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Runaway. Carolyn Davidson
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His gaze narrowed on her. “You think so? He said he was looking for a young gal. Could be any one of a hundred women hereabouts.” As if he reconsidered, he looked around him at the vast horizon, unmarred by human habitation. “Well, maybe twenty or so, anyway.” His eyes softened, the darkness fading from his somber gaze.
“Sit back down, Cassie. I think it’s time you told me what happened.”
She obeyed, more because her legs were trembling beneath her than for any urge to oblige him. “Remus Chandler was…is my stepfather. I think maybe for a long time he wanted to…” She looked up, knowing her eyes were filling with tears, and choking back the need to cry.
Stripping the bandanna from his throat, Will handed it to her.
“Thank you.” Cassie blew once and wiped her nose. “He’d been married to my mother for three years or so, and all that time he was mean to her, hateful sometimes, with his name-calling and pushing her around.”
His eyes measured her, a bleak emotion darkening their depths. “Did he hurt you, Cassie?”
She shook her head. “No, not really. It was like he knew my mother would do what he wanted, to keep his hands from me. Anyway, she was sickly, really bad off for the past few weeks, like she was too tired to live anymore. She had a pain in her stomach, and she couldn’t eat much. Not at all, there at the end. Remus wouldn’t go for the doctor, and she told me not to cross him. He just kept watching me.” Her voice trailed off and she gulped, swallowing the grief that had been postponed for too long.
“What happened then, Cassie?”
She drew in a deep breath, following his urging. “Mama was bad all night long, hardly breathing. She told me to run, to leave, get away from Remus. And I promised her I would. I think she was afraid for me to be there with him, once she was gone.”
“How did your dress get torn?” Will asked quietly.
Cassie’s fingers ached from the squeezing, her fists clenching so tightly, she could barely release them. And then Will squatted before her.
“After she died, what did you do then?” He clasped her cold fingers within his own, sharing the heat of his palms, giving warmth to the chilled flesh he cradled within his long, strong fingers.
“I was going to leave, but Remus wouldn’t let me. He said I had to stay, that we had to tend to Mama’s burying. When I tried to get away, he grabbed my shawl, then my dress. And he pushed me against the wall, cracked my head on the logs. I pushed him back but he kept grabbing at me, pulling me across the room, till he was smack up against the table. The knife he’d used for supper the night before was there and I grabbed it. See?”
She moved her fingers within his and spread her hand wide. The slash was shallow but swooped across her palm, scabbed over now. “I heal fast,” she said, her head down, her gaze on the wound.
“Maybe he would have left me alone if I’d gone to the sheriff in town…or someone.” She shook her head. “But I don’t think so. He’d been after me for too long already. He couldn’t even wait till Mama was in the ground. And I couldn’t just stay there and let him hurt me…that way. I threatened him with the knife and he let go of me.”
A shudder racked her body, as if the telling of such a great lie had released the quaking within. Most of it was the truth, all but the last part. And that she could not bring herself to confide.
“He didn’t chase you?” The thought of her peril sharpened his voice and she flinched from him, shaking her head.
“I don’t know…maybe. I just ran.” The lie came hard, and she lowered her head.
“And you just walked out of town? Why didn’t you wear your shoes?”
“I couldn’t go back once I’d left that place. My shoes were in the bedroom with Mama, and I’d have had to get past Remus to get them. I was afraid to try.”
“Did you recognize that lawman, Cassie? Was he the sheriff from Loco Junction?”
She looked up, her eyes welling, and shook her head. “I don’t know, Will. I’ve never seen the sheriff. It could be, I suppose.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” he told her firmly. “If we meet anyone else, you’re Sarah Jane Tolliver. You’re my wife, Cassie. Can you do that? Until we get north into Missouri, anyway?”
“You’re going to take me with you?” She’d thought he would find a place to leave her, somewhere safe that would salve his conscience. Most any man would have either taken advantage of her or dumped her at the first chance.
Obviously, Will Tolliver wasn’t cut from the same cloth as most other men. He was taking her home with him, if she’d read him right. With his horse and pack mule, his hands that knew how to heal and comfort, and his conscience that had to be churning away at the lie he’d told for her benefit, he was heading north, and taking her along.
He’d placed his honor on the line for her and told a whopper that could land him in a peck of trouble.
If ever there was a man in the world Cassie Phillips could respect, Will Tolliver was his name. And that fact alone was enough to keep her riding along in his wake, for now at least.
“I think we’ve found a place to buy you a horse,” Will announced, drawing his stallion to a halt. Cassie peered over his shoulder to where a ranch nestled in the shallow valley just ahead. In pole corrals, horses milled about, men in wide-brimmed hats and dust-laden clothing apparently directing the general flow.
“What are they doing?” Her chin brushing his shirt, Cassie watched the activity ahead.
“Looks like they’re sortin’ them out, branding, maybe.” Will’s hands were firm on the reins as his horse shifted beneath them, snorting as the scents from the corral reached the stallion’s nose.
“I didn’t know you were planning on buying another horse. Won’t that be pretty expensive?”
“Beats ridin’ double for the next week.” As if he’d made up his mind, Will loosened the reins and nudged his mount into movement. “Stay still, Cassie. I’d as soon they didn’t pay you too much attention.”
Their arrival had little noticeable effect on the men at work, their ropes circling and snagging one or another of the herd of horses they worked with. The chosen animals were taken to a gate and led outside the enclosure, then inspected by a tall man who watched the proceedings, clearly in charge.
Circling the side of the corral, Will rode slowly up to the man, then slid from his saddle, his grip shortening the reins until his mount was left with no leeway to move.
“Those horses for sale, mister? I need a mare or a gelding.” Halting several feet away, Will met the gaze of the older man as an Indian led another horse past him.
“There’s some of each here, son.” Lifting his hand, the man tilted his hat back, angling his head to enclose Cassie in his line of vision. “Don’t know if the lady could handle one or not They’re green broke. Goin’ to the army.”
“Got any tack to sell? I’d need an extra saddle and bridle.” Will waited while the man looked over another specimen, the horse jerking impatiently at the rope holding him. Then he nodded, waving the horse and the man leading it on their way.
“Probably some spare stuff in the barn,” he told Will, his attention on another cowboy, approaching with a dusty brown mare from