The Education of Madeline (15 page)

Today was the day. Madeline knew where his cabin was. He had drawn her a map so she could find it. It would take only an hour to get there if she took a horse. She contemplated renting one from town but decided not to. Teague might as well accompany her. She wasn't exactly a worldly traveler, and having him along would probably be a wise idea.

She changed into her sturdiest boots and went out to the carriage house. Teague threw a tarp over something and looked at her in surprise.

“Maddie! What are you doing back so soon?”

She frowned at his behavior. “I need to go up the mountain to a cabin about an hour's ride from here. Will you saddle the horses and go with me?”

Teague's eyebrows shot up nearly to his scalp. “Now? It will be dark in less than three hours. Shouldn't you wait until tomorrow?”

She shook her head. “No, I want to go today. It can't wait.”

He opened his mouth as though to argue with her but closed it. He walked past her out of the carriage house and headed for the barn. Madeline looked at the tarp-covered item but decided she didn't have time to snoop right then.

She hurried after Teague and caught up with him as he was saddling the first horse.

“Who are we going to see?” he asked.

“A friend.”

He cinched the saddle, put the bridle on the chestnut, and laid the reins on the saddle horn. He moved to the next stall and started saddling the bay mare.

“Does this friend know we're coming?”

“No.”

Teague sighed and straightened the blanket on the horse's withers.

“What if this friend isn't there?”

Madeline hadn't thought of that but figured Micah would be within shouting distance of his cabin. From what she remembered, he never went too far from it, except his yearly trip into town.

“He'll be close by. Don't worry.”

Teague scowled. “He will, huh? So we're going to see a man friend that lives an hour up a mountain?”

Madeline was delighted to see a spurt of jealousy from him. It was jealousy. She was sure of it. Jealous of Micah? Now, that was something! Madeline had never had any man jealous for her before. It made her heart go pitty-pat and a grin creep up her face.

“Are you jealous, Teague?”

“Hell, no! I just don't know if I like this idea of yours.”

She straightened her shoulders and looked at him with narrowed eyes. “That's too damn bad, Teague O'Neal. You work for me, remember? We are going, and whether or not you like it doesn't change my mind.”

He snorted and finished saddling the bay without another word. His handsome face wore a horrible scowl, and he kept shooting her glares from beneath his brows.

Madeline couldn't help but watch his body as his muscles moved and flexed. Her body, so recently sated, was humming again. Teague was as sour as a pickle, and yet her body was still reacting to him like he was bringing her fresh flowers and chocolates. Somehow she wasn't surprised.

Within ten minutes, Teague had filled two water skins, and they were on their way to Micah's cabin.

 

Madeline led them behind the house to the creek and started following it north. The trees grew thicker as the air grew a bit cooler. It had been ages since she'd simply stepped out of the yard and into the woods. It was quite beautiful and sorely neglected by people like her.

Teague was still pouting an hour later when they stopped to water the horses. As the air was thinner, they had to be sure everyone was hydrated and not pushing too hard.

He scowled as he filled his canteen in the creek. As she watched him, she wondered how she'd ever considered being a virgin spinster with men like him in the world. It was sheer stupidity. Of course, what she was doing with him was sheer madness.

They mounted their horses and continued. She consulted Micah's carefully drawn map every ten minutes or so, taking note of each landmark they passed. He'd been quite thorough with them to make sure she wouldn't get lost. After all, Madeline was a dyed-in-the-wool city girl.

“Are we getting closer?” Teague asked with a bit of a whine in his voice.

“Probably another half an hour or so, from what he told me.”

Teague stopped and turned to glare at her. “What are you saying? You've never even been to this friend's cabin?”

“No, I haven't, but I have a map, and I know about where he is.”

“Woman, are you crazy? The sun is going to set in less than two hours, and we're out here heading toward a cabin you've never even seen?”

A vein bulged in his head as he shouted. Madeline felt her own temper stir to life.

“You will not speak to me like that, Teague O'Neal! I am not some dog you can order around. I have every faith in this map because Micah drew it, and I have faith that we will be safe because you are with me. Now stop complaining and whining, and let's keep going!”

Teague's mouth opened and closed as though he'd never had a woman speak to him like that. Too damn bad. Madeline never kept her tongue when there were words that needed speaking.

“You have faith in me?” His softly spoken question tugged at her heart. It sounded as if no one had ever told him that before.

“Of course I do. You're an intelligent, capable man, Teague. Why wouldn't I?”

He shrugged one big shoulder and stared off into the evergreens. “It's unusual to hear, is all. I mean…thanks.”

“You're welcome. Now, let's keep going; we've got to be close.”

Another five minutes passed before Teague said, “Micah?”

“Yes, that's his name. Haven't I mentioned that?”

“No, you didn't.” Teague snapped a stick off an oak tree and started fiddling with the bark. “There's a lot you haven't told me.”

Madeline felt a snort of laughter billow up her throat. “If that isn't the pot calling the kettle black!”

“What are you talking about?”

Madeline sighed. “Teague, I know absolutely two things about you. You had a wife and child, and you were in the war with a friend who died at Shiloh. Before three weeks ago, you had a past, but that's all you've shared with me.”

“I reckon that's true,” he admitted grudgingly.

Madeline watched his big hands play with the stick and couldn't help but remember how much she loved his hands playing on
her
body.

“…so that's why it's hard for me.”

Oops. He had been talking, and she certainly hadn't been listening. Damn her wanton hide.

“I'm sorry. Can you say that again?”

Teague frowned. “I said I lost everything in my life that I loved in that war. I wasn't much of a man, barely living a day-to-day existence until I stumbled on that blasted horse. There are a lot of things you don't know about me, and many of them I'm not proud of, so that's why it's hard for me.”

Madeline could certainly understand that. There were quite a few things she wasn't proud of, and telling someone about them was not high on her list of fun things to do. However, she had to somehow drag him out of his shell and get him to talk to her. The fresh air must have been making her brave.

“Okay, I'll make you a deal. I will tell you something about me, and you tell me something about you.”

One dark eyebrow went up. “Like what kind of something?”

She shrugged. “Whatever you want it to be. I'll go first.” Madeline took a deep breath then let it out. “My mother was the light in my life and allowed me to be more like other children. Well, as much as she could, anyway, because we both lived under my father's thumb. When I was twelve years old, she died.” Madeline paused to take a breath. “I tripped and nearly fell down the stairs, but my mother pushed me out of the way and then fell down the stairs and broke her neck. My father was furious. He pulled me out of school and hired a tutor for me. He basically locked me away in the house. He once told me…” She had to swallow hard to say it. “He once told me he wished it had been me who had fallen instead of her.”

The steady
clop-clop
of the horses' hooves, the rush of the creek, a few birds chirping, and some squirrels chattering above them were the only sounds she heard. Madeline felt her heart weep within her for the little girl whose entire life had changed because she'd tripped over the carpet runner in the hallway.

“You blame yourself for her death.”

Madeline actually gasped. She had never told a living soul that, and here was Teague, three weeks after meeting her, and he could see down deep into her soul. To unearth the darkest, festering thing he could find.

“Yes,” she whispered. It felt so good to say it out loud. So many nights she'd lain there and punished herself over and over with “what if” and “if only” scenarios until she thought she'd go mad. Perhaps she had—a little, anyway.

“How did you know?” she asked as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Too many tears had been shed over the last twenty years to shed any now.

“I…I feel the same way about someone's death.”

Madeline sat up and took notice. Teague was about to give her some kind of information—some crumb of insight into his heart.

Teague sighed long and deep. “I lied to you about my wife and son. They were alive when I came back from the war. They were barely scraping by on potatoes and pin money from the eggs they were selling in town. Folks were jealous of those hens but for the most part left her alone. She couldn't bear to look at me, couldn't bear my touch. It was like she had gone off to war instead of me. I don't know what happened while I was gone, but it was enough to turn Claire into a different person.”

She could see his hands were tight on the reins, white-knuckled.

“When she did talk to me, we fought, long and hard. Christopher didn't even remember me. He was a wild thing, dirty and barefoot. I got angry one night and went into town to the saloon. Got stinking drunk and passed out. When I woke up in the hoosegow, the sheriff told me bushwhackers had raided my farm, killed Claire and Christopher, and stole the damn hens.”

Madeline's stomach heaved at the thought of what the jay-hawkers had done after the war. People had been insane with bloodlust and had left their better judgment, if they had any, in the dirt behind them.

“I'm so sorry, Teague.” Madeline moved her horse closer to his and touched his arm. It was like touching granite—cold and hard.

“Thank you kindly, Maddie. I don't know if I could have stopped them if I'd been home, but I'll never know, will I? So I blame myself for their deaths, just like you and your ma.”

He turned his dark eyes on her, and she saw it. A light way back in those beautiful orbs. There it was. Hope.

 

Teague felt like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. They found the cabin with a bit of looking. This fella had it well hidden in the evergreens, so if you didn't look hard enough, you'd never know it was there.

Madeline smiled when she spotted the chimney. “There it is, Teague!”

The cocking of a rifle cut short his reply.

“You're on my land. Get.” The hard voice came from somewhere to their left and behind them.

Shit.

“Micah?”

There was a moment of silence when even the birds stopped singing, and there surely wasn't a forest critter within ten miles.

“Madeline?”

He pronounced it with a long
I
in the middle. Madel
i
ne. Like she was a dessert or something. Like a Southerner would.

A wave of blackness swept through Teague as long-buried memories pounded his mind. The sounds, the smells, the fear, the absolute misery.

Maddie had found herself a Johnny Reb.

“Yes, it's me.”

“Who is that big fella yonder?”

“He…he's my friend, Teague. I've come to ask for your help. I'm in trouble.”

Another moment of absolute silence. Teague swore he was about to choke on his own vomit as he struggled against his past.

“All right, then. Y'all can come down from those horses and set a spell.”

Teague dragged himself off his horse and fell to his knees. He vaguely heard Madeline call his name. His head dropped down to the dirt. The smell of pine needles and the loamy smell of the earth waved past his nose. He struggled for breath.

“Teague! What's the matter? Micah, help me!”

He felt her hands touching his back, but he couldn't lift his head up.

“It's okay, Madeline. You take the horses on back to my lean-to. I'll take care of your fella here.”

He wanted to tell Micah to shut up each time he opened his mouth and that drawl emerged.

“She's gone now,” Micah said quietly near his ear. “Just breathe, big man. Deep breath.”