Scars of the Heart (6 page)

“I’m going to piss. I felt you shiver. You can tell me when you need to stop. Chances are, so do I.” He spoke as if talking to the very old or very young.

There was that expression again, as if he believed Carly was the strangest creature he’d ever encountered. Of course he thought nothing of disrobing in front of a boy. And his fingers continued to work at their task.

Carly glanced away. She had to think of something fast. She couldn’t blame her shudder on cold weather. The day was already heating up nicely. Her mind whirling, she quickly made a show of fidgeting with the rope that held up her britches. That seemed to appease the man. He looked down, and Carly averted her gaze once more as she turned her back.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she couldn’t block out the sound of Kade’s liquid stream splashing against the ground. As the waterfall diminished to a trickle, Carly turned toward the horse, making a show of retying her rope belt. She trained her gaze on the animal’s deep-brown eyes, blocking Kade from her peripheral vision.

“That was fast,” he observed, checking the saddle cinch around the horse’s belly. “Ready?”

Carly nodded quickly, keeping her head lowered as the man mounted. He reached out to help her up.

“You sure are red in the face. Everything all right?” Kade asked as she moved to settle behind him.

Genuine concern filled his voice, and Carly choked out reassurance. She felt the heat of embarrassment burn on her cheeks. “Gonna be a warm one today,” she mumbled in a tone a bit lower than was natural for her.

The man seemed to accept her explanation. He urged the horse into motion with a touch of his spurs. She breathed a careful sigh of relief. She should’ve anticipated such a situation. Other dilemmas would most likely develop. She’d have to be ready next time. Shifting uncomfortably, Carly realized the worst part. She really did need to relieve herself.

The sun climbed higher at a lazy pace. Her gaze traveled across the unfamiliar terrain. They kept near the winding stream where trees and bushes grew, but Carly knew that not far beyond lay endless plains of dry, brown grass. Why anyone would choose to live here was beyond her understanding. The land seemed so harsh; even the trees were scraggly little things. They refused to grow full, to spread branches that offered cool shade from the relentless summer heat. Carly shook her head.

“You’re not from these parts, are you?”

Kade’s question startled her. “What?”

“I was asking where you’re from. It’s not anywhere near here, is it?”

The man posed an observation, not an inquiry. “No, I was born and raised in the great state of Virginia.” Pride carried Carly’s words.

“I thought so. I mean, I figured you were from the East. Why did you leave? What brought you west?”

“Hmph. My father. He got this crazy idea that we sell most of what we own, pack up, and go help settle the new frontier. Oklahoma, of all places. He even had a cabin built and furnished before we arrived.” Carly’s speech dripped with sarcasm, but her burst of bravado was gone. “It was the biggest mistake anyone ever made. It was the
last
mistake he made.” Her words trailed to a near whisper.

“Why do you say that? Was your father running from the war, avoiding the fight?”

“No!” Indignation spiked her reply with more of a snap than she intended. She could speak negatively of her father’s actions, but no man—especially this man—would do so. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “My father did fight, early on, and returned to us after only three months, maimed for life. He carried a scar and limp that told of the horrors of battle he found too ugly and distasteful to share with my mother and myself.”

Carly realized she’d almost slipped, almost classified herself as a lady. She continued quickly. “My father still considered me a child, and though a capable lad, one too young to hear such brutal details. His decision to make the journey west may have originally been encouraged by the war that continued to creep closer and closer to our home, but the odyssey fulfilled a childhood dream. He sought adventure, prosperity, and a safe haven for all of us.”

“I’m sure your father did what he thought best for his family. Isn’t that what fathers do?”

Carly wasn’t sure, but she thought she detected a trace of satire in Kade’s voice. She focused on his question. “I think he’d grown insane. Once he entertained the idea of moving, he was driven. After his wound healed, he sold all our fine things, our beautiful home, even the family business. And for what? To raise smelly, stupid cows in the middle of the wilderness?”

Her voice escalated as her fury returned. How she’d begged Papa not to take her away. She tried everything—tears, tantrums, even threats. She reminded him of the mounting war with the Indians, the savage massacres, the wagon train raids. The periodicals back home were full of stories, but nothing swayed the man. He reassured Carly the hostilities were farther north and President Lincoln would soon have the situation under control. Mother even took his side. She insisted Papa had their best interests at heart.

“There’s nothing wrong with raising cattle. It’s an honorable profession. What happened? Where are your parents now?”

Carly’s fury fizzled. Her shoulders slumped forward, and she replied in a dull, lifeless tone. “Dead. They’re both dead.”

Neither of them spoke, and Kade seemed to be lost in heavy thoughts of his own.

“I’m sorry,” he finally offered. “I shouldn’t have made you relive the past. Not if it’s painful.”

“No, it’s all right.” Carly realized she hadn’t actually had a conversation with another human being in more than a week. Though she disliked the topic and detested the man, she found herself enjoying the interaction. “I might as well learn to accept facts and get on with my life. Crying won’t bring them back.”

“What happened?” Kade asked carefully. “That is, if you want to talk about it.”

“Momma took ill shortly after we joined up with the wagon train. It was just a little chest cold. She would’ve been fine, but the journey was so hard, so very long and hard. I begged Papa to take us home, but he refused. By the time we finally arrived and found the land Papa had purchased, Momma’s condition had worsened.” Carly stopped a moment, remembering her mother’s horrible cough and pale, gaunt features.

“I thought I could make her better. She wouldn’t let us bring a doctor. I tried everything I knew, but she only grew worse. She died in my arms just ten days after we arrived.”

Silence filled the morning air. With a deep breath, Carly added, “Papa and I buried her in her wedding dress, the one my grandmother Rose made. I hope that was all right. She never said . . . we never discussed her wishes.”

“I’m sure that’s what she would’ve wanted.”

Kade’s words rolled like faraway thunder, deep and soothing. Something within made Carly continue, like her recital was a cleansing of the soul. “I thought Papa would want to go back home after Momma died. He said he couldn’t. She was buried there, and that was our home. Only Papa had changed. He wasn’t the same. His passion for ranching was gone. He spent most of his time up on the hill by Momma’s grave, probably asking her forgiveness. If only he’d left well enough alone. If only we had stayed in Virginia.”

Briefly, Carly wondered why the tears hadn’t come. Had she actually shed all she possessed or was the open wound on her heart turning to a thick, tough scar? “If only he’d been at the cabin with me.”

Kade cleared his throat. “You don’t have to go on.”

“No, I want to. I need to.” She took a deep breath. “I was trying to make biscuits one morning. Neither one of us knew how to cook. In Virginia, we had Betsy, but she refused to come with us. Anyway, I was trying when this terrible half-naked savage burst through the door. He looked around the room like a rabid dog. When he spotted me, he leaped over the settee, knocking Momma’s rocking chair into the fire. He grabbed me before I could think. Before I could run.

“Papa was up on the hill, but I guess he heard me scream. The Indian was dragging me from the cabin when he noticed Papa running as best he could toward us. My father didn’t even have a gun. The savage threw some sort of ax. It buried deep in Papa’s chest. Blood coated his chest before he even hit the ground. Then the Indian slung me across his horse.

“I cried out for Papa and begged the savage to let me go, but he wouldn’t listen. He hit me in the back of the head with something. The last thing I saw was my father lying dead on the ground before his precious burning cabin.”

The horse plodded along through the silence. Carly felt drained but somehow better. Kade had let her expound with no comments or questions. He remained quiet now, and she wondered if he’d listened at all. Suddenly, the crack of a rifle firing split the still air.

Bark shattered on a nearby tree, and the stallion reared with a frightened whinny. Carly gasped and clawed at the cowboy’s back until she clutched a handful of shirt. The second the black’s front hooves hit the ground, Kade spurred him to wind-racing speed.

“Stay low,” he ordered.

Carly followed his lead, pressing herself against him as he leaned over the horse’s neck. They wove in and out of the trees, driving deeper into the thickening forest. She closed her eyes, fighting back the wave of nausea caused by fear and flight.

Several more shots rang out, whizzing past her head into the foliage. She clung to Kade and prayed the black wouldn’t stumble. If Tiny caught her now, she’d never live to see tomorrow.

Kade urged his horse on, slapping the long ends of the reins from one side of the animal’s neck to the other. He could feel the trembling weight of his companion and hoped the boy didn’t take a bullet to the back. Pulling the stallion’s head to the right, Kade steered for an outcropping of hard rock he thought he remembered.

Stopping the black abruptly, he ordered, “Get down, Carl. We have to try and lose our itchy-fingered friends.”

The boy obliged, terror evident in his light eyes. Kade led the horse across the rocky ledge, peering back to see if they left too much of a track on the solid surface.

“Be careful where you step.” He grabbed the boy’s arm just before his foot landed in the soft earth. “Stay on the rock. You won’t leave a mark. That’s why we aren’t riding. Our weight on the black would make a deeper trail.” Carl nodded quickly and chose a path along the ridge.

Kade led them across a grassy area toward a stream. He handed Carl the reins. “Wait here.” Picking up a broken tree branch, Kade walked back to the edge of the grass. He swept the tips of the dead wood over the tender blades, bringing most of them to attention. Gathering dried leaves and broken twigs from beneath the trees, Kade scattered them about the area he’d raked. He repeated his actions with the branch and the debris until he stood next to the boy. Both surveyed his handiwork critically.

“That’s impressive,” Carly whispered. “I can’t tell we crossed that area at all. How’d you learn to do that?”

“An old friend. Come on.” He helped the boy into the saddle then climbed up behind him. Soon, they walked beside the fast-running stream. Kade slowed the horse’s pace, closely examining the bank as they went.

“What are you doing? Surely they’re gaining on us.”

The lad glanced over his shoulder nervously. Kade guided the horse into the water and started back the other direction. “I had to find the right place to enter the stream. The ground is soft along here. We don’t want to leave hoof prints.”

“But why are we going this way? You’re heading back toward the men with the guns!”

Carl’s voice took on the high pitch of panic. Kade summoned his patience. “I know what I’m doing. The streambed is rockier this way. Going upstream, we’d stir too much sand. Downstream, what we do stir up will be washed away by the current.”

They followed the creek for about two hundred yards, then exited on the opposite bank. The forest grew thicker there, letting less light filter through the dense foliage. Kade dismounted. Putting a finger to his lips, he motioned for Carl to remain silent. With a wave of his hand, he gave the boy permission to step down. He led them through the trees, parallel to the running water, yet well hidden.

Kade stopped. He wrapped one hand around the stallion’s nose and mouth in an effort to keep the animal quiet. Carl looked at him questioningly. Kade repeated the gesture of silence. He watched the boy strain to hear or see something through the trees. Several seconds passed before Kade saw the pleading expression of fear in Carl’s eyes when the lad finally heard the riders.

Without knowing why, Kade motioned the orphan toward him. Something about this little stranger brought out the protective nature in Kade. He placed his arm around the boy’s shoulders. Trembling like a wet cat, Carl pressed close. His round eyes stared at the trees as though they expected hell’s own demons to come tearing through.

The voices grew dimmer, and Kade wrapped Carl’s arms about the stallion’s head. “Stay here,” he whispered with intensity, hoping the boy obeyed. Carl opened his mouth to protest, but Kade quickly laid a finger across the lad’s lips. He locked his gaze with the boy’s until he saw submission.

Without so much as snapping a twig or crunching a leaf, Kade crept to the forest’s edge and peered upstream. Two men rode slowly along the creek bank, looking for tracks. “Damn,” he muttered. He crouched low in the underbrush, realizing there could be more riders, searching in other directions.

He held his breath as the men approached the spot where he and the boy had entered the water. They stopped their progress, waded their mounts into the stream, then resumed a slow inspection of the soft earth. Kade started to expel his pent-up breath but froze again as he heard a rustle of brush behind him. Extracting his knife from the sheath beneath his pant leg, he waited, timing his next move.

With the speed and agility of a mountain lion, Kade turned and sprang, prey becoming predator. The men landed with a thud and whoosh of breath. Kade’s larger body pinned the smaller man to the ground, chest to chest, knife to throat. With his free hand, Kade held one flailing arm. Increased pressure on the blade brought instant stillness to his startled victim. Kade stared down into panicked pools of green.