in his mouth.

“Ho!
Ma petite!
” His face creased with the smiles she loved. “I fear your brains have turned to water.
You
are beautiful. The sunrise is beautiful. A rainbow is beautiful. I am but a man.”

“My man!” She put her foot on his chest and playfully pushed him over onto his back. “My man,” she repeated as she followed him down to lie on his chest and kiss his lips. “Say it.”

“My man.” He laughed at her.

“No!
My
man!”

“Ah,
chérie.
You’re my treasure.” He held her to him and kissed her soundly.

“Tell me what we’ll do when we get t’our mountain, Light.” She laid her head on his shoulder and nuzzled her face into his neck.

“We’ll find a place where no man has been before. The trees will be tall and the grass deep. We’ll build our cabin beside a small stream,
chérie.
Before the first snow we will hear the geese go over on their journey south. We will listen for their return in the spring. Spring, summer, fall and winter. We will live there, grow old there, together.”

“But that will be a long time from now.”

“A long time, my love.”

“Do ya want us t’ have babies, Light?”

“We’ll have a whole nest full if we keep doing as we have been.” He chuckled against her upturned face.

“I’ll love ya the most,” she said seriously.

“A mother’s love for a babe is different from her love for her man, sweetling. You’ll love our babes, wait and see.”

“If my woman time stops it will mean a babe is growing in my belly. My mamma said so.”

“That is usually what it means. Go to sleep, my treasure. We are safe here for now.”

The heavy storm clouds moved away, but the rain continued for most of the night. By dawn, it had settled into a light mist. Light left Maggie sleeping in their blankets and ventured outside the cave. He heard the cooing of doves and the sound of a whippoorwill in the distance but no sound nearby. He was instantly alert.

He stood as still as the rock at his back, only his eyes moving from left to right and back again. Then he caught movement. Turning his head ever so slowly, he identified what had drawn his attention: a scrap of red cloth tied to the top-knot on the head of a Delaware. The brave’s buckskin shirt and leggings had blended in with the limestone rock and dead brush.

As Light watched, the Delaware discovered the fresh cuts on the branches Light had made the night before when he had gathered brush to pile in front of the cave entrance.

Light’s gaze traveled in a widening circle until he was reasonably sure the brave was alone. Then he slipped back behind the thicket of thornberry, flattening himself against the wall, and waited.

With tomahawk raised, the Delaware moved along the cliff toward the mouth of the cave. Light could hear the scrape of the Indian’s buckskins against the rock wall. He came to a spot where Light could see him through the concealing brush. The man was short, no longer young, and dirty even for a Delaware.

A chill of apprehension washed over Light.
Should
Maggie awaken and come to the opening, the brave would
be sure to attack her with his tomahawk.

Now the Indian moved to the other side of the opening within an arm’s length of where Light stood. At that moment one of the horses stamped and blew air through its lips.

At the instant the Delaware crouched and made ready to spring inside, Light’s two hands snaked out and circled his throat. With one ferocious powerful squeeze, he throttled the brave’s outcry. Then he wrapped his legs around the Indian’s thrashing body. The two fell to the ground. Light held on as the brave struggled in his death throes.

For what seemed like an eternity to Light, the body writhed. Finally, it went limp, and he let go. The Delaware lay crumpled at his feet, the head lolling at an odd angle.

“Chérie?”

“Here, Light.”

“Stay inside. There may be another one.”

Light stepped into the cave to pick up his rifle and then set out into the misty morning. He headed in the direction the Delaware had come. He moved swiftly and soundlessly, constantly scrutinizing the ground and the stunted shrubbery on the rocky ledges. A half mile downriver he found the overhang where the Delaware had waited out the rain. Only one set of tracks led away from the overhang.

The braves had split up before reaching this place.
One of them was still out there. Light set off in a fast trot toward the cave.

*  *  *

Maggie did not brood over the killing of the Indian any more than she had when Light killed Jason Picket as he tried to rape her. They both had been bad men intent on evil. The body of the dead Indian lying in the doorway of the cave, however, did have an effect on her and the horses. The odor from his unwashed body and dirty clothing, coupled with the stench of his bowels, let loose when life left him, was nauseating to Maggie.

The smell frightened the horses. They whinnied, rolled their eyes and pawed the sandy floor. Maggie crooned to them and partially calmed them, but still they moved restlessly.

The struggle between Light and the Indian had trampled the brush that covered the cave opening, allowing morning light to come in. Maggie longed to leave the cave, to get out into the fresh air, but Light had told her to stay.

She was whispering in the ear of one of the horses when she looked toward the entrance and saw that it was blocked by the figure of an Indian with tomahawk raised. The horses, sensing the strange presence, tossed their heads and crowded against each other.

While the Indian’s eyes were becoming accustomed to the dim light, Maggie quickly moved behind the horses and slipped the knot in the rope that held them to the log Light had used to secure them. When they were free, she pricked one of them on the rump with the tip of her knife. The horses bolted for the cave entrance. Maggie’s first thought had been to leap on one of the horses and go with them, but she decided not to chance being scraped off or snatched off by the Indian. As the horses crashed through the brush, Maggie, with her knife in one hand and the whip in the other, watched and waited.

The cave was well lighted now. Carefully Maggie uncoiled the whip, took a deep breath and let out a piercing whistle. She was not sure how far the sound would carry from inside the cave, but Light would hear and he would come.

When the Indian sprang through the entrance, she was ready. She lashed out with the whip, and the tip struck the arm that held the tomahawk. Stunned momentarily by shock and pain, the Indian paused, giving Maggie time to strike again. She aimed for his face, but the tip missed the mark and hit his shoulder. The warrior put his arm over his face to protect it and ran at her. Maggie stepped back and struck again. The next blow caught him on the arm, drawing blood. Snarling with rage, he backed away from her.

Maggie knew she was fighting for her life, yet she was calm. If only she had more skill with the whip! Her next strike was one Light had warned her against, allowing the lash to snake out too far before she snapped her wrist to bring it back. The leather wrapped around the Indian’s leg. Quickly she dropped the handle and shifted her knife to her other hand.

The Indian’s grin was hideous.

The small woman meant to fight him with a knife!

Knife ready, her eyes on the brave, Maggie sidestepped to face him squarely. Gripping the blade of her knife between her thumb and forefinger, Maggie waited until the Indian had inched to within a few yards of her. When the triumphant grin on his face changed to one of evil intent and his arm lifted higher to deliver the killing blow, Maggie threw the knife.

The slender blade flew from her hand with the speed of an arrow and buried itself to the hilt in the Delaware’s chest. Maggie covered her mouth with her hand and watched the surprised look on the man’s face as his legs melted out from under him.

When the tomahawk fell from his hand, she darted past him and ran out of the cave. Drawing in a deep breath of clean tangy air, she whistled again. An answering whistle came immediately from nearby. In a matter of seconds Light was beside her.

“In . . . there—” Maggie pointed. She had no breath to say more.

Long minutes passed before Light came out. He slid her cleaned knife back in her scabbard and looped the coiled whip over her shoulder before he put his arms around her and held her to him.

“Is he . . .?” Maggie whispered.

“Dead. Your aim was true. Ah,
chérie,
I do not know if my heart can endure another scare like that. It will turn to stone and drop into my belly.”

“I’m all right, Light.” She put her palms against his cheeks and turned his face down to hers. “They were mean men who would kill us for our horses, not like animals who kill only to eat.”

“I should not have left you.”

“I am your mate, Light.”

“You’re my treasure.” He held her so close he could feel the beating of her heart. After he kissed her, he raised his head and looked into her eyes. “You did well, my pet. You make me proud.”

“Light . . . I let the horses go.”

“Don’t worry, love. They won’t go far.”

“I’ll go catch ’em.”

“We go together.”

Light took two knives, a quiver of arrows and several fish hooks from the Indians before he dragged the bodies to the back of the cave. Although he covered the entrance again with the brush, he knew that it would be no barrier to wolves when they smelled the dead flesh. It would, however, conceal the opening should a war canoe come upriver.

*  *  *

Light and Maggie rode until noon. The sun came out and the land looked sparkling clean. Light led the way along the riverbank until they reached a sheltered sandy beach where reeds grew at the river’s edge. He held up his hand and Maggie stopped. He sat for a minute with his ear turned toward the river. She, too, heard the sound that alerted him. Water was splashing among the reeds. Light dismounted and walked ahead along the bank. He paused and motioned for Maggie to join him.