The Enchanted Land (18 page)

“Here is food and lots of it. Jake and Paul will be here in a minute. They will be so happy to see you well. They have both worried themselves sick over you.” She bustled into the room with the tray of food, but the smile left her face when she saw Seth. She knew then that healing his body had been easy compared to what it was going to take to heal his spirit.

“It’s all true … what I remember. Isn’t it?”

Lupita would have sold her soul to be able to tell him that it all had been a dream, that his lovely wife was running to him, would be here in a moment. “I do not think it was true. The little
señora
would not do such a thing. I think someone should go and find her.”

“Well, I don’t.” Seth and Lupita turned to see Jake in the doorway. “We found the note. I say let her go. If she wants to leave here, let her.”

The pain in Seth’s eyes was more than Lupita could bear. “She loves you. She loves you very much. She could not have acted like she did and not love you. The day Lena came for her, she did not want to go. She wanted to stay here in her home. She was so happy here.”

“Stop it!” Seth fell back onto the pillows. “To me … she is dead. I never want to hear her name again. We will not refer to her again, in any way.” His eyes were cold, but both Jake and Lupita could see the pain behind them. “I think I’d like to sleep now.”

“But your food! You need to eat.”

“No, Lupita, I don’t feel hungry now.”

Jake silenced Lupita’s protests with a stern look. “That’s right, boy, you just rest and get well. The food’ll be waitin’ for you when you wake up.”

Seth’s recovery was slow. He didn’t seem to mind staying in bed, and he showed no interest in anything. Jake tried to ask his opinion about what he and Paul were doing on the ranch, but Seth hardly answered him. Eventually, he began to move around the room a little, going only from the bed to the chair. He sat and stared at the walls. Lupita encouraged him to sit on the little patio by the bedroom, but he didn’t seem to care where he was.

As the pain left Seth’s body, the pain in his mind increased. He was continually reminded of Morgan.

She seemed to be everywhere. He started sleeping on the couch in the living room because he couldn’t stand the bed they had shared. One day he rode out with Jake, and it seemed she was even outside. A clump of trees recalled a time when she had brought his lunch to him and then run from him, laughing, unfastening her clothes as she went. Even the sunlight recalled her hair and skin.

The snows began and he remembered how he had planned on long snowy days of lovemaking. With Christmas coming, Lupita decorated the house with chilis and popcorn. Seth watched lethargically as Lupita, Jake, and Paul decorated the little piñon tree.

On Christmas Eve, Seth remembered the music box he had packed in Kentucky. It was to have been a
Christmas present for Morgan. It had been weeks since he had been in his own bedroom, but he went now and found the box. He wound it and listened to the tune. How she would have loved the delicate carving!

“Why, Morgan, why? He couldn’t have offered you more love than I did. It isn’t possible!” Tears blurred his eyes as he brought one powerful fist down on the little box and smashed it.

He glared at the broken little box, and through clenched teeth, he swore, “If I ever find you, Morgan, I’ll kill you!” With one sweep of his arm, he knocked the remains of the box to the floor.

He left the room and announced to the others that in the spring he would leave the ranch for the California gold fields.

In March, 1850, when the snows were barely gone, Seth set out for California and the gold fields. After the heavy use of the previous year, the trail was well defined. He was only a few miles out of Santa Fe when he met the Chandlers’ wagon train.

I
T
took the little band—the Indians, the Frenchman, and the four women captives—five weeks to reach the mountains. After a week of grueling travel, everyone’s temper was short. The nights grew cooler, and the nip of autumn was in the air. Morgan figured it was somewhere around the first week of October, 1849, and she knew now that she was not carrying Seth’s baby.

“I don’t know why I always seem to do most of the work around here.” The closer they got to San Francisco, the angrier Mary became. She took her fear and hatred out on everyone.

“What with Morgan doing all the cookin’, I don’t see how you can think you’re doing most of the work.” Jessy’s happiness and excitement were obvious.

“Please, can’t you two stop fighting?” Alice pleaded with them tearfully.

“It’s just these Indians! They’re always around. A body can’t even step into the bushes without one of them watching. I’m always ready to scream.”

Jessy looked across the camp at one of the Apache braves who returned her stare. “Indians ain’t all that bad. That Yellow Hand’s not a bad looker at all.”

“You filthy little slut! I ought to tear your hair out!”

“You and who else?”

Mary raised clawlike hands and started for Jessy’s face. Morgan quickly stepped between the two of them.
“Stop it, you two! They may decide we’re not worth the trouble and kill us now.”

“Death just may be better than the life they have planned for us.” Mary’s face was twisted as she sneered at Morgan and Jessy.

Alice’s whimpering carried across the campfire.

“Oh, Lord! Is she going to start that again? That girl is afraid of her own shadow.” Jessy rolled her eyes.

Alice’s sobs increased, and Mary went to her to comfort her. “If you had any feelings, you’d realize she’s just a child.”

“Child, hell! It may interest you to know, Miss Mary-Know-Everything, that that ‘child’ and I are the same age.”

Both Mary and Morgan turned startled eyes to Jessy. There was an ageless quality about Jessy that made her seem anywhere from fourteen to fifty. Neither of them had ever considered her true age. “That’s right,” she laughed. “I just turned sixteen on my last birthday, sometime in June. My pa never could remember the exact date.” She turned and left the three staring after her.

“I’m older than her,” Alice whispered.

Along the Gila River, the trail was so narrow that the horses were frightened and skittish. The nerves of the four captives were even further strained.

After the river, they came to a wooded area. Jacques told them to take advantage of the water, because it would be the last they’d see for a long time. In another couple of days they’d start the long trek across the desert.

“May we take a bath then, before we start?”

Jacques touched her cheek with a large, coarse hand. Morgan bravely met his eyes. She didn’t even move away, as much as she wanted to. “You are a temptation,
ma petite
. Of course, you may bathe. All of you
may splash and play in the water all night.” He smiled at her, and his eyes swept down over her buckskin-clad body. His hand dropped from her cheek to her shoulder to her arm, his thumb caressing the soft curve of her breast. Her eyes held his, and she controlled the inner revulsion she felt.

Jacques turned and left her, and she could hear his deep, throaty laughter as he walked away.

“I’d like to have a knife at his throat for a while,” Mary hissed.

“Never mind him. Get Jessy and Alice. We’re going to take a bath!” She hurried to the wickiup. “A real bath. Clean hair and skin. I don’t think I’ve ever looked forward to anything quite so much.” She paused inside the cool, dark, empty wickiup. “Except you, Seth,” she whispered. “You were the only thing that really made me happy. Now I look forward to such silly things. Oh, Seth.
Why
did all this have to happen? Why do I have to go on living? Why can’t I die and be with you again?” She fell to the dirt of the floor and cried.

“Morgan, is it true what…” Jessy paused as she saw Morgan. She knelt by her and took her in her arms. “Ah, Morgan, you’re the strong one among us. Don’t you give way. If you give up, we won’t have anything to hold onto.”

“Seth is on my mind constantly, every second. Everywhere I look I see things that remind me of Seth. Even trees, Jessy! Even trees remind me of Seth. He was huge, the biggest man I ever saw. Not awfully tall, but big. His arms were as big around as my waist. And he was so handsome.” Morgan smiled and the tears began to clear. “I had to fight women off him constantly.”

“What’s wrong with you two?” Mary’s querulous voice sounded through the wall.

Morgan wiped her eyes. “I’m all right now. Let’s go
take a bath.” She turned to smile at Jessy. “Thanks for listening to me.”

“Morgan, I’ve decided this Seth of yours never existed.” Her face was serious. “No man could be both kind and good-lookin’.”

Morgan flashed her a brilliant smile. “Seth is special.” Happily she raced toward the water, leaving Jessy to notice that she had said “is,” as if her husband were still alive.

Jessy was the last one to the water and was surprised to see all of the Indian men, Jacques, and some of the Indian women standing there with the three white women.

Jacques’s deep laughter came to her. “My Indians do not take baths, and they are very much interested in someone who does. They want only to watch.”

“Well, I ain’t takin’ my clothes off in front of no Indians.” Mary turned back toward the camp.

Jessy laughed. “What about you, Morgan? I think bugs have nested under my skin, it’s been so long since I took a bath. I’m not gonna let a few staring Indians keep me from getting clean.” She sat on the ground and began to pull off the tall moccasins. Seconds after she stood up, she was completely naked and ran happily into the cool water.

The other three women had watched speechlessly. The Indians and Jacques began to laugh as Jessy happily dived under the water, her smooth round buttocks coming to the surface.

“It feels great,” she called.

“She’s a fool besides being a slut,” Mary muttered. “These animals need no more temptation. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them attacked her.”

Alice clung to Mary, her face fearful.

“You sure you won’t join me, Morgan? I can feel two months’ worth of dirt and bugs floating away. Toss
me my buckskins, will you? Might as well get them clean.”

Morgan picked up Jessy’s clothing and started to throw them to her.

“You know … if they wanted to, they could tear our clothes off at any time. What difference does this bath make?”

“You’re right, Jessy.” Quickly, Morgan undressed and walked into the water.

“Lord, Morgan! I think you’ve started a fight.” Jessy gestured toward Jacques, who was smiling at one of the Indians. The Indian made an obscene gesture that even Morgan understood, and she turned away.

Jacques laughed and called to her. “Did you hear that, Golden One? Running Bear offers me six horses and four blankets to let you be his third wife. Would you like that? It is a good price, and he is a brave warrior.”

Morgan looked at the Indian, his hair heavy with grease and his face stained with remnants of paint and food. Involuntarily, she shuddered. Recovering herself, she met Jacques’s eye. “Do you think Madame Nicole will offer only six horses and four blankets, or do you think I am worth more?”

Jacques looked at her full breasts rounding above the surface of the water, her small chin and flashing eyes, and the great mass of golden hair cascading about her. He threw back his head and laughed. “You will bring a great deal more from Madame Nicole—I will make sure of that.”

“Morgan, you have more guts than any three people put together.”

“Not really, Jessy. It’s just that I don’t really care. If I can get to San Francisco, maybe I can escape and get back to Seth’s ranch. At least there I’ll be close to him.”

“No matter what, Morgan, you’re lucky—lucky to
have had a love like that, even for a while. Just once I’d like to fall in love with a man and have him love me in return. I mean real love, not like those men that paid my pa.”

“Paid your father!”

“Don’t tell Alice or Mary, but my father put me out to whore when I was thirteen. You can see why I felt no regret when the bastard died.”

Too stunned to speak, Morgan stared.

“I shouldn’t have told you,” Jessy said quietly and began to swim away.

“No,” Morgan caught her arm. “I was just thinking how I always hated my father, and I never even knew him. I guess we never know what we should be thankful for. If it hadn’t been for my father, I’d never even have known Seth.” She stopped and her eyes opened wider. “If I hadn’t met Seth, he would still be alive.”

Jessy’s fingers dug into Morgan’s flesh. “Morgan! You’ve got to stop blaming yourself! You can kick yourself for the next fifty years, and you still won’t change the past. Remember Seth with all the love you have for him, but stop hating yourself.”

Morgan frowned at Jessy. “Are you sure you’re only sixteen? You sound more like ninety.”

Jessy laughed. “Let’s get out of here before they change their minds about leaving us alone.”

They finished their baths and washed their hair and clothes. They put the wet buckskins on their bodies to dry. The sun was barely visible on the horizon, streaked with brilliant colors. As Morgan sat by the campfire in front of the wickiup, trying to smooth the tangles from her hair with only her fingers, Little Flower came to stand beside her. Absent-mindedly, Morgan smiled at the young Indian woman. Little Flower left and returned in seconds holding a beautiful tortoise-shell comb. She gestured to Morgan and Morgan nodded. Little Flower sat behind the blond woman and began combing her long tresses, while Morgan held the baby.

“What do you think you’re doing, letting that animal touch you?”

Morgan hardly noticed Mary’s anger, preferring to ignore it. Mary turned away in a huff.

When Little Flower had finished, Morgan asked to borrow Little Flower’s knife. After a second’s hesitation, she gave it to her. Morgan cut off a thick golden curl and tied it with a long piece of grass. She put the piece of hair into the fastenings at the top of the baby’s cradle board.

Immediately, Little Flower grabbed the cradle board and ran to show the other Indian women and her husband.

“What’s going on? What’s all the noise about?” Jessy asked.

Morgan laughed, looking down at the baby pulling at the thong ties on her shirt. She told Jessy about the piece of hair.

“Well, it must mean somethin’, ’cause here comes the bossman himself.”

Jacques explained to Morgan that the piece of hair was considered a great gift and she was to choose a gift in return.

“I’d like my freedom.”

“That is not Little Flower’s to give. Choose something else.”

“I don’t want a gift, just her friendship.”

“She will be insulted that you do not accept a gift from her.” At the look of puzzlement on Morgan’s face, he turned and spoke to the pretty Indian woman with a few soft words. Her face brightened and she ran to her wickiup.

Quickly, she returned and handed Morgan a silver and turquoise bracelet. The turquoise was a work of art, worked inside the metal in hundreds of little ovals, like daisies going round and round. The bracelet was surprisingly delicate.

“It was taken from a Zuñi warrior. They make beautiful things, no?”

“Tell Little Flower it is beautiful, and I thank her very much.”

When Jacques had repeated her words, Morgan leaned over and kissed the Indian woman’s cheek. Little Flower said something.

“She says you are now sisters.”

“Sisters! Bah! Sisters to these filthy wretches! I’d rather be dead!”

Jacques turned to Mary’s scowling face. “For you, that may be arranged very soon.”

Later, Morgan always hated to remember the trip across the desert. Never had she imagined such a horrible place existed. They broke camp before full daylight and camped again before the hottest part of the day. There were no more campfires. The rich stews they had enjoyed were now memories. They ate dried meat and dried cornmeal. Water was strictly rationed, and the dry food stuck in their throats.

Morgan clamped her hands over her ears to block out the whimpering of Little Flower’s baby. His mother did not have enough water to replenish her milk supply, so the baby was hungry. Morgan shared her water with Little Flower until Jacques found out.

“Do you think I go to all the trouble of bringing you across the mountains just to have you blow away? If you give more of your water away, I will kill the squaw and then the baby will have no milk at all.”

One good thing came of the journey across the desert. Jessy and Mary stopped quarreling for a while, neither had the energy for it. During the hot afternoon, they lay in the scanty shade, barely able to breathe the scorching air. The horses were kept under crude shelters, rigged each day.

Eventually, gradually, they began to encounter
green plants and they knew that San Francisco was near. Morgan felt the ring she kept on a rawhide thong around her neck, and dreamed of Seth.

Early one morning, Jacques and two of the Indians saddled horses for the four women captives, and, leaving the other Indians in camp, they began the last leg of the trek into San Francisco.