Defiant Heart (3 page)

“So it's just you?”

“And Kip and Katie. My brother and sister.”

“Well, have your brother come and see me before the wagon train pulls out in the morning, and we'll do what we can.”

Squaring her narrow shoulders, the woman planted her legs in a defiant stance. “Kip's twelve years old. I do the talking for the family.”

“I see. Well, I'm sorry, Miss Caldwell. But I do the talking for this wagon train, and you heard my policy regarding single women joining alone.”

“Why are you so dad-blamed stubborn?”

Ah, there were the flashing eyes. Even in the dim glow of the fire, they shot through him like flaming arrows, piercing and burning a place in his heart he'd just as soon guard. “Stubbornness is an unfortunate trait I received from my mother.”

Her lips curled into a sarcastic sneer. “I'm sure she's a charming woman.”

Determined not to give an inch, Blake scowled right back. “She's dead, and when she was alive, she wasn't a bit charming except when she wanted to be. Like most women.”

She jerked her chin with stubbornness that refused to feel compassion. “What about me joining the wagon train?”

Lord help him, he wanted to throw away his principles and allow Miss Caldwell a spot. But he knew better than to be fooled by a pair of amazing eyes, an attractive spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and an unruly mass of hair a man could plunge his fingers into. Attractive women were a dime a dozen. The cost of maintaining discipline on his train demanded a much higher price. He had to stick to the rules. No matter how much he might be tempted to toss them out for Fannie Caldwell's blue eyes or one grateful smile from her beautiful full lips, he knew better. It was one thing to allow an aging widow with a back of steel and hands of iron who wasn't afraid of hard work—like Sadie Barnes. But this woman was a different story altogether. She seemed sincere enough now, but in the light of day they were all the same. Conniving, manipulative, and willing to do or say anything to get their way. He steeled his heart and shook his head firmly. “Nope. No single women.”

Quick tears glimmered in her eyes. Blake swallowed hard,
unbelievably affected. “Look, don't cry. I wish I could help you, but those are the rules, Miss Caldwell.”

Anger, swift and hot glared back at him. “Who's crying? I don't cry, mister. And I don't beg. I'll get west with or without your help.” She spun on her heel and stomped away, leaving Blake staring after her wishing like the dickens he could call her back and tell her he'd changed his mind.

“Pretty girl.”

Blake jerked around, irritated that he'd allowed himself to be distracted enough not to notice that Two Feathers had come back.

“Thought you went to check on the men.”

“Someone is following the girl. Thought I'd make sure she gets back to town safe.”

“Following? What do you mean? I didn't hear anyone.” Blake felt like a fool for being so absorbed in Fannie's exhilarating presence that he'd neglected to stay aware of his surroundings.

Two Feathers didn't gloat. Rather, he accepted the situation for what it was. Though Blake could count on one hand the times he'd been too distracted to sense danger—or the potential for such—he'd always been grateful for his friend. And now was no different. Sam kept his voice low. “I'll go after her.”

Blake nodded. He couldn't leave the wagon train without leadership while they were camped outside of a rough town like Hawkins. Though everything in him fought to leave Two Feathers in charge and see to Fannie's safety, he knew where his responsibility lay. “Make sure nothing happens to her.”

Sam didn't respond but faded silently into the night. As much as Blake wished he was the one going after the girl, he knew he didn't need to worry, with his Indian friend taking care of matters. Sam was the only man he trusted to take care of things as well as, if not better than, he could. And that was a high compliment.

He looked into the sky for just a moment and stared at the glittering stars, the soft glow of a half-moon. The kind of moon that made a man think maybe something existed beyond the earth. The notion of God was starting to grow on him. Thanks to Sam's confounded preaching night and day. And there was something about sleeping under the stars every night that made a man aware of the existence of something bigger than himself.

Although he hadn't been raised anywhere near a church and no self-respecting, God-fearing man or woman would have anything to do with the likes of him and his mother, Blake had always lived an honest life, tried to be just and fair in his dealings with folks. But Two Feathers said that wasn't enough. That God needed a man to make a commitment one way or the other. Like marriage.

Blake squirmed against that notion. He much preferred the idea of wide-open land and a life free of any real attachments. That had been his way since the night of his twelfth birthday, when he'd snuck out of the storeroom of the Gold Nugget saloon, where his mother had worked for as long as Blake could remember. He had been back once—three years later, only to discover his mother had died of an unnamed disease with his name on her lips. He'd left St. Louis forever
that day, and joined his first wagon train, lying about his age and somehow convincing the wagon master that he was a scout. It was only dumb luck that Sam Two Feathers took a liking to him. Barely five years older, Sam had been a scout for two wagon trains west already and was making a name for himself as the best on the frontier. Sam was the only friend he'd ever had.

But there was no time to ponder the weighty thought any longer as the sound of boots crashing through the woods alerted him to the wayward men returning from town. They staggered toward the wagon train, and Blake knew they were more than a little drunk. These men would be lucky if they remembered their own names. He gripped his pistol but kept it holstered for the time being while he met them head-on.

“A little late, aren't ya, fellas?”

Willard stepped forward with his familiar conciliatory grin. “Lost track of time, Tanner. Won't happen again.” His liquored breath wafted over Blake, turning his stomach, but Blake kept his face stoic and didn't show his revulsion. “This all of you?”

“Sure is.” Again, that smile. Blake wasn't moved. But was relieved that all six were accounted for. That would save him the trouble of kicking anyone out of his train. For now, anyway.

He nodded toward an open area just beyond the wagons. “Best make camp outside of the circle tonight,” he said.

“What do you mean?” A strapping farmer that Blake recognized as a newlywed, Barnabas Shewmate, seemed to sober up a bit.

“I'll not have drunkenness inside the circle of wagons.” Blake eyed Willard, then shifted his gaze to the other family man, Zachary Kane. “Especially around the children of this train. Every last one of you heard the rules of the wagon train when you signed on. I can't keep you from drinking outside of camp, but I'll be hanged if I let any one of you men cross the wagon line.”

Zach had the good grace to drop his gaze and look ashamed of himself, as did Barnabas. Willard tried on another grin, completely unashamed by his present state. “Aw, Blake. You ain't seriously suggesting we sleep on the hard ground when a couple of us got soft women to snuggle up against?”

Blake scrutinized the man, but again he remained like stone. “I'm not suggesting anything. I'm telling you flat out you're not getting any closer to the wagon train than this spot, until morning. Now, am I going to have any trouble out of you? Or are you going to take this like men and sleep it off out yonder?”

Willard's face clouded, eyes narrowed, and Blake tightened his grip around his Colt. Willard noted the movement, eyed the revolver, and backed down, but not before Blake noted a fire of hatred shooting from the man's dark eyes.

Relief that he'd avoided the possibility of a volatile incident sifted through Blake. He wasn't afraid to press his point, but he'd rather not have to use force. Making enemies was never a smart way to go if it could be avoided. As part of the wagon train, this man could possibly stand between him and death someday.

Blake could feel Willard's eyes on him as he walked back
to the wagons and instructed the night guards to make sure not one person except for Two Feathers entered the camp that night.

Blake couldn't help but have a sinking feeling that he and Willard would be coming to blows long before they reached Oregon.

A twig cracked somewhere behind Fannie, causing her legs to halt even as her heart quickened its pace. If there was one thing she'd learned over the past three years, it was to keep her senses tuned in to possible danger. And right now every instinct told her someone had been following her since she left the mule-headed wagon master.

She figured she had a couple of choices. Run, which probably wouldn't do any good, or make a stand. Show her pursuer she might not be able to fight him off, but no way would she be caught unawares and without a fight. Stooping, she snatched a rock from the hard ground and slowly turned, summoning bravado she was far from feeling. “I know you're there,” she called out. “Show yourself, you lily-livered coward.”

The bushes behind her rustled. Fannie raised her arm and took aim.

“Wait! Fannie,” a husky, slightly panicked female voice called out. “It's me, Toni. Don't throw the rock.”

Fannie shoved out a breath and dropped her arm, nearly faint with relief. “Mercy, Toni, you scared the life out of me.”

“You didn't seem scared.” The blonde moved into the open, her body scantily clad and shivering in the coolness of the spring night. “As a matter of fact, I'd wager any man would have thought twice before attacking you.”

The praise felt good. Fannie had to admit it, but there wasn't time to dwell on things like that. Tonight there was too much at stake. “What are you doing out here?”

“Following you. What did Mr. Tanner say?”

Fannie flung the rock against the nearest tree with all the pent-up force she could muster. “That man is a stubborn mule, and I hate him.”

“I take it you couldn't convince him to change his mind?” Toni's voice sank with disappointment.

“No.”

The prostitute's chest rose and fell, bespeaking a frustration that Fannie felt in her own heart. “What are we going to do?”

Fannie scowled. “We?”

She nodded and sashayed forward. “Neither of us can do this alone, Fannie. But together, we might have a chance to leave this godforsaken territory.”

“I'm not alone. I have Kip and Katie.”

Giving a shrug, Toni nodded her concession. “All right. So you don't need me. But I can't do this alone.”

“What makes you think you need me?”

“I don't have a wagon. You do.”

Fannie's hands went cold. “What are you talking about?”
Her voice trembled. How many folks knew her secret? Her gut tightened with the premonition that she needed to get home to Kip and Katie. Were the twins in danger? If this Toni—a woman she knew only by reputation and recognition—knew her biggest secret, did Tom know as well? What if he'd hurt the twins and was just waiting for her to get home? She turned on Toni with fury. “What do you know about a wagon?”

Her face, illuminated in the glow of the moon, hardened with determination. “Let's just say, the smithy is a regular client of mine, and he talks in his sleep.”

Fannie's face burned with embarrassed indignation. “In his sleep, my eye. That lousy talebearer, Hank Moore. He swore he wouldn't tell anyone about my plans. I've got half a mind to—”

“Simmer down. Hank never came right out and said he was helping you. I'm good at putting two and two together when men need to feel important.”

“I just bet you are,” Fannie spit.

Toni's eyes narrowed, and she stepped closer. Standing inches taller than Fannie she might have been intimidating if Fannie hadn't been filled with her own desperation. Still, her voice trembled when she spoke. “I can't go back to town, Fannie. George will kill me if I do.”

“What'd you do?”

“Besides running out on him in the first place—and since I'm late reporting for work, he's figured it out by now—I snuck into his room and took my money from his locked box.” She gave a rueful smile and answered the next question
before Fannie could ask. “I know where he keeps the key. I guess he never thought I'd have the gumption to go after my money, so he never hid it from me.”

“Your money?” Fannie sniffed her disdain. “Does he know it was your money, or are you a stinking thief?”

Toni gave her a pointed look. “I earned every penny and more. It's rightfully mine.”

Fannie's thoughts went back to her own stash of denied payment that she had taken from Tom. Her anger cooled. Perhaps she had more in common with this woman than she cared to admit.

“All right. Stay here. I'll come back and get you later tonight.”

“I can't stay here like a cornered animal. George is going to be sending Arnold after me once he figures out I'm not just a bit late to work. I need to be somewhere Arnold can't find me.”

Many times, Fannie had seen George's girls after his thug Arnold had finished getting them in line. Puffy lips, bruised faces. They never even tried to hide the wounds. How many times had Tom seen the fear in her eyes and threatened to make use of Arnold's services should she become too out-spoken?

She could only imagine Toni's anxiety. “All right. Go to the old barn about a mile south of here. The wagon's hooked up, waiting for us. We'll be leaving in the night, soon as Tom's passed out drunk.”

Toni nodded. “Thank you. You won't regret letting me come along.”

Fannie grabbed her arm. “Give me your money.”

“What?”

Holding out her hand, Fannie leveled a gaze at her new travel companion. “Let's just say, I don't want to open that barn and find my wagon and you gone when I get there.”

Toni drew herself up with a dignity that might have been comical if not for their desperate situation. “I'm no thief.” But she handed over her money just the same.

Fannie gave a snort. “Tell that to George.”

“I already told you…”

“Shhh.” Fannie's senses alerted her to the swish of body against bush.

“What?” Toni whispered.

Fannie silenced her with a raised hand and cocked her ear toward the sound. Perhaps an animal? They waited as minutes passed. Fannie's heart pounded violently in her ears.

“No one's there, Fannie,” Toni hissed.

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“It was probably a squirrel or rabbit or something.”

Fannie nodded, not convinced, but if their pursuer wasn't going to reveal himself, what other choice did she have but to move on. She tucked Toni's money into her waistband. “Be careful heading to the barn. I'll be there as soon as we can get away.”

The young woman reached out and embraced Fannie in a quick hug before she could step away. “You be careful too.”

Fannie watched Toni leave until night and foliage covered her form. Then Fannie turned her attention back to the mile she still had to walk. It was later than she'd intended. No
doubt Tom had been home for several minutes. Perhaps longer. Images of Kip and Katie in trouble began to torment her, and she quickened her pace until her footfalls came at a run.

If only they could get through one more evening of Tom's drunken raging, his gluttonous smacking, his filthy desires. One more night. And then they'd never have to endure him again.

 

When Sam Two Feathers stole back into camp, Blake didn't even bother to hide his curiosity. “What happened?”

“A woman followed the girl.”

“A woman?” Surprised, Blake gave the scout all of his attention.

Sam nodded, squatting down in front of the fire as he reached forward and ladled beans into a tin plate. “A fancy woman, I think.”

Bile sprang to Blake's throat. He knew exactly the fancy woman to whom Sam was referring. “What was she doing?”

“Ran away from someone named George. She wants to travel with the one named Fannie. They're going to meet up later when the girl can get away.”

“Thunderation.” Blake slapped at his thigh. “I told Fannie she couldn't come with us.”

Sam shrugged. “I reckon she's not the kind to take no for an answer.” He looked up and grinned. “Has her a wagon hid away somewhere. The fancy woman's hiding out there. I think they're coming whether you say they can or not.”

Blake gave a huff of frustration. What was he going to do if she insisted on following the train?

As if reading his thoughts, Sam swallowed down a bite. “Might not be a bad idea to let her join us. She knew the woman was following her. Even picked up on my tracking. She has some real good instincts. Better than most men, I'd say.”

“You know the rule. Even if I was inclined to bend it a little for the girl and her brother and sister, I'm not letting a saloon girl anywhere near this wagon train. Who knows what kind of trouble having a woman like that could cause.”

“Maybe none.”

“I'm not willing to take that chance. There are too many impressionable men and jealous women in the group. A fancy woman, even one trying to change her ways, can only cause trouble. I just don't need someone like that dirtying up my wagon train.”

“Now, Blake, you know what the Good Book says.”

Blake blinked. Sam knew he didn't have a notion what he was getting at.

He scowled and Sam smiled. “All right you don't know. It says that all have sinned and come short of the glory of God.” Sam's sharp hazel eyes glowed like the sea in the firelight. “The woman is trying to find a new start. You would keep her from accomplishing that?”

“I'm not keeping her from anything but making trouble on my wagon train. You know as well as I do that it would only be a matter of weeks, maybe days, before she'd be practicing her profession.”

By the light of the fire, Blake noted Sam's jaw clench. He knew the conversation was over. Sam wasn't much of one to
push his thoughts off on another man. And no matter how strongly he might feel Blake was wrong, he wouldn't bring it up again. Blake knew that.

 

Relief washed over Fannie as she stepped breathlessly through the private entrance into the one room at the back of the store that served as Tom's living quarters. Katie stood over the stove. Kip sat at the table. She rushed into the room. “Tom's not home yet?”

Fear shot to Katie's eyes and, too late, Fannie realized her mistake. From the corner of her eye she saw Tom's meaty arm before she felt the blow. “Think yer gonna steal from me and run away?” She looked up from the ground, and despair washed over her. He held the bag of money. Her money. Escape money. New start money.

His heavy boot landed on her back, preventing her from rolling away. Tom grabbed her hair, reared back, and slammed her face into the ground. She heard Tom's roar of uncontrolled rage just before welcome blackness invaded her senses.

Fannie woke with a start to the unpleasant splash of ice-cold water on her face. She could taste blood and knew her lip was busted. And that wasn't all. Every inch of her body screamed in pain. A groan rose from her throat. With great effort, she opened her eyes.

“That did it.” Kip's voice broke through the pain and cold, bringing Fannie fully conscious. “Come on, Fannie. You have to get up. Them ropes ain't going to hold Tom for long.”

Ropes? “What happened?”

“Kip knocked him out cold,” Katie said, her sweet voice
filled with pride. “Got him all tied up.” She clutched the money bag.

Struggling to sit up, Fannie took note of the cast-iron frying pan slung on the floor and looked around until she spied Tom, sprawled on the floor. “Is he alive?”

Kip gave her a scowl. “Yeah. But I shoulda done him in after what he did to you.”

Fannie followed her brother's gaze to the fat storekeeper. Her tormentor. His shirt had slid up, revealing a hairy, bloated stomach. Revulsion shook her.

“Does it hurt much, Fannie?”

“Yeah. Real bad.” Her head, her back, her ribs. There was no point in lying about it. Katie and Kip had each been on the receiving end of Tom's fury, so they knew the pain that accompanied the blows.

Tom groaned and shifted.

Kip was right. Those bindings wouldn't hold for long. She had two choices. Run now, taking the chance that he'd be loose in moments and come after them before they could get away. Or take some time to tighten the ropes, despite her distaste at the thought of getting any closer to Tom than absolutely necessary. She made a quick decision. “Kip, go into the store and bring some more rope. Katie, bring me a square of cloth to tie around his mouth. We need to make sure he doesn't get away for at least a day.” Hopefully the lazy drunk would decide they weren't worth the trouble of running after. The twins went their separate ways, and Fannie rose painfully to her feet.

“It ain't gonna do you no good to do this, gal.”

She jumped, expecting the blows to begin again. But when she whipped around, she found Tom still tied up, struggling against his bindings. Yet panic bolted through her. Ignoring the stabbing pain in her sides, she grabbed the skillet and raised it over her head, ready to bring it down. “Fannie, NO!” Toni rushed across the room and reached for the skillet.

The opening door, accompanied by Toni's shout, brought Tom's head up. He noted the skillet, and terror shot to his eyes. With a screech, he shrank back like the coward he was. “Dear God in Heaven, make her stop!”

Fannie clutched the skillet tighter as Toni tried to muscle it from her fingers. This was her chance to be rid of him forever. But even now, staring into his mean, nasty face, she knew she couldn't do it. Not with Mama watching from Heaven.

Slowly, she relinquished her grip. Toni breathed out loudly. “Goodness, Fannie. Have you taken leave of your senses? You would have killed him.”

“Killing is too good for him.”

“Maybe so, but he's not dying tonight.”

Fannie clutched her ribs as she came to her senses, and the pain returned. “I thought I told you to hide…” She eyed Tom and lowered her voice, “You know where.”

“I'm sorry, Fannie. I couldn't find the place.”