Wild legacy (14 page)

Falcon had left Nails tethered in the woods, and crept up over the rutted landscape to get close enough to observe the British soldiers moving about Camden. The imposing white house being used for their headquarters seemed completely out of place on the edge of the wilderness, but he

supposed it suited their grandiose schemes. At least he had culled Sean O'Keefe from their insufferable ranks. He had never been so happy to have a British officer in his sights, and hoped the bastard had broken his neck in the fall from his horse.

Despite his hatred of the enemy, he dared not fire when he was so vastly outnumbered, and his attention wandered to the tents housing the wounded. From the looks of it, a good many soldiers had survived the recent battle there, which was a great shame when Baron De Kalb had lost his life fighting with the militia. Falcon felt guilty for not having been there, but he would do his part now to keep the British from growing comfortable with their victory. He watched, waiting for a patrol to be dispatched with the intention of following and creating still more havoc.

Bored with the inactivity in the camp, the young women circling the tubs of boiling laundry caught his eye. He would have quickly dismissed them had he not realized from the expansiveness of their gestures that they were arguing. He hoped they were debating how best to scald the most British regulars and laughed to himself until something about them struck him as hauntingly familiar. He did not recognize their clothes, and kerchieves hid their hair, but the grace of their motions tugged at his memory until he could not help but compare them to his cousins.

He had not imagined there was another pair like Belle and Dominique in all the world. Perhaps if there had not been two of them he would not have noticed the similarities, but these women moved with the casual elegance of a country dance and created a poignant longing for home. He took care not to become so absorbed in their antics that he grew careless, and surveyed the surrounding terrain with an anxious glance to prevent anyone from ambushing him as he so often did others. Satisfied he was safe, he remained longer than he had intended, but each comparison he drew made him increasingly uneasy.

He supposed there were other women with lithe figures and volatile natures that would encourage the argument he was observing with such keen interest. He wondered if they had been residents of Camden before the British occupation, or merely camp followers. If they were the latter, perhaps they were arguing over an officer they both admired. He doubted it had been Sean O'Keefe. Physically the man was not unattractive, but he had the soul of a viper and would doubtless be as faithless with this pair as he had once been to Dominique.

One of the women turned away, the argument apparently over, and as she walked toward the adjacent farmhouse her long, sure stride was identical to the one his temper had prompted from Belle on the banks of the James River. He knew he could not possibly be observing her and Dominique. That made no sense at all. They were at home in Virginia, or at least he assumed they must be.

He stayed low to the ground as he returned to Nails, but that was out of habit rather than caution when his mind was so full of Belle. He had a camp deep in the woods where British patrols never ventured, but as he rode there he could not quite convince himself it was merely guilt that had made him see Belle and Dominique rather than two strangers. What if they actually had been there? he asked himself, and before nightfall he returned to Camden and again kept watch to discover where they slept.

He also scanned the camp for sentries, but there were none posted near the hospital. The wounded men could not leave their tents for a midnight stroll, but still not dismissing some unexpected danger, he moved with a panther's stealth as he circled around behind the farmhouse and approached the girls' tent. Although it was late, a lantern lit inside silhouetted the winsome pair against the tautly stretched white canvas. While the light would enable him to identify the occupants quickly, if they were not Belle and Dominique,

he did not want them to glance up, see an Indian, and begin shrieking as though they feared being murdered.

He waited, hoping they would soon fall asleep, but instead, one left the tent and hurried into the farmhouse. He saw only her shadow as she passed by, and heard the gentle rustle of her skirts, but even that faint hint of her was familiar. He inched closer to the tent, taking care to move with a soundless step. One flap was raised to serve as a door, but when he at last came close enough to peer inside, it was all he could do not to yell so loudly he would have awakened the whole camp.

He quickly ducked inside and yanked down the flap. Belle was seated on her cot, brushing her hair, and as she turned toward him Falcon clamped his hand over her mouth before she could utter a sound. "What in God's name are you doing here?" he whispered in her ear.

Belle's heart was thundering so violently in her ears she scarcely heard his question. At once thrilled and terrified, she placed her hand on his wrist and tugged gently to coax him to release her. She could have replied then, but the expression on his face was so menacing she did not even know where to begin. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him until he swore he would never leave her again, but clearly he was in no mood to accept such an affectionate welcome.

Falcon dug his fingers into Belle's shoulders and shook her. "Tell me," he urged in an insistent whisper.

Belle swallowed hard. "I tried to follow you," she finally answered.

Falcon was so angry he had great difficulty keeping his voice low. "Did you really expect to find me in a British camp?"

Belle shook her head. "This wasn't our choice, but theirs. We were on the way to Charleston."

A quick glance around the tent convinced Falcon they had brought little more than what they had on their backs.

He could not even believe they had been so stupid. "Come with me, and don't make a sound." He took Belle's hand as they left the tent, and after skirting the farmhouse, he led her out across the field. She tripped once and nearly fell but the instant he caught her and set her back on her feet he started off again at a pace close to a run. He did not stop until he had reached the edge of the woods and even there he did not feel safe.

"Do they have any idea who you are?" he asked, his voice slightly louder but no less harsh.

Belle had known Falcon might not be pleased to see her, but she had hoped after his initial dismay he would understand why she had followed him and be glad. She tried to hold onto that hope as she repeated the story she and Dominique had made up about their background. "Dr. Perry doesn't really care who we are now that we've proven our worth in his hospital. That's where Dominique is right now. She went to check on Sean O'Keefe. Did you shoot him?" She held her breath, already knowing the answer, and wondering if he would lie.

"I was sure I'd killed the son of a bitch. Don't tell me Dominique is trying to keep him alive."

Even when Falcon spoke in a whisper, Belle felt singed by his rage. He had warned her at home that he had changed, and he proved it with every angry word. She drew in a deep breath for courage. "We planned to leave before he is well enough to cause us trouble."

"Is that what you were arguing about this afternoon?"

"Were you watching us?" Belle had been infuriated with Lieutenant Beck for spying on them, and while she knew Falcon's motives must surely have been different, she did not want to believe the two men were anything alike. "I sensed I was being watched. It must have been you."

"I didn't want to believe it was you." Falcon turned away and stared up at the sky. "I told myself it couldn't possibly be you two, but all the while I knew from the way you

moved that it could be no one else. Didn't you understand anything I said about the war, Belle?"

His buckskins were a pale gold in the moonlight, and his hair an ebony slash through his broad shoulders. Even separated by several feet, she felt his strength and the smoldering heat of his anger. Words of love would have no meaning for him now, and yet she could not lie.

"Yes. I understood it all, although I didn't really grasp how awful it was until we got here and saw how many wounded there were. I simply wanted to be with you."

Falcon swore in the Seneca tongue to spare her the sound of the vile names he thought she deserved. Still livid, he turned back to face her. "What did you expect to do? Were you going to tag along after me as you did as a child? Perhaps load my rifle for me while I did my best to kill Sean O'Keefe and all the rest of his contemptible kind?"

Even knowing Falcon had developed a temper, Belle had never expected him to be this furiously angry with her. She was as badly shaken as she had been on the ride to Camden, but fought to remain calm enough to reason with him. "Dominique and I were hoping to tend wounded men from the Colonial militia. I didn't expect to travel with you on raids, Falcon, but I had hoped to be able to see you more often than I had at home. I was so afraid you weren't coming back, you see, and I couldn't accept that."

Nothing Belle said made any sense to Falcon. He wanted her to be safe at home, not here where her presence merely compounded his problems. Knowing that at any moment a stray bullet might end her life was even worse torture. He had always believed her to be the sensible sort, not as reckless as he. "You can't have told your parents what you intended to do or they'd have stopped you."

That taunt hurt Belle badly because she knew just how greatly she and Dominique must have disappointed them. "No. We didn't confide in them. We just ran away the day after you left home." Belle was tempted to remind him that

had he not taught her how to survive in the wilderness, they would never have dared to follow him. Then she realized he would not be pleased by the way she had put her knowledge into practice, and kept still.

Falcon had known Belle was independent, but he had not considered her willful. "You used to respect their opinions, and mine. How could you have even imagined that I would be glad to see you here when the danger is so great?"

Belle had mistakenly believed that on Falcon's last visit home he had hurt her as badly as he possibly could, but she had been wrong. Cut to the marrow by that abusive question, she realized her devotion had been completely misplaced. She lashed out to repay him for this new and painful insult.

"I knew you liked being with women, so I thought it might as well be me. Obviously that was a very stupid mistake, but I'll not make another where you're concerned."

Falcon could have strangled her in that instant, and clenched his hands tightly at his sides to control the brutish impulse. "The British are as thick as swarming bees here in South Carolina, and you thought I would have time to entertain women?"

"No. Just me," Belle answered. "Go away and forget you saw us. We've gotten along very well on our own and—"

"You are British prisoners!" Falcon hissed. "How could you have done any worse?"

Filtered through the trees, moonlight fell in uneven splotches across Falcon's face, making his expression more frightening than if he had been wearing war paint and feathers. Tired of defending herself, Belle took a step backwards, then, fighting tears, turned and ran toward the camp. Soft lights glowing in the farmhouse windows beckoned invitingly, and she raced over the field, terrified to think she would feel far more safe in a British hospital than with the Indian brave she had always adored.

* * *

Hoping to find Dominique, Stephen Perry glanced in the bedroom and found her by Sean O'Keefe's side. This time he took care to confine their discussion to medicine. "I waited for you to change his dressing. Normally I would use a bread and milk poultice with the second bandage. I suppose you'd prefer chamomile?"

Dominique had two excellent reasons for that choice. "Why, yes, I would. I believe there's enough left for Sean, but then Belle and I will need to gather more of the herb."

"Bring what you have."

Because their supplies were used there, they had left their basket of herbs in the farmhouse kitchen, and Dominique quickly returned with a strong infusion she had brewed earlier. She soaked a clean cloth in it and waited for Dr. Perry to complete removing Sean's first bandage. She then draped the poultice over his shoulder to cover both the entry and exit wounds. She was so intent upon the process, she did not notice Sean's eyes were open until she stepped back.

"You weren't a dream after all," Sean murmured in a husky whisper.

Dominique frowned slightly, imploring him to be still. "He looks much better tonight, Doctor."

"Hello, Sean," Stephen said. "I won't ask how you're feeling as I'm sure it isn't good. Just give us a minute to wrap your shoulder again, and we'll let you go back to sleep."

Sean grimaced as Stephen began to work. "Hurry up," he begged.

"Take his hand," Stephen urged. "That's sure to make him feel better."

Dominique moved around to the other side of the cot to grasp Sean's right hand. He was still weak, but this time responded with a gentle clasp. She tried to smile, but couldn't. He was staring up at her, studying her with an intensity that unnerved her completely.

"Be still, Sean," she warned, hoping he would understand her meaning while Dr. Perry would assume she was encour-

aging him to help him with his task. She began to tremble, and Sean clutched her hand more tightly. She remembered how strong he had been, but now hoped he would be too weak to leave his bed for a good long while.

As soon as he was finished, Stephen stepped back. He picked up the bandages he had discarded, and nodded toward the door. "I'll bring you more laudanum so you can go back to sleep."

"Wait," Sean pleaded softly.

Stephen responded with a knowing smile. "I'll let you talk with her for five minutes, but not a second more."

"I won't tire him," Dominique promised, but she held her breath until the physician had left the room. The other men quartered there were sleeping soundly, but she knelt beside Sean's cot so he alone would hear.