Way Back Page 13

  “I’m so glad to be here.” I clung to his comforting bulk. “Thank you for the horse. I love her.”

  Branch planted a noisy kiss on the top of my head.

  “Ain’t nothin’. Me and the boy made up a pallet for you here, permanent-like,” Branch said, and then raised his hand to the men. “Spicer, Rawley, good to see you boys again. It was a pleasure to share coffee with you this morning.” He explained, “Them two was out here with the dawn, braggin’ about their many adventures.” Branch gestured at Patricia, still sitting beside Ax on the wagon seat. “Who have we here?”

  “Uncle Branch, this is Patricia Yancy,” Axton said. He shifted to help Patricia from the wagon but Cole was already there, lifting her down with both hands around her waist. And although Cole removed his proper touch the moment Patricia was on the ground, I knew it was clear to him that he’d rattled her.

  I saw Branch’s eyes crinkle at her surname but he said gallantly, “Welcome, my dear. Ain’t I a lucky old codger, with two fine ladies at my table? But I warn you, it ain’t exactly high-society dining out here.”

  “I couldn’t be happier, truly.” Patricia offered her hand. Though she was obviously a woman who could call upon her privileged upbringing and its subsequent understanding of good manners, I believed her words. Her face was wreathed in joy, cheeks blooming, blue eyes full of a light that had nothing to do with the angle of the sinking sun. Branch took her hand and politely kissed her knuckles.

  Miles and Cole led the horses to the corral, tugging off their saddles and hanging them over the top-most beam, while Axton unhitched the team with me dogging his movements, anxious to claim my horse for a moment’s time. I wished I was wearing trousers so I could take her for a quick ride; it was the perfect time of night. I wanted to gallop her way out into the foothills. And I wanted Miles with me.

  I watched him from the corner of my eye as I patted my horse’s nose, scratching beneath her forelock. He was joking with Cole; Cole shoved at his shoulder and Miles flicked his finger against Cole’s hat brim so that it tipped sideways, nearly falling off. Branch was pointing out something on the western horizon to Patricia; I looked that direction and sighed in pleasure. The clouds had formed slim vertical peaks, variegated in color from cherry to magenta, an optical illusion which made it impossible to discern where earth ended and sky began. The very air seemed tinted the pink of roses. I gathered my horse’s lead line and whispered, “C’mon, sweet girl.”

  She followed obediently, her long nose bumping along behind my shoulder. Cole made a show of opening the corral gate so I could lead her inside; there, I purposely stalled over removing her bridle because Miles was the last person within the space, where he stood with hands on hips, watching me struggle to unbuckle a strap.

  He came to stand beside me. “May I?”

  I managed to release the bridle and lifted it over my horse’s ears, easing the bit from her mouth. “I got it, thanks.”

  “You are familiar with horses?”

  Instead of replying I nodded, holding the bridle in one hand. My horse, though free of this last restraint, stayed near, twitching her tail and nosing my waist, maybe hoping I had an apple hidden in a pocket. The air smelled like dust and sagebrush; Miles stood facing away from the sunset and I felt blinded by both its light and my proximity to him.

  “You and young Axton often ride together?”

  I nodded again. A piece of stray hair tickled my face and I tucked it behind my ear with my free hand.

  “Will you stay here with Branch, or return with Mrs. Yancy?”

  I found my voice. “Probably with Patricia, for now.”I felt like a piece of luggage no one really wanted, and were compelled by decency to claim.

  His gaze unwavering, Miles said, “I ordered Aemon Turnbull from the town, though I fear he will attempt to sneak back, especially considering my absence. I am concerned for your safety. I will be at least slightly reassured if I know your whereabouts in my absence.”

  Confusion held me prisoner in a tight, sticky web. Miles Rawley was not mine to care about and yet here I stood, caring far more than our brief acquaintance should allow.

  “Your eyes are uncommonly lovely.” He spoke quietly and again I was struck by the notion that he was thinking aloud. “There is so much gold within them. The sun sets it off.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered. We were suspended in our own private world, far from everyone else. I wanted to tell him I thought of him almost constantly but could not muster the required nerve. I cleared my throat. “I’ll be all right. I don’t want to you to worry. Please, don’t worry about me.”

  “That seems at this moment like asking me not to breathe.” His face was stern and imposing despite these tender words.

  “When will you be back?” I slid the leather straps of the bridle between my fingers in a tense, repetitive motion. There was a note of anxiety in my tone I could not swallow away.

  “Within a week. We are riding out with the dawn and will visit my brother Grantley’s homestead along the way.”

  He studied my eyes for answers – I did the same to his, finding no satisfaction which did not involve touching him. Without thinking, the movement as instinctive as anything I’d ever done, I reached up and placed my hand on his cheek. He blinked in surprise but did not move away. My heart throbbed with hard, painful beats. I moved my palm until I cupped his jaw, stroking his skin, feeling the bristle of a day’s growth of whiskers.

  My spine twitched, attempting to force me forward and therefore into his full embrace. I was embarrassed to have touched him like this, with no invitation, but when he saw in my eyes that I meant to stop he covered my hand with his and turned his mouth to my palm, in effect kissing me. His mustache was very soft, his lips very warm.

  “Marshal,” I whispered, using his title as a lawman instead of his name, and somehow this word had the effect of stabbing my heart, with such force I stifled a gasp.

  He enfolded my hand within his so he could kiss my knuckles. I was breathless and afire, unsettled and confused, and so very sad. A gaping hole of sadness tore at my insides.

  Oh God, I don’t understand…

  Miles, however, had gained a sense of ease; he kept careful hold of my hand as he invited, “I would be immeasurably relieved if you would accompany us west on the morrow. I have considered asking this of you since last night. Perhaps it is improper, but I would like very much for you to meet my brother and his wife. My sister-in-law is much in need of feminine company.”

  “But I…” I stumbled to think of a reason not to accept.

  “Of course it seems improper,” he rushed on, eyes dancing with a mix of earnestness and good humor. “But only because we are not yet well-acquainted. My mother would tell you I am the least improper of all my brothers. I must admit I am able to think of nothing but becoming familiar to you, Ruthann.” He quickly backpedaled at this statement. “That sounds unseemly, which is not my intent. I wish to spend hours talking with you, ‘familiar’ in that sense I mean, not any other. Not that you would have assumed any other.” I was fairly certain his cheeks had taken on heat. He cleared his throat and concluded, “You said you are knowledgeable regarding horses? You are able to ride?”

  “I am,” I whispered.

  He grinned then, wide and warm, and I felt my heartbeat everywhere in my body, unable to keep from smiling in response.

  “Will you consider this offer?”

  “I will.”

  “Jesus Christ, Rawley, you about done fawning all over poor Ruthann?” Cole called from the far side of the corral, and Miles shot his friend a dirty look, black eyebrows pulled low, while I laughed, completely due to nerves, not humor.

  “Shall we?” Miles asked, allowing me to walk first. I was still holding the bridle.

  “Everyone, come sit,” Branch encouraged. “I uncorked a jug of bourbon for the boys but I’m s’posing you ladies’ll prefer water.”

  “Aw, Branch, you’re a goddamn saint,” Cole said, settling a
round the fire, watching Patricia as she swept her skirt to the side before claiming a spot adjacent to him. I had the sense Cole was envisioning catching her waist in his hands and hauling her onto his lap; I swore I could almost read his thoughts. Patricia studiously ignored him and instead focused her attention upon the flames.

  I ducked inside the small barn, which was really more of a shed, to hang the bridle on the wooden peg intended for that purpose. Upon returning to the fire, I sat between Miles and Axton. The men were hatless now in the fine evening air, their faces sweaty, hair flattened and clothes dusty. I considered the possibility of riding west with Miles and Cole tomorrow. Of being near Miles for hours in a row. Growing familiar with him, as he had said. He sat to my right; no more than eighteen inches separated our bodies. I studied his profile from the corner of my eye and found myself hyperaware of his every movement. The heat and softness of his lips seemed emblazoned on my hand, at both points of contact.

  “We got biscuits and bacon,” Branch said, using his two-pronged iron fork to lift the lid from a pan on the grate over the fire, brimming with plump, golden biscuits. Bacon sizzled.

  “That looks wonderful,” I told Branch, who grinned.

  “Delightful,” agreed Patricia.

  “Ladies first,” Cole said, collecting two dented tin plates from the small stack near the fire, holding them out for Branch to load with food.

  “Such a gentleman,” I teased as he handed me a plate.

  “Always,” Cole said earnestly, inspiring snorts from both Miles and Branch.

  The twilight advanced and the fire burned with a merry crackle as we dined on biscuits and rich, greasy bacon – with our fingers, since Branch owned only two spoons, no forks. The men accompanied the conversation with the passing of the whiskey jug, sipping, grimacing, backhanding their mouths, and then exhaling alcohol-scented breaths with hilarious similarity. On the first rotation I’d accepted the jug from Ax and taken a cautious sniff, which seared the hairs on the inside of my nostrils.

  “Holy shit, what’s in this?” I asked, looking up in bewilderment when everyone started laughing.

  “I can’t believe such a sweet little thing as you has got such a mouth on her,” Cole said through his laughter, shaking his head.

  “It’s a Tennessee specialty, Ruthie-honey,” Branch explained, wiping his greasy hands on his leather leggings, already much-stained. His accent grew more pronounced with each sip of the stuff. “Straight outta Cumberland County. Cures all that ails you, ain’t that right, fellas?”

  I giggled and Axton observed, “It’s so good to see you happy, Ruthie.”

  “It does feel good to be out of Howardsville,” I admitted. “I felt like a prisoner there.”

  “I shoulda insisted you live with us when me an’ the boy first found you,” Branch said. “Damn that hussy Rilla Jaymes. I shoulda knowed better. I’m so sorry, darlin’ girl.”

  “Branch told us some about finding you,” Cole said. “You have no memories of what came before?”

  My shoulders hunched. Disliking being the center of sudden and rapt attention, I said only, “No.”

  “Me an’ the boy been searchin’ high an’ low for answers,” Branch said. “But we ain’t found a soul what knows you, honey-love, I am so frightful sorry to say.”

  My lips felt wooden. “There isn’t anyone.”

  “That first evening we watched the moon rise, you said you had a husband,” Axton gently reminded. I clenched my teeth, the ache of those words as raw as if I’d just made the claim. I knew Axton was only trying to be helpful, not intending to cause pain.

  Miles sat straighter, eyes fixed on me.

  Patricia set aside her plate and leaned around Axton to rest her hand on my knee. “You have not spoken of this particular detail, dear Ruthann. We shall place an advertisement, as I said earlier. We shall do this the moment we return to Chicago.”

  Everyone seemed to speak at once.

  Axton said, “You’re going to Chicago?”

  Miles asked, “When was this decided?”

  Branch said adamantly, “Chicago, nothin’. You’ll stay with us. I’ll provide for you always, darlin’, don’t you worry.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered to Branch. “I know, I really do, and I thank you. I haven’t decided anything yet.”

  Patricia, observing my discomfort, neatly changed the subject, addressing Cole as she said, “Mr. Douglas tells us you are quite a remarkable musician, Mr. Spicer.”

  “He tells you true. And many thanks.”

  “Shall you play for us?” Patricia asked.

  “Oh, I shall,” Cole said, echoing her very-proper speech.

  I busied myself gathering plates the second everyone finished eating, letting the conversation carry on without me. Only Miles remained quiet; I felt his gaze as I carried the stack of dirty plates into the cabin, depositing them on the table shoved beneath the window. There, in the shadow of four walls and away from direct view, I pressed the base of both hands to my face, grinding at my eye sockets, willing myself to remember.

  Anything at all. Any clue to remind me who I am. Who the fuck I actually am.

  I was happy once, I know it. Where did it go? I’m so scared.

  This can’t be all I know…

  I bent forward over the table and rested my cheek against the cold, rough wood. My eyes adjusted to the dimness and I stared at the view before my nose – the edge of the table and the wall, just beyond. The chatter from outside seemed muted, distant. I couldn’t move until I was certain I wasn’t about to lose control; at the moment, I could hardly stand upright.

  Branch entered the cabin and found me, gathering me close the same way a worried father would. “Aw, honey, c’mon back out. You’s in for a real treat. The boys are gonna make music like you never done heard.”

  “No kidding?” I whispered against his chest.

  “No foolin’.” Branch cupped a gentle hand over the back of my head, petting my hair. “I come to fetch my fiddle for Miles. Young fool forgot his back in town.”

  Cole retrieved his fiddle case, which he’d strapped to Charger’s back; Branch handed Miles the instrument from the cabin. Patricia and Axton remained seated around the fire while Cole stood to tune his instrument with the easy movements afforded by years of practice. Patricia shifted closer and caught my elbow, squeezing with excitement. Cole glided his bow over the strings with a couple quick skips and I shivered in anticipation. Miles brought the fiddle to his chin, plucking at the strings with his right thumb while adjusting a small peg on the neck.

  Ax smoothed his knuckles between my shoulder blades; sweet, considerate Axton. He murmured, “You all right?”

  I nodded.

  “Are you ready to sing?”

  “I don’t know any of the songs.” I was still watching Miles.

  “You will. Songs ain’t so easy to forget.”

  Branch settled atop an overturned tin bucket and polished a harmonica with his sleeve. The men looked to one another in the momentary lull between tuning their instruments and the first notes; even the twilight seemed to be holding an expectant breath. They all nodded the tempo almost unconsciously before Cole counted off under his breath, “A one, two, a one two three…”

  Miles bent slightly forward, eyelids lowering in concentration. In the gathering darkness, with only the firelight to cast its flickering glow, I was emboldened and studied him without letup; his hands, with their long, capable fingers, curved around the instrument and its bow, wielding one to make the other sing. Though his mouth remained unsmiling he played with an expression of what struck me as pure rapture. It was the feeling created by the sum total of their music – Miles and Cole on the fiddles, Branch with the wailing harmonica.

  I could not help but shiver, so absorbed that my shoulders jerked when Axton and Patricia began singing along. Patricia giggled at my jumpiness and I realized Axton had been right; I knew this song. I’d heard it before at some point in my past and to my amazement the melo
dy rose in my throat, fully formed. I joined Patricia and Axton as they sang “Red River Valley.” That I could recall the chorus of a song and not the names or faces of my own parents was beyond my ability to comprehend; it was maddening.

  “We’re good. We should go on the road,” I teased my fellow singers when the song was over, the three of us applauding and cheering while Cole and Branch bowed with all the gusto of showmen; Miles simply nodded.

  Axton said, “They’ll be traveling the road tomorrow.”

  “No, I mean…” But I trailed off, uncertain exactly what I meant.

  The men began the next song, another tune I recognized. An hour passed, marked by the rising silver moon; it was close to full again. They moved between fast-paced numbers and slower, sweeter ones, ballads and waltzes, as the moon climbed ever higher and tears swelled in my eyes time and again at their collective talent. The sweetness of the music dusted my skin and flowed into my ears like warm honey, inducing an almost dreamlike state; my exhausted eyelids grew heavy and at last I rested my cheek against Axton’s upper arm, lulled into a state of security, tucked as I was between him and Patricia.

  Axton hooked his arm around my waist, resituating so I would be more comfortable, and I tried to pretend I didn’t feel the heat of Miles’s gaze upon us as he continued playing, letting my eyes sink closed.

  Chapter Ten

  MILES, AXTON, AND COLE ESCORTED US BACK TO THE DEPOT an hour later, beneath the light of a showy, snow-white moon. Though Branch wanted Patricia and me to remain at the cabin for the night, Patricia explained the necessity of returning to her train car before morning’s light, when Mrs. Mason’s drug-induced stupor would presumably wear away. I realized I had to tell Patricia I’d made a decision regarding the immediate future, and I would have to tell her tonight. But I feared for her reaction.

  It had been while Miles was returning Branch’s fiddle to its proper place that I caught him alone. Everyone else remained at the fire, laughing and complimenting the musicians, but I scurried after Miles, slipping through the door behind him, into the relative privacy afforded by the four walls of the cabin.