Wild legacy (21 page)

Sean waved to them, and Dominique went back to the rear of the wagon. In civilian clothes, he would easily pass for a merchant, but unlike Belle, she considered him no

less appealing than he had been in uniform. "I'll sit with Belle for a while, then I'll come back here with you." Sean swung his feet up out of the way, and she and Lieutenant Beck raised the tailboard and secured it. Wedged into the corner, Sean took hold of the tailboard with his right hand and adjusted his position slightly.

"Are you comfortable?" Dominique asked.

Sean shot her a glance that assured her he was not, but they had already laid a thick layer of straw in the bed of the wagon to cushion his ride and there was nothing more she could do. "We'll stop often, and do our best to find the smoothest roads."

"Colonel O'Keefe is indeed fortunate to have such an attentive nurse," Beck offered, but as usual his hostile glance belied his words.

"Sean is fortunate in all respects," Dominique countered, and quickly brushed by the lieutenant to take her seat next to Belle. Belle clucked to their mares, and with a clattering shudder, the wagon began rolling across the yard. Dominique turned to look back at Sean. He had already lowered his head, and even from several feet away she could tell he was in horrible pain.

"I don't care how this looks," Dominique told Belle. "He's hurting too badly and I'll have to sit with him." Rather than ask Belle to stop the wagon, she just timed her motions to the vehicle's rumbling sway and climbed over the back of the seat. She crawled over to Sean and tapped his thigh. Startled, he glanced up, and she saw the moisture on his cheeks before he could wipe away his tears.

"Let's move to the front of the wagon—you can use my lap as a pillow."

"Wait," Sean begged, but as soon as they had left the camp, he collapsed in her arms.

Dominique laid his coat aside and struggled to pull him forward. It took a bit of doing, but after a moment she had their gear in the front of the wagon as a backrest, and he

lay sprawled out on the straw with his head in her lap. She tipped his hat to shade his face and ran her hand down his right arm.

"Is that better?" she asked.

Sean reached up to squeeze her hand, and she knew it was. She also had the answer she had sought all night. She could not stand to see Sean suffer even a moment of pain, and she had not saved his life only to take it later. That insight had solved one problem, but then presented another, for now she would have to convince Falcon that Sean O'Keefe had a right to live.

On horseback, they had wound their way through the forests, but now in the lumbering wagon, they would have to remain on the well-worn roads. Dominique pulled her kerchief down to shade her eyes, but she was too tired to serve as an effective lookout. They would be unlikely to encounter rebel bands this close to Camden, but she doubted they could make it all the way home without being stopped by at least one. The Barclay name would command respect, so that prospect did not trouble her, but there were other men, brigands who used the war as an excuse to prey on either side and on an open road, they would be defenseless.

"We should have brought a pistol at the very least," she told Sean.

He released her hand to raise his hat slightly. "There's one in my bag."

"Wonderful. If we're stopped by men who care little whom they kill, do you think they'll allow us time to unpack it?" She did not wait for him to grant permission, but leaned forward to pull his satchel out beside her and began to rummage through it. He had several shirts, pants neatly folded, socks, toilet articles, and at the very bottom of the bag, a pistol.

"Is it loaded?" she asked before touching it.

"Yes, of course. What good would it be if it weren't?"

Dominique removed it gingerly and slipped it beneath

the straw where it would be within easy reach should the need arise. "Let's keep it out of sight. Anyone who challenges us will focus on you, and with your hands empty, they'll not suspect they're in any danger."

Sean cocked his head to look up at her. "Do you really think you could shoot a man?" he asked.

"If I had to, yes."

"I don't want to miss that. Wake me before you fire."

Dominique jammed Sean's hat down over his eyes rather than promise that she would. She turned to look up at Belle, then thought better of telling her about the pistol when Belle would surely want to have it with her rather than Sean. Dominique regarded the omission as mere caution rather than a betrayal, but it bothered her nonetheless.

Then again, it was difficult to do any serious thinking seated in the back of an old wagon. She was used to riding her mare, or in a fine carriage, and bumping along the rutted road was nearly as uncomfortable for her as it was for Sean. Had she not been overtired, she would never have been able to sleep, but despite her best efforts to keep a close eye on her patient, and the road, she soon dozed off.

Expecting Falcon to appear at any minute, Belle kept scanning the sides of the road, but the sun rose high overhead without any sign he was near. He had said she would sense his presence, but she felt only hot and tired. She was also growing increasingly annoyed with Dominique, who was treating Sean O'Keefe as though he were a precious child when Belle was positive he did not deserve any consideration whatsoever.

Anxious to meet Falcon, she kept the mares moving along at an easy but steady pace. She wiped her forehead on her arm and reached for the jug of water at her side. She had just brought it to her lips when Falcon rode out of the pine forest and came galloping toward them. Bare-chested with his hair flying loose, he looked as savage as any Seneca brave ever born. Even knowing this was the man she called

husband, the sight of him charging straight for the wagon unnerved Belle completely.

As Belle yanked the mares to a sudden halt, Dominique was thrown back against their gear with bruising force. Sean was also pitched forward, driving his hat into Dominique's diaphragm and knocking the wind out of her. Violently jolted awake, each made a frantic grab for the other but before either recovered, Falcon leapt from Nails's back into the bed of the wagon. As the brave came toward them knife in hand, Dominique was unable to produce more than an anguished sob, but she leaned forward and crossed her arms over Sean's chest to shield him from harm.

"Get out of my way!" Falcon shouted.

Belle wrapped the reins around the brake handle and leaned over the back of the seat in time to see Sean reach for the pistol. Also dislodged by the abrupt halt, it lay just out of his grasp. "He has a pistol," she screamed. She dived over the back of the seat and lunged for Sean's arm to prevent him from using it on Falcon.

All four of them were in the back of the wagon now, Dominique struggling for breath to beg for Sean's life, Sean desperately trying to defend himself, Belle valiantly trying to protect the man she loved, and Falcon, thoroughly confused, not swinging his knife for fear he would leave a long, bloody gash in one of his cousins. Going after the pistol with a well-placed kick, he sent it out of Sean's reach, and bent down to pick it up.

"Thank you, Belle. Now take Dominique and get out of the wagon," Falcon ordered in a low, controlled tone. "I'll deal with O'Keefe."

Sean tried to sit up, but Dominique tossed his hat aside and tightened her hold on him. "No, Falcon," she gasped. "You'll do no such thing."

Falcon leveled the pistol at the Englishman's chest and smiled as a look of terrified recognition crossed Sean's face. "I see that you remember me. Good. He's mine, Dominique.

Now get out of the wagon. I don't want his blood splattered all over you."

"My God," Sean wailed. "You're Christian's brother." He looked up at Dominique. "You had this all planned, didn't you?"

Ignoring Sean's question, Dominique continued to argue with Falcon. "I won't let you kill him. He's left the army and he's so badly hurt he can barely stand. There can be no honor in killing a wounded man."

Falcon kept the pistol trained on Sean. "You must have heard how Tarleton treated Colonel Buford and his troops in May. How much mercy did they show our wounded?"

Dominique sent a frightened glance toward Belle, who was now hanging onto the back of the seat. They had both heard about the massacre, as indeed all of Virginia had. Colonel Buford had been in command of a regiment of Virginia infantry which had retreated after Charleston had fallen into British hands. Overtaken by Banastre Tarleton's British Legion, Buford had surrendered, but rather than take prisoners, Tarleton's dragoons had slaughtered all the Virginians in a brutal rampage that had left not merely Virginians, but every Patriot aching for revenge.

Recalling the details of the gory battle made Dominique as sick as she had become when she had first heard them. Tarleton's name was now synonymous with senseless, bloody murder. "This isn't Tarleton," she reminded Falcon.

"One murdering English bastard is as good as the next," Falcon replied. "Now get out of the wagon."

Dominique made no move to release Sean, but he reached up to pull her hands away. "Let me go," he complained. "At least let me die on my feet."

"Shut up!" Dominique cried. "No one is going to die here." She had never seen Falcon look so determined, but she had a tight hold on Sean and refused to release him. "I know Sean isn't worth keeping alive, but I don't care. You had your chance to kill him, and failed. I'll not give

you another when he's too weak to defend himself. You should be ashamed, Falcon. Have you killed other men who've been in such pathetic condition?"

Belle watched Falcon's dark eyes narrow and feared Dominique had made a grave error in taunting him. He was not only strong, but quick, and could yank Sean out of her sister's arms and slit his throat before Dominique even knew what had happened. When Falcon tossed the pistol over the side of the wagon into the dirt, she knew that was exactly what he intended to do.

"No!" Belle shrieked, Still standing in the bed of the wagon, she pushed away from the seat, and after nearly tripping over Sean's outstretched legs, she rushed toward Falcon and locked her arms around his waist. "Dominique's right," she begged. "He's not worth killing, and even if he were, you ought not to do it like this."

Falcon took a step back to balance Belle's weight and the wood beneath his feet creaked and groaned. "Like what?" he asked her, his gaze never leaving Sean's. "Like the savage that I am?"

Dominique's tears were dripping down onto Sean's face, and he thought it a ghastly coincidence that this was the second time he had nearly died in her arms. He lay very still, praying she and Belle had more influence over their heathen cousin than it had at first appeared. He could recall Christian clearly, but Falcon had been a handsome boy when he had last seen him, not this well-muscled brave with a demon's thirst for blood. The fact that Dominique had known Falcon had shot him made him wonder what other secrets she had kept from him.

He laced his fingers in hers and bit back the pain throbbing in his shoulder. He had escaped death too recently to face it again, but he knew any bargain he offered would only infuriate Falcon all the more and kept still. He had cursed Tarleton as an unprincipled bastard whose fiendish actions had tainted every British officer's name, but knew

it would be taken as a pitiful plea for his life if he repeated the denunciation here.

"Falcon, please," Belle begged. "Let him live and I'll never ask anything else of you."

"In the same situation, he would kill me," Falcon swore convincingly.

"No," Sean finally felt compelled to reply. "The war's over for me and even if it weren't, I'd not knowingly kill Dominique's kin."

Falcon was moved by the tears flowing freely down Dominique's face rather than Sean's words. The creamy-smooth prettiness that had once made her so popular was gone, but in its place he saw a beauty and compassion that was far more appealing. Because the war had made equally great changes in him, he felt closer to her now than he ever had.

"Do you believe him?" Falcon asked Dominique.

In truth, she did not, but sensing Sean's life hung on her answer, she nodded. "Yes. I do."

Falcon turned to Belle. "Not another thing ever," he vowed.

Belle swallowed hard. "You have my promise. Thank you." Belle hoped she had not traded away favors she would need desperately later on, but for now, she was content with the bargain. She released her hold on Falcon, and he slid his knife into the beaded sheath on his belt

Falcon chose the Seneca language to mutter what he truly thought of Sean O'Keefe, then uttered a terse command. "We'll leave the wagon here. It's too slow, and can't be used on the route I want to take. I'll pull it off the road and unhitch your mares. You'll ride behind me, Belle, and O'Keefe can ride Ladybug."

Dominique wiped the tears from her eyes. "Do you feel strong enough to ride, Sean?"

"He rides, or he stays here," Falcon stressed coldly. He kicked open the tailboard and jumped off the end of the

wagon. "We have wasted too much time already." He reached up to help Belle down, but quickly released her and scooped up Sean's pistol, then strode around to the front of the wagon with her following close behind.

Dominique gave Sean a gentle nudge to lift his shoulders from her lap, but when he sat up and turned to face her, his expression was one of fury rather than gratitude for again saving his life. She raised her hands. "Yell at me later if you must, but Falcon must be obeyed, and quickly." She tried to move past him, but Sean took her wrist in a bruising

grip.

He nodded toward Nails. The horse was grazing on the tall grass at the side of the road. "You knew all along who rode that sorrel horse, didn't you?"

Dominique could have quibbled as to the exact moment she had become certain it had been Falcon who had shot him, but drained of emotion, she just didn't care enough to argue such a minor point. "Yes. I did," she admitted flippantly. "You accused me of being secretive. There's your proof, but that scarcely compares to your faults." She jerked her hand free and left the wagon before Falcon started it rolling into the woods.