Somewhere to Dream (Berkley Sensation) (22 page)

Fear had ruled my life for as long as I could remember, and yet I’d never really had cause. Now that I had reason, fear seemed to shrink into something far away. It was as if I lost who I was the moment the man behind me kicked his horse into a gallop. I forgot to care. Hooves pounded beneath me, forest branches slapped my face, the man’s hands gripped my thighs, holding me in place. And yet none of it seemed real.

Part of me was terrified beyond belief. Part of me wasn’t even there. From the safety of my perch, I saw myself tied to a tree. I saw the rope had cut into my skin, rubbing it raw. I noticed I sat slumped over, unable to do anything but wait. My sisters were gone. I couldn’t see or hear them. Nor could I sense them, which I normally could do simply by closing my eyes. It was as if my world had died, leaving me alone in this nightmare.

The first time a man put his hands on me and tore my dress, I screamed and kicked, flailing against the ropes. My arms bled, and my legs, ripping on the bed of rocks and branches, bruising against the man’s iron grip. When he reached beneath my skirt and tore the rest of my life to pieces, I went numb.

The second man knelt beside me, saying nothing at first, but I was so lost, so overwhelmed, I barely saw him there. When he said something, I heard just a rumble of syllables. When I didn’t look up, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked it back so I had to meet his eyes.

Somewhere in the back of my consciousness, I noticed the twists of silver in his beard, the dark spots of age mottling his weathered cheeks, the mangy, matted beard. He seemed about the same age as my father, and he stunk of old tobacco, and worse. In contrast, the skin of his naked thighs was as white as a fish’s belly.

“Just be quiet. Be quiet,” the man kept saying. “Be a good girl.”

Be a good girl.
My father had said those same words. He’d told me to be quiet, be a good girl, when my sisters and I played too loudly or sang when he wanted to sleep. This man threw one leg over me, and I twisted like a worm on a hook, but he took my throat in his hand and jammed it against the dirt. When he was done what he’d come to do, he sat back and grinned.

I said nothing, only stared, unable to rouse a sound from my battered body. It was no longer me on the pine needle–strewn forest floor. It was a shell containing nothing. Everything was gone from me: the fight, the hope, my voice.

But that wasn’t enough. His grin hooked on one side, then drooped into a frown. Through a fog of disbelief, I watched him flex his fists, then pull one back so it poised by his ear. His fist crashed into my cheek, my vision went white, and a sharp sting told me the skin had split beside one eye. My head snapped back, slamming into the hard ground. I squeezed my eyes closed as tightly as I could, trying to push out the pain, praying he wouldn’t do it again. I didn’t want to ever open my eyes. I feared what I might see if I looked.

My heart thundered, and my empty stomach, for the hundredth time that day, rolled over. I wondered vaguely if I might vomit into the gag. What then? Would anyone untie it? Because if they didn’t, I was sure I would die.

And yet I didn’t panic. Somehow, living no longer seemed all that important.

While I lay motionless on the ground, I heard a sound I hadn’t heard before. A small mewling sound that didn’t belong in this place. Could that be a cat? Here? I opened my eyes but gasped at the tiny movement. I tried to see past the pain, concentrating on lifting my eyelids. Greens and browns blurred together, the heady aroma of dirt and leaves smeared forever into my memory. The pathetic mewling grew louder, and I realized the sound was my own weeping.

After that, all the men and everything they did, all the violence and pain and disgust and loathing, were lost to me. I saw it all from far away. Far enough that I felt nothing. I thought, and I hoped, that I would never feel anything ever again.

The next day, I learned they’d killed Ruth. Broke her apart, then left her in the woods to rot.

They set Maggie and me back on horseback and headed back on the path, and when we stopped again, I knew I would rather die than face another moment with these men.

The Cherokee saved us. They burst from the trees, sending arrows and tomahawks into the bodies of our abusers, of our mother’s and Ruth’s murderers. When the white men lay dead, bloody lumps around their dying fire, the Cherokee turned to us. They tended our wounds as well as they could, and we drank the foul tea they coaxed through our swollen lips. I remember little beside that tea, how it wet my tongue when I’d almost turned to dust. It made me sleepy. They bundled us in furs and secured us onto travois their men had fashioned and eventually dragged along the trail. Our little beds rocked and bumped behind them, but we were cushioned by a pillow of furs. For the first time since the nightmare had begun, I slept.

When I woke, we were in a different world.

CHAPTER
33

What Happens Next

It was out now: the nightmare that had consumed me for almost a year. The hardest part had been the first few words, braving that first step back into the dark. I was exhausted now. The strain of tears shed and grief relived weighted my eyelids down, yet I felt oddly light within. The memories had taken me far, far from Jesse’s side, dragging me through what I’d never wanted to see again, and in the end, I held the truth of my captors’ deaths as a solid, undeniable truth. They were gone. I was free of them. Because I had been courageous enough to face the horrors again, the hole that had gaped in my heart since that day began to ease closed, like pulling the tethers of the deerskin bags I made at the village.

Ruth was gone, of course. That would never change, but my pain over losing her would. I’d miss her until my last breath, but now I could accept that I’d be doing that without her by my side. And having stepped into that dark world and emerging unscathed, I felt stronger again. I would survive. I might even find joy again someday.

“Sometimes it feels as if the nightmare happened yesterday,” I told Jesse. I drooped, feeling like a cloth wrung out and hung to dry. “At others, it is more like it took place in another world, another time. To another person.”

Jesse blinked occasionally through the story, but other than that, he didn’t move. He was so quiet I forgot he was there for a time. But I was finished now, and the silence kept on filling the forest, the weight of my confession heavy and disgusting on my shoulders. He would leave now, knowing what I was, and I would never see him again. But he’d been right. I’d needed to say it out loud, no matter the consequence.

“So that’s why you live there,” he finally said, his voice calm as a breeze.

I seemed to have used up all my words. My face was wet with tears, but they’d stopped rolling down my cheeks for now. I felt empty of everything. I had nothing left. Soon he, too, would be gone.

“I had wondered what kept you there, you know. I see now.” The gold in his eyes had melted into a soft amber, like the liquid brown of tree sap in the spring. “Those men,” he said softly. “They’re all dead now? Cherokee took care of ’em?”

I nodded, so he did, too.

“Good. One less thing for me to do.”

He left the support of the tree and slid closer to me, still sitting. “Can I touch you, Adelaide?” I didn’t move, so he took that as permission. He put one hand out and gently wiped the tears on my cheek with a dirty, calloused finger, gentle as the pat of a kitten’s paw. “So do I know you now?”

“What?”

“Sounds to me like that was the one thing between us, and now you’ve told me all about it. So do I know you now?”

It took a shaky breath before I could nod.

His fingers moved down until they cradled my chin. “Then it wasn’t you that I didn’t know, was it?”

“I’m confused.”

He dropped his hand and linked my fingers with his. I looked down, seeing the damage he’d done to his knuckles, to his arms, all done while he’d been trying to find me. The knowledge twisted in my gut.

“It was what
happened
to you that I didn’t know,” he said. “But I was right. I knew
you
all along.”

He leaned in and kissed me, his lips light as a butterfly’s wing against mine. A farewell kiss. Because now he knew. He surely couldn’t feel anything for me now, save repulsion.

“And knowing this,” he continued, as if I’d spoken out loud, “changes nothing about how I feel for you. I love you, Adelaide. I think I knew that from the first time you looked at me. I knew you were scared, knew it was something awful, but it was up to you to tell me.”

It couldn’t be possible. “You still . . . love me?” I whispered.

His smile was so sad, trying to be brave enough for both of us under eyes that mourned with me. “I love you,” he repeated. “And whether you’ll have me or not, I’ll always love you.”

I stared at him, swallowing hard, terrified this was some kind of illusion that would end if I blinked. I’d seen him in my dreams for so long, but I’d never imagined the reality of him would become so important to me. I’d tried to ignore him, to pretend he didn’t exist, to hide from any threat of another heartbreak. And he’d just kept coming, stubborn as ever. My Jesse. He kissed me again.

“Marry me, Adelaide,” he whispered against my lips. I caught my breath and felt his crooked half smile, the soft curve of his lips barely touching mine. “What? I did ask you before, you know.”

I shook my head, suddenly angry. “Weren’t you listening, Jesse? You
can’t
marry me. I’m . . . ruined. There were five of them, Jesse. Five men.”

His smile was stronger than my confusion. “I don’t care about any of them. All I care about is you. Marry me.”

“You still—”

“You’re a lousy listener, Adelaide.” His smile was so tender, so full of promise. It reached in and roused my own smile, shook it awake.

“You didn’t really ask me before. Not exactly,” I said quietly. Nerves buzzed through my fingers, raced through my gut.

“Sure I did.”

“No. You went on about how we could be together, but you never actually—”

He scrambled, suddenly and painfully, onto one knee, gripping both my hands in his. “Marry me, Adelaide. Please.”

“Get up, you fool,” I said, blushing. “You’ll open that wound in your side again.”

“Not until you give me an answer.”

“You already know my answer.”

“Then say it.”

I sighed, wrestled my hands from his and traced the smooth, swollen lines of his bruised face with my fingertips, followed the crooked, oft-broken nose. So beautiful, my Jesse. I imagined his features in a few years, then a few years after that. I banished the memory of his father’s face, similar, but sliced with deep lines of strife and anger. Jesse wouldn’t have that kind of life, I promised myself. I would give Jesse a good life. One filled with love.

“I love you, Jesse Black, and yes. I will marry you.”

I had thought he was handsome, kneeling at my feet. When his expression lifted in a self-satisfied grin at my answer, well, he went beyond handsome. He rose and took my face in his hands. “You won’t regret this,” he said.

“I know.”

He narrowed his eyes, serious again. “Really? How do you know? Did you dream something?”

I laughed, and he joined me.
Marry me.

Yes. I would be all right, I told myself. I would. As long as I had Jesse, I would be all right.

CHAPTER
34

Ambush

The afternoon wore on, oblivious to the story I’d had to share, then to a wonderful, passionate moment where Jesse and I celebrated what we’d found in each other.

I didn’t tell him that when he locked his arms around me and we kissed, I saw his father again. I saw the meanness in the older man’s eyes and the intent burning there, but this time I was braver, believing in myself just enough to keep the shadows at bay. I shoved the image from my mind, directing everything I had at the man who held me. The man who loved me.

Our kisses grew stronger, but it wasn’t only he who brought heat to our passion. I had discovered a part of me I had never experienced before, except with him. His chin scraped gently against mine, like a slow burn, but I didn’t care. I tasted his breath, warm and delicious in my mouth, inhaled the strong, powerful reality of him, and loved what I breathed.

He suddenly stopped kissing me and sat up fast. As if he’d forgotten something. “We should go now,” he blurted.

I blinked up at him, bewildered. “Did I do something wrong?”

His crooked smile flashed, and he shook his head. “Oh no, darlin’. Problem is, you were doing too many things right. I don’t exactly trust myself at this moment.”

I didn’t think I could blush any deeper than I already had, but I did. I sat up beside him, and he took my hand.

“We should go,” he repeated.

A cool reminder of approaching evening agreed with him, blowing through the trees so that they swayed above us, graceful dancers preparing for the night. Jesse and I stood and walked on, this time holding hands and sharing a beautiful secret. Wouldn’t Wah-Li and Soquili be surprised when I told them that I would indeed be marrying Jesse! Then again, Wah-Li never seemed surprised by anything. I wondered if that was a good thing for her or whether it took all the joy of discovery out of life. I found myself considering spontaneity and wondering if it was really as dangerous as I’d always feared.

Jesse held out his arm, keeping a branch from my face, and I saw him wince and press his hand to his side. “You have to let me tend that,” I said.

“Later. I want to get to the village.”

“I am sorry about—” I shrugged helplessly. “About everything he did to you.”

“Yeah. Well. I still don’t understand that whole thing.”

“I know. I’ve lived with this my whole life, and I still don’t understand it all that well. But the thing is, Maggie saw my dream with me, and she sent Andrew out.”

“But why me?”

I was surprised. “Because the dream—it
looked
like you, but it couldn’t have
been
you. Maggie’s never seen you, so she couldn’t know that.”

“I suppose. It’s just . . . You told the Scotsman some guy was coming to get you? That’s it? Nothing a little more specific? Like there was also a man coming to take care of you, but in a good way? Nothing like, ‘The guy you want to avoid is older and real mean’?”

“I’m sorry. He just wanted to protect me. Please don’t hate Andrew.”

He sighed and shook his head, but the quirk on the side of his mouth told me he wasn’t angry. “No matter. I’ll recover. And don’t you worry about your Andrew. I guess I gotta thank him someday for lookin’ out for you.”

He stopped and turned to me again. “I don’t hate many folks, Adelaide. Truth is, I don’t like many, either. But you’re different. You are the only person on earth that really matters to me.”

How could I argue with that? I put my arms around his neck and kissed him as if I’d done it a thousand times.

One would think that if one had a dream, then found oneself living that specific moment in time, they would avoid the darker aspects of that dream. If they knew they were going to fall off a cliff and the mountain plunged suddenly beside them, they’d choose another route. But it doesn’t work that way for my dreams. It hadn’t worked that way for Maggie’s, either. We saw what would happen, regardless of what we did.

So when I saw the familiar group of trees around me, felt the air tighten with quiet, I knew it was almost time.

Jesse and I had gotten into a silly challenge that had me giggling until my ribs hurt. I didn’t remember ever laughing so hard without reservations. The game had started innocently enough. I’d plucked something pink from the greenery along the path and asked him what it was. He made up a ridiculous name for it, then told me he knew of another one in the same family that was useful for curing hiccups. We took turns finding a new plant that the other had never seen before and giving it a story. I scouted deeper into the trees and came back with a fern of some kind, which I claimed had fallen from the moon. In turn, he brought me an extremely rare, brown flower that ate bugs. In fact, it was a nondescript green something he’d rolled in mud. It was just a silly game. Now he was looking for something yellow. He was about fifteen feet ahead of me, peering into the forest, when he froze.

“What is it?”

He held out a hand in my direction, telling me to stay put, but his eyes darted through the trees. Clearly, he’d heard something I hadn’t. My heart thundered in my chest, and I suddenly knew.

A man leapt out of nowhere, bursting from the trees and roaring like a grizzly. Jesse turned just in time to meet a solid fist as it slammed across his face. Echoing the roar, he pounced on top of the man, and they rolled down the path, screaming obscenities.

“Think you can get back at me, do you? Miserable cur!” The man was on his feet first, and he kicked Jesse hard in the stomach, one kick for every word he yelled. “Damn . . . waste . . . of . . . my . . . life!”

I ached for Jesse, remembering the mottled black and blue already staining most of his body. He was rolled into a ball, trying to cover himself, hands over his head.

The man kept on. “Goddamn Injun lover!” He paused for a moment, catching his breath, and Jesse took the moment to roll away and get to his feet, though he was curled in on himself with pain. Blood flowed from his nose, dripping off his chin, but his eyes were on fire. They flicked to me for the briefest of blinks. A warning.
Stay away.

But his enemy saw the signal. He spun around and stared at me, his expression wild. Just as I’d seen in the dream, Thomas Black had so many of Jesse’s beautiful features, though crevasses of hate had dug into his face. He took a step toward me, and Jesse tackled him from behind. This time, it was Jesse’s fists that flew and Thomas who covered his face, but both men were bloodied.

I heard my own voice, screaming, sobbing. I knew the outcome, didn’t I? Jesse would never get up, and I would be in this man’s hands.

Thomas rolled so quickly to one side that I didn’t see it happen, and Jesse fell off him. Thomas grabbed his son by the throat and slammed his head to the ground. Except it wasn’t the ground that he hit. It was a rock.

The light died from Jesse’s eyes. I saw it flicker, then disappear.

“Goddamn right,” Thomas growled, getting to his feet. “Think you can get the best of me, do you? Goddamn mistake from the get-go.” He gave Jesse’s body another kick, then reached back and pulled out a pistol. Its black barrel rested on one arm, and he pointed it directly at Jesse’s head. “Should’ve been you them Injuns got, not your brother.”

No no no no no
!

My fear forgotten, I stooped, grabbed a thick branch lying at my feet, and ran toward Thomas. “Get away from him, you bastard!” I screamed, striking at the gun so it fell uselessly to the ground.

Thomas stared at me, incredulous, and turned from his son to me. I wanted to run, but he was right there in my face, as I had seen him before. He was quicker than I’d imagined he would be, ripping the branch from my hands and coming up close. Just as he had done with Jesse, he gripped my neck, shoving me hard against the solid trunk of an oak. His breath was hot and reeked of alcohol.

I knew that stench. Whisky, sweat, hate, lust . . . the day, that night, that nightmare suddenly resurrecting itself . . .
Oh God, what am I doing? Why am I here? Please no, no, no, no, no . . .
Every bruise, every tear and slap came back to me. It was all happening again. If only I could escape again, like I did every time the dream reached this point. But I couldn’t move at all. His bristles scratched against my face, and his face came clear, that face I loved . . . and yet it wasn’t. His lips were the same, but they’d twisted into a feral grin that made me shake almost convulsively. His eyes terrified me the most. This wasn’t Jesse at all. The eyes narrowed at me, bloodshot and shining with conquest, were gray, not gold.

His other hand tore the neck of my tunic straight down, and the quick blast of air on my stomach told me he’d bared everything I’d tried to hide before. I fought harder, pushing at him with my hands, screaming, and trying to scratch at his face, but his fingers tightened around my throat until stars wobbled in my vision. My knees weakened, but I used one in a desperate motion, thrusting it hard between his legs. He stepped back to avoid my pathetic kick, then slapped me hard across the face. I stumbled to the side as my vision flashed white and my cheek burned. I landed on my back and he’d straddled me before I could move. At least my attempt to hurt him had accomplished one thing: his hand had left my neck for that moment, and I gulped down air.

His eyes were wild, and his hungry grin had widened. I had given myself a moment of lucidity, but he meant to take much more. His hand clamped onto my face, and one thick thumb slid over my lips. My nose was bleeding; I could see the evidence on his thumb just before he licked it off.

“You’re a tasty chicken,” he said, his voice raspy. Spittle shot from his mouth, hitting my face as he spoke. I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking helplessly. “And guess what? I’m one hungry son of a bitch.”

“That’s one thing you got right,” came another voice, one that sent a shock through my system. My eyes flew open, and I would have wept with relief if I could have. Jesse sounded weak but aware. And cold with rage. “You
are
a son of a bitch. And this here’s my woman. Let her go.”

Thomas grinned down at me, blood from their earlier fight leaking onto his teeth. “Don’t be telling your Pa what to do, whelp.”

Jesse leaned in so I could see him. He stood behind his father, eyes glued to mine, his lips drawn tight. “I said let her go, old man.”

Thomas Black’s smile was a wide crack in a face that might have once held charm. Might have, long before, said pretty words to someone. Now it offered only violence, promised only pain. He held my chin in one large hand, squeezing my cheeks so my lips puckered between his fingers. He leaned in, and I whimpered, squeezing my eyes shut again, unable to move.

The hammer of a pistol clicked, and I looked up again. Jesse had come around and now squatted behind me, the pistol Thomas had once pointed at his son shoved hard against Thomas’s own forehead.

“Uh-uh,” he said. “You don’t wanna be doing that. Nobody kisses my girl but me.”

Thomas straightened slowly, his eyes hard with wariness but still focused on mine. The grip on my chin eased, and I bit my lower lip hard, tasting the blood that leaked from my nose.

“Put that thing down, boy.”

“Let her go.” Jesse’s voice was deep and deliberate, and final as death. The skin on Thomas’s forehead indented around the barrel as Jesse pressed, a white circle cutting into sun-darkened flesh. The finger on the trigger was tight, not the least bit tentative. When he spoke again, it was done slowly, hatred sharpening the edges of his words. “I will kill you. You know I will. I’ve been waiting for an excuse to do this for near on twenty years.”

The steely gray eyes finally blinked and left mine, drifting calmly toward his son’s face. The rough hand slipped once more to my throat and stayed there, as if waiting for instructions.

“You’ll kill me, will you, Jesse? You’ll shoot your Pa over some whore of a girl? After all I’ve taught you, you still don’t get it. You’re stupid, boy. Always have been. And now you’re half Injun, you’ve gotten dumb as that old mule McKenna shot last week.” He nodded, then grinned. Something in his face shifted, hardened further and one of his shoulders rolled back. “Well, if you’re gonna kill me, then this girl of yours—”

His fist exploded into my stomach at the same time Jesse’s pistol went off. The instant, blinding pain was incredible, like stubbing a toe hard, but having it start deep inside and resonate throughout my stomach. Both Thomas and I rolled to the side, but he wasn’t moving or making any sound. I curled into a ball, gasping, desperate for air I couldn’t find, fighting a haze as it settled over my vision. Jesse knelt beside me but seemed to float just out of my reach. I saw his mouth move, but I heard nothing beyond the ringing in my ears. Something pressed on my head, and I squirmed, feeling trapped, until I realized it felt good. Soothing. Jesse’s hand on my hair, calming, his lips brushing my ear.

“Breathe, Adelaide. Slowly now. He knocked your wind out, but it’ll come back. You’re all right, my girl. Just breathe. That’s right.”

Aided by his touch, I began to unfold my body, letting the muscles loosen as the tension in my stomach released bit by tiny bit. Jesse settled some kind of blanket over me, and I felt even weaker with gratitude. The first whispers of air snuck into my lungs, and I gasped for more.