Hannah Alexander (12 page)

Heidi paused as she tugged on the right sleeve of Victoria’s coat. “He ain’t comin’.”

“Hurry, get this off me. Of course he’ll come. He won’t leave you out alone in this wilderness with no one but me to protect you. He doesn’t even want me here.”

“Doc, he doesn’t know we’re alone!”

The coat came off, and Victoria jerked at the right sleeve of her shirt until it ripped. It was sewn well, with strong cloth, and she tugged again. She didn’t want to hear what Heidi had done, but there was no choice. “Tell me.”

“The letter I left him was from you,” Heidi said.

Strength waning, Victoria ripped the sleeve lengthwise and made a bandage. “What do you mean?”

“I can copy your handwriting.” Heidi’s voice was so low Victoria had to strain to hear it. “I learned watching you write in your journal, and I always try to write like you when I make labels for the medicines.”

No. Oh, no. What had this girl done? “Okay, then, what did
I
tell Captain Rickard?”

“That you met with some other riders going your way, and so you were taking me with you since it’d be safe, after all.”

“Safe!” Victoria gasped as she wrapped the bandage around her thigh and pulled it tight. She could think of nothing more to say, and the pain distracted her from her initial reaction to the girl’s dangerous manipulations.

“I’ll catch the animals.” Heidi straightened and rushed away, obviously afraid Victoria would grab her and strangle her.

Seldom given to panic, Victoria watched the fourteen-year-old running into this forest of death and felt gripped by a terror such as she had never felt before. She was alone, in danger, and she didn’t know from which direction an attack would come next. She suddenly had to become mother to a willful orphan. Heidi Ladue had the heart of a warrior, but she was obviously still a child, after all, considering this latest stunt. Victoria must protect this child.

* * *

Joseph crumpled the note in his hand as he controlled his breathing and wished he could control the thumping of his heart, the betrayal of nerves in his voice. “Where’s McDonald?” he growled.

“Checkin’ the south trail,” Buster said. “What you need him for?”

“Get him and bring him back, and if you can’t find him yourself, get that brother of yours to go with you.” At least Gray had a sense of direction.

The person Joseph needed he had already sent into the woods to follow the creek that marked Victoria’s route—and Heidi’s, including that strong, noisy little donkey, which could quickly call attention to their presence if anyone was there to listen. And there would be. McDonald had come in at early dawn this morning with word of churned-up mud at least two miles up the trail. Looked to have come through last night—and the riders hadn’t taken Victoria’s route; they’d taken a main route in the direction of the mill town.

Deacon had a swift horse and was tracking Victoria and Heidi now—if there were, indeed, tracks to be found. What if this note had been left behind to throw off any rescue? Border ruffians were on the march, apparently toward Jolly Mill, where too many travelers took refuge. Even if Victoria and Heidi were safe on their own trail, they might be riding into trouble once they reached their destination.

If Joseph ever caught up with Victoria, he was going to break the promise he’d made to her yesterday. He was going to hog-tie her and toss her into the back of the Ladue wagon until they reached their final destination. At this moment, he doubted anyone would argue with him except for Heidi, who was likely to receive the same treatment.

He flattened the note and studied it. His first thought was that the ruffians had grabbed Victoria and Heidi after the two had left on the other trail and somehow forced the note. But that wasn’t possible. This was not Victoria’s writing, it was Heidi’s. He could always tell because Heidi tried too hard to fake the beautiful swirls of Victoria’s script when she marked labels for the medicinal herbs they collected. But a man in love memorized everything about his woman, including her every line of communication. Besides the overdone swirls, the spelling wasn’t perfect. Almost, but it didn’t match Victoria’s.

After this trip was ended and they were settled in Kansas, Joseph would settle, too. He was no longer capable of risking the lives of those he loved in order to lead his country to a deadly war. What he wanted to do was keep his people safe, particularly the woman who meant more to him than life—the woman whom he hoped would no longer deny him.

A distant cry of an eagle reached him from the direction Victoria and Heidi would have ridden. Deacon had found their tracks and was following them. He was the best bird and animal impressionist Joseph knew. Now it was up to Joseph and some fast riders to take a few wagons from the train to the mill. He might not beat Victoria there, but if there were no breakdowns, he could count on arriving sometime in the early morning hours.

Chapter Eleven

W
arm droplets scattered across Victoria’s bare arm, waking her. She looked up to see Heidi hovering close, eyes red, face wet and dripping. “No yarrow root.” She sniffed and hiccupped. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Fenway. I can’t find it anywhere. I found some sassafras and chopped it up, put some whiskey in it to make a poultice, but it’s gonna feel like you been set on fire.”

“A little pain’s better than bleeding to death.” Victoria had managed to remove the damaged chaps from her legs and rip the wool material from around her wound before passing out to the sound of Heidi’s footsteps racing after the animals.

Sometime while Victoria had been fighting the effects of blood loss, Boaz had returned and nosed her to let her know he was there; true to Joseph’s promise, Boaz would never leave a wounded rider. Even the man’s animal was of excellent quality, and was a natural leader, it seemed; the bray of Pudding’s irritation came from somewhere nearby.

Heidi brought up her carefully prepared medicine and hesitated. “What if I don’t do this right?”

“Heidi Ladue, you just hush and do your job.” Victoria winced when she tried to move. “A real doctor would never say that in front of a patient.”

Despair crossed her young charge’s face.

“Do your job, Doctor,” Victoria snapped, resisting the urge to comfort the girl. If she wasn’t firm, they could both be in trouble in this wilderness.

Heidi’s blue eyes widened. Grasping her handful of medical mash as if it were gold, she leaned forward and gently placed it into the gash on Victoria’s thigh.

The fibers dug into open flesh and the whiskey dripped into the wound, sending fire throughout Victoria’s body. She grabbed her jacket and bundled it against her face to smother the sound as she cried out against the pain.

Then came the sound of ripping fabric and gentle hands lifting her leg as Heidi ignored Victoria’s cries and did what she knew to do. Victoria knew she had taught the girl well when she felt the bandage tighten just enough, but not too much, when she heard a soft sob, and felt again the gentle drips of warm tears on her skin that somehow soothed the streaks of hot fire deeper beneath her flesh.

“Tie it firmly, several knots.” But there was no need to give directions. And that was good, because Victoria thought she might be sick. Her vision darkened around her, and she couldn’t tell if clouds had covered the sky or if she was losing consciousness.

Sometime later—Victoria couldn’t tell how much time had passed—the cold tip of a bottle touched her lips. When she tasted whiskey she closed her mouth against it, shaking her head.

“I brought extra on Bacon, and you need it now to kill the pain. There’s no laudanum.” Heidi sounded self-assured all of a sudden. “Ma always said pain could be the best killer, and I can’t lose you. I don’t know where we’re going, and we can’t go back now.”

The girl was right, of course, if a little less diplomatic than Victoria would have wished. If this wound went bad and Heidi was forced to find their way, she would need to know where to go.

“Not yet,” she told Heidi gently, once again thinking of the people she had seen in St. Louis addicted to opium, laudanum and alcohol. Later, if the wound became infected, she would need the alcohol for pain. But not yet.

“I know it’s hurting you.”

“Did you bring the clove or turpentine oils?”

“Yes, they’re on Pudding.”

“Good. We can try those first if it gets too painful. Keep a watch for the big, broad comfrey leaves. You know what they look like. I need my wits about me, and we can treat the pain topically before we get drastic.”

Heidi slumped and capped the bottle, obviously still traumatized by the attack.

“You’ll have to find the map.” Victoria reached for the chest pockets of her coat and suppressed a gasp. One of the claws of the great cat had ripped open the pocket that held the directions and all of Joseph’s words of wisdom Victoria had written down.

“Where’s the map, Heidi? You’ve got to look for a folded map. It has to be around here somewhere. Tie the animals and help me look.” With Heidi’s help she dragged herself to Boaz and searched through the saddlebags, but found nothing. Only one small corner of a page with lines showed her the evidence of the missing directions.

“It’s okay,” Heidi said. “You have to rest now.”

Victoria insisted on climbing onto Boaz without help, but the ground spun and she stumbled to her knees with yet another cry of pain, this one unmuffled.

Boaz nosed her, fluttering his lips against her cheek, and nudged her back to her jacket on the ground. While Heidi searched, the big gelding lay down, saddle and all, alongside Victoria, his warm body breaking a cool wind that had blown down from the north. It was almost as if the horse embodied his master’s very spirit.

They couldn’t stay here. But if Heidi couldn’t find the map, and Victoria somehow became confused with her injury or had complications, they could easily be lost soon and have a run-in with the ruffians of Missouri.

“We have to get going, make use of the day,” Victoria said.

“You’re in no shape to travel unless I build a litter for Boaz to drag behind him, and it’ll take a long time to build.”

“Then I’ll just have to ride. We can stop and camp and see to this wound later in the day, but right now we need to make time along this route.”

“And that map you’re needing?” Heidi asked. “It’s nowhere to be seen.”

“Then I’ll have to stay awake. I know the way. I know the markers for where we need to turn.”

“Maybe you should recite them to me after we get you onto Boaz. If we do,” Heidi muttered.

Victoria closed her eyes.
Oh, Joseph, why didn’t I listen to you?

“You need a warm meal in your stomach first,” Heidi said. “You can think better that way. I’ve got vittles on Pudding.”

Victoria winced at the sound of the braying of the animal. “We could cook him if he doesn’t stop his complaining.”

“Donkey meat is tough, and it don’t taste too good, either.”

“It can make good jerky,” Victoria grumbled.

“No time.” Heidi had always loved her pet donkey.

Victoria grinned to herself, and Heidi caught the look and blew out a huge breath of air. “For a minute there I thought you meant it.”

“Not yet, but I might. Gather the things Pudding scattered along his newly made trail and let’s get going before I change my mind and decide to sleep forever.”

Heidi nudged Boaz to his feet. The big horse made sure he didn’t accidentally kick Victoria. More pain shot through her leg when she mounted, and Victoria laid her head forward, barely able to stay astride while Heidi collected everything she could and bound her donkey to her mule.

Their slow beginning did not bode well for a fast trip to the mill village. Victoria longed for Joseph to come racing through the trees right now, red faced with fury and ready to haul her back to the wagon train over his shoulder if he was of a mind to. Anything but this.

“Why didn’t I listen to him?” she mumbled.

“Because you’re a woman who knows her own mind. That’s what Ma always said about you. And you didn’t expect to get attacked by some crazy giant cat.”

Victoria hadn’t meant to bring Heidi into this private conversation with herself, but it was better than being alone; if Heidi was going to pretend to be an adult, it was about time she was treated like one. “The captain warned me about the dangers out here.”

“Well, then, maybe you
should’ve
listened to him. But if I hadn’t come along, you’d’ve been dead by now.”

Victoria didn’t have the strength to argue. “You’ve got a good eye.”

“Yeah, Pa taught me.”

“My father and brothers taught me.”

“And your husband?”

“Yes, and Matthew.”

They rode in silence for a few moments except for the pot that clanged once again on Pudding’s pack. Victoria wished she hadn’t run out of laudanum, but as it was she could barely stay astride. She’d keep the whiskey nearby in case the pain became too much to bear, but she wouldn’t use it internally unless the need became dire.

“What’s it like?” Heidi asked.

Victoria realized her eyelids had eased shut. She fluttered them and took a deep breath. “You mean, being attacked by a panther?”

“No, I can see what that’s like. It makes a person grumpy. What’s marriage like?”

Victoria scowled at her young friend, who had ridden up beside her, bringing with her the clang of the cook pot. “I’m sure you’ve had this kind of talk with your mother.”

For a moment, the silence beneath the hovering trees reflected the pain of yesterday’s loss, but after a short hesitation, Heidi shook her head. “Ma always said she’d tell me all about it when the time came, which I always figured meant on my wedding night. Well, if I have to wait that long I might as well give up.”

“Have you ever been sweet on a boy?”

“How’m I supposed to know what sweet is? Nobody’s ever told me. And if I never know what to look for, how’m I ever going to get married? Weren’t you sweet on your Matthew before you married him?”

“Two people don’t have to be all mushy with each other in order to have an excellent marriage.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

“I thought you just said you didn’t know what it was like.”

“Well, my folks argued kind of the way you sometimes argue with the captain, but they also talked a lot after we’d gone to bed. I could hear their voices up in the loft, sometimes serious, sometimes...well...anyway, that’s why I wondered. Married folks can be confusing.”

Victoria’s headache was getting worse. “Many a good marriage is built out of a solid friendship. Matthew was a good man.”

“But he didn’t turn your insides to mashed goose liver.”

Despite her pain, Victoria grinned at her friend’s innocence. “Goose liver never had anything to do with it, no.”

“How about the captain? Any goose liver there?”

Victoria groaned. “Can we discuss this later?”

“Not if you want to make some time today and stay on Boaz. I’ve got to keep you awake somehow. How’s your leg feel?”

“Like it’s been ripped to the bone and soaked with fire water.”

“Oh.”

“Keep looking for comfrey.” This was going to be a long trip.

* * *

Midmorning the day after Victoria and Heidi took off into the wilderness, Joseph saw the tall wood roof of the grain mill, heard the rattle-squeak of the huge wheel and the splash of water from the pond dam. A carved sign announced proudly that they’d reached the Village of Jollification.

He knew the place well and had once considered putting down stakes nearby. Had it not been for the border battles and the dangerous location of the town, where travelers and wagon trains regularly stopped on their way West and were often accosted by ruffians, he might already be planted here for good.

But then he thought of Victoria and knew he wouldn’t be.

He glanced over his shoulder through the dust to study those behind him. The train was shorter by several wagons after McDonald had taken seven of them south with him. It had made for a faster ride by a day, especially since Joseph had chosen those with horses instead of oxen or mules. Horses provided speed, and there was plenty of food and water for them to snatch along the way. If he could have made them fly, he would have.

Recalling yesterday still braced his anger. He’d been forced to resist entering the woods to find the two willful women. Victoria knew his responsibilities, and he could not leave the others stranded on a trail that might be dangerous. He’d at least expected to find Deacon here to greet him, but the man’s piebald horse was nowhere to be found.

Mr. and Mrs. Reich had Heidi’s wagon well in hand with a team of fresh horses from another wagon instead of the mules that typically pulled it. Mrs. Reich continued to fret about the safety of Victoria and Heidi out in the wilderness. Her first task was to question the women in town about Victoria and Heidi, and she had her posse of friends selected to attend her.

Steam had quit spurting from Joseph’s ears late yesterday afternoon, and he’d forgiven Victoria for her outrageous stunt of taking Heidi; he’d discovered after little more than a half mile of tracking that the two had not left at the same time, and no others had gone their way. He also knew Victoria too well to believe she had written that note.

For instance, why would she suddenly decide to take Heidi when she’d been so adamant before that she had to carry out her plans alone? She was far too wise to attempt such a dangerous stunt. Heidi, deep in grief, and determined to remain with Victoria no matter what, had packed her animals and followed. It was the only thing that made sense to him.

Yesterday morning before dawn, all he’d heard was the typical bray of Heidi’s donkey and the clatter of a pot—which he’d determined to be someone getting up to start breakfast.

He’d determined wrong. Never in his life had he second-guessed his decisions so heartily. Victoria was the most headstrong woman west of the Appalachians, and he couldn’t keep her out of his mind.

His fingers still itched to wring her neck as he glanced toward the village, scanning for Boaz. Instead, he froze when he caught sight of the reddest horse he’d ever seen, hitched at the post in front of the dram shop, down a ways from the mill and distillery.

He scanned the dirt streets of the town, but no other horse stood out. Only the one red animal. Thames?

“Victoria, what have you gotten us into?” he muttered.

Waving his arm in the air, he signaled the wagons to settle into the well-worn circle used by many another wagon train in the past. Time to prepare for camp. A loud whoop echoed from the end of the train where Buster Johnston jumped from his horse and danced a jig, stirring up dust. Joseph hoped the young troublemaker didn’t stir up any more than dust while they were here. Granted, he’d shown his skills with any kind of shooting instrument in their makeshift tournament the other evening, but did he have the good judgment about when to use them and when to stay hidden?

“Folks,” Joseph called as he gestured for the other adults to gather round, “remember why we’re here. If anyone asks, we’re looking for land and slaves. No one has to know that the land we’re looking for is in Kansas and the slaves we’re looking for aren’t for purchase.”