Prairie Fire (19 page)

Felicity Cornwall darted back and forth along the sandy bank, shrieking in despair. Up to his chest in the creek, Jack was wading deeper as he called out the young woman’s name.

“Jack!” Caitrin shouted, hurtling down the bank. “Where is Lucy? Where has she gone?”

“Drowned, drowned!” Mrs. Cornwall wailed.

Caitrin dashed into the frigid water just as Lucy’s dark head bobbed up in midstream. The young woman drifted in the swiftest part of the current, her back to the shore. Gasping in shock at the icy chill that gripped her ankles, Caitrin waded to Jack’s side.

“She’s not done for yet,” he panted. “She’s got her feet on the bottom, but she keeps letting herself float off under the water.”

“She’s wearing those heavy chains. Sure, they’ll drag her down.”

“Lucy!” Jack called out, reaching toward his sister. “Lucy, it’s Jack. Can you hear me? Don’t go under again, Sis.”

“Lucy, Lucy!” Mrs. Cornwall shrieked. “Get out of that water at once! Do you hear me, young lady? Come here immediately!”

Lucy’s head sank beneath the surface. Caitrin watched in horror as Jack lunged toward the spot, disappearing himself. Toes numb, she squeezed her hands together. Should she go ashore and calm Felicity? Her keening was only making things worse. No, there was no choice in this matter.

“Can you swim, Miss Murphy?” Felicity cried as Caitrin set out into the middle of the stream.

“Not much.” She cast a backward glance. “If you’re a praying woman, Mrs. Cornwall, now’s the time.”

Hardly able to catch her breath in the numbing water, Caitrin plunged ahead. When Lucy bobbed to the surface again, she was many yards downstream from the place Jack had been searching. Caitrin made for her at once.
Give me words, Father,
she pleaded.
And give her hope!

“Hello, Lucy,” Caitrin called in the most casual and unagitated voice she could manage. “It’s a bit cold out here, don’t you think?”

Lucy stiffened at the sound of the unexpected voice. Her hair streaming, she slowly turned to observe the woman approaching. Caitrin was horrified to see that Lucy’s face had turned an ugly shade of gray, her lips a pale blue.

“Miss Murphy,” Lucy whispered.

“Did you get the brush and mirror I sent with Jack?” Caitrin asked, working her way toward midstream. “They were meant as gifts for you.”

Hollow-eyed, Lucy gazed in silence.

“It was a small tortoiseshell brush. I’ve a comb to match it in the mercantile.” Teeth chattering, Caitrin kept walking closer until she was up to her chin in the bracing water. “I’d noticed that caring for your hair might be a bit difficult, and I thought perhaps you’d enjoy something pretty.”

Lucy stared.

“I’m so glad you’ve come to Hope,” Caitrin continued, chatting as though they were seated in a parlor somewhere. “Sure, all the women who live close round here are married and busy with families. But I live alone, and the company of someone for tea now and again would be lovely. Perhaps you could come for tea this afternoon? I’ve Earl Grey, but please don’t tell. It’s wicked of me, but I don’t want to share such a treasure with just anyone.”

She stopped a pace from the young woman, hardly breathing in fear that Lucy would drift away again or that she herself might collapse from the cold. Ashore, Mrs. Cornwall had stopped shrieking, and Jack stood unmoving at the corner of her vision. Forcing her stiffened lips into a smile, she looked into Lucy’s eyes.

“I’m a bit cold; are you?” Caitrin searched for recognition. “Can you feel the cold, Lucy?”

“I … I’m sorry … ,” she mumbled.

“I think in the summer the water must be rather nice. The children enjoy paddling about in it, so they do. But it’s awfully chilly right now.”

“I don’t … don’t feel anything.”

Caitrin cocked her head to one side. She could feel
everything
—the swift current tugging at her legs, the sucking mud beneath her feet, and the bone-aching cold creeping ever inward through her body. But Lucy’s words had been filled with a kind of resigned peace.

“I suppose,” Caitrin said softly, “I suppose you like it when you can’t feel anything, Lucy. Sometimes … sometimes I can hardly bear the weight of my own thoughts. Do you know what I did the other day? I got so angry I threw a plate. Smashed it right against the wall.”

Lucy gaped, blank-faced.

“And just now, right outside the mercantile, I shouted at my sister,” Caitrin went on. “Chipper says we shouldn’t shout and throw things, but I think it’s far more important that we be honest. God knows everything about us, and he’s not going to punish us for sharing our true emotions with him. It’s quite all right to feel what’s inside your own heart, you know.”

“No,” Lucy mouthed. “I don’t … I can’t …”

“Grab her!” someone shouted from the shore.

“Get her now!”

Lucy’s eyes darted away from Caitrin’s face. A look of terror suffused her ashen skin. “No … no …”

“I’m not going to grab you, Lucy,” Caitrin promised quickly. “Jack told me you don’t like to be touched, and I certainly understand that. Sometimes I just want to hide, I feel so—” A movement caught her eye. “Oh, have a look at that blue jay on the other bank! Can you see it? Spring is almost here, Lucy. I can hardly wait. Did you know Rose Hunter and I are planning a welcoming party for your family? What’s your favorite color?”

Lucy’s focus shifted again from the shore to Caitrin’s face. “I don’t … I can’t think… .”

“Well, that’s probably because it’s so cruel cold out here.” Aware that her legs had gone numb and the current was clutching at her with icy claws, Caitrin knew she had only moments before she would be forced to leave the water. “I’ve an idea, Lucy. Would you like to come to my house right now for a spot of tea? This very moment?”

“They’ll … they’ll …”

“No, they won’t. I won’t let them touch us. Jack will protect us, won’t he? He loves you so much, Lucy. Sure, I’ll tell him to take off those ridiculous chains so you can lift your teacup. How’s that? Will you come for tea? Do say yes.”

Lucy turned toward the shore. Caitrin could see that a crowd had gathered—the Manhattan coach passengers who had let their curiosity get the better of them, Seth and Rosie, a horde of children. Even Sheena and the girls had traipsed down from the mercantile.

“Oh, good heavens,” Caitrin said. “You’d think they’d never seen anyone taking a dip in the creek. Come along, we’ll walk right past them, so we will.”

Lucy shook her head and started for the center of the creek, the deepest part where the current surely would carry her off. Caitrin gulped down a cry and reached out to her. When she laid her hand on the young woman’s shoulder, Lucy stiffened.

“’Tis the other way,” Caitrin said, sudden tears clouding her eyes. “Please, Lucy, you must turn and go the other way.”

There was a moment of utter silence, and then Lucy drifted toward Caitrin. Frail arms brushed against her. Huge liquid eyes blinked up at her. “I like Earl Grey,” Lucy whispered.

“It’s the bergamot flavoring.” Caitrin let out a breath of relief and slipped her arm around the young woman’s bony shoulders. “I think bergamot is a sort of herb, but then again it might be a fruit. The taste is rather citrusy, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” Lucy murmured.

“Because of that,” Caitrin continued, beginning a slow walk toward the shore, “I should think one would want to drink it with a slice of lemon and a dollop of honey. But shall I tell you the truth? I love my Earl Grey with milk and sugar. Lots of sugar!”

Casting a pleading glance at Jack, Caitrin tried to think how to prolong the conversation. If only the people would go away and stop gawking like stupid cows. If only Caitrin’s toes would come back to life so she could tell where the bottom of the creek was. If only she could touch … but she
was
touching Lucy, holding her close, speaking as one friend to another.

“I’ll stoke up the fire in my oven,” she said. “We’ll be as warm as toast in a few minutes, and while we thaw, the tea water will have time to boil. You never did tell me your favorite color, Lucy. Mine is emerald green. I think I’m rather vain about green, but it really does go so well with my eyes.”

“Blue,” Lucy whispered as she and Caitrin straggled onto the shore. “I’m … I’m …”

“Teal blue?” Caitrin drew her closer, silently daring the gaping crowd to make a move as she led Lucy through them. “That’s the color of a duck’s back, you know. Sure, I like that shade. But I’m rather partial to a soft cornflower hue.”

“Baby blue.” Lucy’s chains clanked as she tried to keep up with Caitrin. “Baby.”

“Jack, do come and take these off!” Caitrin called in frustration. At this rate, it would be an hour before they arrived at the soddy. Already she felt certain her skirt had frozen to her legs and her toes were going to chip off inside her wet boots.

Breathing hard, Jack knelt, dripping, at his sister’s feet. As he inserted a key in the heavy padlock, his gray eyes searched Caitrin’s face. She understood the terrible fear that consumed him.

“Lucy and I are going to take tea at my house,” she told him, praying her words would reassure the man. “I’m sorry to say, but we can’t invite you, Jack. This is a ladies’ tea, and it’s only for the unmarried women of Hope. That’s Lucy and me, so there you have it. Now, please open the lock on her wrists.”

Jack stared into Caitrin’s eyes. “You take care of Lucy, hear?”

“I know you love your sister, Jack. Don’t you?” She nodded. “Don’t you love her?”

“I sure do. I …” His voice faltered as he bent to unlock the chain that bound his sister’s wrists. “I love you, Lucy.”

Jack knocked on the door of Caitrin’s soddy, and then he gave his mother a solemn nod. Mrs. Cornwall stood to one side, as bug-eyed as a frog. They had waited more than an hour at their camp, talking over the terrible mistake they’d made in allowing Lucy to walk about unguarded. She’d headed straight for the creek, and Felicity had noticed her barely in time. If Caitrin hadn’t come along …

“Well?” Felicity demanded. “Can’t the woman be bothered to answer her own door?”

Jack gave his mother a warning look. “Miss Murphy won’t like it that we’re here in the first place. She wanted to be alone with Lucy.”

“They’ve been alone long enough. That Irish maid doesn’t have a single notion how to manage my daughter. She’ll turn her back the first time, and Lucy will grab a pair of scissors—”

“Jack?” Caitrin opened the door to a narrow slit and peeped through. “What are you doing here? Mrs. Cornwall, I told you I would be taking tea with Lucy.”

“Where is my daughter?” Felicity demanded. “She’s sure to catch her death after all that swimming about in frigid water.”

“Lucy is asleep,” Caitrin said. “While she was warming up by the stove, she drifted off and hasn’t awakened since.”

“Typical!” Felicity said. “Lucy would sleep all day and all night, too, if we’d let her. She’s the laziest maid you ever clapped eyes on. We must wake her at once and get her back to the camp.”

“I should like your permission to keep her here tonight, Mrs. Cornwall.” Caitrin turned her focus to Jack. “Please let Lucy stay with me.”

“Never.” Felicity’s eyes hardened. “My daughter belongs in her own bed. And without the chains, one can’t be sure—”

“You can’t fix Lucy’s troubles, Caitrin,” Jack said over his mother’s harangue. “Look, can I come inside and talk to you for a minute?”

Green eyes bright, Caitrin glanced from Jack to his mother and then back again. “Only you, please, Mr. Cornwall. I shouldn’t want anyone to wake Lucy.”

Jack let out a breath as he stepped into the soddy. That comment would set his mother off all over again—abandoned outside on a chilly February evening, as though she didn’t have the sense to know what was best for her own daughter. Of course, Felicity probably
would
try to stir Lucy, and then Caitrin might fly off the handle. What a mess.

Standing just inside the door, Jack discerned his sister asleep on the rough-hewn wooden bed near the stove. Damp hair spread across the pillow in a dark tangle, she was covered with layers of thick quilts. Her long, angular frame lay perfectly still. His heart contracted at a sudden thought. How many nights had his sister been forced to sleep with her ankles and wrists bound by the chains he had forged? She looked so comfortable there on Caitrin’s bed. So much at peace.

“Please speak to your mother about that constant carping, Jack,”

Caitrin whispered. “She must learn she will never shout poor Lucy into wholeness.”

“And you’ll never coddle her into it, either.” Jack took her arms in his hands. “Caitrin, everyone in my family has done their level best for Lucy. We’re all exhausted from constantly watching over her, trying to protect her, trying not to upset her. We’ve concocted every scheme imaginable to bring her out of these doldrums, but the doctors have told us Lucy’s condition is incurable. Sometimes she’ll seem a little better, but she goes right back into it. I don’t want you to be fooled because you were able to bring her out of the creek today. Lucy does make forward strides. But in a few days or even a few hours, she always slides back into her black pit. Please listen to me, Caitrin—you
can’t
change this.”