Now and Forever (20 page)

H
e’s coming!”

Tucker jumped so hard he fell out of bed with a hard thud. It hurt, but it was a fast way of waking up.

“Hide!” Shannon’s screams tore at his heart as much as his ears. “I have to hide!”

He reached for her. His wife. To hear her, so tormented, was an awful thing. And this wasn’t her usual dream. This was about that man last night, the one she’d run from.

He shook her gently by the shoulders. “Shannon, wake up. It’s just a dream.”

And the fire last night, well, Tucker’d had a few nightmares in his life, after some wild days. Last night was bound to set Shannon off.

“Not the saw. No! Don’t make me!” A particularly wild scream escaped her.

This was her usual sleeping horror. What was it about? He heard running footsteps, rushed to the door, and swung it open just as Ma reached it.

Ma’s dark eyes looked past him, but she didn’t say a word.

“She has nightmares,” Tucker started to explain. He was going to wake her up, but he wasn’t about to embarrass her by letting her know someone besides him had witnessed the dreams. She was unhappy enough that he knew about them.

“This happens often?”

Shannon screamed.

“Every few nights. Hard to wake her up, too. It’s the war, I reckon. Last night, I think she had a bad scare in those woods.”

Ma shook her head. “Get her to talk about it. It might help some.” Ma turned away, wise enough to let him get on with tending to what was important.

Closing the door firmly, he sat on the bed, ducked her waving arms, caught her by the shoulders and again shook her.

“Wake up, honey. You’re dreaming.” He hated that she was locked in such terror.

She fought his grip, as if he had entered her dream and become part of the terror. He dragged her close and hugged her, whispering in her ear. Praying for any ideas on how to make the dream go away and stay away.

No miraculous still, small voice of God whispered inspiration to him, only that he should hold on, so he did.

Gradually she calmed. She no longer cried out. She rested her head on his shoulder and breathed evenly. He eased her back onto the bed and watched her, her fair skin flushed red from the ordeal.

He sat there watching her sleep for longer than he’d
ever willingly sat still in his life. Her breathing suddenly hitched, and she wrinkled her nose and brought her hand up to scratch it. Then her blue eyes fluttered open. They were the strongest, brightest blue he’d ever seen.

It was a wonder to him that this beautiful woman had somehow ended up married to him, and now he was going to demand something from her she’d resisted at every turn.

Answers. Answers she fought giving whenever he’d asked in the past. This time he wasn’t going to stop until she talked to him, no matter how much she hated it.

He hoped that didn’t drive her away.

Tucker leaned forward and kissed her. How odd to wake up in full daylight to her husband’s kiss.

“Good morning.” She smiled. They were early risers, and the days were getting shorter. She liked seeing her husband when she first opened her eyes.

Then the night before came flooding back. Being pursued by that frightening man in the woods. The fire.

“Shannon, I want you to tell me about your dream.”

Then she remembered the nightmare. She couldn’t find a smile anywhere.

“Goodness, what time is it? I’ve slept the morning away.” She pushed against him to get up, get moving. To get away from those penetrating eyes of his.

He didn’t budge. “The dream, Shannon.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

For a while it looked like that was going to work, but then he gently pressed her away.

“Don’t you want to kiss me anymore, Tucker?” That ought to work.

“The nightmares.” He narrowed his eyes and didn’t show a bit of guilt or interest in being distracted. “I’ve asked before, and you started talking about the war. You talked about how your pa goaded you into enlisting, but that was where your story ended. You’ve never talked about what you faced. That’s what you’re dreaming about, isn’t it? The saw. One time you said something about human limbs.”

Shannon’s heart sped up. “Please get up.” She pushed at his chest. He didn’t give an inch.

“You’re dreaming about what you did when you worked with a doctor.”

“It’s not a fit topic.” She didn’t think she could talk about those days without screaming. She just wanted a quiet life. She wanted to care for God’s creatures. She wanted peace.

“You’re not leaving this bed until you tell me. You need to talk about it, Shannon. And I need to hear it.”

“Why?” She shoved at his hands, but he held on doggedly. “Why would I pour the ugliness I saw onto someone else? What purpose would it serve to have the weight of it pressing on you? Do you want to join me in my nightmares? Do you think knowing about severed limbs, endless pain, the screaming men that I was called on to make scream more will make anything better?”

“I think you can’t live with it, Shannon. I think you’re trying to bury it, but it torments you.”

“Of course it torments me,” Shannon shouted, and her
breathing sped up until her chest heaved. “Only a fool wouldn’t be tormented. But what good does it do to share that torment?”

“It might help.” Tucker remained calm but relentless. “It might make the nightmares go away.”

“Or it might just give them to you.” But it wasn’t all about sparing him, she knew. It was also about saying out loud the things she’d tried so hard to forget.

But she hadn’t forgotten, not for one second. And that’s when she knew. Her life, her devotion to her animals, even her britches, all of it was a trap. She was a prisoner to the nightmares. She lived in a cage of fear. And last night that ghoulish man had invaded her dreams, and if she didn’t face this, he’d always be part of it.

She focused on Tucker. “Last night—”

“No, Shannon, I want to talk about—”

She put her fingers gently on his lips. “I’m afraid last night may be part of it.”

His eyes narrowed with suspicion, and she deserved it. She’d distracted him before. She’d have smiled, except there wasn’t any humor to be found.

“Last night I fell asleep on watch. I know now that man must have gotten past me and gone into the barn, done all his mischief while I slept. I woke up, looked around, and saw no one. And I was falling asleep again. So I climbed down to walk a circuit around the property.”

The warmth of Tucker’s lips beneath her fingers made it hard to keep her thoughts in order, so she lowered her hand. “While I walked, I heard him behind me. At the time I thought he was following me. I’m not sure but I
think he knew I was there. I felt like he was coming for me. I stopped and he stopped. I started and he started.”

Tucker’s throat worked, but he didn’t speak. This must be hard for him to listen to when he didn’t want her out there to begin with.

“I ducked into the woods and hid. I thought I was sneaky about it, yet he stopped at the exact place I did. He didn’t come into the woods, though he looked right at me.”

Tucker’s hands flexed on her shoulders, strong, gentle. He supported her, and she felt his strength propping up her own.

“There was something eerie about him. Frightening. I think he’s very clever. Sunrise said he’s not, so I dismissed him. But after last night, I realize that what she really said was the man who attacked us isn’t good enough to know he shouldn’t come for you, Tucker, someone much stronger than him. That doesn’t mean he’s not a master at moving without leaving a trace. You’ve had trouble picking up his trail. You know he conceals his tracks well. But there’s more to it than that. He drove those homesteaders off their land by burning down their barns. He may not have killed anyone yet, but I think he’s capable of it.” She swallowed hard. “And I think he liked looking into those woods at me and knowing I was cowering.”

Tucker studied her thoughtfully, considering her words. It was with great pride that she realized he was taking her seriously. Finally he asked, “Why tell me this story when I asked about your nightmares?”

Frowning, she said, “Because that man was in my nightmare. And I think he might stay there. I was afraid of him
in a way I haven’t feared much of anything since the war. And you asked about the dreams.”

Tucker nodded, then waited without pushing.

Shannon leaned forward and rested her head on his strong shoulder. “You’re a man of faith, aren’t you?”

“I’ve seen too much of the beauty of the Lord’s creation to ever doubt the Almighty. Ma was one to welcome circuit riders to our home, and we shared many a meal and a church service with men of God.”

Without lifting her chin, she said, “I came home from the war, and Kylie was fragile from all she’d seen. Of course Pa was no help. I thought maybe, when Bailey came home, my big strong sister, we could air out all we’d been through. Maybe I could unload some of the burden I carried onto her shoulders.”

“But you didn’t,” Tucker said.

Shannon shook her head. “Bailey was a long time coming home. One of the reasons we’re all the way out here so far west is because a lot of the land closer was claimed before we headed out. Pa was bent on homesteading, but we were waiting for Bailey. When she finally got home, she was in terrible shape. You saw Nev when he first turned up, all skin and bones, covered with sores.”

“Brimming with hate and out of his mind,” Tucker added, wondering if that described Bailey, too.

“Bailey was just quiet. So quiet. Wounded inside more than out. She would barely talk. I could tell she had all she could bear. I couldn’t add to it.”

Then Shannon fell silent.

T
o tell him, to share this with him was wrong. Why spread this ugliness to someone else?

Tucker’s arms came around her. “Tell me, Shannon. Please. Get it out. I’m not fragile.”

She had thought she could tell Bailey, and if Bailey had been herself, she would have. But somehow keeping it locked inside had made it grow into something bigger, even more horrible than it was, if that was possible. But Tucker was strong enough to hear her battle stories.

Swallowing hard, she said, “Pa might not have pushed us to move out west if I’d had Bailey to stand up to him, along with me. Kylie was desperate not to leave the east. But we were all still addled from the war in one way or another, Bailey worst of all, and we found ourselves in a wagon train headed for the frontier.”

“You’re still not telling me about your dreams, honey.” Tucker squeezed her a bit as if he could wring the story out of her.

Shannon pulled away just enough to look at him. “I’m getting to it, but I’m trying to explain why I’ve never told a soul, and why I’ve always thought it wasn’t fair to tell anyone. Does that make sense?”

“I reckon.”

She clenched her hands in her lap and fastened her eyes on them. “Once I got to thinking of it that way, now it doesn’t seem fair to tell you, either. I saw things that made me . . . question whether there could be a . . . a God.” She looked up nervously, then quickly went back to staring at her hands. “To tell someone of that, I might pull them from their belief. Because of me and my doubts, you could end up in hell.”

She felt the weight of it crushing her. She’d already said too much. Every day as she served her animals and did her best to ignore her doubts, she feared what she might do to others if she spoke of what boiled inside her. And she prayed! Oh, how she prayed for God to remove that stain of sin from her. The doubt.

Tucker’s strong, callused hand rested on the edge of her chin and lifted it to look her in the eyes. She stared into the face of a man who’d lived by his own rules, a man strong enough to take on the Rocky Mountains and survive, even thrive. A man strong enough to hear her story and hang on to his faith. And maybe help her find her own again.

“Where was God on that battlefield, Tucker?” Her anguish spewed out. “Where was He when so many good men died? If God numbers the days and hours of our lives, then that means He brought little babies into the
world knowing they would die screaming in agony. He knew their lot in life was to endure an untrained woman hacking off their legs. You have no idea what it’s like to have a man screaming at you, begging you to stop. Strong, adult men crying out for their mothers while I . . . I worked the saw.

“That’s how my dream always starts. The first man I failed. The battles are so nightmarish with the rifle fire and cannonballs, the bleeding, the wailing. It was unbearable, and I went through one, the Battle of Hanover. The first place I was sent, my first taste of the war. I wanted out and knew that, being a woman, I could get sent home. I dreaded what Pa would say, but I couldn’t stand it any longer. I was working up the nerve to go to my commanding officer and say the words that would get me out when I got pulled into the medical unit—around a hundred men, dying or badly wounded.

“The need was so great, I started helping, and ugly as it was, it soothed the nightmare of the battle. I started working and didn’t stop for twenty-four hours. I brought water to the patients and washed blood away, tended wounds after the doctor was finished. That part was bad, but I found I could do it, and the doctor asked if I’d stay on permanently. He got me reassigned.”

“But you talk about amputation.”

Shannon smiled sadly. “The next day I got sent with the medical unit to Gettysburg.”

“I didn’t pay the war much mind, but even I have heard of Gettysburg.”

“Nearly eight thousand men got killed outright, and
then came the wounded . . . fourteen thousand Union soldiers, twelve thousand Confederate. And there was no escape for me. In fact, I was so busy I didn’t even consider trying to shirk the duty. The battle went on for three days, and we raced to save every man we could. That’s when the doctor forced me to watch him amputate a man’s arm. He said the man was bleeding out through a severed artery, and we had to stop the bleeding. After watching the doctor do two of them, he handed me a saw and told me men were dying while I stood around.”

Tucker slid a hand deep into her hair and drew her close. For a few minutes they just held each other.

“I killed the first man I touched. A kid really. He saw me coming at him to cut off his leg and started screaming.” She began shaking as she spoke. “He had a tourniquet below his knee, and the doctor told me the leg had to come off. It was only because I was so dazed that I could even do it. The first cut, he jerked and fought me, but I kept at it. I started sawing above that tourniquet and . . . and opened an artery. He bled to death while I tried to stop the bleeding. I yelled for help, but there was no one who wasn’t in the middle of a life-and-death battle with a wounded soldier. I watched him as he died. He grew weak enough he quit screaming, as if he’d accepted death. The way he looked at me, he knew I’d killed him. He stared straight into my eyes as he fumbled for something in his pocket. He pulled out a letter. It was for his mother. He was so calm. He asked me to mail it for him. I . . .”

Tucker held her tight as her trembling racked her whole
body. “When he finally died, I suppose you’d say I was . . . I don’t know. The doctor shouted at me to move on, work on the next one. He said something like, ‘You’ll get better at it.’ Practice hacking off limbs.” She shook her head as the images invaded her mind without sleep. “I went on to the next man, and the next. The doctor was right—I did get better at it. I worked from then on as a medic. Helping to carry wounded men off the field to a makeshift hospital. We were always short of doctors, and I did everything that was asked of me out of the cold stone that had replaced my heart.”

She looked up into Tucker’s eyes. Kind, compassionate, and she knew she shouldn’t say the words but they haunted her. “There can’t be a God. No real God would allow such a horrible thing to take place.”

She buried her face in her hands to make herself stop. She couldn’t look. Afraid of what she’d see. A man convinced she was right, that the world only could be as it was if there was no Divine Hand.

Tucker seemed to gather her up. That was all she could think of to explain it. She felt like she was falling apart, and he held her together so she wouldn’t shatter.

There was no sense of time as they sat there, his arms wrapped around her. She stopped covering her face with her hands and instead buried her face in his shirt and clung to him, her arms tight around his back. She’d always been a strong woman. She’d had to be. And yet how many times had she let Tucker be her strength?

It was wrong and weak. And she loved it.

Finally, she felt whole enough that she could look at
him again. “That’s my nightmare. It always starts with that first man, screaming. Then it just builds . . . the wounds, the pain. Tucker, what men do to each other during war, how could hell be any worse?” She felt the grief of it as if the wounds were her own, and even that seemed selfish because of course the wounds were not her own, not even close. “I’m haunted by it. I’m buried in bloody, severed limbs, terrified men in agony.”

“And you want to live here quietly and tend your sheep, and try and believe in God again?” Tucker asked.

Shannon nodded.

“I’ve met God on those high-up mountains. In small ways that are undeniable. You’ll never shake my faith. So you don’t have to fear saying the wrong thing. I’m strong enough to listen and not be hurt by your doubts, and, Shannon . . .” Tucker chucked her under the chin and smiled.

“What?” His smile was unexpected.

He leaned close and gave her a kiss as gentle as a whisper. “If I’m strong enough to listen, then for certain God is.”

Shannon gasped, because when Tucker said that, she realized that he’d spoken aloud her greatest fear. She didn’t want God to know of her doubts. She was afraid He’d judge her for them. And she’d deserve it.

“How could you go through something like that and not have doubts?” Tucker went on. “God understands that. Not talking about them . . . well, God still knows.”

Of course He did. Shannon knew then she’d been hiding behind her search for peace, hiding her doubts from The One Who Knew Everything.

“There ain’t much in this life that’s a bigger waste of time than trying to hide things from God.”

With the faintest of smiles, she nodded. “That’s so true.”

“Instead of pretending you have no doubts when you so clearly do, just talk to Him about them. Open yourself up and see if, like a festering grizzly bear claw across the belly, light and fresh air—or in this case, honesty—will heal what ails you.”

Shannon threw herself into Tucker’s arms. He was solid. Like the mountains. Like his faith. “How did I get so lucky as to end up married to you?”

“Our fate was sealed from the minute our eyes met when I saw you on that roof. Everything after that was just us wasting time we could have spent being together.”

Shannon laughed. Then she couldn’t laugh anymore. “And now that man last night is going to be part of my nightmares, I can feel it.”

Tucker eased her away from him. “I didn’t tell you this because I hoped it wouldn’t be necessary, but now that he’s attacked us again, you need to know everything. When we scouted the Lansing homestead yesterday, we found the same burned-out barn, but this time there was an animal inside. A mule. We asked in town, and the Lansings had an old mule that was known to be cantankerous. Whoever burned that barn killed it. And he killed it in an ugly way. There was nothing like that at the other places. It reminded me of the kind of man who likes killing, who finds pleasure in it.”

Shannon’s stomach twisted. “How can that be?”

Shaking his head, Tucker said, “When I was a youngster,
a mountain man came into the area who we found out was killing Indians for sport. At first he made it sound like he was defending himself. It was always him alone against one warrior, so no one could say he was a liar. But it was Shoshone he killed, and they’re peaceable folks. Pierre, Sunrise’s husband, had a special liking for the Shoshone people. His sons were of Shoshone blood, so it was personal to him. He tracked the killer after the first couple of times he spoke of having to defend himself and caught him stalking a lone Indian. Pierre . . . stopped him.”

“You mean Pierre killed him.”

Tucker was silent awhile. “There ain’t much law out here, Shannon. And back when this happened, there was none. And even less so when a white man kills an Indian. But that man had to be stopped. I reckon what happened was mighty rough justice.”

“You think we’re going to have to stop this man the same way?”

“We’ll do our best to catch him and take him to the law. I’ve never killed a man and I’ve no wish to. But if he’ll kill an animal like he did that mule, he’ll kill a man.” Tucker looked at Shannon with fire in his eyes. “Or a woman.”

“Why didn’t he kill our animals?” Shannon asked.

“I reckon he couldn’t get past my grulla. Mean animal when she’s riled.”

“When I ran in the barn, she had my sheep cornered. I thought she was keeping them from the fire, but she must have had them back there all along, protecting them from that man.”

“Could be. She’s a mighty smart critter.”

“She stomped out the fire, too. And when that man set them loose, she fought the wolves. She’s fought for my sheep as hard as we have. How’d you train her to do all that?”

“I’ve never spent a single hour training her, except to ride, and she almost killed me when I tried putting a saddle on her and putting a bit in her mouth.”

“But she doesn’t wear a saddle, and you have her in a hackamore bridle with no bit.”

Tucker arched a brow. “That’s cuz I gave up. I couldn’t train her to wear neither of ’em. I found her trapped in a mudhole when she was a youngster. I dragged her out of the mire. She was half starved, and I nursed her back to health. She took a liking to me and started tagging after me. She’s been with me ever since.”

A sharp rap on the door broke up their talk, and Shannon regretted it at the same time she couldn’t believe she’d stayed in bed so late.

Tucker got up and glanced out the window. “Aaron and Kylie are here. I wonder what happened now? I’ll step outside while you dress.”

“Tucker?” Shannon stopped him from opening the door.

“What, honey?”

“Thank you for talking to me about my nightmares. And for saving me last night. And for saving my barn, and for your horse saving my sheep, and for—”

Tucker raised a hand, smiled. “Stop it or I’ll start listing all the things I’d like to thank you for, and Masterson will get so tired of waiting he’ll end up knocking the door down.”

Shannon thought maybe it was the sweetest moment of her life.

Tucker left, and she quickly got dressed. As she finished fastening her britches, she made a shocking decision. After things settled down some, she was going to sew herself a dress. Just one for special occasions—though she had no idea when such an occasion might be. Still, she was going to do it!

She’d better ask Kylie how.