Wilde, Jennifer (41 page)

The
light was almost completely gone, just a faint afterglow remaining. Jeff and
the two mules were in silhouette. He was kneeling, filling up the canteens. One
particularly thick bough of the oak tree stretched almost directly over his
head. As I stood there, feeling pensive, feeling at peace, I saw the leaves of
the bough move ever so slightly.

Something
moved in the tree. I couldn't believe my eyes. One minute the thickness was
there, and then it started to move, edging back toward the trunk of the tree.
The stream rushed along, splashed over the rocks with a pleasant noise that was
loud enough to drown out the faint noise of the body inching slowly backward on
the bough. Jeff capped one of the canteens, slung it on the ground behind him,
kneeled down to fill up another. In the bough I saw a silhouette, rising now to
its knees, and then it dropped softly to the ground and stood poised there for
a moment, not more than six or seven yards from where Jeff was kneeling.

I
saw a tall, powerfully built body, and I saw a muscular arm raising back, saw
the tomahawk, all black, in silhouette, and I was so stunned I couldn't cry
out. The savage crept slowly toward the kneeling man. I was screaming inside,
unable to make the screams audible, and then I realized I was holding the
rifle. I reared it up into position and covered the silhouette with the sight
and pulled the trigger. There was a blinding orange flash and a puff of smoke
and the silhouette moved crazily like a puppet on jerking strings, then fell on
the ground in a broken heap.

I
dropped the rifle. I raced toward Jeff. He caught me in his arms. I began to
sob. He held me tightly, peering over my shoulder at the Indian on the ground,
and, ironically, the mules continued to lap up the water, unperturbed by the
explosive blast. I turned in Jeff's arms, glancing down at the body sprawled
out there on the ground, arms and legs akimbo. The light was stronger here and
I could see the bronze skin smeared with war paint, the bear-tooth necklace,
the feathers. The Indian was naked but for a thin loin cloth and moccasins.
Half of his face was missing, and I was glad the light was no stronger.

"Good
shootin'," Jeff said. "Now we've got to get the hell away from
here."

"He
was in the tree. I—I couldn't believe—"

"We've
no time to waste, Marietta. If he's here, the others can't be far away. They're
probably on the Trace. He was probably an advance scout. In less than ten
minutes this place is going to be swarmin' with Indians—"

"Jeff,
he was going to
kill
you. He had his tomahawk raised and—"

"Come
on! You can tell me about it later. That rifle shot could be heard for miles
around. Pull yourself together! Here, help me with the mules—you've had enough
to drink, you little bastards! Don't you dare try to balk now—"

Moments
later we were on our way again, and in the distance we could hear hooting,
yelping noises that caused my blood to turn cold. We urged the mules on,
tearing away through the woods, and my heart was pounding so loudly I couldn't
hear the yelps any longer. Ten minutes passed, fifteen, and still we rode. We
were racing down a hill now, and then we turned the mules and were moving along
the bottom of the hill. Thick, scrabbly bushes grew there, half-concealing the
face of the hill. Jeff came to an abrupt halt and swung off the mule. He
hurried over to help me dismount.

"Okay,
follow me. It's tricky. I'll lead the mules."

He
took the reins and started toward the bushes, pushing them aside as he reached
them. I followed close behind, my heart still pounding. In a moment or so we
were completely surrounded by bushes, and Jeff simply disappeared. The mules
disappeared, too, and I stumbled on through the bushes. They slapped my arms,
tore at my skirts. I saw the narrow opening then and, stepping through it,
found myself swallowed up in darkness. The air was damp and cold, the ground
soft, spongy. I could hear something stirring, but it was impossible to see.

"Here
we go, fellow," Jeff said quietly. "Hate to do this, hate to put a
muzzle on you, but can't have you decidin' to bray. There, that comfortable
enough? Now it's your turn, Jenny."

"Jeff—"

"Be
with you in a minute."

"It's
so
dark."

"Your
eyes'll soon get accustomed to it. There you are, Jenny. Snug, but not tight
enough to hurt. I know it's humiliatin', lass, but that's the way it has to be.
Marietta?"

"Over
here."

He
moved toward me, reached for me, pulled me up against him, wrapping his arms
around me. I rested my cheek on his chest, the buckskin rough and scratchy
against my skin. Cold air swirled around us in clammy currents, and there was a
noise like heavy breathing as some force sucked the air toward the rear of the
cave.

"Guess
I can thank you for savin' my life now," he said.

"I—I
just shot. I didn't even remember I had the rifle in my hands for a moment. I
was terrified, so terrified I couldn't even scream, and then I just—just swung
the rifle up and fired—"

"I'd
uv been a goner if you hadn't. The water was rushin' along and the mules was
makin' so much noise drinkin' that I couldn't hear him. I liked to jumped outta
my skin when I heard the blast, saw that redskin leapin' up in the air with
half his face gone. Glad I taught you to shoot, wench."

"They
won't find us, will they?"

"Not
a chance," he told me. "If you didn't know this cave was here, you'd
never be able to find it. I—uh—I gotta leave you alone for a little while,
Marietta."

"You're
not going back—back out there?"

"
'Fraid I have to," he replied. "We left some pretty obvious tracks,
and I've got to hide 'em. Don't worry, I won't let 'em catch me. I'll be back
'fore you know it. Here—I want you to take this."

I
felt him fumbling, and then he took hold of my hand and placed something cold
and heavy in it. As my fingers closed around it, I realized it was his pistol.

"If
anything should happen—not that anything
will,
mind you—I want you to
use the pistol, Marietta. Do you understand what I'm saying? If I shouldn't
come back, if the Indians should find you—you're to use the pistol on yourself
before they can take you."

"Please
don't go out there," I whispered. "Please!"

"It's
something I gotta do, Marietta. As it stands right now, we might as well paint
a big arrow pointing to the cave entrance. Ten, fifteen minutes of work, and
our tracks'll be gone."

"It's
insanity. They—even now they're probably—"

"I
know my way around. Don't you worry none. I've been eludin' Indians for years.
They won't see hide nor hair of me, won't hear me, neither. There's just enough
light for me to see how to erase our tracks. If I wait any longer—"

"I
won't let you go!"

But
Jeff had already gone. I realized that I was alone in the pitch-blackness, and
I was terrified, afraid for Jeff more than for myself. I heard the bushes
rattling softly as he moved through them, a faint, barely audible rustle I wouldn't
have heard at all had I not been listening for it, and then there was only the
soft swoosh of the air, as though the cave itself were breathing. Minutes crept
past, and gradually my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. A faint suggestion
of light seeped in through the opening, and the dense, impenetrable blackness
melted into a deep gray, enabling me to make out the damp stone walls and the
mules standing placidly at one side, muzzles in place. I heard tiny squeaking
noises coming from above me. Peering up, I could barely discern the furry brown
masses hanging from the rock. There must have been two dozen bats. I could see
their eyes glowing.

I
leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. The bats frightened me almost as
much as the Indians. My cheeks were damp with tears I hadn't even known I had
shed. I had never felt so utterly defenseless. I felt like a small, abandoned
child, and the tears continued to flow down my cheeks. He pretended there was
no danger, claimed he had been eluding Indians for years, but if there was no
danger, why had he given me the pistol? They would catch him, kill him, burn
him at the stake as they had burned Joe Pearson, and then they would come after
me. Would I be able to use the pistol? If they came, if they found me, could I
put the gun to my head and pull the trigger?

The
mules stirred restlessly. The bats squeaked. Fifteen more minutes passed, at
least that many, and still he didn't come. The light seeping in through the
opening was tinged with silver. The moon must be unusually bright. Far, far
away I heard a gobbling noise, like a wild turkey, and then there came an
answering gobble from another direction, then a third, and I knew it was the
Indians, knew they were signaling each other in the woods. Had they spotted him?
Was that what the calls were about? I prayed, silently, fervently, and then I
heard the shrubbery rustling and my heart leaped.

"Marietta—"

"Jeff!
Thank God!"

"Took
me a bit longer than I expected. Our tracks are all gone, and I left some new
ones to take their place, tracks leadin' down to the stream. I broke a few
branches, left a bit of handkerchief on a thorn, dropped an old powder horn on
the bank. They're gonna think we moved up the stream a ways and then crossed
over to the other side."

"Thank
God you're back."

"Almost
walked smack-dab into a brave," he said, jauntily, bragging just a bit.
"He was standin' there with his back to me, still as could be. It was dark
as hell, and I thought he was a
tree!
Then one of his buddies let out a
turkey gobble and he gobbled back and I popped behind some shrubs. It was a
pretty close call!"

Jeff
reached for me, pulled me into his arms. He touched my face and felt the tears.

"Hey,
you've been cryin'."

"I
couldn't help it."

He
kissed the tears away and wrapped his arms more tightly around me. "It's
all right now. They're gonna do a lot of prowlin' around, and they'll make a
little noise, but they ain't gonna find us. Hey, no need to tremble. No need at
all. It's all right."

He
stroked my hair and then wrapped his hand around my chin and tilted my head
back and kissed me. I clung to him, savoring his strength, his warmth, his
goodness.

"You
still hungry?" he asked after a moment.

"I'm
too frightened to eat anything."

"Reckon
we'll wait a while then. Here, we'll just make ourselves comfortable."

Holding
on to my wrist, he sat down and pulled me down beside him. Leaning against the
rock, he pulled me over until I was snuggled against his chest. He held me
loosely, stroking my arms, comforting me as one might comfort a child, and
after a while my trembling ceased and I grew still. He had taken the pistol
from me earlier, and now he set it down on the ground beside him, within easy
reach. I turned in his arms, resting the back of my head against his shoulder.
He curled his arm around my throat, gently, leaning down to brush his lips
against my temple.

"All
right now?" he whispered.

"I—I
think so. I—I didn't mean to be so—so weak and all. I hate women who cry, women
who fall to pieces. I don't usually—"

"I
know, wench. You're a tough, feisty hellcat, full of spunk and spirit. I kinda
like you like this, though. Makes me feel strong and protective and manly.
Makes me feel somethin' else, too, but I reckon I'll just have to forget about
that for the time bein'."

"You
certainly will."

"And
I was plannin' such a celebration.
Damn
these Indians."

"They'll
soon go away, won't they? They'll—"

I
cut myself short. Stealthy footsteps were moving outside the cave, and the
bushes were rustling. I let out a gasp, and Jeff clamped a hand over my mouth,
lightly but firmly. The footsteps stopped. There was a loud gobble, an
answering gobble from across the way. In a minute or so there were more
footsteps, and we could hear the Indians talking to each other, their voices
low. Then they stopped talking and began to search through the shrubbery. Jeff
reached out and clasped the pistol. My heart seemed to stop beating. The
footsteps were so close, the branches right outside the opening moving with
crisp, rustling noises. There was a moment of agonizing suspense, and then a
shrill, excited cry shrieked in the distance. The shrubbery rattled noisily as
the Indians searching it left to join the one who had cried out. Jeff moved his
hand from my mouth.

"One
of 'em must of found the new tracks," he said.

"I
thought they were going to find us."

"Yeah,
for a minute or two there I was kinda worried myself. They'll be huntin' down
by the stream now."

"I
hope your ruse works."

"It'll
work. Just relax. Even though we've just been whisperin', I reckon we'd better
shut up for a while, just in case one of 'em comes back to have another look at
them bushes outside."

"I'm
so frightened."

"Relax.
I ain't gonna let 'em get you."