Untethered (32 page)

Cricket shrugged and shook her head. “I-I helped plan it…the escape and all. He told me I was the strongest and that he knew I would do as he told me.”

“Did he now?” Mrs. Maloney chuckled. “Hmmm. Well,” she sighed, “at least Hudson and Marie are on their way to wedded bliss. Looks like Ann will be followin’ shortly. And word is Wyatt Stanley suddenly has his eye on you.”

Cricket’s stomach churned. “Wyatt Stanley is a mousy, manipulative idiot,” she mumbled.

“I agree,” Mrs. Maloney said with a nod. “So why don’t you stomp on that little mouse of a
Stanley
man and tie Heathro up to a chair—”

“And have my way with him,” Cricket finished with a giggle. “I know, I know.” It was time to change the course of their conversation. Thus, Cricket asked, “And how’s ol’ Nobody MacGee doin’ these days, hmm?”

Mrs. Maloney’s smiling eyes lit up. “Oh, me and old Nobody…” She slowly shook her head for dramatics as she said, “We’ve been doin’ some sparkin’ that would make Marie King and Hudson Oliver blush.”

Cricket burst into laughter. “Then that
is
some might passionate sparkin’!”

“Mmm-hmm!” Mrs. Maloney affirmed. “Why, my mouth just takes to waterin’ at the very thought of it! Do you know what I mean by that, sugar?”

Cricket blushed a little and glanced down to her teacup—but nodded.

“Mmm-hmmm. I thought you might,” Mrs. Maloney mumbled. “I just thought you might.”

❦

Later that afternoon, as Cricket slowly meandered home from her visit with Mrs. Maloney, she tried to think about anything but Heath. She tried to concentrate on the little set of ragdolls she was finishing for Shanny Lou Harty and her little sister Mari
anne. Shanny Lou and Marianne had been Cricket’s choice for the Friday night shenanigans she, Vilma, Marie, and Ann had planned. It would be their first night of shenanigans since Heath had gunned down Heck Alford and the rest of his gang. But, of course, even the plans for Friday night couldn’t keep Heath from her mind.

Cricket stepped off the dirt road and into the soft, cool grass. It felt better on her bare feet, and she squinched her toes several times, relishing the feel of the green grass blades between her toes.

“Hey there, Cricket!” Mr. King called as he drove his wagon past.

“Hey, Mr. King!” Cricket returned with a smile.

Mr. King nodded and winked at Cricket, and she felt warmed and comforted inside.

She looked up and around her. Mrs. Stanley paused before entering the general store when she caught sight of Cricket. The preacher’s wife smiled and waved, and Cricket smiled and waved back. It seemed that, since the day Cricket had slapped her husband silly, Mrs. Stanley could not smile and wave often enough at her. Reverend Stanley had said nothing about the incident—well, not really. He’d given a sermon two Sundays later, concerning how one could always know who the better man in life was by who was turning the other cheek and who was delivering the blow.

Zeke Cranford had nearly laid out Edgar Stanley again right then and there in the church, but Ada placed a hand on his thigh, instantly calming him.

Cricket didn’t feel much like returning home yet—and for two reasons. For one, she didn’t look forward to dusting and oiling the furniture the way she and
Ada
had planned. And for another reason—she was still trying not to startle at the sudden appearance of her own shadow.

Naturally, she hadn’t slept well since returning from being abducted. But it was the near constant sensation of insecurity and fear that accompanied her that bothered her most. In fact, in the two weeks since Heath had saved them all, Cricket had taken to forcing herself to walk out to Mr. Burroughs’s pasture—and even to the old Morgan house, but only once. Each time she wandered too far from home, Cricket would nearly be panic-stricken with anxiety—and she was determined not to let fear win. She was the fighter, and she continued to fight.

And so Cricket meandered along, pausing to squinch the grass between her toes, to pluck a honeysuckle bloom and savor its sweet nectar, or to simply gaze up at the sky and remind herself that all was well. Nearly all, at least. It wasn’t long before Cricket found herself at the fence surrounding the very pasture through which Heath’s bull had chased her.

Sighing, she sat down in the grass—in the very spot where Heath had pulled the splinter from her foot and rubbed his medicinal spit onto the wound. As Cricket closed her eyes, the euphoric memory of the night in the abandoned barn washed over her—of Heath caring for the cigar burn on her chest with the same medicinal spit he’s used to soothe her foot.

Goose bumps raced over every inch of her body as she bathed in the returning sensations his kisses that night had rained on her. Heath owned her from that moment on. He’d owned her before that moment—long before! Didn’t he know he did? Didn’t he care that he did?

Two weeks they’d all been back. Two long weeks in which Cricket had hardly seen Heath—and when she had seen him, he’d only smiled at her as a strange sort of distant, hollow look rose in his beautiful blue eyes. He’d said, “Hello,” on three occasions—“Good afternoon, Miss Magnolia,” on two others—but nothing else. Cricket had unwillingly at first begun to understand that what had transpired between them had been borne of fear, desperation, and need. Though her heart was as solidly gripped in Heath’s hand as it had been all along, his seemed to have flittered from her.

Perhaps men were different. Perhaps men didn’t feel as deeply or with the excruciating intensity that women did. Those were often Cricket’s thoughts—that perhaps what had been heavenly to her had only been a passing thought for him. Yet she didn’t truly believe that. It’s just what she told herself when trying to console herself.

She was thankful that none of the other girls inquired about it—about what they’d witnessed the moments before Heath had forced Cricket onto Archie’s back and sent her home. Not even Vilma had asked what had gone on between them during the occasions when Heath had dragged Cricket away from the outlaw encampment to “have his way with her.” It was as if everyone knew that Heath had done what he’d had to do to free them—everyone but Cricket, that was. Cricket still wanted to believe there was more to what they’d shared—especially in the barn—than just the dictates of necessity.

In truth, Cricket’s heart was broken. In truth, she found her way to being alone several times a day, simply so she could release the tears and sobbing that begged for release. She wanted Heath to love her! She wanted to marry him! She even wanted to share his bed—and that was saying something if everything Vilma and
Pearl
had revealed about intimacy between men and women were true.

As she sat in the grass there near the pasture fence, Cricket realized that she was alone and could cry. Throwing herself onto the cool summer grass, she was instantly overtaken with tears and sobbing—not because of what had happened between she and Heath during her abduction but for what hadn’t happened since. Marie would marry her lover, Hudson. Ann would marry Cooper Keel—Cricket felt it in her very soul. Even Vilma would one day reveal to her friends who she loved, stand before her idiot of a father, and be wed, and then flee as fast as her new husband could carry her away from Reverend Stanley and to a new and beautiful life. But Cricket was beginning to think that her dreams had already been granted as having come true. Perhaps the passion she’d shared in the barn that night with Heath was the end of it. Perhaps the moment he’d taken hold of her—so possessively taken hold of her and nearly ravaged her there in front of her friends before setting her adrift astride Archie’s back—perhaps that moment had been the end of her dreams coming true.

For a moment, Cricket sat up straight. “I’ll just snatch him away, tie him to a chair, and…and have my way with him,” she said out loud. She was determined to do it. She truly was—and for nearly two minutes—long enough to stand up and begin willfully marching toward Heathro Thibodaux’s house. And then her determination was vanquished—vanquished by the same fear and anxiety that drove her to force herself to farther from home than was comfortable—the same fear and anxiety that ha
unted her dreams—that often found her calling out in the middle of the night—calling for Heath.

❦

Ada
paused, glancing sideways to where Heathro Thibodaux stood thumbing through a pile of work gloves in the general store.
Ada
was not the most courageous wo
man to ever be born. But when the ones she loved most were suffering, it then that an unfamiliar bravery often rose in her. And she felt it rising now.

Yet Heath Thibodaux was intimidatingly handsome—even to a woman such as Ada Cranford who was so desperately in love with a man as handsome as Zeke. And so it took
Ada
several more moments before the unfamiliar bravery nesting in her bosom actually translated to her feet moving her toward Heath.

“Pardon me…Mr. Thibodaux?”
Ada
began. She gasped a little when the man looked at her, the piercing blue of his eyes having the effect of being able to read her very soul.

“Yes, ma’am?” he mumbled.

“M-may I speak with you for just a moment?”
Ada
asked.

“Why, certainly, Mrs. Cranford,” Heath agreed. “What can I do for you?”

Ada
paused a moment—for she had to play the part well. “It’s…it’s concernin’ my daughter, Magnolia.”
Ada
was encouraged when instantly the very of color of the man’s face softened at the mere mention of Cricket’s name.

“Is she all right, ma’am?” he asked. The concern was not only blatantly obvious on his face but also evidently deep. “She went through so much. I-I worry that…that it mighta scared her more than folks think.”

“Well, that’s exactly what I wanted to speak to you about, Mr. Thibodaux,”
Ada
ventured, feeling more confident. There was something she didn’t know—something Cricket hadn’t revealed about everything that had transpired during the girls’ victimization and Heath’s rescue of them.

“What’s that, ma’am?” he asked—though she could see that his guard was up now.

“She’s not sleepin’ well,”
Ada
answered—and truthfully. “I don’t think she rests more than an hour or so at one stretch.”

Heath frowned and nodded. “I suppose none of the girls are,” he offered. “And it’s probably to be expected. Don’t you think?”

He was asking
Ada
—truly, concernedly asking
Ada
whether she thought the girls being restless at night was a reasonable effect of what they’d been through. It was touching. There he stood—a tall, strong, handsome, virile man, looking as anxious as a puppy somehow.

“Well, yes…I do,”
Ada
answered. Heathro Thibodaux seemed somewhat relieved. “But it’s not so much her restlessness at night as it is the fact that…that…”

Heath’s frown deepened with concern. “The fact that what, ma’am?”

Ada
lowered her voice and responded, “The fact that she wakes up screamin’…screamin’ for you, Mr. Thibodaux.”

He was undone!
Ada
could tell by the astonished expression on his face, the way the color drained from his cheeks, and the tiny beads of perspiration that instantly appeared on his forehead.

“Well, I…I-I,” he stammered. “I suppose that’s because I-I was the one that found her, ma’am,” he barely managed. “You know…the person who ended up helpin’ her out in her time of need. Wouldn’t it be natural for her to call for help…for her to call me for help?”

Ada
tried not to smile, but something was sinking into her understanding at last—something concerning Cricket and this handsome Texas Ranger.

“But you see, Mr. Thibodaux,”
Ada
whispered, “Magnolia…she isn’t callin’ for help when she cries out—not necessarily anyway. She’s just callin’ for you.”

He was rattled—rattled beyond any point
Ada
had expected to see him rattled. Rather nervously he stroked the dark mustache and goatee, which,
Ada
had previously noticed, perfectly complemented the strong contours of his face.

“Well, Mrs. Cranford,” Heath began, “I’m truly sorry. I don’t like hearin’ that. All this time I thought Magnolia…that bein’ back home safe and sound with you and Mr. Cranford…I thought that’s all she wanted.”

“Did you now, Mr.
Thibodaux
?”
Ada
asked, knowingly arching one eyebrow.

“I mean, I didn’t intend to end up in there with them outlaws hauntin’ her dreams every night,” Heath restated.

Ada
couldn’t withhold her smile any longer. “Mr. Thibodaux,” she began, “you and I both know that you were hauntin’ Cricket’s dreams long before those dirty outlaws took her, now don’t we?”

“W-we do?” Heath stammered. The man truly looked stunned! Truly appeared to be ignorant of that fact Cricket was in love with him!

“Of course we do,”
Ada
answered. “Now, why don’t you do somethin’ so that Cricket can start gettin’ a good night’s sleep again, hmmm?”

With a triumphant smile,
Ada
turned and left Heathro Thibodaux standing in the general store looking like someone had just scooped his good sense out with a spoon.