Bride of the Wild (8 page)

“We sleep downstairs tonight.” He held out his hand. “Come along, Saffron. There’s nothing more we can do here.”

I got to my feet, feeling lightheaded. “I know.” I grasped a lamp someone had left on a nightstand. It was a miracle it hadn’t toppled over during the fight and caught fire. “I should say something for Deer Runner.”

“If you want, or I can.”

“That might be good.” Micah escorted me into the other room, where he had placed a blanket over the Indian, but his boots stuck out at the bottom. Then he knelt beside the man and spoke in the Arapaho language. “What did you say?” I asked after he finished.

“A prayer to send him on his way to heaven.”

“Thank you, Micah. Amen.”

He nodded gravely. “This has been a sad day.”

“Indeed. Did he have family? A wife? Children?”

“His wife died of smallpox a few years ago. They hadn’t been married very long, so they didn’t have children. He mentioned a woman he’d been seeing in town, but I’m not certain they were serious. I can’t recall her name.”

“Word will get out, and those who need to know will hear about it.”

“Let’s go down.” He looked uneasy. “We shouldn’t linger here.”

Amelia had made tea, and, while I sat at the table and drank, Micah dragged the bear from the room, tossing it down the steps outside. Then he used a bucket of water to wash away the blood, although it had seeped through the cracks in the floor in places, but there was nothing that could be done about it. It would require a thorough scrubbing at a later date. When he had finished, he joined us for tea, looking weary and pale. I placed my hand over his, which startled him.

“Thank you.”

He squeezed my fingers, sighing. “It’s over now. We’ll wait until morning. Your father and brother will return then. Or I could go to town, if you wish, and get them now.”

“No, you’ve done enough. It’s nothing that can’t wait until morning.”

“I’ll bring blankets and pillows down,” said Amelia. “We’ll try to get some sleep. Do you think we can use the privy now? The bear’s dead, after all.”

“I don’t see why not.” The strong, rough hand felt reassuring, and I had forgotten I held it, but my sister noted this, staring at me peculiarly. I sat straighter, folding my hands in my lap. I eyed Micah’s forehead. “You’re a sight. That wound needs to be stitched. It’s still bleeding.”

“Do what you must.” He leaned into the chair, looking defeated and tired.

“I’m going out,” said Amelia, stepping through the splintered kitchen door.

“I’ll find my sewing kit.” I got to my feet, hurrying for the stairs, although I dreaded having to see Lucy again.

It wasn’t long before I stitched together the jagged tear near Micah’s hairline and wrapped his head with gauze. After Amelia returned, we settled in the parlor, my sister taking the sofa, while Micah and I slept on the carpet. It wasn’t as comfortable as a bed, but with pillows and blankets, we would make due. I lay staring at the ceiling for long minutes, while listening to my mother’s clock ticking in pa’s study. I turned then, facing Micah, thinking he had gone to sleep, but his eyes were on me.

“Will you sleep?” I whispered, as Amelia’s soft snores filled the room.

“I will.”

“I might need some brandy. I can’t stop thinking about what happened.” We spoke in hushed tones, not wanting to disturb Amelia.

“Where’s the brandy?”

“Over there.” I tossed the blanket aside, scrambling to my feet. “Pa saved it for special occasions.” Opening the door to the china cabinet, I grasped a darkly colored bottle. When I returned to the makeshift bed, I yanked out the stopper, lifting the bottle to my mouth. “Do you mind sharing? I don’t want to bother with a glass.”

“I don’t care.” He eyed me, as I took a sip, the liquid burning a path all the way into my belly.

I handed him the bottle. “Oh, that’s potent. Here.”

He took a swig. “Thank you.”

“I can’t remember ever being so frightened. Well, that’s not entirely true. We were attacked on the wagon train years ago, but even that wasn’t as awful as this. Or maybe it was.” I reached for the bottle, having a small sip.

“What happened?”

“It's not something I talk about very often.”

“I’ve heard stories. I’ve seen things myself. I was a wagon train guide. Cholera struck us rather badly. Fourteen people died.”

“Then you’ve seen it too.”

“Seen what?”

“Fear. Death. Sorrow.”

“You can’t escape it, Saffron. It’s a part of life.”

“I know, but I can’t help wondering if we had stayed east, we might not have seen so much of it.”

“That’s the risk of coming here. Some travelers arrive without incident. It’s only the ones with troubles we hear about. Those are the stories the newspapers print. It’s always the bad news that’s interesting, unfortunately.”

“Yes.”

“What happened on your trip?”

I needed another sip of brandy for this. I had begun to feel warm and languid, the strain easing from my shoulders. “We weren’t far out of Fort Kearny when we spotted the first burnt wagon. Several miles later, we found the bodies. A family going it alone had been set upon by Indians. They’d all been scalped and the women … ” I shuddered, “were, well. You know what happened to them.”

“I’ve heard about things like that.”

Needing more brandy, I took another sip, handing the bottle to him. “There were maybe thirty wagons in our train. The wagon master warned us to expect trouble, and we kept our weapons handy. It rained that afternoon, making the road a muddy, disgusting mess. The thunder upset the horses, and they were difficult to manage, but the oxen took it in stride. They’re remarkably hardy animals.”

“They are.” He’d settled in next to me, cradling his head in the palm of his hand. It being dark in the room, I could barely see his face, but I sensed his undivided attention.

“Our wagon was towards the end of the line, and we had fallen behind because someone had gotten stuck in the mud. We didn’t think much of it, until we heard shouting. Pa told us to hide in the back, and we did so. We were younger then. Tom was only eight. Amelia was ten. I had just turned twelve. We waited patiently, expecting to be on our way shortly. It wasn’t long before the first shot rang out.”

“You must’ve been terrified.”

“We had been warned about the Indians. They’d been attacking wagon trains all summer. We’d seen burned out wagons for miles. We knew trouble would find us, but we thought our group was too large for them to bother. Everyone was armed to the teeth as well. I had my own rifle. I wasn’t as good a shot as I am now, but I could manage.”

“You’re very brave, Saffron.”

“I was utterly terrified. Everything about that trip frightened me. I wasn’t used to seeing open spaces for miles and miles without a hint of civilization. We had left everything familiar behind, including our families and friends. If something had happened, I’d never have seen any of them again. I suppose it didn’t matter anyhow, because my grandparents had disowned us.” I took a sip of brandy, feeling warm and tingly.

“I’ll take that.” He reached for the bottle. “You’ve had enough to see you to sleep.”

“I suppose. I could drink every last drop, though.”

“That worries me,” he chortled. “You’ve had a dreadful day. We’ve gone through trauma. It’ll be better in the morning.”

I settled in, snuggling into the blanket. “Do you want to hear what happened still?”

“I do.”

“I’ll never forget their war whoops and screeches. It curdled the blood. I remember arrows piercing the tarp on our wagon. Tom and Amelia and I huddled together behind a wooden crate, praying with all our might they’d leave us be. Women screamed and babies cried. Ma screamed too. Then she crawled to where we were, putting her arms over us. It sounded like they were everywhere, the war whoops coming from all directions. I remember looking out the back at one point and seeing an Indian being shot on his horse. He fell to the ground. It gladdened me that he’d died, but then I felt guilty, because it’s wrong to wish someone dead.”

“Not if they mean to harm you.”

“They did mean to harm us and worse. I knew what they’d do to the women, if we didn’t stop them. That worried me the most, Micah. I couldn’t bear to think of being hurt like that.” He stared at me, because I could feel his attention. “The wagon master must have realized our predicament, because men came bounding over from the front. They shot at the Indians, and the skirmish ended shortly after.” I shivered then, remembering what had happened next. “But, it was too late for some of the settlers; the family in the wagon before us died. They … ” I swallowed the lump in my throat, “took the daughter. They kidnapped her before we could stop them.”

The unspoken lingered. “I see,” he murmured.

“That could’ve been me. It was only one wagon ahead.
I knew her
. She was my friend. Her name was Daisy Wentworth. She was blonde and pretty and oh, so sweet with lovely hazel eyes.”

“You’ve been lucky, Saffron.” He reached out to touch my face. “You’ve cheated death repeatedly.”

“I don’t feel all that lucky.” His caress calmed me, soothing away the sharp edges of unpleasant memories. “I never talk about it.”

“I’m glad you told me.”

“I’m not sure why I did. I don’t even know you.” I yawned, as exhaustion settled in, along with the affects of the brandy.

“Go to sleep.”

“You’re lucky too.”

“What?”

“You’ve cheated death tonight as well.” He murmured something in a language I did not understand. “Pardon?”

“It’s nothing. Go to sleep.”

Chapter Nine

Things looked even worse in daylight. I sat up, brushing locks of hair away that had fallen free of pins. Streaks of blood had ruined ma’s wallpaper, the bear having left a bloody trail all the way down the stairs and into the kitchen. It stank of animal hide and dried blood; the metallic undertones made me want to retch.

“Good morning.”

I glanced at Micah, who had sprawled out beside me, his lanky body nearly a foot longer than mine. “It’s morning, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe we can take the boards down from the windows now. It’s dreadfully dark in here.”

“I’m sure your pa will do that later.”

“I wonder when they’ll come home?”

He sat up, running fingers through his hair. “Soon, I suppose.” He pulled away the bandage, glancing at it. “I’m not bleeding anymore. You did a fine job with your sewing skills. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll make coffee.” I had a question. “You never did say how you knew Deer Runner. Was he a good friend or were you not well-acquainted?”

“I’ve known him for some time. He worked as a guide for the wagon trains, because he could communicate with the natives.”

“Oh, I see.” Then an unpleasant thought entered my mind. “I’ll have to write a letter to Lucy’s family.” I grimaced, hating that she had died in such a horrible manner. Her body and Deer Runner’s remained on the second floor. Their having perished in my bedroom, it would be difficult to sleep there. “I’ll make breakfast.” I had to take my mind off these troubling thoughts.

“I’ll open the door and let air in. It smells bad.”

“What?” asked Amelia, rubbing her eyes. “How did you sleep?”

“Good morning,” I said. “I slept fine. My back’s a bit sore.”

“I heard you talking last night.”

“I’m sorry we kept you up,” said Micah.

“No, it’s fine. I slept well. Is pa home yet?”

“No, but I’m making breakfast. You can help me, if you want.”

“What’s that awful smell?”

“Blood and bear.” Micah strode to the door. “Let’s get some air in here.”

I busied myself in the kitchen, percolating coffee, while stirring a bowl full of flour and milk for griddlecakes. Amelia joined me after returning from the privy.

“We have to bury that bear,” she said.

“Someone will skin it first.”

“I’m not touching it.” She came to stand beside me. “Are you all right?”

“No.” I could not lie about this. “I’m devastated Lucy’s gone. I can’t believe it happened in
our
house. First Wilber and Sky and now Lucy and Deer Runner. So many people we knew and adored are gone now.”

“The bear’s dead at least. We can’t do a thing about what’s happened. It was God’s will, Saffron. I don’t know why He saw fit to take Lucy, but it’s too late now. If she had stayed with us last night, she’d still be alive.”

“She thought it was safer upstairs. None of us could’ve known the bear would enter a window there.”

“I want pa. I want to see Tom. I need to know they’re well. What if they were attacked in town?”

“Don’t think that way. I’m sure they’ll be home shortly.”

Micah entered the room. “That smells heavenly.”

“You can have a cup. It’s ready. We have milk in the ice box.” I glanced at Amelia. “Can you get the eggs? I need a few.”

“All right.”

We ate breakfast together, sitting at the table with little conversation, although our minds spun with the events of the past evening. I had only just finished the cup of coffee when pa’s voice resounded.

“Saffron? Amelia?”

“Pa!” I jumped to my feet, nearly upsetting the chair. “Oh, gracious! I’m so glad you’re back!”

He stood with Tom in the parlor, his eyes fixed on the bloodstained wallpaper. “What in heaven’s name happened here?”

Micah and Amelia came into the room.

“We were attacked! The bear broke through a window on the second floor. It killed Deer Runner and Lucy.” The color drained from pa’s face, while Tom gaped, wide-eyed. “Micah killed it. It’s in the backyard.”

“Tarnation!” pa thundered, shaking a fist. “I knew something like this would happen. Those fools had the wrong idea from the start. We never saw a bear last night. The bait was a complete failure.” He reached for me, drawing me into his arms. “I could’ve lost you. I could’ve lost your sister.”

Tom glanced towards the stairs. “Where are they?”

“We left them where they lay,” said Micah. “The undertaker needs to come and get them.”

“It was horrible, Pa. I thought we were gonna die,” said Amelia. “We hid in the cellar for a while, until Micah killed it.”