A Place Called Harmony, page 6
Gillian walked out of the bunkhouse at dawn and headed to the livery to saddle his horse. She wouldn’t be dying, he decided. She couldn’t be dying. The letter might be a month old, but he’d get to her in time. She’d already traveled half the distance between them; he’d make the rest. If she was dying, he’d not leave her side.
Sunrise sparkled along the horizon as he tried to think. The commander had told him to take all the time he needed. Gillian wished it were a battle he faced now. He could handle that, but he wasn’t so sure he could deal with losing Daisy. He picked up his step, knowing the sooner he got to the trading post, the better.
The girl Gillian had found in an outlaw camp last week was waiting for him at the corral. She hadn’t spoken to him all the way into the fort, but now she looked like she planned to talk to him.
Sergeant Watson’s wife stood beside the girl. She must have outfitted her in a coat, boots, and wool trousers. All looked two sizes too big. The wild girl didn’t look happy to be cleaned up. In fact, she’d shown little emotion at all since he’d loaded her up with the two Osborne brothers he’d arrested and brought here. The only time she looked interested in anything was when her eyes darted toward the gate, as if she planned to bolt as soon as possible. Who knew how many years she’d been with the outlaws or where she’d been before that? For all he knew she might be more wild animal than human. He’d seen it before.
The sergeant’s wife didn’t waste time with hellos. “She’s older than she looks, Captain. I’m guessing fifteen, not twelve like you thought. Commander told me to have her ready at dawn and tell you to drop her off at the mission. He says it’s on your way south.”
Gillian shook his head as he saddled the first horse. “I haven’t got time, Livia, I have to meet my wife.”
“Well, with my five kids, I ain’t got time to keep up with her. We can’t just toss her out. You found her. She’s your responsibility.” Livia was a woman few men argued with. At five feet ten she stood eye to eye with Gillian. “She ain’t said a word to me, but if I were you, Captain, I’d sleep with my weapons handy.”
He gave up and started saddling another horse. “If she don’t talk, that’s fine with me as long as she can ride well enough to keep up.” He’d seen kids like this before. Maybe they were captured during the war and didn’t remember where they were from or who they were, or sometimes their parents died and they were taken in by first one family, then another. For all he knew she could have been born in the outlaw camp, though it would have been hard for a baby to survive.
Since the war, the orphanages were crowded and no one kept a record of every child born.
Gillian looked down at her. “Want to tell me your name, girl?”
She shook her head.
“All right. I guess it don’t matter much anyway.” She hadn’t cared when he’d shot one of the outlaws she’d been with, or waved when he’d hauled the two Osbornes away. They were nothing to her and, as far as he knew, so was he.
“Climb up if you’re going with me,” he said, and watched her jump up onto the mare. At least she understood what he said. That was enough. He didn’t need to talk to her. The only word he’d probably need to say to her was good-bye when they reached the mission.
They rode until full light, and then he passed her a biscuit he’d lifted from the mess hall.
She ate it, but didn’t even nod a thank-you. Her mud-colored hair hung at different lengths, and with the big hat he’d probably never see her face again.
By dark, he was feeling more like he was riding alone across the open country. She kept up, never got in the way, and never complained. Without her saying a word he’d learned a great deal about her. One, the sergeant’s wife was right; she must be small for her age because she handled a horse with far more skill then a twelve-year-old would have, and two, she knew how to live off the land. She never overwatered her horse or went too fast down a ravine. She moved over the prairie leaving no sign she’d passed.
When they made camp, he asked her to water the horses while he built a fire. By the time she came back he’d made coffee and warmed beans, and had time to worry that she might not return. He’d watched her all day and guessed she was waiting for the right moment to run. Watering the horses had been her chance, but she’d stayed. Gillian guessed she’d been studying him too and figured out that when she did run, he wouldn’t chase her.
As usual, she didn’t say a word as she sat down on her blanket and stared at the fire.
Gillian was tired of the silence. “This place I’m taking you to isn’t so bad. The priests from the mission run it. When my family was all dead, I went to a place just like it.”
He didn’t add that he ran away after two weeks and caught a freighter wagon back to the fort where his dad had last been assigned. The soldiers decided to let him stay and he worked with the blacksmith until he turned seventeen and joined up. Back then he’d been too young for the soldiers in the barracks to pay much attention to, so he used to curl up with books while they talked or played cards until lights out. The post had a set of law books, and by the time he was grown he’d read them all several times.
Gillian glanced at the girl. He decided she might not have the options he had. This country was hard on women.
“They feed you regular meals at the mission and make you go to school every morning, and then everyone has a work duty in the afternoon.” He thought of adding that it was the most boring two weeks of his life, but he guessed that wouldn’t be too helpful. “You could learn to read and maybe cook or sew.” Any skill might give her a chance. “You could become one of the sisters. They have a quiet life, I think.”
She didn’t answer. He gave up trying.
She rolled up in her blanket while Gillian tossed a few logs on the fire and decided to worry about Daisy’s letter. If she was dying, a part of him would crumble. He might not see her often, but she was the keeper of all the goodness in him. The kindness. The laughter. The love. And he had never told her that. If she died, he’d have two boys to raise. It wasn’t fair to drag them from fort to fort but, like his father, he didn’t know any other life.
Prairie winds kicked up, making the fire dance in the starless night. Gillian stood and tossed his blanket over the girl before walking away from the fire. He needed the night’s blackness to count all the things he’d done wrong. Daisy’s face kept drifting through his mind. Her big sparkling green eyes. He could have stayed a week longer last time. He could have made time this summer to ride back to her. He could have explained how hard it was to be in the middle of her huge family when he’d never known any family except his dad.
They all loved her back at her family farm. Gillian wasn’t sure his own father loved him. Every time he’d ridden off, he’d yelled back for Gillian to stay out of trouble and make himself useful and be a good soldier. Then, one day when his father hadn’t come back, Gillian had done exactly what he’d been told. He’d become a good soldier.
Only he’d been a lousy husband. He hadn’t been a father at all. And now it might be too late. Maybe one or both of his sons were hurt or ill. Daisy had written once that they both had his black hair, his good looks, his ornery nature. He barely knew them.
He pushed hard the next day. The girl never complained. When they reached the mission, he had to pull her off her horse. Much as she seemed to dislike him, it appeared she hated the idea of staying at the mission more. She fought, but in the end, she stayed.
Gillian rode away feeling as if he’d added another layer of guilt on like paint. If there had been time he would have tried to settle her with a family. Maybe they’d treat her as one of their own kids. She still had a year or two of growing up to do. Or maybe they’d treat her like a slave. He’d seen it before.
He’d left her the little mare at the mission, asking the brothers to let her have it to ride when she’d settled in. The mare wasn’t much, but at least the girl would have something to call her own.
By dark, he’d crossed farther into Texas and was riding hard. He didn’t bother to build a fire when he finally stopped. He just staked the horse and curled against a rock. Out of the wind, he slept solid, dreaming as he often did of green eyes and silky blond hair filling his hands.
The next day dawned sunny for a change. The traveling was easy now over flat land. About noon he shot two jackrabbits and decided to stop before dark so he could build a fire. Another few days and he’d cross the road heading south that would lead him to the trading post. It might be little more than wagon ruts, so he’d need to be alert. In this part of the country there was a good chance that anyone he encountered would be more outlaw than law abiding. Even teamsters traveled fully armed. The uniform he wore would keep outlaws at a distance, he hoped.
When Gillian returned from watering his horse, one of the rabbits he’d staked for roasting was gone. For a moment, he frowned, wondering how someone could get so close without him hearing. It didn’t take much to figure it out.
“Come on out, girl. I know you’re there. You might as well be warm by the fire.”
The girl he’d delivered to the mission moved out from the brush, a half-eaten jackrabbit-on-a-stick in her hand. “If you take me back I’ll just run again as soon as I get the chance. I don’t want to go anywhere with you, but I wouldn’t mind riding along until you hit civilization. After that, I can take care of myself.”
Fat chance, Gillian thought as he sat down, leaned against his saddle, and started eating. “I agree that taking you back would probably be a waste of my time, so I vote we ride together for a while.” Someone would have to keep her out of trouble. In this country a girl could wander around forever without bumping into a town. “Glad to see you can talk. How long did it take you to break out after I left?”
“Two hours. You were easy to track, but hard to catch.”
“Why follow me?” He wouldn’t have admitted it to her, but he was glad to see her. Talking to himself had been downright depressing of late.
“I ain’t got nowhere to go and you seem in an all-fired hurry to get somewhere. I’m not joining up with you and I won’t cook or clean up after you. I’m just headed in your direction.”
“You got family somewhere?”
She shook her head. “All dead.”
“You got a name?”
“Jessie, just plain Jessie. I don’t have a last name.”
“All right, Jessie, you can ride with me, only you cook every other meal, understood? I don’t have time to turn around and take you back. I need to get to my wife. She’s meeting me at this little place where two streams cross. Once we come across the wagon tracks all we have to do is head south to find it. So you can come, but if you give me any trouble or slow me down, I’ll leave you out here for the coyotes.”
She nodded.
He watched her in the dying light as she struggled to take off her saddle and care for her horse. No matter how grown she thought she was, Jessie was small, about the same size he’d been when he’d found himself alone. He couldn’t help but think that for a boy it was hard, but for a little girl alone in this country it would be impossible.
Whether Jessie liked it or not, he’d find a way to help her.
The next morning she shared the bread she’d stolen from the mission with him and they were in the saddle by full light. As the days passed he learned more about her. She didn’t like to talk and hated answering questions. She didn’t know how old she was. She never remembered having a real family, just a mom for a while.
Gillian liked having someone to talk to, even if he was carrying most of the conversation. He also knew how she felt, all alone and homeless, so he gave her the only gift he could. He taught her every survival skill he knew, including how to fire a gun. She’d need them all if she planned to make it to adulthood in this country.
The morning they finally crossed the wagon tracks that served as the only road for a hundred miles, Gillian began to have the feeling that someone was watching him. Jessie must have felt it too, because she pulled her mare closer to him.
He looked back once and thought he saw a thin line of dust that one horse traveling fast might have kicked up. But nothing else. Not a sound. They were moving into open land with few hills or valleys. By tomorrow he’d see trouble coming from miles away. By tomorrow they’d be safe. If they had to, they’d leave the road and circle down, then come into the trading post from the south. Gillian didn’t like the idea that he might be leading trouble right to the place where his wife was meeting him.
The sky clouded over before dusk, and a slow rain began to fall. Jessie pointed out a place where rocks formed a rise in the earth big enough for them and their horses to take shelter. A cliff protected them from the rain, but not the wind. Without fire or anything to eat, Jessie settled in among the saddles and went to sleep.
Gillian stood guard even though he couldn’t see more than a few feet beyond the rain. He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was tracking him, and he’d made enough enemies to know that if he wasn’t careful he’d be dead by dawn.
Finally, when a watery light spread across the horizon, Gillian closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall of rocks. The rain had stopped and the earth seemed newborn and silent. He was thinking of Daisy and how she wrote all her thoughts in a book every night before they went to bed. She’d had schooling, all the way to the tenth grade, and she’d said someday she wanted to teach.
The click of a gun being cocked brought him full awake. He reached for the Colt he’d left beside him.
The gun was gone.
Slowly he opened his eyes. Nate, the youngest of the Osbornes, who’d gotten away over a week ago, now stood five feet from him, a rifle pointed toward Gillian’s heart.
“You’re a hard one to track, Captain Matheson.” The outlaw grinned with teeth yellowed and broken. Nate Osborne couldn’t be out of his twenties, but he’d grown up in a rough family.
“You could have gotten away, Nate.” Gillian kept his voice low and level. “I had my hands full with the others. You could be holed up somewhere safe. Why track me?”
“Yeah, I thought I might keep going. You never would have tracked me down. But you had something of mine.” He tilted his head toward where Jessie was still sleeping between the saddles. “She ain’t much, but she was promised to me when she finished growing. I wouldn’t let any of the others touch her. Never had me a virgin before. I’d been chasing her around the past few months so she could get used to the idea of me bedding her regular when she fills out. I’m thinking once I have her, I’ll use her every night till she wears out, then I’ll trade her off. She’s small, but I guess she’s pretty enough and she’s quiet. Never could stand it when a woman screams while she’s being used. The last woman I climbed on was a screamer. I made her sorry she made so much noise. I want to see if the next one I try will be, but women in these parts are hard to find unattended.”
Gillian sat up. “And you’re telling me this because?”
“Because I want Jessie to tell me if you bothered her. ’Cause if you did, I’ll gut-shoot you and let you die slow.” Nate turned his head slightly, but his rifle remained pointed directly at Gillian. “Girl! Get up and come over here. I got a question for you.”
When Jessie didn’t move, he yelled, “Girl! Unless you want a few blows in your middle, get over here.”
Nate smiled at Gillian. “I don’t never hit her in the face.” He said it like he was bragging about how considerate he was of the kid.
Jessie stood, showing no sign that she’d been asleep. She took a few steps toward Nate without looking at Gillian.
Nate laughed. “I come to save you, girl.”
She faced him. “I’m not going with you. I know what you got planned for me and I ain’t going.”
Nate frowned as if surprised she’d dared to talk to him. “You belong to me. You can’t just decide to go off with this captain. I traded a horse for you, so you’re going with me. It’s about time you learned a few more ways to be useful.”
“I ain’t with him.” She pointed to Gillian. “We’re just riding together. He’s nothing to me. He didn’t touch me. There is no need to shoot him.”
Nate raised the rifle. “Oh, but it’s his time to die and I ain’t bargaining with you. He was a dead man the moment he rode into our camp. He just didn’t know it yet.”
The next few seconds of Gillian’s life passed in slow motion.
He saw the barrel leveled toward his head.
Jessie moved sideways, swinging her arm in front of her. The morning sun flashed on his Colt in her hand. In the space between heartbeats, she fired at the same time Nate pulled the trigger on the rifle.
Gillian felt like a horse kicked him in the head. He tumbled backward from the force. The last thing he saw before all went black was Nate crumbling as if boneless.
For a moment, as the shots echoed off heaven, Gillian searched the darkness for Daisy. If he died here, now, she’d never know how much he’d loved her. She hadn’t been just a part-time wife; she’d been his only wife. He might not have known how to be a husband, but he’d been true to her and kept her in his heart.
He’d always planned to someday go back to her.
He fought through the pain and concentrated on her green eyes. If he died here today, he wanted Daisy to be the last thing he saw in this world.
Chapter 7
TRADING POST
Daisy Matheson tried to talk her family into letting her go alone to join her husband, but they wouldn’t hear of it. Finally, she simply started packing, leaving them no say in the matter.
All her brothers, and every one of her nephews over fifteen, volunteered to go with her to Texas. If she was moving to Texas, they planned to make sure she got there safely.
