The Beloved Woman (25 page)

Months of hardship had left her feeling vulnerable and confused, her emotions wrenched by losing Squirrel, Walks Smiling, Little Bird, and so many others. She didn’t have the energy to analyze, to scold herself, to hold back her feelings. They flooded her with the truth. It didn’t matter why Justis had tried to find her, why he wanted her, or for how long. If he asked, she would never leave him again.

J
USTIS HUNG THE
turkey carcass on a peg outside the cabin door, leaned his rifle against the wall, and stamped snow from his boots. “Katie? It’s me,” he called loudly.
He’d given her one of his pistols, and he figured it wasn’t wise to startle a fighter such as she.

There was no answer. He shoved the door open. The cabin was empty, but the fire blazed as if recently tended. His pistol lay on a table by the door. She’d barely had the strength to sit up while he fed her breakfast—how could she have left? He turned and plowed hastily through foot-deep snow, cupping his hands to his mouth. “Kath-er-ine!”

“Over here.”

The cabin and its small barn were surrounded by woods. Behind the cabin a small stream wound among the straight white trunks of a poplar grove. Her voice had come from there.

He ran to the grove and halted. She was huddled on the ice-banked edge of the stream, holding a blanket around herself with one hand. With the other she lifted her hair from the frigid water and turned to look at him.

“I’m washing up. I found a crockery jar with some soap in it. I’m done now. You may help me back inside.”

His language could have melted all the snow in Illinois. He finished scalding the air about the time he reached her. “I didn’t save your skinny behind so you could freeze it off for vanity’s sake!” he yelled, jerking the wool scarf from his neck. He wrapped it around her head, slinging the dripping hair to one side. “Crazy! Crazy woman! If you get sick I’ll—”

“I’m accustomed to the cold,” she protested, swaying under his hurried ministrations. “I’ve spent many nights sleeping on frozen ground. And I’ve always washed in creeks like this. There’s been no other way.”

“I don’t care if you’re used to dancin’ nekkid in a blizzard!” He grabbed her by the shoulders to lift her up. His grip jerked the blanket, and she fumbled for it as it slid in a heap around her waist. He saw her bare, wet back and nearly exploded with anger. “You took off my shirt!”

“Well, sir, I couldn’t wash very much of myself with it on, could I?”

He muttered fierce oaths and snatched the blanket back around her. She clamped her lips tightly together, offering no protest when he scooped her into his arms, but her hands shook as she clasped the blanket to her chest.

After he got her inside the cabin he laid her on the bed and got a towel from his bundle of supplies. He came back to her and shoved her hands down. The blanket fell open and she crossed her arms instinctively to shield herself.

“I’ve seen it all before,” he said in disgust. He was too scared and angry to be gentle. Only by the grace of God had he found her on the trail before she was beyond saving. He wasn’t going to lose her now.

“Prissy, proud, stubborn woman,” he muttered. He toweled her roughly, hurrying to get done and get her dressed warmly again. “At least those tits still look grand—smaller, but grand. Hmmph. Arms like sticks, ribs all showin’, belly sunk in like an empty pond. But you think you’re healthy, sure, healthy enough to go prancin’ outside nekkid and soak yourself in ice water. So high and mighty!”

She yipped with anger when he rolled her over and toweled her back. “Backbone like a starved dog,” he continued. “And an ass so flat I could serve tea on it.”

“You didn’t mind this morning,” she wailed. “I wasn’t so dreadfully ugly to you then!”

His hands hesitated. “Dammit to hell. I thought you had gone back to sleep.”

“I knew what you were doing! My flat a-ass suited you
then.
”

“If what I did upset you, why didn’t you say so?”

“I thought you were paying me a compliment! Now I understand—I’m good enough to use for stimulation even if I’m horrible to look at.”

Quickly he flung dry blankets over her and removed the damp one. She turned her face into the pillow, her body quivering as he pulled the wool scarf from her hair. “It was a compliment,” he said gruffly. “Sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

Startled, she was silent. Then, sounding bewildered, she asked, “What do you want from me? I can’t do you much good in or out of bed. I feel so broken and used up.”

He turned to the table and fumbled with the shirt and stockings she’d left there on her way outside. Was she no more willing to put up with him now than she’d been in Gold Ridge? When he’d looked into her eyes yesterday, hadn’t he seen so much welcome that it had choked his throat with happiness?

“You ran out on your agreement with me,” he said. “I can’t let that kind of insult pass.”

“What penalty do you plan for me, then?”

“I figure you suffered it over the past few months. Reckon it’s settled. Now you see that stickin’ with me wouldn’t be the worst thing you could do.”

“How did you discover where I’d gone?”

“I finally sweet-talked Amarintha. Her tongue slipped.” No point in telling her the grim truth about that day in the Gold Ridge jail.

“You must have promised her something—otherwise she’d never have told my secret. You’re not going to marry her, are you? She’s not suitable for you at all.”

“I’ll not be marryin’ Amarintha or anybody else.”

“Not until after you’re done with me, at least.”

He slung the shirt and stockings on the bed. “You sorry I came after you? You think you’d a-lived to reach Injun territory?”

“I don’t know. I feel so … lost. I wonder if I’ll ever be strong again.”

“You will.” He brusquely pulled the blankets down her back. “Here. Get into this shirt.” He helped her sit up. She
faced the wall and stubbornly covered her breasts. He slipped his huge wool shirt over her head.

As it settled into place, covering her thinness, he wanted to tell her that she stirred the heat in him with a lot more than just her body. He wanted to tell her how he’d searched all the way to Philadelphia and back, then nearly driven himself to ruin, all because he’d lost her. But those were things that would only give her more power to hurt him, and would probably make her think he was a fool.

“Turn over,” he commanded. He wrapped the towel around her hair and helped her settle comfortably on the mattress with its one lumpy pillow under her head. He flipped the bottom of the blankets up to reveal her feet. Christ, he thought. Her tattered moccasins must have let every stick and rock on the trail leave their mark. “Don’t know how you shuffled along on these. What’d you do, traipse on ’em the whole way from Tennessee to Illinois?”

“Yes,” she said grimly, staring hard at the ceiling.

His stomach twisted with anguish. “Fool thing to do.”

“Sorry. I traded my royal coach for a cooking pot.”

Justis took a moment to dump his coat and hat by the hearth. Then he picked up the pottery bowl that held the crude salve he’d made from pork fat and liniment. He didn’t speak again until he was seated on the bed with her feet in his lap. As he carefully rubbed salve onto them, he asked, “So you traded the royal coach for a pot, huh? Why didn’t you trade my gold nugget for a horse to ride?”

She jumped a little. He looked up at her and saw that she’d shut her eyes. “I wanted a memento,” she told him. “Something from the Blue Song land. That’s why I took it.”

Damn her. Why couldn’t she say that she’d wanted it to remember him by as well? “I got it back.” She opened her eyes, craning her head to stare at him. He slipped the
leather necklace from under his shirt and let the gold nugget catch the firelight. “From a peddler who said you bought medicine with it. Said you had a sick youngun with you. Want to tell me about it?”

“No.” She let her head fall back and swallowed harshly. “You have your gold piece again. And you have me. In your own way, you’ve been kind and wonderful to me. You probably saved me from dying on the trail. I shan’t ever betray your trust again. You have all my gratitude—and all my loyalty.”

He gazed at her in amazement. She offered so much, more than he’d expected, and it made him happy. “You can depend on me, Katie. I don’t take without givin’ equal measure back. You can share how bad you hurt, and what makes you cry, and everything ugly that’s happened to you.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” Drawing her knees up, she lay on her side and stared resolutely at the wall, clenching her hands under her chin, withdrawing into a private sanctum where he wasn’t welcome.

“Can’t you talk to me as a friend?”

“I don’t know if I’d call what we share
friendship
. Perhaps it would be better if we tried to treat each other like … umm, partners. Yes. Like that. Polite but formal.”

“Well, fine,” he said bitterly, hurt by her refusal to share her deeper thoughts and feelings. “We’ll be partners. As long as I get what I want, I don’t care.”

She gave him a wary look. “What exactly do you want?”

“What I’ve always wanted—what you agreed to give me before. Help with society folderol, book learnin’, and a damned good time in bed. Rest up. Get yourself healthy. You owe me plenty of service for all the trouble I went through to save your pretty red hide.”

His harsh words seemed to drain her. “I wish you hadn’t saved me,” she said dully. “I was prepared to die. I wish that I had.”

“I can grant that there wish in a big hurry!” He would call her bluff and teach her to regret saying such nonsense just to get sympathy. He grabbed the pistol off the table, whirled toward the bed again, and bent over her. He jerked the hammer back and pressed the muzzle to her temple. “You want to die? The idea of carryin’ out your deal with me is so damned awful that you’d rather have your brains blown out? Really? Then say your good-bye prayer!”

He saw her pulse beating swiftly in her throat, but her dark eyes met his with tragic calmness. He stared at the despair in them and realized that there were more painful memories inside her than he’d ever imagined.

“I think I’ll just let you suffer,” he said with a show of disgust. He drew the pistol away and tried to look unconcerned, though his hands trembled. “Go to sleep, you conniving hellion. You can’t get out of our bargain that easy.”

She turned away, pulled her blankets a little higher, as if trying to escape his scrutiny, and shut her eyes. “I will honor it, sir,” she said bleakly. “But for now I want only to rest.”

“Rest, then.” He watched with growing concern as she fell asleep almost immediately, her face slipping into a sorrowful expression so poignant, his chest ached. He laid a hand on her damp hair and stroked gently. “You’ll be good as new,” he murmured. He wanted to believe that, but wasn’t sure that he did.

“M
Y WIFE’S A
Cherokee Injun, and if you don’t want her here, say so now. I won’t have her insulted.”

His problem stated bluntly, Justis waited for the innkeeper to reply. The way the dapper little man and his stout wife kept staring at his mustache, he figured it was as much an oddity to them as him having an Injun wife.
Folks in this part of Illinois weren’t used to either mustaches or Injuns, he decided.

“I thought the Indians had all been removed,” the wife said.

Justis nodded. “We were headed west with ’em,” he explained, “but my wife got poorly and we decided to drop out. We’ll be leavin’ for New York soon as she’s fattened up some.” He opened a pouch full of coins and showed it to them. “Gold. Georgia gold. None purer.”

“Well, that settles it,” the innkeeper said quickly, his eyes gleaming with surprise. “We’ll be glad to have you both. Got a nice big room upstairs with a fireplace. No lice, no bedbugs. A real window. And the missus sets a fine table three times a day.” He cut his eyes toward her considerable girth. “Your wife’ll be healthy in no time.”

Relieved, Justis went out to the narrow porch, where Katie sat wrapped in blankets. Four hound dogs and two young boys stood in the snow, gaping at her. She seemed oblivious.

“Got us a fine room,” he said.

She looked up, her eyes shadowed with fatigue from the day’s ride. “Us? Do they know we’re not husband and wife?”

“Nope. Come along, Mrs. Gallatin.”

He lifted her into his arms and carried her inside. The innkeeper and his wife ran a tavern in the main room downstairs. They came out from behind its bar and approached Katherine timidly. “Me Mr. Martin,” the innkeeper said in a slow, patient manner, pointing to himself. Then he pointed to his wife. “She Mrs. Martin. Mar-tin.”

Katherine extended a hand gracefully. “I’m quite pleased to meet both of you, I’m sure. I’m Katherine Blue Song … Gallatin. Mrs. Gallatin. Thank you so much for accommodating us.”

Their jaws dropped. For the first time in months Justis
wanted to laugh. He bit his lip and hoped the droop of his mustache hid his smile.

When they were safely inside their room with the door shut, he placed her on the bed and began to chortle. Even Katie managed a smile. “Me tired,” she muttered. “Heap sleepy.”

He unwrapped her and pulled the covers down. “Got to see about getting you some clothes. You can’t wear my shirt all the time.”

“Hmmm. Whatever you want.” A look of weary pleasure on her face, she settled under the clean flannel sheets and fluffy quilts.

“I’m tired of hearin’ you say that. It’s gettin’ to be the only words you know.”

“Since I want only to sleep, everything else is truly up to you.”

Justis worried about her lack of enthusiasm, but told himself that she’d been off the trail for only a week. It would take a little longer for her spirits and strength to improve. He glanced around the room with approval, hoping she’d be pleased with his choice of inns.

“Washstand, good towels, good-size fireplace, rugs on the floor”—he sat down on the foot of the big four-poster and bounced slightly—“and a mattress that makes a man hate the idea of gettin’ up. What do you think? Will it do?”

“Since we’ll be sharing it, I’d like to know how soon you expect to use my—my person for your pleasure. I have, after all, agreed to be your mistress. I will fulfill that duty whenever you ask.”