Captive Heart (12 page)

Chapter 19

“Whoa,” Thayne called, pulling back on the reins. He stopped the wagon beside a stand of pines and reached for the hand brake.

“Is something wrong?” Emmalyne asked with concern. Yesterday they’d traveled well past dark, and now they were just a few hours beyond noon. “Why are we stopping?”

“There’s something I want to show you, and we’re a little ahead of schedule.” He climbed down from the wagon and held his hand up to her. “We’re going to be at the Lakota camp tomorrow. I know you’re worried, but I’d like us both to forget about tomorrow and enjoy this afternoon. We’ve traveled a hard road already, and it doesn’t get any easier from here.” His eyes met hers, and she was surprised to see her own concern reflected.

Maybe he feels some of what I do about our parting.
Stunned at this possibility, Emma placed her hand in his, stepping carefully to the ground. It was reckless and dangerous to think of nothing beyond an enjoyable afternoon—
and what does he mean by that?—
with Thayne. Yet, that was exactly what she wanted to do.

What will one afternoon hurt? A lot when he leaves me tomorrow.

Ignoring all rational thought, Emma lifted her face to his and smiled. “I would be delighted to spend a carefree afternoon with you, Mr. Kendrich.”
Returning to formalities with names is
not
going to return things to how they were a week ago. We’ve crossed too many barriers.

“Want me to carry you, or are you going to walk in socks?”

“What I’d
like
is to get my other pair of shoes from my trunk,” she hinted hopefully, though she’d made the same request—and had it denied—at least a dozen times in the last week.

“Go ahead,” Thayne said, taking her trunk key from his pocket and holding it out to her.

“And while you’re at it,” he added, “grab whatever else you need or want for a bath.”

Emma gave him a wary look as she took the key. “What did you say?”

“You heard right.” Thayne grinned. “You were telling me a few days ago how you missed your bathtub back home, so I thought you might enjoy a chance to get clean. Fetch your things.”

Hands on hips, she made no move to climb back up to the wagon. “Where do you propose to locate a bathtub? Is there a house—does someone
live
out here?”

He chuckled. “No tub. I’ve got something better.”

She shook her head. “Nothing could be better than a warm bath.”
He’s lost his mind if he thinks I’m going to bathe in a lake.
“Thank you, but I could never—”

“
Emma,”
he said, his voice mildly exasperated. “Trust me.”

She frowned, hating it when he said that. Hadn’t she trusted him for a whole week now? She had no other choice, really. And, as Thayne so often pointed out, he hadn’t let her down yet. “All right,” she said, not sounding the least enthused.
A
picnic, a short hike to a breathtaking vista . . . that was more what I’d envisioned.

“I’ll water the horses,” Thayne said, walking toward the back of the wagon.

Emma climbed onto the seat, knelt, and then turned around so she could reach her trunk.

She put the key in the lock, turned it easily, and lifted the lid.

A row of unfamiliar cotton fabrics lay across the top. Her heart sank as she stared at them, then she sat down on the seat, unable to hide her disappointment.

“Problem?” Thayne asked as he filled a bucket of water.

“I think you took the wrong trunk,”she said, forlorn. “Either that or the old woman had already taken my things from it.” Emma nodded to the fabrics piled at the top. “None of this is mine.”

“Sure it is,” Thayne said. “I bought those for you. Didn’t take but a glance to see that fancy stuff you packed wasn’t cut out for life in the Hills. I bought you another dress and fabric for a couple more. But your belongings are still in there too.”

“You bought all this?” Emma turned in her seat again. She lifted the first layer of cloth from the trunk. It was a deep red calico. Beside it was a pink then another blue similar to the one she wore now. Yards of eyelet and lace were wound in a ball beside a placard of buttons and several spools of thread.

She felt suddenly faint. Beyond embroidery, she couldn’t sew!
Heaven help me,
she prayed, vowing silently that she would learn. Somewhere there had to be a book of instructions that could help her make a dress. It was as simple as that. Thayne had been considerate enough to purchase the materials for her, and she would use them.

Will he know if I don’t? After all, he’s not going to be with me after tomorrow. But he’ll have to come back sometime if he’s going to keep his promise to send me home eventually . . .

Emma pushed both the fabrics and her troubled thoughts aside. Right now she needed only a clean dress and an afternoon free from worry. Tomorrow would come soon enough.

Below the fabrics, she found a yellow dress with matching bonnet. She lifted those from the trunk and found a cotton chemise and bloomers. To the side of those, strands of brightly colored ribbons were tied together in a bow. She felt her throat constrict as she picked them up.

“Did you—did you buy these too?”

“Didn’t know what colors you’d want,” Thayne said, sounding almost embarrassed. He walked quickly to the horses and stood in front of them, effectively blocking her view.

Emma was grateful. She needed a minute to compose herself and get her jumbled feelings under control.
How long has it been since anyone has given me
hair ribbons
?

Twelve years
.

A sharp memory filled her senses, nearly stealing her breath away. It seemed silly that something so simple could unsettle her so much, yet tears pricked the back of her eyes as she sifted the ribbons through her fingers.

The tightness in her throat turned into an enormous lump that she tried desperately to swallow. She brought a hand to her mouth. What would Thayne think if she cried now? With all they’d been through, she’d yet to shed a tear. She would
not
shed a tear because, as her father always said, it never helped anything to cry.

Eleanor, their housekeeper, had often echoed the same sentiment. How many times had she said, “No use crying over spilled milk?” More than once, Emma had longed to ask if
everything
qualified as spilled milk. Was there never a time it
was
appropriate to cry? If so, she doubted now was that time, but it took everything she had to gain control of her emotions.

Taking a deep breath, she gave in to a bittersweet memory. For just a minute, she was ten years old again, enjoying a rare outing with her mother. She remembered watching her mother being measured for a new gown at the dressmaker’s. Then they were off to the milliner’s, giggling and gesturing to one another as they tried on elegant hats topped with feathers, birds, and ribbons. Emma had loved the ribbons most of all, and her mother had pointed to one of every color, indicating she could have them all. Together they’d created a rainbow for her hair.

The carriage had taken them home, dropping them off near the gate so they could walk, sharing a few more precious minutes together. They’d been skipping across the field, Emma clutching the ribbons in one hand, the licorice stick they’d just bought in the other, when the rain began. The sudden, swift storm seemed to come out of nowhere. They ran home, then Emma—sorely tempted to go out and play in the rain—had left again. When she’d heard the thunder growing closer, she’d run away from her favorite play spot beneath the canopy of trees near their home. But her mother hadn’t known that, hadn’t realized Emma wasn’t there until it was too late.

Oh, Mother.
Looking up at the clear blue sky, Emma breathed in deeply.
There is no storm. No thunder. No lightning
. Her heartbeat steadied.
It was a long time ago.
She lifted the ribbons to her cheek, savoring their silky smoothness, treasuring the unexpected gift. Her father had never bothered with such trivialities, and eventually, notwithstanding the great care with which she’d treated them, her rainbow of ribbons had worn out. The edges had frayed, the colors faded—just as the memory of her mother eventually faded from her mind. But right now it seemed to Emma that she held those same ribbons in her hands again, and she could see the love in her mother’s eyes as they’d spent that afternoon together.

Of course,
Emma told herself,
Thayne could have had no idea when he bought these what they would mean to me.
It was merely a coincidence. But such a thoughtful act required she return equal kindness. She would try her best to be positive about the afternoon he’d planned.

He’d finished watering the horses, and she waited, listening as he fed each animal a chunk of apple and offered praise for their day’s work. At last he stepped into her view again. He looked up, likely expecting her to be ready to go and instead found her staring at him, the bundle of ribbons still held tightly in her hands.

“Thank you,” Emma whispered. She swallowed, willing her voice to regain its strength. “You didn’t have to buy me anything, but the ribbons especially.”

“I know women mostly wear their hair up, and I got you some of those pins you use too.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “With all the jostling, they maybe fell to the bottom of your trunk, but I promise they’re still in there.”

“I like the ribbons,” she said, hoping her smile conveyed a portion of what she felt. If she were to express all of it, she would have to jump down from the wagon and throw her arms around him.

“And I like your hair down.” His eyes met hers steadily. “You about ready?”

Emma nodded, wishing away the blush she knew was staining her cheeks. She untied the bow and pulled the yellow ribbon free, placing it on top of the clothes she’d selected. These she put in her valise, then placed the other things back in the trunk and closed it.

“Grab a blanket to dry off with, if you like,” Thayne suggested. She took two from the back—one to place her clothing on and one to dry off with—then accepted his outstretched hand and climbed down from the wagon.

He took the blankets from her and kept her hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm as they started walking. Belatedly, Emma realized she’d forgotten all about her shoes. Thayne noticed too.

“Change your mind about something?” he asked, looking down at her burr-covered socks.

She shook her head ruefully. “No. I just forgot. I was so overwhelmed by your generosity that finding my shoes completely slipped my mind.”

He smiled, seemingly pleased with her compliment. “Well, it’s not too far. And I’ll carry you on the way back.”

Emmalyne bit her lip.

“What’s wrong now?” Thayne asked.

“I forgot clean stockings too,” she admitted.

He laughed. “Well, then. I guess you’ll just have to go barefoot again.”

She groaned. “What would my father say?”

“Your father?” Thayne scoffed. “What would your fiancé,
Wallace,
say?”

“Wilford,” she corrected him. “And he would be appalled. Barefoot
and
my hair down. Scandalous.”

“There’s no one I’d rather be scandalous with, Miss Madsen.” Thayne gave her hand a quick squeeze then let go. They walked a few minutes more and emerged from the trees into a high meadow. He raised his arm, pointing. “There’s your bathtub.”

She lifted her eyes, gaping at what she saw. There was a pond, right out in the open, with nary a bush around it for privacy. “Oh no. I couldn’t possibly.” She took a step backward.

But before she could go any farther, Thayne bent down and swept her off her feet. She shrieked as he carried her toward the water.

“Put me down.
Please
put me down.”

“If you can’t swim, best stick to the edges. Water’s shallow there.” He didn’t miss a step.

She began kicking her feet and tried to lean forward out of his grasp. “I hate cold water.”

“Me too,” he said, marching on.

“I’ll catch pneumonia,” Emma threatened. “You’ll lose your teacher.”

Thayne captured one of her feet and pulled off her sock. They were almost to the shore.

“Oh, please don’t—”

He dropped his arm beneath her legs, and she fell, squealing as her feet hit the water. Thayne’s other arm braced her back as she fought to catch her balance and keep her valise dry.

“You—” She looked up at him, astonished. “Why, it’s warm.”

“Yep.” His wide grin told her he was pleased with her reaction. “Natural hot spring—there’s a bunch of them in these parts.”

Emmalyne bent her head. The hem of her dress floated on top of the water. Beneath the surface she wiggled her toes, relishing the warmth. She sighed. “This is delightful, Thayne.” She let go of his arm, held the carpetbag to her chest, and turned a slow circle. “But I cannot
bathe
here. There is no privacy, and I’m not the strongest swimmer.”

“Not to worry.” He stepped back and set the blankets on the ground. “Stay put just a minute.” He turned and ran back in the direction they’d just come. She trudged up to the shore, spread out one of the blankets, and set her bag on it.

Wrapping her arms around her middle, Emma shivered, feeling a chill now that her feet had left the warm water. After a few minutes, Thayne returned, a long branch in his hand.

“You can use this,” he said, striding toward the spring. “Poke it down in the water around you, and you’ll know how deep it is.” He jabbed the stick down through the surface in several places, demonstrating.

“But I—”

“Enjoy your bath, Emma.” He handed her the stick and tipped his hat. “You’ve my word I won’t watch, and there’s no one else hereabouts to bother you.” He turned away, walking back toward the wagon.

“What if I slip?” she called out.

“Just holler. I’ll be within earshot. Enjoy yourself,” he called back, lifting his hand in farewell.

Her eyes followed him until he had disappeared into the trees once more. She stood there another minute, wringing her hands, trying to decide what to do. The warm water
had
felt sublime.
I really could do with a bath . . .
Have I lowered my standards so much that I’ve taken to shedding my clothes in the middle of the wilderness?