Authors: Jodi Thomas
CHAPTER FOUR
E
VERY NIGHT
M
ILLIE
watched the canyon man who called himself James. He never yelled at her or hit her. And he never stopped talking no matter how hard she tried to show him that she wasn’t listening. Days passed, the last of the cottonwood leaves fell, the wind howled of winter at night and still he talked.
She couldn’t stop observing his every move. He took the time to show her things. He taught her each detail as if one day he’d leave her alone and she’d have to know how to survive on her own. Fishing, cooking, washing. All the while, he talked and each day she understood more of what he said.
Three nights after she’d cut her hair, he presented her with a hat made of rabbit skins. A week later he tried to make her moccasins out of more hides. As soon as he left camp the next day, she finished the job with much more skill. For the first time since she’d outgrown her boots, she had new shoes. Fur-lined. Warm. A perfect fit. Over the years she’d made many, but they’d always been taken away.
Canyon Man was a good provider. Millie hadn’t gone hungry since he’d traded for her, but hunting wasn’t the reason he was going out each morning. James was looking for something.
As the days passed she took on more of the cooking, finding that she liked being alone all day and didn’t mind his company at night. She wasn’t sure what she was to him. If a Comanche had traded for her, she might have been a slave for his wife or mother, but James had no wife or mother, and he never treated her like a slave. She thought that maybe she was his wife, but he never touched her. Besides, a man like him could find a better wife than her.
The moon made its second cycle over the big, empty sky and Millie felt her mind calm. Her favorite time was at night when he’d lie on his back and point out the stars. He’d sometimes say that his father had known many of their names and that someday he’d know them all.
Each week she watched James wash in the creek but she never joined him. The habit seemed strange, but she remembered years ago being clean. She’d washed in a house with a fire, warming the air even in winter. Slowly the memory of her mother, her father, her little brother, drifted into her mind and for the first time in years, she let them settle there for a while. Another time. Another world. Her world once.
One warm morning, after James had left, she took his soap and went to the water. Slowly she removed her blanket and stepped out of the bloodstained shift she’d worn for years. She remembered she’d had a dress once, until it had fallen off, piece by piece. Then she’d had a petticoat and shift. Now she only had a shift.
As she walked into the cold water, she almost ran back to the shore, but a bath was long overdue. There was no reason for the mud anymore. No one would try to touch her now.
Slowly, one limb at a time, she washed. Her body was so thin. A girl’s body, she thought, not a woman’s. She’d started her bleeding three maybe four years ago. The mark of a woman. Two months later the flow did not come back. That winter had been hard. Food was short and she was always the last one in the tribe to eat. The bleeding that made her a woman had never returned.
As she scrubbed off the dirt, she realized she was no longer the last to eat. James always ate with her, and he cut each portion in two as if they were equal.
Cleaning her inch-long hair with the terrible-smelling soap, she decided she could not put on the shift again, so she walked back to the campsite nude and cut a hole in a blanket James had tried to cover her with several times. Poking her head through the hole, she tied her waist with a rope and pulled on her moccasins.
When he returned, she would have a stew of meat and a potato cooking.
Whirling, Millie felt grand. She was clean and dressed in clothes no one else had tossed away. She couldn’t wait for James to see her. Her name was no longer Mud Woman.
An hour later she watched James climb off his horse downstream from her. He studied her, shaded his eyes as if to make sure what he saw, then yelled, “Millie, is that you?”
She looked down. “I washed.”
As he walked toward her he continued to talk. “You look great, Millie. I almost thought someone else was in our camp when I rode up. Without the mud and that old blanket, you seem half as wide.” His hand lightly brushed over her clean hair. “Your hair is chestnut brown, not mud color. I’m telling you, Millie, in that clean blanket you are quite stunning.”
She moved away from his touch, but didn’t jerk in fear as she had before. Over the weeks together, she’d learned not to be afraid of him. If he had planned to hit her, he would have done so when she’d spilled coffee on him one morning or when she’d forgotten to start the fire one afternoon, or when she wouldn’t answer him no matter how many times he said her name. But he never hit her. James just kept talking as he smiled and shrugged off his frustration. Her canyon man was a good man.
While he staked his horse, she finished cooking supper.
They ate in silence then both watched the fire. The air was still for a change, whispering around them. Now and then the wind moved in the dead leaves, sounding almost like someone walking.
Finally, when it was long past the time he usually turned in, he looked at her and said, “Talk to me, Millie. It’s so lonely out here with me doing all the talking. I know you understand most of what I say. Just talk to me. I know you can, you spoke today when I rode in.”
“James,” she whispered.
He laughed. “That and ‘good night’ are all I’ve ever heard you say.”
Millie thought about what she should try to say to him. Finally one thing came to mind. “Sleep beside me.”
Standing, he grabbed the extra blanket and spread it out full on the ground beside the fire, then reached for his bedroll blanket and floated it on top. Pulling his boots off, he lay between the two blankets and lifted the top one. “I’d say come to bed, Millie, but I haven’t seen a real bed in so long I’ve forgotten what they feel like.”
She curled in beside him, pressing her back against his chest. The nights were getting colder and his warmth along her back felt so good.
To her surprise, he wrapped his arm over her and tugged her closer. “I’m going to have to fatten you up if we’re going to cuddle through winter.”
She fell asleep on his arm feeling something akin to happiness.
* * *
BY THE TIME
the moon turned from full to a slice she’d grown used to him sleeping beside her at night. She liked the way his low snoring tickled her ear and how he often covered her shoulders with the blanket in the night. Now frost would be on the top of their blanket at dawn, but she always felt warm.
On clear nights he’d point out falling stars, laughing as he counted them as if each one was putting on a show just for him.
One cloudy night he asked her to talk to him again, though she thought she was managing several words a day. Her body had filled out a bit and her hair was now almost as long as her little finger. It seemed to curl around her face and she didn’t mind when he brushed his fingers through it.
“Talk to me,” he said against her ear.
Millie shook her head. She didn’t know the words to say.
“Tell me what would make you happy, Millie.” He rested his hand on her waist. “I don’t have much out here but if I could make you smile, I’d count myself a lucky man.”
She had no words. How could she tell him about all the things she was grateful he never did? He didn’t yell at her. He didn’t beat her. He never made her go to sleep hungry. He hadn’t been angry when she’d cut up one of his blankets or forgotten how to do the things he’d showed her.
James sounded frustrated. “What can I do, Millie? Except when I feel you next to me at night, I’d swear I’m invisible to you most of the time. There must be something that you want.”
She’d had enough talk. “Sleep with me,” she whispered.
“I am. I keep you warm, don’t I?”
She covered her hand over his resting at her waist and moved his fingers up to her breast. “Sleep with me,” she repeated.
He rose to his elbow and looked down at her. “Are you asking what I think you’re asking? Do you want me to...to mate with you?”
She nodded, thinking maybe “mating” was the word she had been looking for. She’d seen the old chief mate with each one of his three wives in the shadows of the tepee. They did not seem to mind at all. Once he tried to climb on her, but his first wife had pushed him off. She’d screamed at him that night and the next morning she had beat Millie so badly she could barely walk for days.
After that she’d put more layers of mud over her and slept outside unless the ground froze.
Maybe she was not James’s wife, maybe she would never be anyone’s wife. But, she wanted this. It had been so many years since she had been close to anyone, or cared if anyone around her lived or died. She wanted to feel a kind touch. It might wash away a few of the shoves and hits and slaps.
Deep inside she knew her need was more. Millie couldn’t explain why, but she
wanted
James’s touch. He mattered to her and for some reason she seemed to matter to him. She might not understand much of what happened between a man and a woman, but Millie knew she wanted to press her heart against his and know she was alive.
Without a word she rose and pulled off the blanket she had made into clothing. Then she huddled back under the cover and waited. Whatever this mating was, she wanted it to happen with someone she cared for. James had made her want to live again.
It took him a while to make up his mind, but slowly he began to touch her and, as he had done with a hundred other things this season, he taught her how to mate.
At first she was not sure she liked it. It hurt a little and he’d whispered that he was sorry and promised it wouldn’t hurt next time. She had lain awake wondering why the first wife had wanted it or why the other wives never cried out as the old chief had moved from one to the other’s blankets. The coupling felt strange, awkward. She liked when he touched her lips with his and she felt warm when he moved over her, but it brought her little pleasure.
He held her when they were finished and fell asleep. She stared into the night sky and tried to make sense of what had happened.
Deep into the night, she shook him awake, asking him to do it again.
This time he did not hesitate so long. He seemed better the second time, more comfortable in touching her. Millie decided all he needed was practice and all she needed was to learn how to do what he liked. Next time she would touch him.
At dawn she awoke to the sound of him whistling as he worked on a shelter for the horses. When she sat up and smiled at him he came to her and knelt down beside her. His hand moved beneath the blanket and brushed along her body as he kissed her lips.
When he backed away, he looked worried. “Are you all right, Millie?”
She nodded once thinking again how kind this strong Canyon Man was. His heart rested over hers in the night. She knew its rhythm.
“Again, James,” she whispered.
He laughed. “Tonight. The weather promises a storm. I’d like to get the road from the east marked off. When or if I return to this land I want to have everything planned and staked out.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I’ll be back soon.”
While they ate he talked of how he’d mapped the land making sure there was water every mile and where he’d put barns someday.
They didn’t talk about what had happened in the night. Not that morning or the next or the next. Millie silently understood. What happened in the night was not mentioned in daylight.
Someday was not a word either of them knew how to use.
So, as winter raged, she woke him at least twice a night so they could practice until one morning, just before dawn, she decided they got it just right. Finally, she understood why James did not talk about their mating. There were no words.
Leaning back, she let her breath slow as his hands slid along her damp body. She liked this part as much as the mating. He always took his time touching her after they mated, as if she were something very special, and she drifted into sleep knowing she was safe.
CHAPTER FIVE
J
AMES RODE THE BOUNDARY
of what would be his land come spring. His thoughts should be on cattle and building his herd, but his mind kept drifting to Millie. He felt as if he knew her body, but he didn’t know her. They’d never talked of love, or even caring for one another. Most nights he felt as though they were simply two strangers surviving the winter together. Soon she’d be stepping into a world she hadn’t known in years and he’d be back on this land building. Strange, he thought, he’d miss her even though they didn’t talk. He’d miss her more than he’d ever missed anyone.
It had to be February. Another month and they’d be packing up and heading to Fort Worth. He’d file papers and buy his land. He’d pick out stock and hire a few hands to help him haul all he needed to build a house and proper corrals.
He might even buy furniture and hire real carpenters to help him. The money his father had left him had been sitting in the bank for years. Half his salary since the war had added to his account. He wanted everything ready and right once he found the land. Everything seemed to be falling into place, except for one thing.
Where did Millie fit into all this? She still never said a word to him except when she had to. Most days he wasn’t sure she even liked his company. When she got tired of listening, she seemed to slip someplace in her mind that he’d never be able to reach.
Plus, just because he had paid her ransom with a broken watch didn’t give him a right to sleep with her. There was something childlike about her and he was taking advantage of that, no matter that she had asked him to mate with her. She couldn’t be more than eighteen or nineteen. That would make him almost ten years older. Old enough to know better. He hadn’t said a word about love. Hell, he didn’t even believe in love. And he didn’t know if she understood what marriage meant so there was no point talking to her about it.
Only, he loved the way she made love. There was something wild and untamed about it. As if she’d never been told to hold back, to be a lady or not to act as though she enjoyed it just as much as he did.
He smiled. When they slept together she never made him feel as though he was taking a thing from her. If anything, she took from him. She might go along with everything he said all day, but in the darkness of their cave of a home, she demanded his attention. James grinned. If he didn’t take the time to satisfy her, he knew she’d be poking him in a few hours. He’d roll over and ask what she wanted and she’d whisper “you” in that low, sexy voice that he could never refuse.
Not that he was complaining. He’d give her what she wanted no matter how many times a night she asked.
What would he do about Millie once they stepped back into civilization? What they shared here was like a dream. Come spring, they’d have to live in reality.
When they got to a town, he’d have to notify the rangers. What if she had a family searching for her? She’d never answered a single question he’d asked about when she was captured. Every time he’d asked, her eyes would glaze over and she’d go to that place out of his reach.
James had never found a woman he wanted to do more than spend a little time with. As soon as his troops moved on, or the cattle drive started, he was usually more than ready to leave any woman’s bed. In his daydreams of the future, he’d considered the possibility of marriage a few times over the years. If he got the ranch started, and things calmed down in this part of Texas, he might ride into some settlement and pick out a wife. Someone who’d be a good cook and look after the children. He wouldn’t even care if she was pretty as long as she gave him sons.
James shook his head. He’d heard men talk about their wives and not much of it sounded good. Seemed as though they always complained about being nagged and none ever mentioned being awakened at night to mate.
Maybe he should just keep Millie. He might get used to her silence, and he could find someone to teach her to cook. The mating thing, she had down pat. If folks came by the ranch he’d just say they were married. As little as she talked, no one would ever hear otherwise from her.
Only, keeping her didn’t seem right. What if one day his son or daughter asked them about their courtship? James would have nothing to say except, “Oh, I traded a broken watch for her and she asked me to mate with her so I kept her.”
His offspring would probably haul him down to Austin to the insane asylum, and Millie would just wave goodbye from the porch without saying a word.
James swore. He’d never been a man to worry. Maybe if he didn’t think about it things might just keep going on as they were.
He’d stay here, studying his land, mapping out the spot he’d build his headquarters and roads. Then, as soon as he trusted the weather, he’d ride to town and make the dream he’d had all his life come true.
Three weeks later when most of the supplies had begun to run out and the weather turned milder, James packed up. It was time to travel to Fort Worth. This part of his life would have to become a memory. By next winter he’d have a cattle ranch that spread for miles.
He could tell Millie didn’t want to leave the campsite. The next morning she unpacked about as fast as he packed. When he growled at her, she walked away.
A few hours later, when she returned, she refused to look at him.
He sat in the camp cutting down a pair of trousers to fit her. When she walked past, he said without any greeting, “Put these on.”
She did as he’d told her, but never spoke.
“I want you wearing them in the morning,” he said as he turned away to hand her the last meal they’d cook at the winter camp.
She didn’t talk to him that night. He was surprised she cuddled next to him after dark. Without a word, he made love to her, wishing he could read her mind. He knew every curve of her body, but he knew nothing of her hopes and dreams.
The next morning she wore the trousers and her blanket, but she refused to look at him or to speak. As he broke down the camp, he snapped, “We have to go, Millie, and that is all there is to it. So stop acting like I’m not taking you with me and climb up on the horse.”
She looked at him, her blue eyes swimming in tears. “I go, too?”
He saw it then. The fear, the hurt she must have felt when she’d thought he was leaving her. He dropped his last bag and walked to her. “Of course you’re coming with me.”
She hugged him so tightly he knew he could never let her go. A part of her would always be cuddled into his heart.
When he finally pulled her arms from his neck, he tried to get control of feelings he’d thought were long-ago dead. “Now get on the horse, Millie. We need to make twenty miles before nightfall.”
She did as he asked.
They rode southeast, eating up the distance faster than he’d thought they would. She was healthy now and rode as well as he did. The trip seemed easier with two people working to make camp every night. He’d often hunt while she built a fire and took care of the extra horses now loaded down with pelts.
At night he’d hold her as they watched the sky. He thought of her as his falling star. There was no telling where she’d land.
* * *
S
PRING WARMED THE DAYS
as they rode closer to Fort Worth. He knew he could have gone into several settlements along the way, but James wanted time with her. This winter had been the most peaceful of his life.
Logically, he told himself that his bank was in Fort Worth so it made sense to go there. Cattle would be easier to buy at the stockyards. Men trained for what he needed would be there.
But he knew the real reason was that he couldn’t let go of Millie. Whatever happened once they reached civilization, things would change. As they rode closer and closer to Fort Worth, her blue eyes grew wider. She’d point, wanting to know about everything she saw. Farms, barns, trains.
As they crossed through the streets of the town, she stopped again and again, looking into windows or staring at people. She’d grab his hand and hang on as if she feared all the population might sweep her away. His grip was solid but he could feel her slipping away.
A block from the ranger station he stopped in a café and they drank coffee and talked. He tried to prepare her for what was going to happen, but he wasn’t sure he knew. She spoke slowly, answering questions he’d never asked. She must have felt change coming, also. Two hours later he knew her story. Looking at her now, her warm brown hair curling around her face and her big blue eyes holding his attention, he marveled that such a delicate creature could have survived.
Finally, armed with her name and the few facts she remembered, James walked into the ranger station in Fort Worth.
* * *
“I
’VE FOUND A
captive woman,” he said simply to the first ranger he saw, a broad-shouldered fellow of not more than twenty. The circle star on his shirt marked him as a ranger, but James guessed he was yet to see any battles.
The young ranger at the desk nodded as if he’d heard the story before. “Is she alive or did you find a body? Does she know her name or where she was kidnapped from? Where’d you find her?”
James felt as if he’d fired off a few rounds in the small office. It had been so long since anyone had talked to him using so many words, he had to fight to keep from backing up.
He stepped outside and lifted Millie down from her horse. She didn’t want to go, but he held on tight to her hand as he walked back into the station.
The young man with a badge stood as she entered the ranger office.
“Go slow, mister, or you’ll frighten her,” James ordered. “She’s been through enough. We’re not going to make this any harder on her than we have to.”
The ranger nodded and offered her a chair. “My name’s Drew, miss. Ranger Drew Price. I’m here to do the best I can to help you. If you’ve got family, we’ll see you get home safe.”
James stood at her side, guessing she wouldn’t say a word to this stranger. “Her name is Millie O’Grady. She was kidnapped from a farm near Jefferson, Texas. She thinks she’s eighteen or nineteen. She was twelve when kidnapped. She says her mother is dead but her father may be alive. She said she did not see his body. A little brother—she called him Andy—was also kidnapped. They were separated after the first night. She doesn’t know if he’s alive or dead but she remembered his hair was red like her father’s.”
The ranger glared at James. “Can the lady talk for herself?”
James grinned when Millie shook her head.
The young lawman knelt in front of her. “Are you injured, miss? Do I need to call a doctor?”
She looked up at James and he knew she’d lost a few of Ranger Price’s words.
He smiled down at her. “She had many cuts and bruises when I found her. But she’s fine now. I don’t think there is need for a doctor.”
While Ranger Price wrote up the report, James studied Millie. She was afraid but not terrified. He’d promised her no one would hurt her in Fort Worth.
When the ranger left to send a few telegraph messages to places that kept up with missing people, James pulled a chair near Millie’s and talked to her in a low, calm voice. Slowly, she relaxed.
Another ranger came in; older and battle-scarred from the war, James guessed. The minute he met the ranger’s eyes, James knew the man recognized him. The ranger straightened as if coming to attention. “Wilson, sir,” he said. “How can I be of service, Captain Kirkland?”
James repeated all the facts he’d just given the young ranger. Neither he nor Wilson mentioned the war. They may have fought together once, but those days were long buried.
Wilson offered them coffee and was very polite when he spoke to Millie. He seemed to understand what she’d been through.
“We get several parents dropping in every year, hoping for news of their children. The odds aren’t good, but now and then we get lucky and find one.”
When Millie looked away as if not listening, the ranger continued to speak quietly to James. “Women have it the worst, I figure, Captain Kirkland. The tribes seem to like children, even adopt them as their own. The men are usually killed, not kept as captives, but the women, they go through hell. This one must have been too old to be adopted into the tribe and too young to be taken as a wife.”
James didn’t want to talk about what she’d been through. He’d already guessed that covering herself in mud may have saved her life.
A few hours passed and James insisted on walking Millie down the street to a café for dinner. He invited the ranger to join them, but Wilson said he was on duty.
“You will be coming back, Captain?” Wilson asked when they reached the office door.
“We will. If there is news, you can find us at the first café.” James relaxed his shoulders. “And, it’s just James Kirkland now. I’m no longer a captain.”
“Yes, sir.” Wilson nodded once. “Mr. Kirkland. If no news comes tonight, we’ve got a sweet widow a few blocks over who’ll take Miss O’Grady in for a few nights. Her man was a ranger.”
James wanted to insist that he’d take care of Millie, but she wasn’t his. She never had been. He’d meant to save her, to get her to safety, to turn her over to her family.
She wasn’t his
.
They took their time eating at the café. She did what she always did; she watched how he acted and mimicked his every move. But this time Millie merely picked at her food, obviously troubled.
He could think of nothing to say. He had no idea how to comfort her. Part of him wanted to simply hold her as he had all winter, but he couldn’t do that now. People were all around.
So, he just looked at her. The bruises were gone and her cheeks were no longer hollow. Her chestnut-colored hair curled softly around her face. Even in her blanket of a dress and his old trousers, she was beautiful. All the months together, he’d never really noticed.
He’d caught people staring all morning and thought it was because of the clothes or her unfashionably short hair. Suddenly, he realized, they were admiring her. Somehow this beautiful creature had survived, wrapped in a filthy blanket with mud covering her body.
After they’d finished their meal, he ordered dessert. First one, then two, then every one on the menu board. Millie loved them all. She took tiny bites of each, closed her eyes and drank in the sweetness like fine wine.