Savage Arrow (9 page)

“Today I saw something I thought you might be interested in knowing,” Two Stones said. He wore only a breechclout and moccasins. His hair hung in one long braid down his muscled back.

“And that was?” Thunder Horse asked.

“The white woman who has came to live with Reginald
Vineyard showed today that she is a woman of good heart,” Two Stones said.

“What did she do?” Thunder Horse asked, his heart suddenly pounding.

“She saved the Cheyenne child Little Sky from being trampled by a bull during the slaughter today,” Two Stones said. “One crazed bull escaped the kill. It was headed directly toward Little Sky when the woman ran and pulled the child aside just in time to keep him from being trampled and killed.”

Thunder Horse took a deep breath. Once again Jessie had proved herself to be a woman of heart . . . of courage.

Yet how could such a woman care for such a man as Reginald Vineyard? She was not only courageous, she was beautiful!

He again thought about how she had held her hands over her stomach.

Was she really pregnant? She had only recently arrived to live with Reginald. Had he met her somewhere else and married her?

Yet if she was truly with child, would she have risked losing her own baby to save the red-skinned son of another?

He was drawn from his thoughts when another warrior spoke his name.

Thunder Horse hurried into a discussion about the upcoming hunt. It was of great concern to his people. Their meat supply was low. He had allowed it to dwindle since he’d thought they would be traveling by now
to the Dakotas, to join the others of their Fox band at the reservation.

But still his father lived. And while he did, life at the village must continue.

After hearing of this mock hunt today in Tombstone, Thunder Horse firmed his jaw and made a promise to himself that none of his people would ever lower themselves to such a degrading act.

But he doubted they would be put in that position, for the white chief in Washington had told him that
their
reservation was far from where the Cheyenne were imprisoned. He’d been told that the people who were already there were being treated fairly.

They even had normal hunts and normal times of merriment among themselves.

Thunder Horse hoped that the white chief in Washington was not speaking with a forked tongue!

“Come with me and I’ll show you my library,” Reginald said as Jessie pushed her chair back from the huge dining table. “You can content yourself with reading tonight while I go into town to attend a meeting.”

Hardly able to eat her supper because she was still haunted by all that she had seen today, Jessie was glad to leave the dining room and to have something else to fill her mind.

A book would be wonderful.

Always while she read, she forgot herself and everything else as she entered another world, another time; fantasies provided a wonderful escape from the real world.

Her real world was anything but wonderful. Jessie couldn’t get Lee-Lee off her mind, nor those Indians who had pretended to hunt while being laughed at by white men.

And then there was that child. If Jessie had not gotten
to him in time, he would have been trampled to death.

She had been the only white person who seemed to care.

Jessie couldn’t help wondering about Chief Thunder Horse and his people.

Were they also forced into such mock hunts? Did they live on a reservation like the Cheyenne?

Would she ever know? Would she ever see Thunder Horse again?

All that Jessie did know was that she was in no position to help anyone. How could she help get the young Chinese woman free when she felt more and more like a prisoner herself?

“Here it is,” Reginald said as they stepped into a room where the walls were lined with shelves of expensively bound books. “Jessie, do you remember how much I loved to read when we were children?”

“Yes, I remember the times I wanted to go horseback riding and all you wanted to do was keep your nose stuck in a book,” Jessie said, walking into the library with her cousin.

She was very aware of the wealth necessary to purchase all the books that lined the shelves.

Small windows at the top of the room let in some moonlight, which cast its white sheen onto a huge oak desk that sat back from the center of the room. Two rich leather sofas sat on opposite walls, and two luxurious-looking leather chairs sat before a blazing fire in the huge stone fireplace on the far wall.

“Yes, many of the boys called me a bookworm,” Reginald grumbled. “Even the girls.” He shrugged. “But I don’t care what they said. Look at me. Look at how I live. I bet your bottom dollar I’m the wealthiest of all those we knew as children.”

“No doubt you are,” Jessie said, walking along one row of books and running her hands across the leather bindings.

“Choose which one you want and I’ll leave you to your evening of reading,” Reginald said, standing with his hands clasped behind him. “I can assure you, all are good reads.”

Jessie turned to him, her eyes wide. “You’ve read them all?” she gasped.

“Sometimes twice,” Reginald said, his eyes gleaming.

“My word,” Jessie said, turning again and staring at the many volumes of books.

Reginald took it upon himself to choose a book for her. He lovingly eased it from between two others, then handed it to Jessie. “This is my favorite,” he murmured. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. It’s a classic.”

She took it and gazed at the title.
“Wraths Decided,”
she said, then gave him a questioning look. “What is this about?”

He chuckled. “Read it and then you will know,” he said, turning and walking toward the door. “Enjoy, Cousin. Enjoy.”

When he was gone from the room, Jessie sat down before the fire, stretching her legs out and resting her feet on a footstool. If she could only forget the ugliness
of the things she’d discovered since her arrival in Tombstone, this could be a relaxing evening before the fire, for she did love to read.

But even after opening the book to the first page, she couldn’t concentrate on reading. Too many images kept flashing before her eyes: Thunder Horse; the child she had saved; Lee-Lee. . . .

“Jessie?”

A soft, cautious voice drew Jessie quickly from her thoughts.

She looked over her shoulder as Jade came into the room, her hands clasped humbly before her.

“Jessie, did you see Lee-Lee today?” Jade asked as she went and stood before Jessie.

“Yes,” Jessie murmured. “Yes, I saw her.”

“Was . . . she . . . alright?” Jade asked, tears filling her eyes.

Jessie tried to blink away the memory of Lee-Lee having been chosen by a man and taken quickly from the window. She tried not to imagine what Lee-Lee had had to endure while alone with that man.

She knew better than to tell Jade about it.

“Yes, she’s fine,” Jessie murmured, and saw relief enter Jade’s eyes.

“That’s all I needed to know,” Jade said, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

She looked guardedly over her shoulder, then at Jessie again. “I must go now,” she said softly. “I can never allow Reginald to find us talking about Lee-Lee.”

“He’s gone, and I’m sure for some time,” Jessie tried to reassure her.

“One never knows about him,” Jade said, reaching a soft hand to Jessie’s face, smiling, then hurrying from the room.

Jarred somewhat by this newest confrontation with the lovely woman, feeling so helpless to know that she couldn’t help Jade or Lee-Lee when she couldn’t even help herself, Jessie opened the book in the hope of being able to lose herself in the story. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t concentrate.

She couldn’t forget everything that had happened today. She couldn’t get Jade’s worried look off her mind, or how her voice revealed her terrible fear for her daughter.

“This isn’t working,” Jessie murmured, closing the book and laying it aside on a table.

She rose and slowly paced the room, then looked toward the door as she thought of something that might distract her. She was remembering how she had always calmed herself when she was sad or troubled.

A piano.

While she was playing the piano, her soul became peaceful.

Her heart pounded now as she remembered Reginald’s warning about playing his grand piano. For some reason, he absolutely forbade it.

“But he’s gone,” she whispered.

Her eyes brightened at the realization that he would never know she had played his piano.

Surely that would be all it would take to bring some peace to her troubled heart. And then she would go to bed.

“No, he’ll never know,” she whispered as she walked quickly from the library, her heart pounding with the thought of finally being able to sit at a piano again.

After her parents had died, she had found solace in the piano until the debtors came and took not only her piano, but everything else that had mattered to her.

And then when her husband had died, she had found solace in the piano at the church until the new minister took over and she felt awkward using it.

When she came to the music room, she stopped just outside the door, for she knew she was about to enter a place that was absolutely forbidden to her unless Reginald was giving a party.

And even then, the piano was forbidden to everyone there—especially, it seemed, Jessie. She would never forget his scolding look when some of the women asked her to play.

But he wasn’t there now to stop her, or forbid her anything! Yet she still went cautiously into the room.

She stopped and listened for any sound of a horse approaching, just in case Reginald had returned sooner than she had thought.

He had not been gone for long, yet one could never guess what he might do next.

Yes, he was a most unpredictable man!

Hearing nothing but an occasional whinny from the corralled horses, Jessie slowly circled the grand piano, running her hands over its smooth surface, and then reverently touching the keys.

Surely if Reginald did happen to return and heard her, he would do nothing drastic.

It was only a piano, for heaven’s sake—not a precious stack of silver coins like the ones she had seen him playing with more than once when she had gone past his study.

Determined to play, and casting all doubts and fears aside, Jessie sat down on the bench and placed her fingers on the keys. A feeling of peace came over her as she began playing.

The room . . . the entire house . . . was filled with the passion of the music.

She soon lost track of time, or concern about what she was doing. She didn’t even hear Reginald enter the room.

She didn’t know he was there until he came and slammed the lid over the piano keys, capturing her hands between the lid and the keys. She screamed in pain as he raised the lid and allowed her to pull her fingers free.

“I warned you never to play this instrument!” he screamed. “You were warned never to play my wife Sara’s piano! Never! No one but Sara ever played it!”

Her fingers throbbing unmercifully, Jessie rose from the bench.

She glared at Reginald through her tears. “I’ve never truly known you!” she cried. “You’re . . . you’re . . . a monster!”

Sobbing, she ran from the house into the moonlit night and didn’t stop until she reached the creek at the back of Reginald’s property.

She fell to her knees and sank her hands into the cold water, momentarily numbing the pain.

“You get back here!” Reginald shouted as he came stamping toward her.

He began wheezing, almost uncontrollably.

“You get back inside that house,” he gasped out. “Go to your room!”

When he came and stood over her, like some crazed animal in the night, Jessie stumbled to her feet. She gazed at him with a loathing she had never known she could feel for anyone . . . except the outlaw who had claimed her mother’s and father’s lives.

She knew now that she must flee this man. Somehow, she would.

She winced, then cried out with pain when he grabbed her by the wrist and half dragged her to the house. He marched her to her room and shoved her inside, slamming the door as he left.

Her hands were swollen now, the fingers throbbing even worse than before.

After a while, once Reginald was in bed, Jade came into Jessie’s bedroom, carrying a bag, and closed the door behind her.

“I saw and heard it all,” Jade murmured, setting the bag aside. “I’ve brought something to help you.”

“I doubt anything can,” Jessie sobbed out as Jade urged her down onto her bed.

“Let me try, Jessie,” Jade softly encouraged. “Please let me try to help you.”

Jessie nodded and held her hands out for Jade as the Chinese woman took several things from her bag.

“What is that?” Jessie asked.

“It’s something I put together,” Jade murmured. “It’s
a concoction of oatmeal and glycerine. Let me place this on your hands. I’ll be gentle.”

Jessie nodded and watched as Jade gently applied the medicine. Jessie soon discovered that it did ease her pain somewhat.

“And now slide these soft gloves onto your hands,” Jade said, handing them to Jessie. “They will make sure the medicine stays on better. I have also brought medicine that will make you sleep better tonight.”

Jessie winced as she slowly pulled the gloves on. But when Jade handed a pill toward her, she shook her head. “No, I don’t want anything to make me sleep,” she said, her voice breaking. “I want to be aware of things around me at all times. I . . . I . . . have lost all trust in my cousin.”

Then she made a quick decision. “And . . . and . . . I don’t want to sleep because . . . because . . . I am leaving tonight,” she blurted out. “As soon as I’m confident that Reginald is fast asleep . . . I’m . . . leaving.”

“You’re leaving?” Jade gasped, her eyes wide as she gazed into Jessie’s.

“Yes. Tonight proved that I must not wait any longer,” Jessie said, swallowing hard. “I only wish that you could go with me and that I knew how to help Lee-Lee escape from her terrible situation.”

“Tonight think only of yourself,” Jade said, trying to fight back tears.

Then she smiled almost wickedly as she placed her things back inside her bag. “I put a sleeping potion in Reginald’s glass of milk,” she said. “He drinks a glass of warm milk every night before he goes to bed.”