The Bearwalker's Daughter (22 page)

Joseph threw the first punch, skillfully dodged by Jack. Karin came to an equally rapid decision. She’d slip outside and saddle up Peki. The stallion knew her and would trust her. She sidled toward the door, praying Uncle Thomas’s attention was diverted. No one else seemed to notice her stealthy retreat. All eyes were on the fight.

Tempestuous wasn’t a word Karin ever thought to use for herself, nor furtive. But passion governed as she stole through the fevered throng. She had no qualms about the powder horn and shot pouch she
borrowed
from those hung on pegs inside the door. Jack would need powder, shot, and a musket and his were at the McNeal’s homestead. For the first time in years, that wasn’t where Karin was going.

The smack of fist on bone cracked behind her, followed by the roar of blood-lust. She darted a glance to see Jack reel from a blow to the jaw.

“Oh.” She sympathized, wincing at the grimace distorting his reddened face.

Maybe Joseph threw a lucky punch, or caught Jack off-guard. Either way, she’d better hurry. Brewster still waited to fight him and other men stood in line, the hulking louts. So far, Uncle Thomas hadn’t missed her.

Cracking open the door, she tiptoed out onto the cold stoop, her breath white in the frosty air. It was good she was well bundled. She spotted Uncle Paul’s long rifle propped against the wall of the house among an assembly of muskets. He seemed fated to provide for her today. Struggling under the rifle’s weight, she bore it down the steps toward the shadowed outline of the stable. Now, to get Peki.

Turn the horses for home, her grandfather liked to say.

In a way, Karin was.

****

“Not fair!” someone shouted.

Jack cast a contemptuous look at the rabid circle. They wanted blood, let them have it. They’d as good as declared war on him. And in his harsh experience, war wasn’t fair. Although some idiots dutifully lined up to be fired at. Jack wasn’t one for marching into battle in formation, sounding the bugle and beating the drum. He fought Indian style—as most of these men probably had during the revolution—and plowed into the nearest body. A well-aimed clout sent that man hurtling. Others scattered. He’d make it clear that anyone itching for a go at him better watch out.

Damn
. Joseph got a bit of his back with that last wallop. Jack saw sparks before his eyes and the room spun for an instant. Growling faces revolved in an unfriendly blur. This wasn’t how he’d hoped to while away the evening.

Shaking off the blow, he sprang aside to evade Joseph’s next strike. His jaw ached and he’d had enough of this punishment, but more awaited him by the looks of it. Men lined up, keen to avenge comrades felled at Blue Licks, or incensed that Jack got the girl. Either way, he’d not live to savor another kiss if he didn’t outfight and outwit these white warriors.

“Thanks, little brother,” he said through clenched teeth. Ungrateful pup. Hadn’t Jack saved his ass today?

He returned the blow, driving his fist into Joseph’s gut. The younger man doubled over with a grunt.

Without pause, Jack swiveled and launched into Brewster before that fellow came at him. Taking the big man unawares, he dealt him a teeth-rattling punch.

“Now that’s what I call unfair!” Thomas dove into the melee landing punches like mallets on the offenders. Plainly, he knew his way around a brawl and heaved one fellow spoiling for a fight over his shoulder.

In the oncoming charge, Jack was eternally grateful not to be fighting this particular McNeal. Mayhem broke loose. Chairs overturned. Screeching women snatched dishes from the tables to bear them to safety. Farsighted men grabbed brown whiskey bottles.

Where was Karin? Angst over her welfare flared in Jack as he swung his fists and dodged the knuckles coming at him. He’d learned to be quick from Shequenor and landed more blows than he took. Still, each jolt took its toll. And he’d already banged his head once today. Not to mention his other injuries, but retreat wasn’t an option under his present circumstances.

John McNeal waded in and warded off free-flying punches with a few hard knocks of his own. Woe unto those unfortunates on the receiving end of his fists. Gripping Joseph by the shoulder, he wrangled him out of the riot to the side of the room. Jack overheard their stepfather admonish the younger McCray to, “Stay put!”

No doubt his mother feared for her boy and had sent John in after him. She’d been forced to resign Jack to his fate long ago. He had no time to dwell on her or his sibling. Jeb was back, snarling like an unleashed hound. Whiskey permeated his rank breath and he gripped a knife.

So it had come to that. This was gonna get ugly fast. Old grievances inevitably came to the fore. The fracas was in danger of surging beyond the trouble over Jack and spinning out of control. Particularly among these clannish men who’d imbibed too freely.

Jack dipped to the side to elude Jeb then came at him with the speed of a striking snake. Grasping Jeb’s arm, he forced the blade from his hand. The knife clunked to the floor. Jack kicked out and made contact with Jeb’s midriff. He sent him flying backwards in a clatter of stools. Jeb landed uncomfortably near the hearth, but he wasn’t the only man with a knife.

“Jack!”

His heart lurched into his throat. Was Karin in danger?

He angled a glance at the far side of the room near the front door. It was flung wide. In the yard by the stoop he spotted her mounted on Peki. A long rifle hung over one shoulder, a shot pouch and powder horn were draped across her other. He even glimpsed a bedroll tied behind the saddle. Damn, the girl had been busy.

“Jack, get over here!”

For a second, he gaped at her as did many in the room. But a moment was all he could allow himself. As before, when she’d asked him to leave, there were a number of obstacles looming between him and the door.

He looked around at the men closing in on him, almost preferring the pack of wolves. But he had no better idea than hers and thrust his hand into the pouch at his waist. The necklace burned his skin as he drew it out and held it high. Blue light radiated from the fiery gem like azure flames.

Awe rippled through the stunned crowd at the flashing stone. “Bloody hell,” grunted one bystander.

Jack chose that opening to bolt through the stilled mass to the door. Angry mutterings, and worse, would soon follow. Before the gathering came to their senses, he bounded across the porch.

Stuffing the necklace back in his pouch, he sprang up behind Karin on the waiting mount. He slid the rifle from her sagging shoulder and slipped the woven strap over his. She must have been strengthened by sheer willpower to get herself and that heavy rifle up onto Peki. Maybe she’d balanced on a fence post, or used the porch to mount. However she’d managed, Karin had saved his backside. Much as Jack hated to admit it, she truly was her father’s daughter. Though every bit a McNeal, a marvelous blend.

“Devil take you, Jack!” Jeb belted out.

“After you.” Wrapping his arm around her, Jack dug his heels into the horse’s flanks.

Peki lunged ahead. Jack wiped the blood from his lips and plotted their course. If they forged a respectable lead and stayed ahead of inevitable pursuers, they might have a chance.

“Where are we going?” Karin shouted.

An unlikely chuckle escaped him. “Didn’t you plan that out too?”

Chapter Fifteen

Hooves drumming, Peki cantered over the rutted path, faintly illuminated by starlight. Filmy clouds laced the stars before sailing on again in the celestial sea vaulting above Karin. The countryside glittered with frost and earthy scents rose in the night. Even the rabbit hovering at the side of the path seemed shivery and the owl sailing overhead, cold. The moon bestowed a mysterious smile on their flight.

Trembling with the chill and her daring in helping to extricate Jack, she envisioned the uproar they’d left behind. Not least of all, her grandfather’s fearsome fury. He’d fix the blame on Jack, not her, the adored one.

Praying for peace between them, as between opposing peoples, she leaned back in Jack’s warm hold. She cast desperately about for a way to resolve this conflict. Maybe Sarah could calm her infuriated husband and Joseph would settle down and see reason, and Kyle Brewster, and all the others who’d just as soon pound Jack into the dirt. Uncle Thomas had come to his support. This favorite uncle would want Karin back at all costs, but he’d be sympathetic to their plight.

Let them choose now, life or death, blessing or cursing, for she’d not live without Jack. If they damned him, they’d damned her. If he were banished, then so was she, though the reality of what that meant hadn’t really sunk in yet. Nor would she allow it to, the very idea far too grim.

“I don’t know. But he and your menfolk will come after us, rest assured of that. And there’s not a blessed thing I can do except stay one step ahead of them.”

“Same difference. If we don’t go to him, he will plague us indefinitely. May anyway. Just now, though, I prefer his company to the
welcome
my kinsmen gave me. I’ve had more hospitality on the battlefield.”

She sighed. “How many battles have you known?”

“Too many. Slogged from campaign to campaign.”

The images of Jack in battle clashed with the tenderness she’d experienced from him. “What were you like? Did you kill many men?”

“I’ve killed my share. Either you fight or flee like a coward and leave it to the rest. Survival takes over, and if your homeland’s at stake, fierce possessiveness. The fight over you has just begun, sweetheart.”

****

The fire in the hearth popped with a hiss. Neeley jerked in her rocker before the flames. Lifting her head, she glanced drowsily around to see the two servant girls quietly going about their duties. Peter McNeal, John’s middle son and the most subdued of the three, had come to check on the livestock, then looked in on her and gone. Not a racing man, he’d wisely avoided the crush. That left Neeley with Alice and Betty. For some reason, her limbs were weighted and she was too somnolent to rise and go to bed.

Succumbing to the strange lethargy, she laid her head back on the chair and drifted off in the way she’d done earlier this afternoon...slipping out the door and into the night. Had Shequenor summoned her again? If so, she’d go where he willed. They shared a mutual interest dear to her heart, Karin. And in his way, Jack.

It seemed to Neeley that she left her frail body behind as she flew over the blackened outlines of tree-covered hills and plowed fields. Sheep bleated below in a frosty meadow, but she didn’t suffer cold. She could still be nestled before the hearth for all her comfort. And yet, she smelled the wind laden with the scent of the autumn forest, the tang of crabapples, wild grapes, and the nuttiness of hazels…a rich meld of fragrance she hadn’t known in years.

The moon glinted in a sky more filled with stars than she ever remembered seeing. Or maybe, it’s just that she truly saw them now.

Below her, the ribbon of a path took shape and wound through the countryside. The rhythm of hooves led her to the pair she sought. Karin rode in Jack’s embrace, mounted on his stallion. How fast they sped along, as though their lives hung on the horse’s outstretched legs. Perhaps they did.