Dorothy Garlock (17 page)

Case took the lead and set a fast pace. It took all of Rosalee’s strength and concentration to handle the team. She turned once to look at Logan after they left the yard and veered off to the east to cut across open range to reach the edge of the timber. He was sitting on one hip, leaning heavily on the arm he had flung across the back of the wagon seat. His face muscles were taut, his eyes hooded, and his lips pressed tightly together. He flinched from the jolt as a wheel of the wagon passed over a rock. Rosalee knew he was suffering from bruised or cracked ribs as well as the open lacerations on his back and buttocks.

The land they were traveling through was lush and beautiful. On one side of them was a thick grove of stately pines and beneath their branches was an abundance of ferns and wild flowers. On the other side, the valley spread out in a sea of rich green grass that would stroke the belly of a horse as he passed through it. Rosalee could hear the plaintive call of the mourning dove and the happier sound of a bobolink. Another time, she would have enjoyed just being with Logan. Now, they followed Case silently, each wrapped in their own thoughts.

The sun had completed its journey across the sky. In the southwest a purple cloud bank appeared. A cool breeze drifted down from the mountains, rippling the long grasses and stirring the upper branches of the pines where the birds were settling for the night. Case came back to ride beside the wagon and speak with Logan.

“The canyons are ahead. Have ya been through here before?”

“No, but I knew they were there.”

“’Bout a month ago I run onto some Indian houses built in the cliffs. Don’t look like there’s been anyone in ’em for a long time. If we get ya there ya could hold off a army with a couple of good rifles.”

“My mother’s people know of the place. They say the Navajos and the Utes killed the cliff dwellers over a hundred years ago. They also speak of a spring that’s hot the year round. The Cheyenne think it’s a sacred place and never go there.”

“I hope ya don’t agree with ’em, cause that’s where we’re agoin’. I never heard the place talked of at Clayhills, but that don’t say they don’t know ’bout it.”

“They can track us there easy enough.”

“I’m countin’ on that cloud bank yonder. A good rain afore mornin’ would wipe out the signs. Anyhow, I don’t know of a man in that outfit that could track a herd a jackasses down a muddy road,” he added dryly. “At the end of this bluff there’s a boulder that sets out makin’ for a passage through what appears to be solid rock unless yore up close. It’s rough ’n it’ll jar the hell outta ya for a ways. Go on down to the flats ’n ya’ll see the cliffs off to yore left.”

“I’m uneasy about Rosalee being here. She should have gone with her brother. What if I come down with more fever and can’t protect her?”

Case grinned. “She don’t have two left hands. Ya shoulda seen the shot she put between the legs of Clayhill’s horse.”

“You should’ve taken her to Mrs. Gregg,” Logan said stiffly.

“I’d a died tryin’. But what if they’d a cut us off? If they didn’t kill her while they was atryin’ to kill me, they’d a done worse.” Case’s face took on a wintry expression.

“What you did was right, Mr. Malone.” Rosalee spoke up firmly. “Don’t worry about me, Logan. I never thought I could shoot at a man, but I can now if I have to.”

“I’ll scout ’round ’n see how things are shapin’ up afore I come back,” Case said. “Ben’ll be all right at Mary’s, ma’am, and I’ll ride over to the Haywoods’ ’n let ’em know what’s goin’ on.”

“Thank you, Mr. Malone. Tell . . . Ben not to worry and tell Odell I’ll come to the Haywards’ as soon as I can.”

“I’m obliged to you, Malone, for what you’ve done,” Logan said sincerely.

“I took yore measure, Horn. If’n I’d a found ya lackin’, I’d a had Miss Spurlock take her chances on gettin’ to Mary’s.” Case’s steely eyes bored into Logan’s black ones. A silent message passed between them; one understood by both men.

Logan nodded. “As I said, I’m obliged.”

“I’ll try ’n make it back in a day or two.” Case brought his horse to a stand to turn around. “Don’t blow no head off till you see who it is.” A slow smile drew little wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. He put his hand to the brim of his hat. “Ma’am,” he said, and wheeled his horse. “There’s a overhang down there ya can get under fer the night. Ya won’t have no time to get on the cliff afore dark,” he said over his shoulder and spurred his horse into a gallop.

Rosalee was overcome with sudden shyness. She was acutely aware that she and Logan were alone in this vast land, one depending on the other for survival. She tried to put aside all thoughts and concentrate on getting the wagon through the opening and down over the rocky trail to the floor of the valley. Her arms ached from pulling on the reins to keep the team from going too fast. She sensed the agony Logan was enduring. When they reached the bottom and the land leveled off she glanced back to see if the mare and the colt were still behind the wagon.

The valley had cliffs at one side and a jagged row of tree-topped hills on the other. When the cliff dwellings were visible she darted a glance at Logan. He was staring straight ahead, holding himself stiffly erect. Sweat no longer dampened his face, and she noticed a quiver in the buckskin-clad shoulders. He was getting a chill!

Rosalee snaked the whip out over the backs of the horses and urged them into a brisk trot. Darkness was approaching rapidly when she finally found the overhang Case said would shelter them for the night. Her first effort to get the wagon under the protective covering failed, and after shooting an apologetic glance at Logan, she moved it out, swung the team in a wide loop, and came in from the opposite direction. This time the back hub of the wagon wheel almost scraped the wall of the cliff. She pulled the team to a standstill and twisted the reins around the brake handle.

“I have to unhitch the team before dark, Logan,” she said gently. “Are you all right?”

He nodded. “Turn Mercury loose. Brutus . . . will watch.” He spoke through clenched teeth to keep them from clicking together.

Rosalee leaned over the seat, reached under the canvas for a blanket, and wrapped it around his shoulders. “I’ll fix you a place to lie down as soon as I can.”

It was almost dark by the time she had the team staked out for the night. When she returned to the wagon, Logan was lying on the ground wrapped in the blanket she’d put around him. As she pulled the cornhusk mattress out of the wagon she silently blessed Case for thinking about it. Working swiftly, she made a bed between the wagon and the rock wall. The constant flutters of lightning that worried the sky in the southwest told her it would rain before too many hours passed.

Rosalee knelt down beside Logan. He was lying on his side with his head on his bent arm. “I’ve made a bed behind the wagon, Logan. Come and lie down on the mattress and I’ll get more blankets.”

He stirred and pushed himself to a sitting position, then rolled over on his knees and got to his feet, leaving the blanket on the ground. He braced himself against the side of the wagon.

“I’m sorry . . . Rosalee.”

“Come lie down,” she urged.

“The horses?”

“The mare and the foal are with Mercury. I told Brutus to stay with the girls and he went with them. I’m surprised that he obeys me.”

“It’s instinct. Wolves are family oriented. To him, you’re my mate,” he murmured.

Rosalee felt a sudden soaring sensation inside her, as if joy had come dropping down out of a cloud. It was startling, yet so suddenly wonderful she felt giddy with happiness. His mate! The words skidded to a halt in her brain and throbbed there for endless moments. To mate with a man meant the right to comfort him, to give him love, shield and protect him, take him into her body and nourish the seed he planted there.

“It’s going to rain. I’ll build a fire back next to the cliff after I tie the canvas over the wagon.” The words came automatically when she spoke. Everyday, impersonal words that her mind conjured up to crowd out exciting, impossible thoughts.

“I’m glad the merchant put in the canvas. I’d forgotten about it.” Logan, too, spoke words that were of no consequeuce, and not at all connected with those in his mind.

He reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly. In the back of his mind there had always been a picture of a woman who would walk beside, not behind him. The face had not been distinct, but her character had been. Now the face of this sweet woman would forever be etched in his memory, even though she’d not be the one to walk beside him. He loved her too much to subject her to the scorn of being wed to a breed.

Loved her? The realization sank into his mind like a stone. Yes, by God! He loved this white woman with all his heart!

Logan clung weakly to the wheel of the wagon. His back felt as if it were on fire and his knees and thighs throbbed from the stomping they had taken. He was unable to draw a deep breath, and through all this, his stomach growled with hunger. He had believed he’d suffered the ultimate pain when he took a bayonet in the side during the war. That pain had been concentrated in one spot. Now, he hurt all over. Goddamn the scum who did this to him! They’d pay for it and for what they’d done to Rosalee!

“You’ll not get your strength back standing there,” Rosalee said firmly. “You’ve got to rest and eat. Tomorrow we’ll make camp in the cliff house. From there we’ll be able to see the whole valley. Lie down. I’ll get you some food as soon as I cover the wagon.”

Logan eased his aching body down onto the mattress and Rosalee covered him with a blanket. He watched her as she foraged beneath the canvas for what she wanted, piled it next to the cliff, and lashed the top securely to the wagon bed. She worked swiftly and efficiently, with no wasted motion. He liked to watch her as she moved. Her body seemed to flow from one position to the next.

Rosalee had been careful to leave a pie-shaped space between the wagon and the cliff. Now, she hung a blanket over the wagon wheel and built a small fire in the narrow area. Logan’s eyes followed her graceful movements. His admiration for her increased; not only for her beauty, but for her mind. She had planned well. The fire wouldn’t be seen even if Clayhill’s men did stumble into their valley. Here was the woman he’d dreamed of all his life; and now that he’d found her, he had nothing to offer her.

Rosalee nourished the small blaze until it caught and burned steadily, then set water to heat for the sage tea Mary said Logan must drink. She went to the end of the wagon and looked off toward the southwest. The lightning flashed frequently and now she could hear the faint rumbles of thunder in the distance. She prayed it would rain. Rain would make it more difficult for Clayhill’s raiders to find them and might prevent them from burning her home. She closed her mind against the pain of that thought and went to hunker down beside Logan.

“Don’t go to sleep, Logan. You’ve got to eat something.”

“I’m not asleep. You must be worn out. It’s been a hard day and driving that green team was no easy job. Sit down here beside me.”

The light from the fire caused sinuous shadows to stir over his dark face and Rosalee could feel the movement of his eyes over her. The pitch blackness outside the small circle of light closed around them like a great dark blanket wrapping them intimately together.

“I’ll get the food basket.” Rosalee rose stiffly to her feet and moved toward the fire. Her body was shaking as if with a sudden chill. As she knelt before the fire to pour the sage tea into a drinking cup, her heart quickened and her legs suddenly grew weak with a trembling awareness of this man and the thought that within this small space they had made a home for the night.

When she returned to him, Logan had moved to the far edge of the mattress to make room for her. She sat down with her legs folded beneath her and delved beneath the cloth covering on the basket. She brought out a piece of meat and a biscuit, put the two together, handed them to him, then fixed one for herself. They ate in silence. When Logan finished his meat and bread she gave him another without him asking. When he leaned up on an elbow to drink she handed him the cup, then took it from his hand when he finished. She felt good watching over him, handing him his food, letting him rest. His face was relaxed and he was eating as if he were truly hungry.

Lightning forked overhead, followed by a crash of thunder. Rosalee pulled the shawl more tightly around her shoulders. The air was cold and smelled of rain. The lightning came again, followed by sharp cracks of thunder and a puff of wind that rippled the canvas on the wagon.

“We may be getting more than a rain,” Rosalee murmured.

“Are you afraid of storms?”

“I didn’t mind them in the stone house, except for the noise. There’s nothing noisier than rain and hail on a tin roof.” She smiled, remembering.

“I took shelter in a sod house in Nebraska one time during a storm. I was surprised at how quiet it was. There’s a lot to be said for a good sod house.”

“They’d be warm in the winter.”

Rosalee sat quietly beside him, listening to the sounds of the approaching storm. After an exceptionally loud crack of thunder, she spoke again.

“On our way out here from Missouri, we came through Nebraska and Pa spotted a black cloud with a funnel hanging down. It looked as if it was coming right at us, so he whipped up the horses and we turned down into a gulley. We got out of the wagon and lay down in a low spot. We heard a big wind pass over us. Later we saw where trees had been torn up by the roots. It scared me when I thought of what it would have done to us in the wagon.”

“Why did your pa pull up stakes and come out here?”

“Oh, I guess he thought if he left the place where Mama died he’d not hurt so much. He didn’t care much about anything after she died. And when he couldn’t see anymore he lived in the past. Sometimes he called me Nettie—that was my mother’s name. He said my voice was like hers.”

“It must have been hell for him.”

“It was. Mama died giving birth. Pa blamed himself. He said it was his fault. But Mama wouldn’t have blamed him. She loved him too much.” It didn’t seem at all strange to Rosalee to be discussing this intimate subject with Logan. She reached over and pulled the blanket up over his shoulder. “Mary brought fried peach pies when she came out today. I put one back for you.” She laughed. The sound was light and musical and very feminine. “Ben is at the age where he eats everything in sight.”