Scars of the Heart (4 page)

“Please!” the child wailed.

“All right, all right! I’ll take you to Marshall. Anything, just don’t cry anymore.” Kade placed his hands tentatively on the child’s back.

“Do you promise? Do you?”

Watery green eyes peered up at him. Eyes full of terror, eyes full of desperation. “Yeah, yeah. I promise.”

A shaky breath left the ragamuffin spent. He relaxed against Kade’s chest, sniffling quietly.  Unexpectedly, the lad jerked away, clutching the blanket beneath his chin and pulling the hat down snugly over his head.

Kade stared in disbelief at the creature huddled before him. Never had he witnessed such an outburst. Never had he felt so helpless. And never had he made such a promise without thinking it through.

“Damn!” He bolted to his feet, hands clenched at his sides. What in the world had he promised? He didn’t have time for this, not for a journey to Marshall and not for some wet-nosed kid. He paced the small room, hands on his hips.

He noticed the cringing figure on the sand. Frightened eyes peeked from beneath the brim of the hat, and Kade silently cursed himself again. He had done to the child the very thing he’d fought to save him from.

With a heavy sigh, Kade stopped pacing and lowered his head, eyes closed. After several seconds, he looked at the youth once more. “We might as well ride. You ready?” The lad nodded quickly and scurried to his feet.

Kade kicked dirt on the waning embers. “Hope you don’t mind traveling at night.” He reached for the black’s saddle.

“I don’t mind. I didn’t really want to go back to sleep tonight anyway.”

“No, neither did I,” admitted Kade. “Neither did I.”

They walked single file from their hiding place. Kade paused to scan the horizon for movement. Satisfied they were alone, he offered cupped hands to help the lad mount. Hesitating a moment, the boy moved to grab the saddle horn and placed one boot in the makeshift stirrup. He stopped abruptly and turned to look at Kade.

“You will keep your word, won’t you? About Marshall? A promise is a promise, right?”

Shielding her eyes from the bright glare, Carly struggled to shed the shackles of sleep. She tried to remember where she was, swallowing the taste of fear that greeted her each time she stole a few moments of rest. The rhythm of the horse’s gait and the stone chest at her back stirred fragmented memories. Panic seized her before she could think things through. She swung one leg over the saddle, intent on flight.

“Hey now, lad. You’re all right. Remember?”

A strong arm wrapped firmly around her waist as the rich baritone voice penetrated her frightened brain. She did remember, everything. This man had saved her from Tiny, and he thought she was a boy.

Settling back astride the saddle, she mumbled, “Sorry. I forgot where I was.”

“No need for apologies. You ’bout scared five years off my life, though. I swear, you’re the jumpiest thing.” Kade paused to draw a breath. “But then I guess you have cause to be.”

He pulled the stallion to a stop and slid to the ground easily. “We’ll stop for breakfast. There’s a stream over there. Get us some fresh water. Take the black with you.”

He pointed toward a stand of trees, then untied a pack from the horse and strode away. Carly blinked the remnants of sleep from her eyes and looked around.

They had stopped in a small clearing surrounded by pine and cedar. Sometime during the night, apparently while she slept, they had moved from the flat grasslands into the woods. The stallion nickered and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Water, right?” She searched the area to find the cowboy nowhere in sight. For a moment, she felt frightened at the thought of being all alone in the wilderness. Then she realized he couldn’t be far. He had obviously gone to gather firewood. And he’d likely be angry if he returned and didn’t find the water he’d ordered.

Carly picked up the reins and bit her lip. He must’ve assumed she could ride. Of course he did. In these parts, every boy big enough to walk could ride a horse. Papa had wanted her to learn. Now she wished she hadn’t been so stubborn. Scanning the area again, she verified she was still alone before flapping the leather straps up and down. The large, sleek beast stood still.

“Go, horse. Go now.” Carly continued flipping the reins about the animal’s neck. The black nickered and tossed his head, nearly shaking the reins from her hands. With a gasp, she grabbed the saddle horn, certain the big beast would throw her from her perch.

But all four hooves remained firmly planted. Carly gave up. Carefully she slid to the ground and gently took the leather strips. She had seen Papa lead the horses. Surely she could manage such a simple task herself.

Looking up into wary brown eyes, Carly gave a slight tug on the reins as she took a step toward the stream. To her surprise, the animal moved. She almost stumbled in her haste to keep ahead of the stallion.

Thinking back, she couldn’t remember Papa ever being bitten by a horse, just kicked and thrown. He’d warned her never to walk behind such an animal. That much she remembered clearly. But had he mentioned horse bites at all?

Carly wasn’t taking any chances. As they wandered through the trees, she kept her attention more on the black than she did on the trail.

The stallion increased his pace as they neared the stream. Carly dropped the reins and scurried aside, letting the thirsty animal fend for himself. As he drank noisily, she lifted the canteen from the saddle and knelt a few feet away.

Cupping her hands, she brought cool, sweet water to her parched, cracked lips. Only then did she realize how thirsty she was . . . and how hungry. Hadn’t that man said something about breakfast? She filled the canteen as she tried to remember everything he’d said before he left her.

Left her? He had left her alone! She chastised herself for not being quicker witted. The deluge of events over the past several days had dulled her normally sharp mind. She actually smiled as the obvious sank in. No ropes to bind her, no one watching, no locked doors. She was free. For the first time in a long time, she was completely free! And with a means to escape.

She eyed the coal-colored animal that stood nibbling grass at the edge of the stream. Hope snapped like a brittle twig within her chest.
Damn!
She plopped down on the embankment as tears formed in her eyes.

“Damn, damn, damn!” she hollered. The black paused a moment to gaze in her direction, then returned to his meal.

Carly swiped angrily at the salty droplets.  
I can’t believe my cursed luck. The only real chance I’ve had to flee, and I can’t ride.
Sniffling, she wiped her nose on the sleeve of her filthy shirt and watched the animal graze contentedly, obviously indifferent to her dilemma.

“What am I thinking anyway? Even if I could make you work, I have no idea where I am or how to get anywhere or how to survive until I find help.” The tears threatened to return, but she stood and paced, willing them away.

I have to think. It’s true enough that he promised to take me to Marshall. And I’m safe as long as he thinks me a boy. But he’s not to be trusted, not any more than the other savages who call this hell their home.
Carly stopped to stare at the grazing animal.

“My best bet is to stay put for now. If I can keep up my charade, he’ll surely continue to trust me, leaving me free of restraints. If I find a suitable opportunity to escape before we get to Texas, I’ll take advantage of it.”

She stood with her hands on her hips. The stallion quit eating to stare at Carly.  Shaking her head, she knelt at the stream. “And let’s hope it’s soon,” she said to her fractured reflection, “because I’m talking to a stupid animal and apparently losing my wits.” She splashed the chilly water on her face and finished filling the vessel.

Exhaustion deflated her, and she watched quietly as the water’s surface smoothed to its former mirror image. A rippling picture stared back. In spite of the lazy current, Carly noted the bruises, gauntness, and grime. She gingerly touched a puffy purple cheekbone, then reached beneath the hat to scratch the matted mass atop her head. What she would give for a bath! Even a brush and set of clean clothes would seem like a luxury at this point.

With a heavy sigh, she moved to lean back against a nearby tree. She examined her surroundings. The little clearing would be a lovely, tranquil place if she chose to be there of her own accord. It differed from the brown, dead, harsh land she’d seen so much of since coming west with her parents. How she missed the beautiful green trees of Virginia! The rolling hills, the bustling cities, the social gatherings. Carly tried to ignore the pain but wondered if she’d ever see the Shenandoah Valley again.

Her thoughts turned to the man who held her fate in his hands. She had actually seen very little of him, or at least retained only fragments of what she saw. Lately she made it a habit to avoid eye contact with anyone.

She struggled to piece together a picture of her keeper in her mind. He was tall; she knew that. She stood at just above five feet, and he’d towered over her as he led them from the saloon. He always wore his black hat low, shadowing his features. She thought she remembered dark eyes in a deeply tanned face and long, black hair bound with a thin strip of rawhide.

Closing her eyes, Carly tried to recall. He’d felt strong and wide as he rode behind her on the stallion, yet different from Tiny. This man felt solid, muscular, powerful.

A shiver slid down her back as an ominous force blocked the sun from her face. She opened her eyes and gasped. Carly’s gaze traveled up and up and up, past a broad chest and broader shoulders to long hair blowing wild around a shadowed face. A scream rose within her throat as she stared into the black silhouette of the devil himself.

Kade knelt quickly, extending a palm to try and block the thin wail piercing the still air. “Boy! Boy, it’s just me! Stop that ruckus. You’ll have every living soul for ten miles on top of us in a cock’s crow.”

The figure huddled against the tree trunk quit hollering and blinked rapidly. He clutched at his shirt and gasped for air. Kade took a deep breath, trying to calm his own racing heart.

“Sorry. I couldn’t see. You were in front of the sun, and I . . .”

Standing, Kade lifted the canteen’s strap to his shoulder. “I called out to you. I guess you didn’t hear me. Were you sleeping?”

“No, I, uh . . .” He fumbled for an explanation. After gazing up at the man, the urchin quickly averted his face.

Fighting exasperation, Kade turned to go in search of his horse. The boy’s outburst had spooked the animal, and the black had disappeared through the brush with a whinny. Calling over his shoulder, he ordered the lad to get back to camp.

A few moments later, Kade led the stallion into the clearing. The boy sat meekly on a nearby rock, peeking up tentatively when Kade approached. The child looked so pathetic, Kade’s annoyance fled. After all, the lad couldn’t help it if he was scared of his own shadow. Kade remembered all too well what it felt like to live with that kind of terror.

“Hungry?” He picked up a stick to stir the fire he’d started earlier. From a leather pouch he wore strapped to his back, he pulled a rabbit, skinned and gutted.

“What
is
that?”

He glanced at his companion. The boy stared at the slimy red-and-white mass. “Breakfast,” Kade answered. He erected a spit over the leaping flames and skewered the tender meat. The lad sat perfectly still, a nauseous grimace on his face.

“But
what
is it?”

The question sounded as though the waif were choking. Both of his hands moved to cover his abdomen protectively. Kade puzzled over the reaction.

“It’s a rabbit.” He imagined the skinny kid hadn’t eaten a decent meal in days. In truth, that’s the reason Kade had risked the time and fire to put a real breakfast in the boy’s belly. Why did he appear as though he’d just witnessed a hangin’?

“We’re going to eat that?”

Staring at his ward, Kade stood. “Well,
I’m
going to eat it. I don’t guess you have to.” His brows drew together. “Do you know how to cook?” Without taking his gaze from the spit, the lad shook his head. “You got something against rabbit?” Another negative gesture; then he quickly looked away.

Running his hands through his unleashed hair, Kade turned back to his breakfast. The sooner he got rid of this pup, the better. Something about the boy gave Kade an uneasy feeling.

After rotating the meat a few times, he retied the rawhide strip around his long hair and replaced his hat. He retrieved his bow and arrow off a large boulder and cleaned the flint tip with water from the canteen. He could feel the boy watching. He started to ask the lad to tend to their breakfast but thought better of it.

Kade lashed the weapon to his saddle and crossed to the fire. Each time he looked at his companion, the boy averted his eyes. Squatting by the small blaze, Kade studied the little man. “What’s your name?” he asked suddenly, startling the lad.

“Car—Carl. Carl Dawson.”

He wouldn’t meet Kade’s gaze. Kade knew he made the boy uncomfortable, but if they were going to travel together, they might as well get somewhat familiar. Perhaps it would settle the skittish kid down a bit. “Well, Carl Dawson, how did you come to be in the company of a man like Tiny?”

Carl seemed to ponder the question as he surveyed the clearing. He drew his knees to his chest and hugged them as he balanced on the rock.

“There was an Indian.”

The voice sounded very small and barely reached Kade’s ears. “An Indian?” That statement piqued his interest. He stopped rotating the meat and gave the boy his full attention.

Carl jumped to his feet. “Do we have to talk about this? Is it necessary for you to know every detail of my life?” He shivered, as if at the shrillness of his own voice.

After a long moment, Kade shook his head. “No, we don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to talk about.” Once again, the lad astounded him. The emotional outbursts were more than Kade wanted to deal with. “It’s just that you don’t seem good for much.” He fumbled awkwardly for the right words. “I mean, much good to a man like Tiny. You’re nothing but a table scrap. You can’t cook, and—”