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Authors: The Searching Hearts

BOOK: Dorothy Garlock
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“How is he?”
“His wounds are healing nicely. He sat on the wagon seat for a while today. He’s very proud,” she
said with one of her rare smiles. “It galls him not to be doing for himself.”
“I can understand the feeling. Is he still running the fever?”
“A mild one. It’s not unusual in his case.”
“Mustang is coming around to grease the wagon wheels.”
“That’s kind of you, Mr. Steele. Mr. Blanchet has been worried because he’s unable to do it. He appreciates your allowing the drovers to help with his mules, too.”
Lucas waved aside the thanks with a flick of his and. “And . . . the other?”
“Six to eight days will tell for certain.”
“Send Billy for me when you know for sure. I hope to God it won’t be necessary, but if it is, I’ll take care of things from there on, Mrs. Hook. You’ve done more than your share as it is.”
“Thank you. I was hoping you’d say that. To do what would need to be done would go against everything I’ve ever been taught or believed in.”
Lucas looked into steady, dark eyes and saw great strength of character there. He hadn’t paid much attention to her before. Now he realized that the California farmer who took this woman for a wife would be a very lucky man. His respect for women as a whole had increased tenfold since the beginning of the trip. There was not a one among them who had not been willing or able to carry her own weight. Even Cora Lee, who resented Lottie’s orders, drove her own wagon and cared for her mules.
“We’ll pull out at first light as usual. From here on we have to make every mile count.” Lucas started to leave, but turned back. “I understand Collins gives you some jawing from time to time.” She raised her brows, but said nothing. “Chata has eyes like a hawk, with ears to match,” Lucas explained.
“It’s nothing I’ve not had before, Mr. Steele. Billy and I realize that ignorant, narrow-minded people exist, and that their prejudices are their problems and not ours.”
Lucas stood shaking his head in bewilderment. “Mrs. Hook . . .
Doctor
Hook, you amaze me. Good evening.”
“Evening, Mr. Steele.” Marie watched him leave, her dark eyes smiling, her usually solemn face for once relaxed and almost happy. Then the worried look returned to her face as her thoughts returned to Rafe Blanchet. She had never met a man who was so understanding, who had such varied interests and such a thirst for knowledge. What a terrible waste if such a man had to be . . . destroyed.
Lucas stopped at the Taylor wagon. “Are you folks still of a mind to leave with us in the morning?”
Alice Taylor, looking as cool and neat as if she had just stepped from the porch of a manor house, waited for her husband to speak. He looked at her first, as he always did. She ignored the look, as usual, trying to force him to take the initiative, hoping he would show some forcefulness.
“Yes, of course,” Daniel Taylor said. “That is, Mrs. Taylor and myself . . . have talked it over,
and. . . .” His voice trailed away and he looked at his wife. She was busy taking a handkerchief from her pocket. “We’re going with you, Mr. Steele, although Collins is urging us to break off and wait here for another train.” His voice was firm with determination.
“Glad to hear it, Taylor. I’m pleased to have you with us. You’ve got a good boy there in Jeremy, and in the black lad, Poppy, as well. The sutler’s got a good stock of goods if you need additional supplies.”
“Mrs. Taylor and Jeremy took care of that while Poppy and I greased the wheels.”
There was actually a note of confidence in the man’s voice. Lucas’s gaze crossed that of Alice Taylor. She was looking at her husband with quiet pride on her face. I’ve learned more about women on this trip, he thought, than I’d have learned in a hundred years. Here was another woman worth her salt.
“How is Mr. Blanchet this evening?” Alice pronounced her words distinctly in an eastern accent unfamiliar, but not unpleasant, to Lucas’s ears.
“Doctor Hook tells me his wounds are healing.” It was only the second time he had referred to the woman as
Doctor,
and he was surprised how easy it was.
“She’s a remarkable woman. She told me she was educated at the school of medicine in Edinburgh, Scotland. Our doctor in Philadelphia was trained there, and he spoke of the difficulty of being accepted due to the long list of those seeking admittance. We are fortunate to have her with us.”
“I agree. Well, I must press on. Good evening, ma’am, Taylor.” Lucas lifted his hand to his hat in deference to Alice, and walked away.
Collins had pulled his wagon a little away from the others. The outfit, like the man himself, was unkempt, from the tattered canvas that covered the wagon to the rickety stool his wife sat on beside it. The entire setup was just short of a shambles.
“Evening, ma’am.”
Emma Collins looked up at Lucas and then away. She was holding her little girl on her lap. The child was sleeping with her head in the crook of her mother’s arm. “Evenin’.”
He barely heard the woman’s voice. Her face was pinched, and from the corner of her mouth a snuff stick protruded and a small dribble of dark brown streaked her chin. She fanned her sleeping child with the brim of a faded sunbonnet. Lucas was about to ask for her husband when he heard the man behind him.
“You wantin’ somethin’, Steele?”
Everything about the man irritated Lucas, from his belligerent attitude to his homespun britches that refused to come up to the middle of his globelike belly and hung sloppily beneath by the grace of wide suspenders. He gave them a tug now, as if by doing so he was expressing his independence.
“I hear you want to stay here and wait for another train. We’re leaving in the morning. Good luck to you, and to you, too, ma’am.” Lucas saw the numb expression on the woman’s face and felt sorry for her.
“Hold on, Steele! Ain’t nothin’ been decided on yet. Me ’n Taylor ’n Blanchet is in this together. I reckon we got a say comin’ as to when we pull out.”
Lucas rocked back on his heels, wanting nothing more than to plant his fist in the man’s face.
“Taylor and Blanchet have had their say, Collins. And as far as I’m concerned, you’ve had yours. I only stopped by out of respect for your wife. Now I’ve got more important things to do than stand here jawing with you.”
When Lucas turned his back, Collins’s hand fell heavily onto his shoulder. Lucas spun around. His fist lashed out and landed squarely on Otis’s jaw. It was purely a reflex action. The big man’s head jerked to the right, and he staggered back several steps before he could regain his balance. By that time Lucas had covered the distance between them and had grabbed the front of his shirt.
“Don’t you ever put your hands on me again, you worthless varmint, or I’ll tear your head off!” The look on his face would have been warning enough for a sensible man, but Otis Collins was not a sensible man.
He lowered his head like a bull and gathered himself to charge. Lucas smashed a fist into his stomach, then shoved him away and hit him in the face. Collins staggered, but plunged on. As he rushed in, he swung his hamlike fist, but Lucas’s punch was faster and caught him on the mouth. He rocked back on his heels and spat blood. Wild with fury he rushed in again, but Lucas sprang out of his way like a cat and
hit him with such force that it hurled him into the dust.
Collins rolled over, got first to his knees and then slowly to his feet. Lucas stood waiting, spread-legged, his face a mask of impassivity.
“You ain’t heard the last of this,” Collins said thickly.
“I’m listening.”
“You had no call to hit me.”
“Mister! Mister, please. . . .” Mrs. Collins was on her feet trying to balance the child in her arms. The little girl was crying soft mewing sounds. “My Maudy is sick.”
“Shut up and stay outta this, Emma.”
Mrs. Collins moved determinedly toward Lucas, ignoring her husband. “She’s got pains in her belly. I want that . . . woman to doctor her.”
“No! Ain’t no witch woman gonna lay a hand on my youngun! I done tol’ ya that, Emma.” Collins’s voice was alive with vindictive hatred, and he stared hard at Lucas.
The woman seemed to wilt, then suddenly braced herself and turned on him like a spitting cat.
“You sidewinder, you! You let my baby die and I’ll cut yore guts out. You ain’t nothin’ but a big old loudmouth good-fer-nothin’ that ain’t got no brains atall! If that woman’ll doctor my Maudy, you’ll let ’er. You hear me good, Otis Collins, if Mr. Steele’ll ask and she’s willin’, you’ll lift no finger agin ’er!”
“You shame me, woman, by goin’ agin me, and I’ll strip the hide off ya!”
“You lay a whip on me ’n I’ll shoot a hole in ya big ’nuff to drag a mule through,” she spat.
It was all the woman could do to hold onto the child. She was writhing in pain and her bare feet, reaching to her mother’s knees, were trying to get a hold so she could double up.
“Please, mister!”
Agonizing shrieks tore from the child’s throat.
“Come on, Mrs. Collins. I’m sure Doctor Hook will help her if she can.” He took the child in his arms.
Lucas saw Frank Parcher come out of the darkness and lay a restraining hand on Collins’s arm. “Calm down, Otis. Let the woman see if’n she can get the youngun eased. Ain’t goin’ to do no harm.”
“If’n ya think it’s best, Frank.”
“It is, Otis. And it’s best all ’round if’n we leave outta here with the train come mornin’.”
May 21.
We are camped two days out of Fort Stockton. There is nothing but bald prairie all around: not a bush or a tree, not a stick of wood, not even a buffalo chip. The Collins wagon is still with us. When the train pulled out from Fort Stockton, it fell in behind the last wagon. We are traveling on the stagecoach road. It isn’t much of a road, but it’s better than rough prairie. We passed one stage station—just a square hut made of adobe with a corral behind it—and a man and a boy there waved to us. Our scout rides far out each day; we seldom see him or the wagon master. They scarcely even take time to eat the evening meal. There is more tension now that we are without the army escort, but everyone seems to be in good spirits. As for me, I am so weary that I find maintaining this journal increasingly a chore.
* * *
The time of day between sundown and dark
passed quickly on the prairie. Long bars of red streaked the sky and pink-tinged clouds hung low on the western horizon. The air was turning cool as it can on the prairie without a hint of a breeze stirring. In the camp, firelight flickered. The smell of woodsmoke and cooked meat hung in the air.
Tucker and Laura walked the short distance to the Blanchet wagon. Rafe and Billy were engaged in a game of chess, and Marie sat quietly watching. Rafe got to his feet.
“Please,” Tucker said quickly, “don’t let us interrupt your game. We brought our quilt and thought we’d just sit for a while.” Actually it had been Tucker’s idea to go visiting. Laura would have preferred to wait beside the wagon in case Buck found the time to come by.
“It was certainly a hot dusty day,” Marie commented when the quilt was spread and the girls were settled on it.
“I keep thinking about that cool water in the creek by Fort Lancaster,” Laura said with a small laugh.
“I don’t like to think of that place at all.” Tucker’s voice was edgy. “I don’t imagine Mr. Blanchet does, either.”
“I don’t know about that, Miss Houston. Because of that bull I got to know Doctor Hook and Billy. And . . . think of Billy. He could have gone through life believing he was the chess champion of the world.”
“You don’t beat me every time.” Billy’s bashfulness seemed to have disappeared.
“Not yet,” Rafe teased. “But give me a few weeks and it will be a different story.”
Tucker pulled her knees up under her skirt and held them tightly as she watched the man and the boy. Her eyes went to Marie’s face. She was watching them, too. She’s pretty, she’s lonely, and she’s sad, Tucker thought. She turned her attention to Rafe, studied him. His eyes are dark, she thought. Lucas’s are light. This man is tall and thin. Lucas is tall and thin, too, but there’s a difference. It’s the way Lucas carries himself. She turned to see Marie watching her.
“Is the little Collins girl all right now?” Tucker wanted to say something to get her mind off Lucas and away from the heavy feeling of doom that was constantly with her.
“I think so. The little thing hadn’t had a bowel movement in over a week. All she eats is biscuits. Mr. Blanchet was kind enough to let me give Mrs. Collins some dried fruit. I explained to her that the child needs greens and fruit occasionally.
“I’m surprised Mr. Collins allowed you to doctor her,” Tucker said with a trace of scorn in her voice.
“I don’t think Mr. Collins had a choice.”
Marie and Billy had been sleeping under the wagon. Tucker’s glance found the neatly made cot on its short legs, the pallet beside it, and the canvas side curtains ready to be dropped to the ground for privacy. She wondered about Rafe’s wife and how she could have become so depressed she would take her own life. She’d had a comfortable wagon and a good man to take care of her. What more had she wanted?
The night was close about them and there were no stars to be seen. The camp was quiet. Most of the women were tired and had gone to bed early. Only the men getting ready to go on guard duty stood beside the chuck wagon drinking the strong black coffee. Even Marie and Billy and Rafe were preparing to call it a day.
Tucker exaggerated a yawn and a heavy sigh. “Shall we go to bed, Laura?”
“You go ahead, Tucky. I want to wait up a while longer.”
“I doubt if Buck will come tonight, Laura. Come on to bed.” Tucker tried to keep the impatience out of her voice.
“He said he would, and he will,” Laura insisted. “You go on to bed.”
“I’ll wait with you.” And I hope to God he doesn’t come and take you away, she added silently to herself.
“You sound tired, Tucky. Go on to bed. I’ll be all right.”
“I said I would wait.” Irritation crept into her voice, and she hated herself for it. But she wouldn’t get into that wagon alone, she vowed. She couldn’t!
“Is there some reason why you won’t leave me out here by myself? You have before.”
“Well I won’t now. Oh, please, Laura. Let’s not talk about it.”
When Buck appeared out of the shadows, Tucker’s heart jumped so hard she thought she would faint.
She was grateful for the darkness that hid her frightened face.
“Evenin’.”
Laura got to her feet. “I knew you’d come. I told Tucky you would.”
Buck didn’t tell her that his reason for being away from the train so much was due to his surveillance of a ragtag outfit that was trailing along behind them. He didn’t know yet if they were actually trailing them or just poking along, but he was certain they could have caught up and passed if they’d wanted to. He didn’t like their looks and had said as much to Lucas. But that was today and this was tonight, and he was going to enjoy being with Laura while he could.
“It was a far piece to ride. I thought you would’ve gone to bed by now.”
“Have you had your supper?”
“No,
mi amor.
Come and sit with me while I eat.”
Tucker felt sick. For days she had managed not to be alone so Frank couldn’t get to her, and now Laura was going to leave her.
“Now you can go to bed and not worry about me,” Laura said over her shoulder. She walked away with Buck, her hand tucked securely in the crook of his arm.
Not worry! Not worry! Oh, God, Laura! Suddenly her knees began to tremble, then the muscles in her legs shook uncontrollably. Stumbling back to her own wagon, she moved a stool away from the wagon about ten paces and sat down. It was a long time before she could think coherently. This was the best
place for her, she decided. Frank wouldn’t dare come near her out here in the open. She was a fool not to have a weapon of some kind to defend herself. Come morning, she vowed, she would get herself a long-bladed knife even if she had to steal one.
It was very still. Nothing moved. On her right she could see the faint winking eye of the campfire, and the shapes of men squatting around it. She began to feel a little easier. She reminisced about Fort Smith. On a summer evening there would be lights along the streets, and people would be sitting in porch swings talking while others strolled along the sidewalks. There might be music and laughter and, for some, trips to the emporium for bits of lace and thread.
Far off a coyote howled and brought her back to the present. It was a lonesome sound. Her eyes sought the shapes of the men around the campfire. Although nothing stirred and she heard not another sound, for some reason she felt a strange tension came over her that she fought with sudden desperation.
“Waitin’ fer me, purty woman?”
Tucker froze with terror. She had seen nothing and heard nothing. Yet the voice reached her from the darkness directly behind her. She started to rise but sank down again, determined not to move from this spot.
“Get away!” she hissed. “Get away from me!”
“Surprised ya, huh? Ya figured to keep me away from ya by stayin’ with somebody?” His laugh was guttural. “Ain’t nobody goin’ to keep me away from ya, purty gal. You’re my woman.”
“I’m not your woman! You can be sure of that!”
“Only ones what’s sure of anythin’ is the dead.”
“That’s what you’re going to be if you don’t leave me alone!” Tucker refused to turn around. She wished now she had moved the stool even farther from the wagon.
“I wouldn’t be much good to ya dead.” His laugh was causing the fright to leave her and smoldering anger to take its place.
“Get away from me or I’ll scream.”
“No, ya won’t. They’d jist think yer loony and tie ya up. Ain’t no cause fer ya to be hollerin’ a sittin’ all by yoreself in the dark. But if’n ya do, I’ll have to start a watchin’ that little blind gal. Wouldn’t be nothin’ atall to draw her off in the dark. It’s all the same to ’er.”
“You touch her and Buck will kill you.”
“If’n I don’t get him first. Wouldn’t be no chore atall, what with him a ridin’ off by hisself ever’ day.”
“What are you waiting for? Why don’t you make your move and get it over with?”
“Ya gettin’ anxious fer me, purty woman? You a wantin’ to feel me a ’twixt them purty legs? I ain’t in no hurry. I felt ya some ’n I know what I got comin’. It’s worth waitin’ fer.”
Tucker was speechless with horror and outrage that he would stand in the dark and speak to her in such a way. She knew his hateful face was grinning that exasperating grin, and she longed to smash it to a pulp.
“Ain’t ya got nothin’ to say to that, purty thing?” It was the throaty chuckle more than the words that brought her thoughts into perspective.
She turned on the stool and faced the wagon. She could see nothing, but she knew he was there.
“Yes, I have something to say,” she said quite calmly. “I am going to kill you. I was never so sure of anything in my whole life.”
“That’s the kind of talk I like from ya. You ’n me is goin’ to make a good team. I ain’t aimin’ to—”
“That you, Frank?” A man’s husky voice broke into his words. “What’s takin’ ya so long? I been a waitin’ fer ya.”
“I’m a comin’. Go on and I’ll catch up.”
“Ya better come. That high ’n mighty wagon master is gonna be a checkin’ to see if’n we is on guard. I ain’t aimin’ to give him no reason to jump on me agin. Not jist yet, anyhow,” Otis growled impatiently and stomped away.
“That wagon master won’t be comin’ to check fer a good while yet. That Cora Lee knows how to pleasure a man, jist like you’ll know afore the summer’s out. Ya sure ya want me to go, purty gal? Ya right sure?”
Tucker sat with her hands clenched, refusing to answer. She stared into the darkness where she thought he would be. Minutes passed and she knew he was gone, but he wanted her to think he was still there. How could he have been so sure that Lucas wouldn’t come to see if he was at his assigned post?
She gritted her teeth, trying to fight down a wave of agonizing jealousy. Lucas wouldn’t . . . not with Cora Lee. Yet even as her eyes closed tightly and her mind tried to reject the mental image of them together,
a clear thought flashed into her consciousness and questions came flooding into her mind.
What had happened between her and Lucas that she should be so sure of the way he felt? Because they had spent a night together was no reason. She had given herself up to the belief that he was the man with whom she could be happy—yet she scarcely knew him! Even if she escaped Frank Parcher, and if she survived the trip to California, there was no chance of happiness if there was a doubt in her mind that Lucas was not everything he pretended to be: a man who wanted one woman, a home with her, children. If it could never be, it was better to know it now.
With a sensation of numbness, she got to her feet. She was no longer afraid of Frank Parcher catching her alone. There was only one thing on her mind. She had to know!
Tucker went directly to the campfire where Mustang was making more coffee. He had filled the pot with water and stood swishing it around to stir up the old coffee grounds before adding a handful of fresh ones.
“Where can I find Lucas, Mustang?”
“He ort to be a comin’ in soon, missy.”
“I want to find him now, Mustang. Please . . . tell me where he is.”
Something in her voice made the old man look at her closely in the flickering light. Something must have happened; first Cora Lee and now this one.
“Well . . . go past the freight wagon and out onter
the plain. He ort to be out ’bout a hundred paces. If’n ya don’t see ’em, ya’ll see his horse.”
“Thank you.” She turned on her heel and left Mustang shaking his grizzled head.
At the freight wagon she turned. Her eyes were now accustomed to the dark. She put one foot before the other counting the paces. She heard the restless movements of the horse before she saw its dim outline. It was riderless. A few more paces and she saw the distinctive shape of Lucas’s hat. As she watched, he moved around to the front of his horse. He was not alone. Cora Lee was standing close beside him and the murmur of their voices reached her. She couldn’t distinguish their words, but Cora Lee’s happy little laugh was unmistakable.
Then it was true! Tucker stood stunned. If she had been hit with a fist, the blow could not have been more staggering. Dumbfounded, she watched Cora Lee move a little away from Lucas, then close the space between them. She saw Lucas take her arm, and she realized how hopeless her love for him was. Desperately she had held onto the hope that Frank was lying. But how could she not believe her own eyes?

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