Enchanted Heart (11 page)

“Oh, Caid, I’m so glad you are safe!” she heard herself say before he pressed his lips to hers. For long, heart-stopping moments, they stood in the shadows, adhering to each other as if time was of no significance to them. Their eager bodies clung together while the night sky enveloped them, blocking out all but the fervent emotions that passed between them. Stars above them counted out the minutes that they melded themselves together, oblivious to the passing of time, unfettered by the threat of danger that hung like thunderheads on the horizon.

Then suddenly, Caid pulled away from her and knelt under the wagon to reassure Greta and Sera Dear that all was well. He told them to be quiet and to stay put, then he left them to relay the same warning to the rest of the people.

Feeling empty again, Marty watched his dark figure dart from family to family, pausing for a moment with comforting words before moving on to the next wagon. She touched her fingertips to her lips with one hand while its twin pressed against her chest in a feeble attempt at calming her wildly beating heart. At that moment, she was not sure if the impending danger was the culprit or if his enchanting kiss had caused such a flurry of emotions inside her trembling body.

Caid returned to Marty, leaning down to touch his lips to her cheek before he took her hand and guided her as they both crawled beneath the wagon. In the light of the full moon, he looked at each of the frightened females in order to impart to them that he would defend them no matter what happened. He sucked in a breath and then let it out in order to whisper an explanation, “They’re Kiowa scouts. They won’t harm us if we don’t antagonize them. Just to be sure, we’ll stay right here until they are well out of our area.”

“Did you talk to them?” Marty asked, wondering how he knew who they were.

“I didn’t need to,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’ve seen their kind before.”

“How? When?” Marty asked a little too loudly to suit him.

“Shhhh!” he reiterated before he continued, “I’ll tell you later…if we live through this.”

Apprehension filled her heart and Marty eased closer to his side. She thought she saw him smile slightly before he turned his attention to the black horizon, but his face soon became awash with concern for the people in his charge as he concentrated on how he would keep them from becoming victims of a heartless, unmerciful slaughter.

She seared her body to his, vowing to God and whoever else would listen that she would never push him away again. He was her champion, her Knight on a chestnut stallion, full of strength and bravery with tenderness and gentle gestures seeping from the chinks in his linen and leather armor. She fell asleep next to his rigid body, lulled by his calm breathing and the soft, reassuring words that he whispered to her and Greta. He lay between them, pulling them close with Sera Dear safely between her mother and the man who would protect her with his own life. Sera Dear had drifted to sleep long before and was oblivious to their impending peril, but the two women were stiff with fear until Caid soothed their wary minds.

Caid draped his arms over the three females and tucked them closer to his body while he kept his eyes pinned on the horizon where he had left the band of Kiowas, knowing that it had been his mistake that had brought their threat to the wagon train. It had been thoughts of the woman to his right that had kept him from seeing them in the distance as he’d meandered along the dry riverbed looking for seepage of water that would indicate an underground stream. And it had been his late reaction to their yelps of warning that had caused them to follow him back to the people that he had put into harm’s way. Lying there in the dirt next to Marty, he wished that he had headed away from her, taking the murdering band with him and leaving behind the love that he had hoped to nurture in the coming days. But his adoration for Marty and the fear that these Indians were not alone made him head straight back to her and the burning need to feel her next to him for one last time before they were both slaughtered was so terribly pronounced in his anxious heart that even death could not keep him from rushing to her side.

God, the thought of her being ravaged by savages—he wouldn’t think of that, he told himself as he pulled her closer to his body and kissed her head while she slept. He heard her moan in her slumber. Pensively, he hoped that her dream included him and a happy future instead of the almost tangible fear of dying at the hands of the Indians. Silently, he admonished himself for bringing danger upon Marty in his selfish attempt for just one kiss. He stayed awake all night, watching the outskirts of the camp, listening to her breathe, and then staring at the horizon again while she curled into him and muddled his mind with thoughts that should not have entered there in this most perilous time.

Then, when morning came, he saw the first feather appear above the red rocks and he scrambled away from the safety of the wagon, fully prepared to kill as many of the Indians as he could before they invaded the camp. But as he walked toward the lone rider that sat proudly upon a painted pony, he stopped short and lowered his rifle.

****

When dawn sang her sunny song, Marty awoke with a start, suddenly frightened by the seductive clucking of lonesome prairie hens. She looked around and found herself alone in the blankets beneath her wagon. Not even Seraphina snuggled beside her. Fear gripped her heart again and she scrambled to her feet, determined to find her sister and niece, to find Caid.

She saw everyone, including Caid, standing around a lone campfire, sipping coffee and conversing in jovial jest as if no threat was in their midst.

Then she saw the Indian among them.

Her heart fell in dread and her head became light as if she was going to faint but she silently admonished herself for letting fear control her. Raising her shoulders in dignity if not fortitude, she picked up her skirt to confront the intruder. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Caid place a hand upon the red man’s shoulder and laugh. Narrowing her eyes and stepping forward again, Marty watched the circle of families bend over in laughter as well.

The Indian laughed with them, his feathered head bobbing in his amusement at the words that Caid must have said. His sun-reddened skin glistened like glowing crimson coals in the morning mist. His long, black hair tumbled over his broad, formidable shoulders as he dipped his head to chuckle. He held a strong hand to his middle, pressing a breastplate made of cane, bones and bear claws interwoven with tufts of stiff black hair as he leaned over in a guffaw that rattled the wooden armor, its resounding clatter reaching Marty’s ears before the jovial laugh could.

She sighed and let her arms drop to her sides while she walked toward the circle of people. She smiled at them when they greeted her and Greta offered her a tin cup filled with coffee. She took the warm cup into her hand and looked warily at the Indian, who appraised her just as cautiously.

“Marty, this is Black Bear,” Caid told her, calming her once again.

“How do you do?” Marty asked the strange man in front of her and instantly wondered if he understood their language.

“I am well,” Black Bear said with a slight bow, his blue-black head dipping low in a polite gesture. The longest feather that was bound by a leather strap with two shorter ones at his crown almost tickled her nose as he leaned forward, his hand extended toward her.

Marty took the large hand into hers. The tall red man squeezed her hand and held it for moments longer than she had expected. She felt as if the Kiowa brave was gleaning her personality just by his touch, a silent palm-to-palm, skin-to-skin exchange that almost took her breath away. His dark eyes scrutinized her, yet never instilled fear while he searched her soul with his appraising gaze. Then his smile, wide and bright, encompassing every part of his handsome face, assured her that he approved.

“He’s one of the scouts that I told you about,” Caid explained to Marty, causing her to duck her head and release the Indian’s strong hand. “He said that he and his men had seen our wagons from far away and when they saw me scouting ahead, they were wondering if we were going to attack his village. Black Bear came alone to pledge to us that they were not hostile and we ensured him that we were only passing through and that we mean no harm.”

Marty nodded to agree with Caid as she told Black Bear, “We are going west to Fort Concho near the San Saba River. Do you know about the hill country?”

Black Bear nodded in the affirmative as he said in broken English, “Hard country. Bitter cold winters. Comanche country. Hair like yours,” he paused, almost unconsciously reaching for her waist-long unbound hair, “look nice on Comanche lance.”

Marty pulled away in fear while she caught the flying auburn tendrils that whirled around her head and twisted them into a red rope at her neck. But Caid swore both to her and to Black Bear that a treaty had been signed with the Comanche and that they would be safe in their company, besides, they were headed to a fort with plenty of soldiers to keep them safe. Black Bear only shook his head and waved his hand as if to say that he did not agree but would take the white man’s answer as the truth.

After a few more moments of conversation, Black Bear left them to join his band and Marty drew in a breath of relief while she watched him ride away on his brown and white pony. She felt Caid’s arm around her shoulder and she did not shrug it away, but welcomed it and its comforting warmth in the cold morning air that brought with it the warning that they were heading into hostile territory whether the man next to her believed it or not.

Chapter Thirteen

The wagons were hitched and were steered westward toward Comanche country and their new home. Caid did not join her in the wagon but rode ahead of the train as a look-out for trouble, an act that caused much trepidation in Marty’s heart. But she did not show her fears to Greta or to Seraphina, who skipped along beside the wagon in front of her mother and next to Ingrid. Instead, she concentrated on watching the horizon in all directions, hoping that there was no trouble with the Indians that the Kiowa brave had called hostile.

Late that afternoon, Caid came back to her and threw himself onto the seat beside her while taking the reins from her. With a quick wink, he smiled and said, “Black Bear is scouting ahead of us until we get to the foothills. He said he’d let us know if anything happens up there.”

“He is a good man,” she said, and, remembering the same words that she had used to describe her own husband, she ducked her head and changed her words, “He’s a good friend to have.”

“Yep,” Caid agreed as he clucked to the oxen and flipped the leather lightly upon the backs of the bulls. “I’ve had worse friends.”

There was a slight silence as Marty searched her mind for an answer to his statement and when none came, she changed the subject, “How long until we get to Fredericksburg?”

Caid considered her question and calculated the time that it would take to transfer these slow-moving wagons to their destination and then he answered, “I think about three more days.”

“Three!” Marty exclaimed in disbelief. “I thought it would only be a day or two.”

“Not with these ornery critters,” he joked as he indicated the oxen at the end of the reins.

“And then how long to Fort Concho?” she asked.

“Another two—three weeks,” Caid said. But seeing her stricken expression, he assured her, “We’ll be there before you know it.”

“I hope so,” Marty said as she looked ahead at her sister, whose steps were becoming slow and timid. “I think Greta needs a rest.”

“She should ride,” he told Marty and then he called to her sister, “Greta! Come and ride with me!”

Grateful that he was concerned about her sister, Marty gave up her seat and let Greta climb in beside him. She took a step forward but noticed something gleaming in the bright sunlight. Inquisitively searching the prairie ahead, Marty wondered what it could be.

With a smile at Greta, Caid began to cluck to the oxen, to ask them to move forward again. Then he paused to watch Marty, who had stopped suddenly to raise a hand to her brow against the sun. He followed her gaze to search the tracks in the grass and saw something peculiar beside the wagon ruts. When she hiked her skirt and ran ahead of the wagons, he pulled back on the reins and threw himself down to follow her, to find out what had caught her attention.

“What is it?” Greta asked before she too jumped off of the wagon. “Seraphina, come with Mama!”

“Sera Dear,” the girl corrected her mother for the umpteenth time.

“Just come with me!” Greta ordered as she ran with her daughter as fast as she could to find out what the mysterious object was that everyone had gathered around. When she finally caught up to them, she gasped and held her palm to her heart. She pulled Seraphina toward her and wrapped her arms around the girl to shield her from the sight while she exclaimed, “Oh my God!”

“What is it Mama?” Seraphina mumbled into her mother’s skirt.

“Go back to the wagon, Seraphina, and get a blanket for me,” Greta told her daughter.

Sera Dear wanted to remind her mother about her new nickname, but deciding not to, she asked with worry in her heart, “Are you cold, Mama?”

“Never mind, just go!” Greta put a hand upon Seraphina’s back and hurried her along while adding, “Ingrid and Arnie help your cousin.”

Arnie growled a protest but was pushed into motion by Elsa, who cuddled Baby Jake closer to her face, warding off the sad sight. Then, she turned away from it and moaned in repulsion. All that remained of the skeletal human body was a skull, which was missing a lower jaw, and the first three rows of rib bones. Curious, she looked around for the rest of the body. About twenty feet away beneath a cluster of cactus she discovered what must have been an arm bone that had been gnawed by some hungry creature and then left to lay in solitary silence after the flesh had been removed.