Marna (25 page)

Aroused as she had never been, her tone scathing,
Marna flared out at him, "You've got a nerve, Matt
Barton, likening me to your whores. Where is the sameness between us? Your whores get your time, your attention, your nights. What do I get from you? One night
in your bed, and then insults thrown at my head. You
don't even have enough trust and respect for me to let
me explain a very important event in my life."

She pointed to the door with a shaking finger. "I
want you to get out of here, and I don't want you to
ever come back."

Amazement stared out of Matt's eyes. He had not
expected her to turn on him. She hadn't the right.
Hadn't he found her in the arms of another man? Did
she expect him to act as though there was nothing
wrong with that?

Unreasoning rage was a bitter taste in his throat.
He'd get out, all right, but that lousy womanizer would
never have her.

Before Marna and Jake's stunned gaze, Matt brought
the long rifle to his shoulder. Marna stood horrified,
unable to move. He was going to shoot her father. Her
father whom she had just gotten to know.

She watched the lean finger whiten around the
trigger, and suddenly she was released. Throwing herself in front of Jake, she screamed, "No! No! Don't
shoot him!"

Through the blackness that gripped him, Marna's
words beat on Matt's ears. Her desperate plea sent a
pain through his heart that was almost unbearable. His
wife loved this man enough to take his bullet

A weariness came over him, and he brought the rifle
down to hang at his side. He gazed a moment at the
anxious face, then wordlessly turned and left the cabin.

The door closed softly behind him, and Marna raced
to the window. She watched him ride by on the stallion
and disappear down the trail. Her face crumpled and
hot tears ran down her cheeks.

"Damn you, Matt Barton, damn you. We could have
had such a good life together."

To calm the raging turmoil of her thoughts, Marna
paced around the room, hardly aware that she was not
alone.

Jake watched her, his face sympathetic. He spoke
softly. "Don't take it so hard, Marna. Give Matt a little
time to cool off. After a while he'll realize that he acted
like a jackass, and he'll come back."

Suddenly weak, Marna stopped her pacing and sat
down. Her tone of voice dead, she said quietly, "No, he
won't come back." She stared vacantly into the fire for
a moment, then added tiredly, "It's best he doesn't. We
could never get along, what with his mulish ways."

A line of bitterness formed around her mouth. So he
was gone. So what? She had spent entirely too much
time worrying and wondering about Matt Barton. Wondering when she would see him again. Worrying about
who he was sleeping with. To have a lifetime of such
torment would soon devastate your soul.

Her slim hand came up to play with the curls lying
on her shoulders. She was young, and all the men's eyes
told her that she was desirable. From now on she was
going to use her beauty. She would use it as a lever to
obtain whatever she might desire from a man. But
never again would she love a man, she told herself
firmly.

She glanced fondly at Jake. With the exception of
Jake, of course. It seemed that she had loved him from
the very beginning. From now on she was going to
concentrate on making up to him all those lost years.

Jake felt her eyes upon him, and he turned his head
to smile at her. With a faint eagerness in his voice, he
asked, "What now, Marna?"

Marna sighed. "I don't know, Jake, except that I
must start a life that doesn't include Matt in it. Do you
have anything in mind?"

"Well, for beginners, why don't you start callin' me
Pa. Anyhow, Jake South isn't my name, you know."

Marna's eyes twinkled. "I know it, Pa. It's Egan."

Egan's face beamed. Finally he had heard the word
he had longed to hear for so long. He sat forward.
"Marna, what's your opinion of gathering up your
grandmother and all of us movin' to Philadelphia?"

Mama's eyes widened. Philadelphia? For a moment
she sat stunned. She, a backwoods girl-live in a big
city? She couldn't visualize, it. "What in the world
would I do there, Ja...Pa?" she exclaimed.

Laughing, Egan reached over to clasp her hand. "To
start with, you could storm that city with your beauty.
You would have them city dudes kneeling at your feet
I'm not a poor man, Marna. I own many properties in
Philadelphia, and can give you more than you ever
dreamed of. You will have a comfortable home and
more lovely clothes than you can wear. You will meet
many wealthy men to choose your next husband from."

A slight frown gathered between Marna's eyes. "I'm
in no hurry to marry again, Pa."

"That's good. I'm in no hurry to lose you again. But
you can still let them young bucks squire you around."

Mama's face took on an excited, pleased glow at his
words and she turned her head shyly away. Unconsciously smoothing her hair, she murmured, "Am I
really beautiful, Pa?"

"Honey, during my lifetime I have seen many beautiful women. Next to your mother, I swear you have all
the rest of them beat"

She peeked up at him and said softly, "I hope that
makes you proud, Pa."

"It does indeed, girl, and I can't wait to show you
off"

Warming to the idea of moving to Philadelphia,
Marna jumped to her feet and began to pace the floor
excitedly. "I can't wait to tell Grandma. I know she'll
want to come. You know her opinion of Grandpa.
She'll be glad to get away from him."

"Your grandmother's opinion of Emery would take
her years to tell." Egan stood up. "Grandma knows
about Philadelphia. She and I talked about it yesterday.
She said it was up to you. If everything went well, we
were going to leave at the end of the week. But I don't
know why we have to put it off." Reaching for his coat,
he asked, "Could you be ready to leave tomorrow
morning, early?"

Marna gave a short laugh. "Ten minutes from now
wouldn't be too soon."

Egan moved to the door; then, with the latch in his
hand, he turned around. As he nervously shifted his
feet, Marna gazed at him quizzically. "Was there something else, Pa?"

"Well, yes...yes, there is. It's this way. I'd like to
take Betsy with us if you don't mind."

Marna walked over to him, an understanding smile
on her lips. "Pa, I would love having Betsy go with us,"
she said softly.

Egan's relieved smile made her laugh aloud. "Good,"
he exclaimed. I'll get word to your Grandma to come
spend the night with you. Then in the morning we'll
have no trouble slippin' away from Emery."

Marna's eyes lightened. "I've been worrying how
we'd get her away from him."

Egan kissed her cheek again, remarking, "It's all set,
then." He grinned and closed the door behind him.

That evening, after Hertha had arrived, a bundle of
clothes in her hand and a wide smile on her lips, they
went to say good-bye to Henry and Dove.

Marna did not mention the relationship between her and Egan. She merely said that she and Hertha were
going to Philadelphia with him. She was a little surprised when the pair did not show shock at her announcement. They only smiled and wished her well.
Henry even said that he didn't blame her for choosing
Philadelphia over a wild, untamed wilderness. Her eyes
grew wet as she kissed them good-bye. Besides Caleb,
they had been her only friends. "I hope you have a
son," she said, smiling and closing the door behind
her.

The sun had barely risen the next morning when
Egan and Betsy came for them. Egan drove a team of
horses hitched to a wide, deep wagon. A good foot of
hay covered its bottom, and a stack of blankets and
bearskins waited in a corner for the ladies to cover
themselves with. There was a canvas tarpaulin to fit
snugly over the wagon as they slept. They should not
have to suffer any hardship on their little trip.

As they pulled creakingly away, Marna gazed back
at the small building she had called home for such a
short time. Her eyes brimmed, and a tear slid down her
cheek. She brushed away the tear impatiently and
turned her head away from the past. She forced a determined smile to her lips and said brightly to Hertha,
"Well, Grandma, we're off."

Hearing the catch in her voice, Hertha patted her
hand. "It's for the best, Marnie. Your future will be
better in Philadelphia."

Marna nodded, thinking bleakly that anything would
be better than her past. Pulling a bearskin up around
her shoulders and chin, she watched the forest slip by.
The snow glistened white among the green of the pines
and cedar, almost blinding her. In the cold air the jingle
of the trace chains was intensified, and Egan and
Betsy's low voices came clearly as they talked foolish
lovers' talk.

Betsy must truly love my father, she thought, to sit
up there, unprotected from the wind.

Around noon Egan pulled the team into a sheltered
cedar grove. "We'll have a bite to eat and rest the
horses," he announced, swinging down into a foot of
snow.

Betsy lifted her legs over the seat and dropped into
the wagon. She smiled her relief through chattering
teeth as she scooted under the covers and hunched herself close to Marna's warm body. Marna shared her
bearskin, tucking it around the shivering shoulders.
"You'd best stay back here with me and Grandma," she
scolded. "You're going to catch pneumonia up there."

Betsy buried deeper into the hay. "I'd like to, but I'd
feel so sorry for Egan sitting up there by himself."

Marna glanced out at her robust father hanging feed
bags over the horse's heads. "Pa?" she snorted. "This
cold won't hurt him. He's like a piece of deer hide.
Strong and enduring."

A loving softness took possession of Betsy's lips.
"Oh, he is that," she murmured, "but gentle at the right
times."

For lunch, they ate cold fare from a basket Hertha
had packed. When they had finished the plain but
hearty meal, she brought out a bottle of her prized
whiskey. She passed it to Egan first, ordering, "Take a
long draw on this, Egan. It'll warm your blood."

Egan tipped the bottle and let it gurgle down his
throat He laughed through the smarting of his eyes as
he handed it to Betsy. Wiping his hand across his
mouth, he gasped, "By God, Grandma, that would
warm the dead."

When Betsy had taken a good draught and handed
the bottle to Marna, she chokingly agreed. But Marna
and Hertha, used to the fiery liquid, never batted an eye
as they finished off the bottle.

When Egan climbed back up on the seat and picked
up the reins, he pushed Betsy back into the wagon.
"You stay down in there. I don't want no piece of ice
up against me tonight."

Betsy grinned and snuggled back into the covers. Her
eyes said that he needn't worry.

As the sturdy team plowed doggedly through snow,
often shank deep, Betsy talked of Philadelphia and the
good times they would have there. It turned out that
she had lived there most of her life. She had left there
two years ago to start her business in the settlement.
"Too much competition in the cities," she explained.
"There is always some madam trying to coax away
your most attractive girls."

At first Marna had been a little surprised at Betsy's
frank reference to her business. But by the time they
camped for the night, she realized Betsy was just like
her father. They were what they were. Open with everything, nothing hidden. Respect for the former whore
began to grow inside her.

As they rolled toward Philadelphia, each day was
much the same as the last No blizzards came howling
in to hold them up, or possibly turn them back. But
each day was bitter cold, and Betsy remained in the
back of the wagon with Marna and Hertha. Much to
Egan's pleasure, a warm and intimate bond was growing between the two people he loved most in the world.

Finally, even though they had traveled in relative
comfort, it was with great relief that early one afternoon they spotted the Delaware river. Just a short distance away, Philadelphia squatted on its banks.

For the first time, Egan uncurled his whip. The team
stepped out briskly. In a short time their road led them
directly onto a narrow, cobblestoned pavement. They
had arrived.

With an exultant cry Egan stood up in the bumping
wagon. His hands seesawed with the reins, and his
vibrant voice forced the team into the stream of traffic.
In wild terror, Marna shrank against Betsy as he passed
a heavily loaded wain, their wheels only inches apart. While she held her breath, her eyes glued to the evernarrowing space between them, a jarring bump on the
other side of the wagon brought a startled yell from
her throat.

Betsy, her eyes shining and her breath rapid, laughed
in high glee as a burly wagoner, popping his whip over
the backs of his straining team, bumped them again.
The rough-featured face grinned at her as he moved
ahead, pushing his way between two coaches and riding
on the heels of a delicate, spindly wheeled phaeton.