Jodi Thomas (10 page)

The stranger mumbled, “Hope you’re all right now, ma’am.” He bit into a large piece of meat and continued. “Name’s Tobin Taylor. I tell you, I was powerful worried about a pretty young thing like you wandering off in this wilderness.” The insincerity in his words had a scent worse than his body odor. “I wanted to help look for you myself, but someone had to ride over and talk the medicine woman into coming to help.”

Anna leaned closer into Chance’s side. “I’m fine now, Mr. Taylor.” Her joy at having someone who spoke English was evaporating. He talked as he continued to eat. The sight of his food tumbling around in his mouth was nauseating.

“Yes, ma’am, we don’t get many as pretty as you out here. Why, I can’t even remember the last time I saw a white woman. You’re powerful lucky to have that young man watchin’ out for you or there ain’t no telling what kind of trouble you’d be gettin’ into.”

Without looking as if he were listening, Chance slid his arm from behind her to her shoulder.

Tobin Taylor didn’t seem to take the hint that Anna wanted to keep her distance. He spent the entire meal talking to her as if she were an old friend who was dying to hear all his stories. Anna found his yarns hard to believe and judging from the tightening of the muscle in Chance’s arm each time Tobin spoke, Chance agreed with her.

As dinner ended and everyone stood to leave, Walks Tall emerged from his tent. His arm was strapped to a straight branch and tied from shoulder to hand. He walked directly toward Chance. A murmur spread among the others and Anna felt Chance’s body tightening as if preparing to face a strong wind.

The hatred she’d seen in Walks Tall’s eyes earlier was now replaced with pain. Tiny white lines were dug around his mouth where he had held back his cries of agony. “I come to tell you we fight no more.” His words were in English.

Chance nodded. “We fight no more.” He lifted his hand. “From this night on Walks Tall will think about teaching his son to hunt and no longer will we fight.”

Walks Tall glanced at his wife. His pride in his future generation was reflected in his face. “My arm will heal by the full time of my woman. I will be ready to hold my child high to the Great Spirit.”

Chance reached to place his hand on Walks Tall’s undamaged shoulder, but his action was thwarted.

Medicine Man’s widow pushed her way between them with a mighty twist, her long hair flying in their faces. She danced around the men, dust circling them as she let out frightening screeches. The trinkets around her neck rattled and she hissed like a snake before it strikes.

Her long, bony finger shot toward Anna like a gun being pointed at an intruder. Her voice rose louder and louder and Anna saw fear flash in the eyes of Walks Tall’s woman.

“What is it?” Anna pulled at Chance’s sleeve. “What is the old woman saying?”

“Nothing,” Chance snapped at Anna; then he shouted something at the old woman, clearly trying to shut her up.

Tension mounted in the air. All the Indians were backing away from Anna. Hatred seemed to be overriding the pain in Walks Tall’s eyes, and now he was looking at her with the same deadly stare Anna had seen in the eyes of his wife. Chance was yelling something in the Indian tongue and shaking his head, but no one seemed to be listening to him.

Anna glanced around the campfire in fear. This was a nightmare that made no sense. Her eyes met Tobin Taylor’s. He was the only one not involved in this insane play with Anna at center stage.

“What is she saying?” Anna screamed at Tobin above the noise of the old woman’s chant.

Tobin shrugged his shoulders and said calmly, “She says the child you carry will someday kill the Indian woman’s child.”

N
o!” Anna looked toward Walks Tall’s woman. How cruel the old woman must be to even suggest such a thing. She remembered how proud the Indian woman was of being pregnant. Then to be told that her child would die . . .

The terror in the Indian woman seemed to shake her entire body. When her eyes met Anna’s there was a hatred in them unlike any Anna had ever seen. And she realized the Indian would gladly kill her to protect her own unborn child.

Tobin moved close to Chance. “I think it’d be wise, son, to get that little wife of yours as far away from here as you can. Walks Tall’s woman is upset right now, and I wouldn’t put it past her to see that the baby your wife carries never gets born.”

The look in Chance’s eyes spoke of agreement as he pulled Anna slowly away from the campfire and toward the trees and Cyoty. To their surprise Tobin stayed with them until they reached their camp. He helped them collect their supplies and saddle Cyoty. “Ride north. I’ll join you in an hour. I know this country and can get you out of harm’s way fast, even at night.”

Chance put his hands around Anna’s waist and lifted her into the saddle. “Thanks,” he said, but the man was already darting away into the night.

Looking up at Anna, Chance molded her hands to the saddle horn. “I’ll walk and lead the horse. You hang on tightly to this. If you feel yourself falling asleep, let me know.”

Anna nodded and they moved away from the Indian village without another word, but the fear in her heart continued to scream among the silent shadows of the night.

True to his word, Tobin met them within an hour. After sliding from his horse, he fell into step beside Chance without even bothering to address Anna. She could hear him whispering to Chance but was unsure whether or not she wanted to know what he was saying. Her eyes already ached from watching the shadows for movement other than the swaying of trees and the scurrying of animals. Something evil seemed to lurk just out of sight, waiting until Anna relaxed before attacking. The unknown fear was a torture greater than confrontation. Her fingers hurt from gripping the saddle horn so tightly and a scream would have to fight its way past her heart, which now throbbed in her throat.

For another hour they moved through the darkness; then Chance and Tobin stopped to water the horses. The moon was up and the land was flat, making it an easy ride. Finally, Chance swung up behind her in the saddle and whispered, “You all right?”

“Yes.” Anna wouldn’t have complained if she’d been about to die at this moment. All the danger they were in was somehow her fault. All her life, it seemed, anything that had ever happened to those around her had been her fault: her father’s leaving, her mother’s death, and now this.

Climbing atop his horse with a loud grunt, Tobin suggested, “If your little lady is up to it, we could make some time across this flat stretch.” He paused only long enough to catch his breath, not allowing enough time for anyone to respond. “Course, I never seen a woman yet that wouldn’t let a man know when she was uncomfortable. I know to civilize this part of the country we have to have women and children, but if you ask me, all they are is a heap of burden in this wild land. Way I see it, ain’t the fightin’, drinkin’, and gamblin’ that age a man. It’s a woman walkin’ along beside him remindin’ him of how old he’s gettin’.”

Chance brushed the top of her head with his chin, and his words came low in her ear while Tobin rambled on in the background. “If you’ll swing your leg over the saddle and turn sideways, I can hold you on; plus, you might be able to sleep.”

Anna hesitated.

“Don’t worry, I promise not to let you fall.”

Slowly, she did as he’d instructed. Now his shoulder and arm braced her back and she could lay her head on his chest. Her legs lay across his thigh and for a moment Anna was embarrassed by his nearness. But the warmth of him and the comforting way he held her secure in his arms outweighed all else. How could lying in this man’s arms have become so easy in such a short time? She’d already touched Chance more than she’d touched William in their five years of marriage. But then she and William hadn’t shared a real marriage, only an arrangement made between him and her mother. She’d been used in a horrible game the two of them had played without any thought to how she would have to pay for their dishonor.

Memories of her mother chilled Anna. What kind of woman runs from her daughter’s cries? What kind of mother kills herself when her child needs her? Anna wondered if she’d ever stop hating her mother for what she and William had done. Even in death they seemed to surround her like a mildewed memory threatening to contaminate any future happiness.

At least this time she’d planned her own fate. Her marriage to Chance might be a farce, but it was of her own making. Even in this wild land where fear fell like heavy rain, Anna felt safe in his arms. For a year she had someone she could depend on, someone who looked at her as a sister, someone who cared.

“Try to get some sleep.” Chance spread his fingers out along her waist and though she knew his gesture was only to secure her, Anna felt the caress in his gentle touch. “I’ll hold you. It’s all right,” he whispered.

Wrapping her arms around him, Anna closed her eyes. She was in the middle of Indian territory and didn’t know what lay ahead of her, but she suddenly felt more secure than she had in years.

 

By the time Chance lifted her from the saddle, dawn had already spread across the horizon. He held the reins and her fingers in one hand as he followed Tobin into a thick growth of trees.

Anna studied him in the morning grayness, wondering if he’d slept. His tanned face was lined around his smoky blue eyes and his shoulders were rounded slightly in fatigue, but his right hand rested firmly on the mahogany butt of his gun, ready as ever to confront danger.

Several feet into the trees they found a small clearing already touched by the pale green colors of early spring. The brush and branches were so thick that the clearing seemed walled in by nature.

Tobin kicked at a few fallen branches. “This looks like a fair place to spread a bed.”

“What about the Indians?” Anna spoke the words that had been on her mind for hours.

“Probably tired of followin’ us, if they tagged along at all.” Tobin stretched. “Besides, we’re moving into Comanche country. They wouldn’t wanna follow.”

Pulling his saddle from his horse, Tobin plopped down in the grass. “Well, folks, I’d like to stay up for a while and visit with you, but I think I’d best take a little nap.” Sliding his hat over his face, he began to snore loudly.

Chance winked at Anna. “Thank heaven.”

Anna giggled. She’d listened to about all of Tobin’s stories she could bear to hear, and she must have missed several while she slept. Still, she had to admit he was a good guide. They’d been able to move faster due to his knowledge of the terrain, and his constant talk made him easy to follow even in the dark.

Pulling the saddle off Cyoty, Chance walked several feet away from Tobin and planted their belongings between two trees. “I can hear a stream.” He glanced over his shoulder at Anna. “I need to rub down Cyoty if you want to wash up.”

Without a word, Anna grabbed her bag and hurried toward the sound of running water. The tiny stream was only ten feet from the clearing. Despite her fatigue, she took her usual care to wash.

When she returned, Chance was propped against a tree with his hat low, covering his face. His long legs were stretched out and crossed at the ankle and his rifle lay over his chest. He made no move to indicate he’d heard her return. She picked up her bedroll and spread it out beside him.

Chance used his thumb to shove his hat back. A slow smile spread across his lips as he raised one eyebrow in silent question.

Anna knelt on her blanket. “I don’t want Mr. Taylor to know that we’re not married in every sense of the word. I don’t trust him.”

Leaning closer to her with a devilish twinkle in his eyes, he whispered, “I was hoping you were getting used to lying next to me.”

She wanted to laugh at his teasing, but every muscle ached. Hesitantly, she intertwined her fingers with his, enjoying the strong firmness of his warm flesh. “I want to say I’m sorry for all the mess I’ve gotten you into. You’ve been nothing but fair to me, and I’ve been nothing but trouble to you.”

Turning his fingers over, Chance grasped her hand. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who got us mixed up with the Indians. I should’ve slipped past them and not confronted Walks Tall.”

Anna pulled off her coat. “Maybe we’d better start fresh now. In a few days we’ll be back with the others and then we’ll reach the settlement. We’ve been promised that all our supplies will be waiting for us. Our biggest problem will be which row of vegetables to plant first.” She couldn’t remember when she had last felt so comfortable with another person. It was nice to have someone to talk to about her plans. “Sleep well, Chance.” On impulse, she leaned over and brushed his cheek with a kiss, then slipped beneath the wool of her blanket.

Chance straightened the covering over her shoulder and rested his fingers atop the blanket for a long moment before he answered, “Sleep well.”

The sadness in his words told Anna he didn’t believe all would be right. But he couldn’t be expected to share her dream, she reasoned. He hadn’t seen the contract all the families had signed in Germany; he hadn’t heard the promises made by royal men, like Prince Carl, who led the German Immigration Society. She would explain it all to Chance when they had her new land in sight, but right now she needed to sleep.