Judith E French (27 page)

“Release my horse,” she said, more angry than frightened.

“Spunky, ain’t ya? Ole Nate likes that in a woman.” He put a filthy hand on her riding skirt.

Caitlin didn’t hesitate. She snatched up the bag of foodstuffs and swung it over Ladybug’s neck. The heavy sack slammed against the man’s head with a satisfying thud. He let go of her horse and clutched his chin. Caitlin yanked back on the reins and her mare reared. Ladybug’s front hoof struck the cowhand’s chest, and he fell back onto the ground. Caitlin fought to stay in the saddle without dropping the bag containing the pistol.

“What the blue hell’s goin’ on?” Rachel Thompson ran toward them with a rifle in her hands.

Nate Bone scrambled up with blood running from his nose and lunged at Caitlin’s horse. The mare threw up her head and shied away.

Rachel fired a shot into the air.

Nate stopped in his tracks.

Caitlin got her horse under control. Her hat had fallen off, her hair had come undone, but she was still in the saddle with the reins in her hands.

“What are you doin’ here?” Rachel demanded.

Caitlin pointed at the cowboy. “This ruffian needs to be taught manners. He laid hands on my mare and on my person. I don’t know what passes for decent behavior in Missouri, but in Ireland, he’d be horsewhipped.”

Rachel whirled on Nate. “You son of a bitch. Get your sorry ass back to shoeing that horse. The next time you forget yourself, you’re out of here.”

“Your brother would have somethin’ to say about that.” Nate wiped his face, streaking blood and soot down his chin and onto his already stained vest.

“Swive Beau, and swive you, too.” Rachel motioned with her rifle. “Get out of my sight.”

Swearing, Nate did as he was told. When he disappeared into the barn, Rachel turned her attention to Caitlin. “Why in hell are you here?”

Caitlin grimaced. “I think it was a bad idea.”

“Do you have many of these bad ideas?”

“I’m afraid so.” Suddenly the two of them were laughing.

“Since you’re here, you might as well step down.” Rachel motioned toward the house. “Least I can do before Big Earl gets back is offer you a cup of what passes around here for coffee.”

Caitlin extended the bag. “I brought you some bread and …”

“I kin smell it.” Rachel grinned, and for a moment her plain face with its overlarge mouth and chin was almost attractive. “Course, it must be pretty hard bread, the way you wacked Nate’s skull with it.”

“Actually,” Caitlin confessed, “there’s a pistol in there, too.”

“A pistol?” Rachel looked unconvinced. “Blue hell! McKenna’s got hisself a live one after all.” She began to laugh again. “Come on in and take a load off.”

Offering a silent prayer, Caitlin dismounted and followed Rachel Thompson toward the house.

The single-story log structure consisted of many additions and various rooflines. Two sections were joined by a roofed dogtrot and at least four stone chimneys.
Windows seemed placed haphazardly; there weren’t many of them, and they were small.

More dogs spilled out of the house. These animals added their whines and sniffing to the clamor of the first two hounds, which had never stopped barking. Rachel motioned to a hitching rail. Caitlin tied her mare and followed Rachel inside.

The interior was spotlessly clean but smelled of dogs. Rachel waved Caitlin to a chair at a long, plank table and retrieved a coffeepot from a cast-iron cookstove.

“I hope you like it black and strong,” Rachel warned.

“Thank you.” Caitlin didn’t, but she had more sense than to admit it.

Over the cups of coffee, Caitlin explained the reason for her visit, and Rachel unwrapped the gifts of food and returned Caitlin’s cloth bag and her weapon.

“Big old horse leg like that,” Rachel said, pointing to the pistol, “knock you flat on your ass if you fired it.” She chuckled at her own joke. “Make a hole big enough to run a calf through. Give a man cause to think before he messed with you again.” She slathered a big slice of soda bread with jam. “Fine-tastin’ stuff,” she said. “My mother made such. She died before she could show me the hang of it. Wish I knowed how. I got me a sweet tooth, just like her.”

“I’d be glad to teach you; it’s easy.”

“Easy for you maybe,” Rachel replied. “Might take you up on that. Sweets do slide down good on a cold winter morning.” Then she fixed Caitlin with a hard look. “You know our stud Natchez has come up missin’, don’t you?”

Caitlin shook her head. “No, I didn’t.”

“Gone, out of his pen without so much as a thank-you-ma’am. Two other good mares in there with him, and they’re still there. Ain’t natural. Most Injuns don’t stop at
stealin’ one horse if there’s three to be had. And a man hangs just as high for stealin’ one as three.”

“We’ve had no trouble for weeks,” Caitlin answered. “Shane’s away in Saint Louis, but—”

“Away, is he?” Rachel licked the jam from her fingers. “Gabe said McKenna was—” She flushed and broke off. “I meant to say … Blue hell, Mizz McKenna—”

“Caitlin, or Cait if you like. We’re neighbors. I want us to be friends. Can’t we just be Cait and Rachel?”

Rachel got up and poured herself another mug of coffee. She offered the pot to Caitlin, but she didn’t think she could swallow another spoonful. The coffee was strong enough to take paint off a wagon wheel.

“Me and Gabe …” Rachel looked around and lowered her voice. “I like Gabe. He may be an Injun, but he’s a good friend. If Big Earl knew, he’d likely lynch Gabe. To him, the only good Injun is …” She shrugged. “They killed Ma, see, and Big Earl holds a grudge. Anyway, Gabe said that McKenna wasn’t to home. Bad for him if Big Earl finds out.”

“How so?” Caitlin asked.

“He’ll figure your Shane stole our stallion and sold him in Saint Louis. Big Earl and Beau are out lookin’ for Natchez now. All the boys are out except worthless Nate. Big Earl left him here to keep the McKennas from overrunning us.” She grinned. “Guess it didn’t work, huh?”

“Shane’s not a thief. I don’t know why he went to Saint Louis, but it wasn’t to sell your horse.”

“I know that. Hell, Big Earl would know that if he used his head. But Beau’s all the time filling his mind with shit. ’Scuse my mouth. I ain’t got much in the way of learnin’, Cait. You have to take me as you see me or not at all.”

“I think I like you fine,” Caitlin replied honestly.
“Rough ways and all, and that invitation to Kilronan for Christmas still stands.”

Rachel sniffed and reached for another slice of soda bread. “Might just surprise you and take you up on it,” she said. “Stranger things have happened.”

December 24 dawned gray and bitter. Sleet knifed against the icy windowpanes, and blasts of wind rattled the house and howled down the chimneys. Caitlin eased from the feather bed, taking care not to disturb Derry. When the weather had turned ugly, Caitlin had feared that the child wouldn’t be warm enough in Shane’s old room, so she’d brought Derry in to sleep with her.

Caitlin refused to admit that having the tot beside her kept her from thinking too much about being alone in the bed. Knowing that Derry was safe helped to ease her fears.

The little girl slept soundly, her pink, rosebud mouth puckered and slightly open, one small hand flung over her head. Caitlin couldn’t resist bending down and kissing Derry on the crown of her head. How sweet the babe smelled. Heaven’s scents couldn’t be any better, Caitlin decided.

She smiled as she gently tucked the quilts around Derry’s chin and placed a pillow on either side of the child to make sure she didn’t tumble out of bed. “Yes, darling,” Caitlin murmured. “Whatever else happens, I’ve got you.”

Caitlin’s bare feet burned from the cold as she hurried to the hearth and added another log. The thick walls of Kilronan were built to withstand Missouri winters, but not
even a constant fire could take the damp chill from the air or make the floorboards comfortable on a day like this.

Hastily Caitlin pulled on her wool stockings and her shoes and the warmest overshift she could find. She couldn’t take the time to dress before going downstairs to see if Shane had gotten safely home in the night. Instead, she donned a silk dressing gown and swiftly brushed her hair and tucked it under a linen cap.

She’d done everything she could to make Kilronan ready for Christmas. The miniature she’d secretly painted of Justice for Shane was dry and wrapped in a bit of azure silk. She had her father’s watch and a new shirt for Justice, a silver locket for Urika, and her mother’s beautiful lace shawl for Mary.

What to give Gabriel had been a puzzle. Her chests and boxes were nearly empty except for old clothing of her mother’s that might be used to make new garments. None of the material had been suitable or large enough to make the wrangler a shirt. And she wasn’t sure that Gabe would like anything she had to give. In the end she’d settled on presenting him with her copy of
Robinson Crusoe
. He liked the story so much that she hoped he might value it, even though he couldn’t read.

Caitlin had been making small gifts for Derry since summer: a cloth doll, bean bags, a necklace of pearls cut from an old pair of gloves. Caitlin’s favorite was a collection of smooth, gray creek stones on which she’d painted the letters of the alphabet. She’d also sewn Derry a knee-length hooded cape of red silk with a royal blue velvet lining. And, on the chance that Rachel Thompson might come to Christmas dinner, Caitlin had dug through her silk scraps and cut and stitched a handful of multicolored ribbons. She’d tied them into hair bows and wrapped them in a square of bright yellow satin.

Everything was ready for the Christmas celebration, but it would be hollow for Caitlin if Shane didn’t get back in time to share the day’s festivities. He’d promised he would be home in time, but time was running out.

What if Shane had been attacked by renegade Indians, fallen off his horse and broken his leg, or been swept away crossing a river? If he died in the wilderness between here and Saint Louis, she would never know what happened to him. Fear made Caitlin’s stomach uneasy. She’d had little appetite the night before, but that she’d attributed to Rachel’s coffee.

As she descended the staircase, she heard Gabriel’s laughter drifting up from the kitchen. Maybe Shane had arrived, she thought hopefully. A shiver of anticipation ran through her as she hurried to the doorway.

A figure in a black hat and long coat stood in front of the fireplace with his back to Caitlin. Disappointment hit her hard. He wasn’t tall or broad enough to be her husband.

The visitor turned and grinned.

“Rachel?” Caitlin had hoped she would come, but she hadn’t expected her until Christmas Day. “Welcome,” she said warmly.

“Cait.” Rachel pushed back her hat, and Caitlin saw that she’d twisted her hair up into a bun on the back of her head and tied a bit of rawhide thong around it. “Hope you don’t mind I come early. A heap of snow gonna fall between now and tomorrow.”

Caitlin nodded to Mary and Urika. Justice and Gabe were sitting at the table eating corn cakes drowning in honey, but the cowboy’s gaze was fixed on Rachel.

“Your father and brother?” Caitlin asked.

“Big Earl?” Rachel scoffed. “Not likely. He still thinks Shane stole his horse. He and Beau will sit there and get sock-eyed like they do every Christmas.”

Mary pointed to the coffeepot.

“Obliged,” Rachel said. “Cold as a witch’s tit out there.”

Caitlin took Rachel’s coat. “Put your boots on the hearth to dry, and I’ll find you some stockings to wear.”

Rachel sipped the coffee and sighed with pleasure as Urika set another place at the table.

“I ate before I left home,” Rachel said as she slid onto the bench across from Gabe. “But this weather makes a body hungry enough to eat a bear, hide and all. McKenna not back yet, huh?”

Justice watched her stonily. “No.”

“Nasty weather,” Rachel repeated, glancing at Gabe and then back to the plate in front of her.

“McKenna will find his way home.” Gabe tore his gaze away from her. “Miss Rachel brought Justice a new saddle blanket, red and black striped.”

Rachel colored. “Christmas gift,” she muttered.

“Butter and milk, too,” Mary added. “Milk froze.”

“Milk?” Caitlin cried. “Real milk! That’s wonderful. Derry hasn’t had any in months. Do you have a cow?”

“Big Earl likes his butter,” Rachel explained. “We always keep a few head.” She dug into a vest pocket and came up with a tin whistle. “Reckon your button would like this?”

“Derry will love it,” Caitlin answered. “Of course, I’m not sure how much Shane will appreciate the noise.”

Rachel and Gabe laughed together.

“Didn’t come empty-handed,” Rachel said. “I brung a few chickens and some beefsteaks along with a jug of Big Earl’s best drinkin’ whiskey. We can fetch it from the barn.”

“No need for you to worry,” Gabe put in. “I’ll get it. I need to feed up anyway.”

“You already fed up,” Justice said.

Gabe gave the boy a playful shove. “Best you mind your own business. You don’t, I might give that new halter to Miss Rachel instead of you.”

“Nothin’ I’d like better than a good Osage braided halter,” Rachel teased.

In the end Rachel and Gabe both bundled up and went to the barn. Mary glanced at Caitlin knowingly as they went out the door, and Urika giggled.

“There’s trouble there,” Mary warned.

Justice shrugged and poured himself another cup of coffee. “He likes her.”

Mary frowned. “No more coffee. Boy drink too much.”

“McKenna drinks coffee,” Justice argued.

Mary said something to him in Osage.

When he started to reply in a sarcastic tone of voice, Caitlin interrupted. “Mind your grandmother.”

Justice’s eyes widened in surprise.

Caitlin turned to Mary. “He’s your grandson, isn’t he?”

Mary removed her pipe and tapped it against the stone hearth. The truth was written plainly across her weathered face. “You tell McKenna?”

“He’ll send her away,” Justice said. “Gabe worked for McKenna’s uncle. When Cerise died, Gabe talked him into hiring Mary.” Then he murmured the Osage word that he’d told Caitlin meant
grandmother
.