Читать книгу Runaway - Carolyn Davidson, Carolyn Davidson - Страница 11

She’d awakened twice during the night from the same nightmare, her heart pounding, her eyes searching the darkness. He’d been there both times, his hands firm as they pressed against her shoulders, his voice ragged but soothing as he murmured phrases of comfort.

Cassie’s eyes filled with tears and she blinked them from existence. Crying was a luxury she hadn’t allowed herself in a long time. She wasn’t about to allow the hands and voice of a stranger to reduce her to childish behavior.

For just a moment she remembered the warmth of those long fingers as they’d clasped her, their gentle strength penetrating the worn cotton of the shirt she wore. He’d shaken her, just enough to get her attention, to pull her mind from the enveloping horror of the dream. And she’d reached for him.

Her face hot with shame, she remembered groping in the dark, grasping the front of his shirt, burying her face against his masculine form. He’d held her there, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other across her shoulders. Just for a moment, until she’d realized where she was, that the bosom she rested against bore no resemblance to that of her mother.

She’d pulled away then, and he’d let her go. He’d delivered one final grunt of instruction as he rose to his feet, a growling admonition to go back to sleep, and then he’d stretched out on his blanket and turned his back.

Men were cunning creatures, she’d decided just months after her mother had married Remus Chandler. He’d been all sweetness and light until the first time her mother had not done his bidding to his exact standards. His hands had been weapons, used often, and Cassie had been safe from him only because of her mother.

Will seemed to be a different sort, gruff and not given to gentle behavior, though she couldn’t fault his actions in the middle of the night. That she’d been held in his arms was a wonder. That she’d tolerated his touch was almost a miracle, given her dread of most men.

They’d traveled for several hours yesterday, she perched on the broad back of his stallion, clinging to the leather of his saddle. He’d lifted her in place and hoisted himself into the saddle with care, with only a cursory glance at her stocking feet and a muttered curse as his horse danced in place, protesting the double load.

She’d been almost asleep, her head nodding against his broad back, when he’d stopped for the night. Grateful for the blanket he’d handed her, she’d slumped to the ground without a murmur.

She blinked, the call of a bird shrill in her ears. It was the piercing, territorial warning of a blue jay, and she scrunched her eyes against the brilliant hues of sunrise. Her gaze flew to the blanket on the other side of the clearing, the empty space where Will Tolliver had spent the night.

And then she heard him, heard the same gruff tones he’d used against her ear, speaking morning greetings to his animals. She sat up, the better to locate his direction, and found that he was behind her, not more than twenty feet distant. Twisting around, she met his gaze.

“Morning.” His nod accompanied the brief greeting, and she responded in kind.

Her body rebelled as she arose, her legs and feet aching a protest. The walking she’d done had been off the beaten path—her instincts had told her to stay clear of the trail—and her feet had borne the brunt of it. Unable to stand with any degree of comfort, she lowered herself to the ground once more, gingerly rolling her borrowed stockings down to uncover her toes, bending to inspect them. She frowned as her fingers traced the bruising from multiple scrapes she’d managed to inflict.

“Think if you washed them they’d look a little better?”

Her eyes narrowed as she heard the dry humor behind his suggestion. “Not a whole lot,” she allowed, rising with a muffled groan, stepping gingerly as she passed him by.

“There’s a pond just beyond those trees,” he told her, pointing the way. “It won’t hurt to dangle your feet in the water a bit. Might make them feel better.”

“Thanks.” She limped past, following his direction. Leaving her shoes behind had been a mistake of major proportions, one she’d regretted more than once during the hike she’d undertaken. And then there was another regret. Her conscience had been sorely pierced by the memory of her mother’s body, and her not seeing to a decent burial. Although the best she could have done was barely fit to mention.

Besides, Mama’s soul was surely in heaven, far removed from the man who’d made her life a torment.

Lastly, there was the small matter of Remus Chandler. Her landing in jail if she’d hung around was almost a certainty. Whether or not she was being pursued by the law was the thing she needed to consider.

Cassie sat on the bank of the shallow pond, gingerly breaking the surface of the water with her toes. Chilly, but not icy, she decided, scooting forward until her feet were covered by the water.

“Want some soap?”

He’d come up behind her, and she jerked in response to his query. “You could let a body know you’re prowling around,” she said sharply. His boots moved beside her and he squatted inches away, his hand holding the narrow piece of hard soap.

She took it, glancing up into dark eyes that pierced her with silent reproach. Their hands brushed, her fingers curling around his offering, and then she relented.

“Thanks for waking me up during the night. I don’t usually have bad dreams.” It was a gruff acknowledgment of his kindness, about the best she could come up with.

He rocked on the balls of his feet, balancing beside her. “We all take a turn with nightmares sometime in our lives, Cassie. I’ve had my share.” He dropped a dingy towel into her lap, rising to his feet. “I’ll take a look at your feet after you clean ‘em up a little. Breakfast will be ready shortly.”

“Thank you.” She’d dreaded seeing him in the daylight, but he’d made it easy on her. Of course, she still hadn’t actually faced him, other than that one glance. She bent over, lifted one foot and set to work. Maybe the soap would help. Maybe there was more dirt than bruises.

“Damn, you sure beat up these poor feet of yours. You’re not used to goin’ barefoot, are you?” Will lifted her foot for his appraisal and shook his head at the sight She’d suffered numerous small cuts from stones, and what skin wasn’t scratched up by the rough ground was nicked by bushes she’d tramped through. Already healing, her feet had responded well to the soap and water.

Now he added the benefit of alcohol to the treatment he’d prescribed. His bottle of whiskey, wrapped in another shirt, had been at the bottom of his saddlebag and he’d poured out a small measure into his cup.

“That burns!” she cried, curling her fingers into fists, drawing her shoulders high, watching as he scrubbed at each scratch with a whiskey-soaked cloth.

“It’ll burn worse if these start to fester up.” He held one foot high, her heel resting in his palm. “I’m usin’ my good whiskey on you, girl. Don’t give me any grief.”

She bit her lip, holding back the remark she’d been about to make. As far as she was concerned, whiskey wasn’t good for much, other than washing out wounds and making hot toddies. It certainly hadn’t improved Remus Chandler’s disposition any. Rotgut was what her mother had called it, that vile stuff Remus had swigged down with great regularity. Cassie shuddered at the memory.

“Cold?” Will Tolliver asked. “You’d better toughen up. It’s still pretty chilly up north.”

Cassie lifted her foot from his grasp, placing it cautiously on the blanket where she sat. She eyed it carefully. Another day of healing and it would be fit to walk on, she figured. “I’m not cold, just took a chill.” She met his gaze. “Are you going home? That where you’re from?”

“Not lately. Not since I was just a kid, settin’ out to see the country.”

“Did you? See the country, I mean?” She leaned forward and took the stockings from him, then carefully covered her feet with them. One more thing she’d be owing him for.

“Saw Texas and parts west,” he told her, shifting to one knee. “‘Course, I don’t think anybody’s ever seen all of Texas. It just goes on beyond what most folks consider civilization, right down to the border.”

“Now you’re going home?” She tugged the stockings up, then covered them with the rolled-up cuffs of his trousers. His eyes had been on her movements, and she flushed as she recognized his interest in the pale flesh of her calves and ankles. His fingers had been gentle on her feet, their touch sending slivers of fire on a race through her that had little to do with the whiskey’s potency. It seemed she was not immune to his style of doctoring, nor the gruff tenderness he dispensed.

“Yeah, I’m headed home.”

“You don’t sound very happy about it,” she said quietly, squinting against the sun’s rays as she looked up at him.

His smile was a grimace. “I’ve been happier, like when I faced a whippin’ from my pa, or had to split a cord of firewood before breakfast” He rose quickly, offering her his hand. “Come on, we’re wastin’ time talkin’ and the day’s half-gone.”

“Half-gone?” She eyed the sun, barely visible through the trees. “It can’t be more than eight o’clock or so.”

“I’m saddlin’ up, Cassie. If you’re ridin’ along, you’d best be ready to go.”

She looked around the clearing, trees on three sides, beyond them the trail leading back to Loco Junction, now at least thirty miles away.

Crouched beside his belongings, Will delved deeply into the pack holding his personal things, muttering beneath his breath as he sorted through the miscellany of his scant supplies. A grunt signified success and he hoisted himself to his feet, a brown-paper-wrapped package in one hand.

“Here.” He tossed it in her direction as he glared at her, his lowered eyebrows adding a menace to his look. “Bought those for my sister, back down the trail. They oughta fit you. She won’t mind if you borrow them till we can find somethin’ better for you to wear.”

Cassie’s fingers trembled as she unwrapped the soft bundle. A gift was to be enjoyed, even if it was just on loan. A pair of moccasins tumbled into her lap and she touched the supple leather with one finger, then lifted them to her nose to inhale the distinctive scent. He’d picked out pretty ones, beaded and sewn with careful stitches, and for a moment she envied the sister who merited such tender regard.

“Well, go ahead. Try ‘em on.” His tone was impatient and she cast him a glance of apology as she slid her stockinged feet within the soft leather protection of the shoes,

“They fit just fine.” It was all she could manage, her throat filling with a strange tightness she could suppress only with a rapid blinking of her eyes. “Thank you.” Her teeth pressed against her bottom lip as she stuck one foot out before her, displaying the beauty of his purchase to his view.

“They’ll do.”

Gruff and abrupt, his approval pleased her nonetheless, and she tucked away her pleasure at his thoughtfulness.

She watched him as he packed his gear, loading the mule in a systematic fashion, balancing his packs, one on either side, tugging and testing the ropes.

“Fold up that blanket and bring it here,” Will called impatiently from the other side of his horse.

Cassie folded the rough fabric quickly and limped to where he worked at the cinch, watching as he pulled the stirrup into place. His hands reached for the blanket, and he arranged it behind his saddle, then lifted her with an ease that left her breathless, settling her as he had yesterday, astride the horse’s back.

The animal shifted beneath her and she held the back of his saddle, balancing herself as the blanket slid in place.

“Whoa, there,” he ordered sternly, approaching with the mule’s lead line in hand. He wrapped it around the saddle horn twice, then eased his way up, his foot and leg coming perilously close as he seated himself in front of Cassie. Looking back at her over his shoulder, he scowled. “Hangin’ on all right?”

She nodded. “Yes, I’m fine.” Fine or not, it beat walking, and she’d be a fool to complain.

The noon meal was a godsend, as far as Cassie was concerned. Will had caught sight of a fat rabbit just ahead, and his gun had brought down the small game with one shot.

“My pa said you should never turn down a meal when it’s offered,” he said, lifting Cassie from behind his saddle. He pressed the blanket into her hands and led the animals to be tied to a nearby tree.

She spread the blanket and watched as he prepared the rabbit for their meal, his movements quick and knowledgeable. “Looks like you’re an old hand at that,” she said as he readied a fire, lighting the small pieces of kindling with a match from his pack.

His shoulders rose in a shrug. “Yeah, I guess. I was in charge of hunting game back home. If I didn’t bring home a rabbit or squirrel—or better yet, a deer—once in a while, we didn’t eat much meat those first couple of years on the farm. Ma said she wasn’t wastin’ her chickens on the dinner table. The eggs were worth more in town than the hens were, cookin’ in a stew pot We ate up the roosters, soon as they were big enough to fry, then it was back to the wild game.”

“How many of you were there?” Cassie asked, cross-legged on the blanket, feeling useless in the face of his dinner preparations.

“Ma and Pa had four of us. My sister, Josie, and two other boys.” Spitting the rabbit, he settled it over the fire, then mixed cornmeal with water from his metal flask. A small pan from his pack held the mixture, and he placed it on a rock at the edge of the coals.

“Will it cook like that?” She’d baked corn pone in an oven, but trail cooking was beyond her.

“The rock’s pickin’ up heat from the fire.” He tossed a thick flannel pad her way. “Turn the pan once in a while. It oughta be done about the time the rabbit is.”

She nodded agreeably. Will Tolliver was turning out to be the best thing that had happened to her in a long while. Whether he tired of her company in day or so, or if he took her as far north as he was heading, anything was better than her stepfather’s shack in Loco Junction.

It had been a long slide downhill the past three years. Her flesh crawled as she thought again of the man her mother had married. She shivered, remembering the feel of the knife in her hand, shuddered as she recalled the flow of blood that had stained her fingers, pooling beneath Remus as he slumped to the floor.

I killed him. Cassie’s eyes closed, then flew open as she beheld the vision of death she’d left behind. Lips pressed together tightly, she breathed the fresh air, the scent of meat roasting over the fire, the clean smell of freedom.

“We’ve got company.” Will stood, a casual gesture, stepping a few feet from where she sat to stand next to his rifle, which was snugged against his pack.

Cassie felt the hair rise on the back of her neck, and turned her head to view the approaching horseman. Tall, rugged and riding as if he were a part of the animal he straddled, the man neared. His hat shielding his face, both hands visible on the reins, he rode in from the south, as if he had followed their trail.

“Howdy there, folks.” He was within hailing distance and he slowed his horse to a walk. The animal nickered, and Will’s big stallion responded, a shrill challenge, jerking on the reins that held him fast to a tree.

“Behave yourself, horse,” Will growled, impatience tingeing his words, then he thumbed his hat back, calling out to the approaching horseman, “Hello yourself, stranger. You lost your way?”

The horse halted several yards away and the visitor lifted a hand to push aside his coat, revealing a silver star pinned to his shirt. “Nope, just takin’ a look around.” His gaze swept the area, a wide open space, only a few trees for shade and a sparsely grassed field. “You folks from here-abouts?”

“No, sir,” Will answered, casting a quick glance at Cassie— a warning glance, if she was any judge.

“This your missus?” The lawman nodded at her, and Cassie dredged up a smile as his deep-set eyes scanned her from top to bottom.

“Yeah, this is Sarah Jane. I’m Will Tolliver, Sheriff.”

Cassie caught her breath. In one short sentence she’d had her name changed and been tagged a married woman. Her smile trembled as she brought up one hand to shade her eyes.

“Haven’t seen a young woman hereabouts, have you?” the lawman asked, his gaze still fixed on Cassie’s borrowed clothing.

“A young woman?” Will looked perplexed, then glanced at his female companion. “We haven’t noticed anyone around about, have we, honey?” His grin appeared then, his demeanor transformed as he kicked at a small stone with the toe of his boot. “Of course, we’ve been kinda…”

His pause was lengthy and he cleared his throat. “Well, we haven’t been married too long, Sheriff, and we don’t pay a whole lot of attention to anybody but ourselves, to tell the truth.”

“Is that so?” The horse sidestepped and the lawman tightened up on his reins. “Well, if you should come across a young gal, you might want to keep an eye out She’s wanted back in Loco Junction. The sheriff wants to talk to her.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Will said, frowning and shaking his head. “She considered dangerous?”

The sheriff nodded. “Maybe so, under the right circumstances. She’s pretty young. I’d hate to think of her bein’ alone, out on her own.”

Cassie inhaled sharply and closed her eyes.

“I believe you’ve upset my wife, Sheriff. She’s a quiet sort, my Sarah Jane.”

Cassie opened her eyes, forcing her mouth to curve in what she hoped looked like a shy smile, befitting Sarah Jane Tolliver. Her heart was thumping with an irregular beat, and she felt stifled by the weight of guilt pressing on her chest. Will Tolliver had lied for her. He’d put himself on the line.

“We’ll sure keep our eyes open, Sheriff,” Will said, easing back to the fire, turning the spit, even as he cast a look of warning at Cassie.

She returned it with a bland smile, wary of matching wits with the lawman, her eyes trained on the man who’d just claimed to be her husband. She watched as Will’s fist uncurled, focused on the lean, strong fingers, the muscled forearm where his shirtsleeve was rolled almost to his elbow.

Her gaze swept higher and found his eyes intent upon her. From the brown depths he watched her, and she quailed beneath that look. As if he saw within her very soul, as if he could pierce her thoughts, discern the knowledge she held, his watchful eye penetrated her guise of calm control.

She’d managed to arrange her features in such a way that the sheriff had gone on his way, apparently not associating the shy young bride, Sarah Jane, with the woman who had wielded a knife in the town of Loco Junction. She’d managed to smile, hiding the thundering heartbeat, the clammy palms and the mouth that twitched alarmingly unless she held it firmly in place with the force of her will.

And the man before her had seen beyond all that. The unblinking look was less than an accusation; it held a question whose content she could only surmise.

“You never answered me, did you?” His tone was harsh. “I asked if you were in bad trouble, yesterday. And you offered me an easy out. You told me to go ahead and leave you there.” He cast one last glance at the figure of the lawman, heading south on his horse at an easy canter, then bent to turn the spit once more.

Cassie cleared her throat. It was time to face the truth, as much as she was able. She’d accepted his help, allowed him to put his honor on the line for her. She’d trespassed on that honor in an unforgivable manner, and now she struggled, wishing she could make it right. Wondering if there was any way to apologize to a man for forcing him to lie outright to the law, placing him in a hazardous position.

“I didn’t lie to you yesterday,” she said, rising to stand before him. Somehow she felt more secure on her feet, as if she were better able to run, should it become necessary. Though thinking she could escape Will Tolliver was a foolish thought indeed.

“You didn’t lie?” He repeated her words, his tone mocking, prompting her reply.

She shook her head. “I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you the truth.” Her mouth twisted and her hands fisted at her sides. “I ran off from my stepfather. He’s a cruel man and I was afraid of him. That sheriff was probably looking for me. At least, the description fit.”

His gaze narrowed on her. “You think so? He said he was looking for a young gal. Could be any one of a hundred women hereabouts.” As if he reconsidered, he looked around him at the vast horizon, unmarred by human habitation. “Well, maybe twenty or so, anyway.” His eyes softened, the darkness fading from his somber gaze.

“Sit back down, Cassie. I think it’s time you told me what happened.”

She obeyed, more because her legs were trembling beneath her than for any urge to oblige him. “Remus Chandler was…is my stepfather. I think maybe for a long time he wanted to…” She looked up, knowing her eyes were filling with tears, and choking back the need to cry.

Stripping the bandanna from his throat, Will handed it to her.

“Thank you.” Cassie blew once and wiped her nose. “He’d been married to my mother for three years or so, and all that time he was mean to her, hateful sometimes, with his name-calling and pushing her around.”

His eyes measured her, a bleak emotion darkening their depths. “Did he hurt you, Cassie?”

She shook her head. “No, not really. It was like he knew my mother would do what he wanted, to keep his hands from me. Anyway, she was sickly, really bad off for the past few weeks, like she was too tired to live anymore. She had a pain in her stomach, and she couldn’t eat much. Not at all, there at the end. Remus wouldn’t go for the doctor, and she told me not to cross him. He just kept watching me.” Her voice trailed off and she gulped, swallowing the grief that had been postponed for too long.

“What happened then, Cassie?”

She drew in a deep breath, following his urging. “Mama was bad all night long, hardly breathing. She told me to run, to leave, get away from Remus. And I promised her I would. I think she was afraid for me to be there with him, once she was gone.”

“How did your dress get torn?” Will asked quietly.

Cassie’s fingers ached from the squeezing, her fists clenching so tightly, she could barely release them. And then Will squatted before her.

“After she died, what did you do then?” He clasped her cold fingers within his own, sharing the heat of his palms, giving warmth to the chilled flesh he cradled within his long, strong fingers.

“I was going to leave, but Remus wouldn’t let me. He said I had to stay, that we had to tend to Mama’s burying. When I tried to get away, he grabbed my shawl, then my dress. And he pushed me against the wall, cracked my head on the logs. I pushed him back but he kept grabbing at me, pulling me across the room, till he was smack up against the table. The knife he’d used for supper the night before was there and I grabbed it. See?”

She moved her fingers within his and spread her hand wide. The slash was shallow but swooped across her palm, scabbed over now. “I heal fast,” she said, her head down, her gaze on the wound.

“Maybe he would have left me alone if I’d gone to the sheriff in town…or someone.” She shook her head. “But I don’t think so. He’d been after me for too long already. He couldn’t even wait till Mama was in the ground. And I couldn’t just stay there and let him hurt me…that way. I threatened him with the knife and he let go of me.”

A shudder racked her body, as if the telling of such a great lie had released the quaking within. Most of it was the truth, all but the last part. And that she could not bring herself to confide.

“He didn’t chase you?” The thought of her peril sharpened his voice and she flinched from him, shaking her head.

“I don’t know…maybe. I just ran.” The lie came hard, and she lowered her head.

“And you just walked out of town? Why didn’t you wear your shoes?”

“I couldn’t go back once I’d left that place. My shoes were in the bedroom with Mama, and I’d have had to get past Remus to get them. I was afraid to try.”

“Did you recognize that lawman, Cassie? Was he the sheriff from Loco Junction?”

She looked up, her eyes welling, and shook her head. “I don’t know, Will. I’ve never seen the sheriff. It could be, I suppose.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” he told her firmly. “If we meet anyone else, you’re Sarah Jane Tolliver. You’re my wife, Cassie. Can you do that? Until we get north into Missouri, anyway?”

“You’re going to take me with you?” She’d thought he would find a place to leave her, somewhere safe that would salve his conscience. Most any man would have either taken advantage of her or dumped her at the first chance.

Obviously, Will Tolliver wasn’t cut from the same cloth as most other men. He was taking her home with him, if she’d read him right. With his horse and pack mule, his hands that knew how to heal and comfort, and his conscience that had to be churning away at the lie he’d told for her benefit, he was heading north, and taking her along.

He’d placed his honor on the line for her and told a whopper that could land him in a peck of trouble.

If ever there was a man in the world Cassie Phillips could respect, Will Tolliver was his name. And that fact alone was enough to keep her riding along in his wake, for now at least.