Dorothy Garlock (21 page)

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Authors: The Searching Hearts

BOOK: Dorothy Garlock
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“I’ve dreamed of hearing you say that for years,” he said huskily. “Someday I’ll show you why.”
“How about now?” She nibbled on his ear, then nipped it playfully.
“I’d rather do this.” He kissed her hard. It was such a luxury to hold her. It had been days since he’d held her, felt her. As she melted into the kiss, he suddenly pinched her bottom in retaliation for her nips.
“Why, you . . . you . . . you’d better watch out or . . . I’ll give you a black eye!” she threatened in the face of his chuckles. All her fears had fled to the back of her mind. This was now. She would store up all this to last until she could be with him again. “I wish there were some place we could go to be alone.” How brazen she had become! Had she really said that? She concealed her face against his shirt.
“Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart. I want it, too.” He smiled at her sheepishly. “I find it hard to think of anything else.”
“Oh, you!” she said, her eyes like twin stars shining up at him. “We can wait, Lucas. Come to me when you can.”
“I’m learning things about my Tucker Red. She
can
be sensible when she wants to be.” He kissed her nose. “I don’t care if every single person on this train knows that you belong to me, I still can’t court you like I want to. Your safety and that of the other women has to be my main concern right now. But after we get to California, we’ll have a lifetime to be together.” With one finger beneath her chin he lifted her face so he could look into her eyes. “I’m paying your way, and Laura’s, to California, because when we get there you’re not teaching anybody’s kids but ours.” Even in the darkness he could see her eyes brimming with tears. “You’ve carried the load for the two of you long enough. It’s my turn now.”
“What can I say?” she whispered shakily.
“Say the thing I most want to hear,” he prompted
gently, and his thumbs wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“I love you. Love you.”
“That’s my Tucker Red. Now don’t bite me and ruin it all,” he teased.
She laughed softly and snapped her teeth at him. “You’re crazier than a drunk hoot owl!”
“Maybe so, woman. But stand still and let me kiss you. There may be a long dry spell before I can do it again.”
Buck’s observant eyes saw Tucker’s shoes and Lucas’s dusty boots move close together when he glanced beneath the wagon. Seconds later they had moved away into the darkness. He had known for some time that Lucas was in love with the teacher. He was glad for his friend. Lucas had been lonely.
It bothered Buck that the girl he had given his own heart to was not aware, not really anyway, of the difference between a white man and a breed. How would she feel if she ever regained her sight and saw for herself why he wasn’t considered a white man? He watched Laura with the pup. Would she turn from him in disgust? He refused to think about it and reached out a hand to squeeze hers while pretending to pet the dog.
“A soldier rode in our wagon this afternoon. Sergeant Malone asked if he could. Tucker said he lay on his stomach. Blue curled up beside him.”
“I knew about it. I told the sergeant you wouldn’t mind. The boy was feeling poorly. I’ve made a collar for Blue,” he said, trying to change the conversation
before she started asking questions about the soldier. “It’ll fit for a while, then I’ll have to make him another one. I fixed a thin strip of hide, too, so you can tie him to the wagon when you let him out. That rope you used today would hold a mule.”
Laura laughed. “It was all Tucker could find.” The smile left her face. “Tucker’s been awful moody lately. I think she’s worried about you and me, Buck.”
“Has she said so?”
“No, but I can tell. Tucker doesn’t have to say anything. We’ve been together so long I can tell by the sound of her voice when she mentions your name. Don’t be mad at her, Buck. She cares about me, so she looks after me like a mother hen. We’ve had only each other most of our lives.”
Buck watched her face in the flickering firelight. Always the corners of her lips were tilted in a smile. Her face had the peaceful, happy look he had seen on a statue of the Madonna in a mission in California. He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing and somehow he knew she understood.
Laura reached out her hand and miraculously found his. “But we know, don’t we, Buck? We know that Tucker has nothing to worry about. I’ll tell her tomorrow.”
“Do you want me to tell her?” He gripped her hand tightly.
“No. I’m a grown woman now. It’s time Tucker felt free to turn loose of me and find a husband and have children of her own.”
“She may have found him already.”
“I know. She’s in love with Lucas.”
“He’s a good man. Best I know.”
“Tucker deserves to be happy.”
“And you,
mi querida
?”
“I will be,” she said firmly. “Blue. Blue, where are you?” She tugged on the leash and the pup came bounding into her lap.
May 3.
This afternoon we entered a wide valley that stretched for miles. On each side of us lay rolling hills topped with glossy evergreen and skirted with oak and mesquite. A herd of tawny antelope darted out of the tall grass and headed for the trees at our approach. It was a breathtaking sight, one that was hard for me to describe to Laura. Flowers of every color grew everywhere: paintbrush, bluebonnet, buttercup, and dandelion. It is hard to believe a day’s journey could take us out of the barren plains and into this beautiful valley. But it was easy to see how the change in surroundings lightened the hearts of all the travelers after bearing up, without complaint, under the constant hot winds, parching sun, and unbroken glare of the dusty trail. This is a vast and lush land, full of surprises.
May 4.
This day went more quickly than most. We passed the mouths of narrow valleys, or
canyons as Mr. Steele calls them. The farther west we go, the more dry draws we cross, none of them marked on the map. We seldom see homesteaders, but judging from the obvious signs, there are large herds of cattle. Game is also plentiful. Almost every night Mustang cooks an antelope. The meat keeps better when cooked and gives a good smoked flavor to beans and stew.
May 5.
Although this is the last night out before we reach Fort Lancaster, the wagons are drawn into a tight circle and a heavy guard is posted. Some of the women finally complained about the sameness of the food and wanted to go berrying and looking for dandelion greens, but Mr. Steele would not permit it. We were told to stay within the circle of wagons. He promised we will have a chance to bathe and wash clothes when we reach the fort.
* * *
Tucker put the journal into the trunk and blew out the candle. She was tired. The journey was proving to be more of a trial than she had expected. She was pleased that Laura was taking it so well; but for herself, her body was aching as well as her heart. The daylong jolting on the wagon seat and the continual strain on her arms as she drove the sometimes stubborn mules brought a constant soreness to her shoulders and back. She propped herself up against her
trunk and surrendered herself to her weariness for a quiet moment.
Laura walked with the pup almost every evening now. As she made her way around the inside circle of the wagons, there was always someone to call out directions to her. She had become acquainted with Rafe Blanchet and the Taylors. She talked with Rafe about the mother of the pup, and while visiting with Mrs. Taylor had been offered a drink from a real glass.
“It was so thin,” she’d giggled later, “I was afraid I’d bite a hunk out of it.”
At first Tucker had tried to discourage Laura from taking these nightly jaunts, because she feared Frank Parcher might threaten or harm her in the way of a warning to Tucker. But after watching her a few times, she’d discovered that if Buck was not near by, Mustang, young Chata, and even the women—all fond of Laura—were watching out for her. So, knowing she needn’t worry about her for at least an hour, Tucker leaned back and relaxed.
She dozed, but soon awoke with a start. The end canvas on the wagon had opened a crack and someone had slipped inside. The extra weight rocked the wagon and alerted her. Instant alarm brought her to her feet. Before she reached her full height, the man bore down upon her, knocking the wind out of her and crushing her against the boxes stacked along the side of the wagon bed.
“Ain’t goin’ to let out a peep now, are ya?” His hand was over her mouth. Stunned from striking her
head against one of the crates, Tucker tried to focus her eyes. Her ears were ringing and her heart raced with terror. Her breath returning, she started to struggle trying to free herself, but he easily kept her pinned to the floor of the wagon. His hand moved a fraction, and she opened her mouth to scream. The sound that came from her throat was more like a grunt when it was cut off by a hand clamping down over her nose as well as her mouth. Just when she thought her lungs would burst, he brought his face close to hers and released her nose so she could breathe. She tried to turn away from his rank beneath.
“There’ll be a time when ya can holler all ya want, purty gal. I like ’em to fight. But ya keep still now or I’ll hafta squeeze the life outta ya.” One hand fastened on her throat to demonstrate. “Hear?”
Almost faint with fear, Tucker nodded. He took his hand from her mouth.
“Get out of here!” she gasped hoarsely. “Lucas will come—”
“No he won’t. He’s helping round up some mules what got out—accidental-like.” He was straddling her body, and he leaned his head closer to hers. Had she not been so frightened, the smell of him would have made her sick. “I ain’t no fool, purty gal. I been a watchin’. When the blind gal walks the pup, the scout and ever’body else is busy watchin’ that she don’t walk into a fire or nothin’. They ain’t a payin’ no nevermind to you.” One hand remained at her throat and the other began to roam her breasts.
Tucker stared at him with utter loathing, hating
him with every fiber of her being. Somehow the feeling of hate gave her strength.
“They’ll kill you if they catch you here,” she managed through bruised vocal chords.
“Worryin’ ’bout me? I come to make sure ya knowed ya was my woman. I ain’t a wantin’ ya to fergit what I tol’ ya down by the corral.”
“I remember every word you said, you . . . varmint! You better know that I’ll put a knife into your guts and twist it the first chance I get.”
To her amazement he laughed. “I knowed ya was the woman fer me.”
“I’ll die first!”
“No, ya won’t. You’ll fight ever’ step of the way. I got to be a leavin’ ya, sweetie. But first I want me a little kiss.”
As soon as his mouth was near enough, she sank her teeth into his lip with all her strength. He grabbed her hair and twisted until she let go. Before she could scream, he clamped his free hand over her mouth, snapping her head back against the floorboards. Excruciating pain shot through her neck. She could feel his hot breath on her face.
“So we’s goin’ to do us a little bitin’, is we?” he muttered through gritted teeth. “I can do some of that, too, if’n I’ve a mind to.” His big hand left her hair and plunged toward one of her nipples. His fingers closed over the tender flesh and he rasped, “How’d ya like fer me to bite one o’ these purty little things?”
She tried to struggle, tried to kick him. His fingers and thumb found her jaws and he attacked her mouth
with brutal kisses, all the while holding her so tightly she thought her bones would break. Her struggles were futile; his hold on her merely tightened. He finally lifted his head, and Tucker vaguely heard his dry laugh. She fought to keep the bile from rising up in her throat.
“Ya’ll be the best little bit o’ tail I ever had, purty gal.” Tucker was so dazed by his attack she could hardly hear his words. “I’m a goin’ ta leave, but you listen up good. If’n ya don’t behave yoreself, that little gal’ll die . . . slow like. It’d be right easy, Tucker gal, even easier ’n shootin’ ’er. A mean rattler and a long stick is all I’d need. I’d flip that rattler in her lap while she’s a sittin’ with that pup, and she’d swell up like a toad and scream herself to death. Ain’t purty. I seed it once or twice.”
“You’re not even human!” Tucker moaned.
“’Nother thing! If ’n I get to thinkin’ you’ve blabbed to Steele, I’ll just fade off fer a bit ’n they’ll have a helluva time tryin’ to track me. If’n that happens, remember, it’ll be Steele first, then that boy what brings ya firewood, ’n then the blind gal. Then it’d be jist you ’n me, purty woman.”
“Get out of here! You turn my stomach!” Tucker was surprised she was even able to speak.
“I’m a goin’, but I’ll be a watchin’,” he whispered.
She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she let it out. When he was gone, she almost fainted with relief. She sat up, straightened her clothes, and pushed the hair back from her face. Her stomach churned as if she was about to be sick. She
grabbed the towel she had used earlier to wash off the trail dust and used it now to try to wipe away her memories of this encounter.
After a while she slipped on a clean shift, spread out her bedroll, and lay down. With mounting distress she silently acknowledged that there was no place where she was safe from him. She could never be alone again unless she could do something about it. Too angry to give in to tears, but too rattled to sleep, she lay wide-eyed, thinking about what to do and listening for Laura to return to the wagon.

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