Colorado Bride (20 page)

Carrie had had plenty of time to remember every word Lucas had spoken that last evening. In the more objective mood that followed she began to discover that no matter how much they sounded alike at first, the things Lucas said, and most important of all, the things he
did,
were not the same things her father and brothers said and did. And this gave her hope.

If Lucas was unlike them in those ways, maybe he wouldn’t be like them in the way they took their wives for granted, ignored and depended upon them at the same time, set them on a pedestal and showed it to be a hollow honor by bestowing their attention on less worthy females, or of saying one thing and doing another. Lucas did what he said, and there was no deceit in it. Maybe he would be different if she were his wife, and it was his wife she suddenly realized she wanted to be.

She had made up her mind several nights ago to turn her back on him, but the ground had fallen away from under her decision like sand before the incoming tide. He had told her he would be leaving before dawn, but he hadn’t said where he was going or why, and that annoyed her so much she decided this would be a good time to put an end to her interest in him. Then she had been certain he was not the kind of man she wanted for a husband, but now she wasn’t at all sure.

She did know she couldn’t stop thinking about him and that she had been trying to find an excuse to change her mind about him. The fact that she had found a legitimate reason to withhold judgment was merely convenient; she would have made one up if she’d had to, and she knew it. Something in her wanted Lucas Barrow, and it wasn’t about to give up so easily. She had had the courage to come all the way to Colorado to face an unknown land and an unknown future. It certainly shouldn’t be a hard thing to face up to Lucas Barrow. She wasn’t sure he wanted to marry her, but he did want her, and for now that was enough because she wanted him too.

“The horses are gone.” Jake made the bald announcement as he came in to breakfast as though it were of no more consequence than the fact that the water trough was empty.

“What do you mean?” Carrie asked, too surprised by such a statement to take the obvious meaning.

“They’re gone. The corral is empty. Some Indians got them.”

“All of them?” Carrie could hardly force her mind to accept the fact that there were no horses for the next stage. If she had learned one thing so far, it was that horses were the first obligation of a state station, and Jake was telling her that she had no horses. There wouldn’t be a stage through until late afternoon, but that didn’t really matter. She had failed again.

“Got Lucas’s mustangs too, not that they were much good.” He sat down at the table, complacently expecting his breakfast.

“Aren’t there
any
horses left?” Carrie asked, hoping that somehow he would tell her they were not completely stranded.

“Just the two I had in the barn. One is the gelding you use with the wagon. The other is a mare I was thinking about making into a saddle horse for you.”

“Then you can go after them?”

Jake looked up from his plate, the startled look in his eyes the first sign of emotion Carrie had seen. “You mean you expect me to go chasing after those Indians by myself?”

“Why not? You’re the stock tender, and protecting the horses is part of your job. Besides, how do you know it was Indians if you didn’t see them?”

“First; I know it was Indians because they was riding unshod ponies. Second, I ain’t going after any Indians by myself, not even if you take that pistol of yours after me, ‘cause it’s for sure the Indians will do worse. And third, I wouldn’t go after them alone if it wasn’t Indians because we hang horse thieves out here, and whoever took them would be mighty determined to hang on to ‘em.”

“Then you’ll be getting nothing to eat from me,” Katie said, matching up the plate she’d just set down in front of Jake. “You don’t work, you don’t eat.”

“You expect me to get myself killed over some bunch of horses?”

“’Twould be no great loss,” Katie said, still withholding the plate.

“I could take the mare and ride into Fort Malone to borrow enough horses for a team,” Jake offered hopefully. “Sam Gibbs usually keeps some extras at the livery stable. He might know where I can buy a few more.”

“That won’t hold us for long. I’ve got two stages coming through tomorrow and the teams need more than a day’s rest. I’m going to need all those horses.”

“The horses from town will hold us for a day or two, and I can get some men to come back with me and go after the horses.”

“Will they?”

“If you pay them. It won’t take many. There’s always a few standing around willing to take any job for a few dollars. Now if you will tell that Irish hellcat over there to give me my breakfast, I can be on the way to Fort Malone inside thirty minutes.” Katie set the plate before him with a loud thump, but her look of angry disapproval didn’t change. “It’s a shame I won’t have time to go over to the saloon. They have the best whiskey in Colorado. And there’s always a game going for a man who feels lucky, and some girl or two standing around if he doesn’t.” Jake couldn’t resist a quick glance at Katie’s outraged countenance.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, talking like that in front of Mrs. Simpson,” Katie said, her eyes flashing in indignation. “I don’t know why she hired you, and I don’t know why she keeps you. Seems to me horses don’t need your help to get lost.”

“Where do you think the Indians took them?” Carrie asked, oblivious of their words. “I didn’t think there were any camps near here.”

“There aren’t. Probably a few braves ran them off for their own use. Indians are always looking for more horses.”

“How long have they been gone?”

“No more than half an hour. That’s what woke me up.”

“You mean you saw those Indians stealing the horses and you didn’t try to stop them?”

“Ma’am, you don’t see Indians and you don’t hear Indians unless they want you to see or hear them. They made that noise so I would see who took them horses. Besides, I couldn’t follow them in my underwear, and I couldn’t shoot at them because they were around the bend in the canyon by the time I got to the window.”

“So they don’t have much of a head start. Can you track them?”

“Sure, but those Indians are clever. They’ll find some way to cover their trail.”

“Then if we wait until you get back with those men, we won’t be able to find them?”

“Naw. It’ll just take us a few days longer.”

“But I don’t have a few days. You’ve got to go after those horses now. I’ll go with you.”

“I done told you, Ma’am, I don’t go after Indians alone.”

“I wish Lucas were here. He’d know what to do,” Carrie said more to herself than Jake.
“He
wouldn’t sit around while those thieves got away with my horses.”

“No, ma’am, he probably wouldn’t, but then Mr. Barrow is good with guns and he’s good with his fists. He
likes
to stick his neck out to see who’ll shoot at it. I ain’t good with guns or fists, and I don’t like being shot at.”

“Then “I’ll go alone,” Carrie said, suddenly making up her mind. “I’ll take my pistols and the mare.”

“You’d better take a shotgun if you’re going to go after Indians.”

“Why? I’m an excellent shot with a pistol.”

“I know,” Jake shuddered, remembering his humiliation in the bathhouse, “but any Indian will take a chance if he’s facing a pistol or a rifle. There ain’t any man, Indian or White, who’s going to take a chance when you’re pointing a shotgun at him.”

“Good. I’ll take
two
shotguns, and you make sure you get back with some men as fast as you can.” Carrie hurried out of the station and Jake turned back to his breakfast.

“Jake Bemis, do you mean to sit there and let Mrs. Simpson go after those Indians by herself?” Katie intoned like the voice of impending doom.

“Do you think I can do anything to stop her?”

“No …”

“Then I mean to let her go.”

“But not alone. There’s no telling what might happen. She could get killed.”

“You heard me trying to tell her that, but she wouldn’t listen. Some people you just can’t tell what they don’t want to hear.”

“You be scared, Jake Bemis,” Katie suddenly cried at him. “You be a pigeon-hearted coward who would rather protect his own skin than help that kind, good
lady
who gave you a job.” Jake looked up, clearly surprised by the vehemence of Katie’s attack.

“Now look here, you ain’t got no right—”

“You be a bloody bastard,” Katie shouted. “Get out of me kitchen before I kill you.” Katie grabbed up a knife with a twelve-inch blade she had used to slice the bacon and whirled on Jake, the knife raised above her head. “I said
get out!”
she cried, and rushed for the stunned Jake.

Jake moved faster than he’d ever moved in his life. He was out the door and halfway to the barn before Katie reached the station steps; “That female’s crazy,” he muttered to himself when he reached the safety of the barn. “They’re both crazy, and if I don’t get out of here while I have the chance, I’ll be crazy too.”

In the kitchen Katie leaned against the door, the knife still held in her slack grasp, and sobs wracking her body. She was crying because she was afraid for Carrie, she was crying because she was shocked she had used such language, and she was crying because Jake Bemis was even less of a than man she had thought.

Jake hadn’t been on the road to Fort Malone for more than two minutes before he started mumbling to himself. “You’re well out of this mess, Jake Bemis,” he said aloud. “You can be halfway to Denver before that Simpson dame ever finds those Indians. And you’d better be father than that when Lucas finds out you let his woman go off by herself. He’s going to come hunting your hide if she gets hurt, and you
know
she’s going to get herself killed sure enough. She don’t know any more about Indians than you know about women.” He rode for a few more minutes. “If Lucas wanted his woman watched, why didn’t he do it himself? He knows I can’t make her do anything. I doubt he can either.” He rode a little farther. That Irish gal sure did get upset. I thought she was going to slice me up like a side of beef. I don’t understand it. She’s never liked me anyway.” He rode a few yards more, then with an oath, he swung his horse around and headed back to the station at a gallop.

“You’re a fool, Jake Bemis,” he said aloud to himself. “You’re going to end up with your hide full of arrows and no thanks for risking your neck. You should never have left Ohio. Nobody could prove that kid was yours.”

* * *

Lucas kept his mustangs tightly bunched. He had been lucky to find a good-sized herd within two days’ ride. It had proved relatively simple to turn part of the herd and head it in the direction of the station. Along the way he cut out the horses he didn’t want and let them drift back to the main herd until he had ten good horses left, sturdy, hardy mustangs with plenty of Spanish blood in them who were sure-footed and long on stamina. He intended to find that herd again though. There were still a lot of good horses left in it.

As he rode, his eyes watching the horses to cut off any escape or tendency to stray, his mind was on Carrie and their last talk. He hadn’t thought of much else for five days, and the closer he came to the station, the more thoughts of her filled his mind.

He couldn’t accept the idea that they would never be able to work out their differences. He had had time to think of what he wanted, and he was even more certain than ever that he wanted everything Carrie said she was determined to avoid, but no matter what either of them said, he could not give up Carrie. The thought of not seeing her again, of losing her forever, was just not acceptable.

He could see her as clearly as though she were there, her perfectly shaped body, so small and dainty when compared to Katie, but her spirit bigger and more stubborn than any women he’d ever known no matter what her size; her eyes that twinkled when she was amused, but were usually hard with determination; her lips, pursed in defiancé, her turned-up nose practically pointing straight into the air as she craned her neck to see him; her soft skin, pink with exertion and determination; the smell of lavender which always hung about her. It all seemed so vivid he was nearly tempted to reach out and touch her, to pull her into the crook of his arm and keep her there, safe from all harm for the rest of her life, even though she would probably continue to insist that she could take care of herself.

Just thinking about her caused desire to rise in him, but nothing like he’d ever experienced before. It was no sudden sweep of animal hunger erupting because he had the means or opportunity to appease it. It was something much more quiet, much more pervasive. At first he thought it was something he could ignore, a poor substitute for what he’d enjoyed with other women. He wondered if that was how you felt about a
lady,
the kind of woman you wanted to take for your wife. But it didn’t take him long to realize he had misjudged his feelings. They didn’t seem to pick him up and shake him hard, but then they never let him down either. It was as though he was in a perpetual fever. It was there over meals, during his work, in every free moment, and all through his dreams. It wasn’t something that came on him hard and then left him alone until its next attack; it was a permanent state of unrest.