Part 24 (1/2)
”You don't. Not on a night like this.”
”Then you'll have to go after her.”
”Are you crazy? That's one h.e.l.luva storm. If she wants to get herself blown from here to Missouri, it's her business.”
”You lazy b.a.s.t.a.r.d!” Madison exploded. ”If you had half as much interest in your daughter as you had in your chickens, she wouldn't be out there right now.”
”How do you figure that?” Baker asked.
”You'd never understand even if I had time to explain.”
As Madison headed back into the night, he felt certain that once again he had failed to guess Fern's destination. He was no more sure of his own. The only landmark Baker Sproull had given him was the Connor place. Once he pa.s.sed that, he was on his own. <><><><><><><><><><><><> The howling wind whipped the rain into a froth and flung it at Fern's face like thousands of tiny arrows. She would be soaked to the skin before she reached town. Her horse probably looked forward to reaching the livery stable as much as she looked forward to slipping into her warm, dry bed at Mrs. Abbott's.
She was tempted to turn around and wait out the storm at the soddy. She thought momentarily of stopping at home, but she doubted that her father would let her go back to Mrs. Abbott's. It was just as unlikely that Madison would let her remain without a confrontation. She wanted to avoid that.
Besides, she didn't want to see her father just yet. Tonight's ride had forced her to admit she wasn't ready to get back into the saddle. She might not want to admit that to Madison, but she had no trouble acknowledging it herself.
She also had some thinking to do about her own future. Madison had forced her to confront some truths about her relations.h.i.+p with her father. If she went back now, she would be stepping back into the same role for the rest of her life. She knew her father would never change. This was her one chance to be treated differently. She had to be certain of what she wanted. Once she made her decision, her father would never allow her to change it. He wouldn't want her to leave. But if she did, he wouldn't let her come back.
It hurt her to admit that, but she had known he had no warm feelings for her. If he felt anything, it was resentment that she was alive rather than her brother. All her life she had tried to fill the place of that dead infant. All along she had known she never could.
But what would she do if she left home? All of a sudden she knew what she wanted. And just as immediately she knew it was impossible. Madison would never ask her to many him. She was crazy to think he might. She would be even crazier to say yes if he did.
There couldn't be two more mismatched people in the whole country. It didn't matter that she thought he was the most handsome man in the world or that he haunted her dreams. It didn't matter that his kisses had planted hopes in her heart which even the most ruthless logic couldn't eradicate. It didn't matter that she kept telling herself she wanted nothing to do with being a woman and a wife.
She wanted to be with Madison for the rest of her life, but she didn't have the slightest idea how to bring it about. Not that the prospect of success didn't frighten her almost as much as the thought of failure. She couldn't work out the answers just now, not with the storm doing its best to sweep her away. She had to concentrate on getting back to town without being washed down some creek.
The presentiment that someone had followed her bothered her more than the rain. It grew stronger and stronger as it became more difficult to see the trail. A flash of lightning showed her an empty landscape, but she couldn't shake the feeling she wasn't alone.
Fern slipped her hand inside her slick and let her fingers close around the stock of her rifle. Just knowing she could protect herself made her feel better.
She peered into the night, straining to see and hear, but she couldn't have heard a stampede above the roar of the wind. Her body remained tense, her muscles taut. She fingered the rifle stock nervously.
She tried to think of what she could do to help Madison find Troy's killer. She tried to decide what to do when she went back to the farm. She even tried to think about going to the party with Madison, but she couldn't think of anything except that someone was out here with her.
The feeling was so strong she drew her rifle halfway out of the scabbard.
As the empty minutes rolled by, nothing happened. The lightning became less frequent, the rain eased off, but the wind whipped about her with such ferocity that she was conscious of little more than a nearly deafening roar in her ears. Even her horse wanted to find shelter in one of many dips in the prairie. Tomorrow morning Fern expected to see that virtually every tree had been torn up by the roots and blown away.
A bolt of lightning came to earth so close she could feel the searing heat; a deafening crash of thunder frightened a scream out of her; a rider appeared in silhouette less than thirty yards ahead.
Chapter Sixteen.
Instinctively Fern pulled her horse to a halt and drew her rifle. A second bolt of lightning threw the figure into silhouette once more, and she fired. Then turning her horse, she started back across the prairie at a gallop.
Common sense rea.s.serted itself almost immediately. No one in his right mind raced through a storm like this. She couldn't see. Her horse would almost certainly fall. Even if she didn't kill herself, the animal would probably have to be destroyed.
But as soon as her horse slowed to a trot, Fern's thoughts reverted to the man behind her.
That could have been her father or any one of a dozen men who had a perfect right to be on this trail. Whoever it was, she had shot him. She must have. She never missed. She couldn't just leave him.
She turned back but left the trail for a path on lower ground. The run-off from the storm would soon make it a dangerous route, but she should have time to reach the rider unseen.
The roar of the wind was so loud, Fern couldn't hear if the man had fired his rifle to call for help. A flash of lightning illuminated the landscape.
Nothing.
The water rus.h.i.+ng along the streambed was rapidly becoming a torrent. Even now it swirled around her horse's legs. Soon it would become treacherous. Trees, branches, and other debris would make it lethal.
Another flash of lightning revealed a horse nearly a hundred yards away, the rider slumped in the saddle.
The man she had shot!
Feeling terribly guilty, Fern drove her horse up the sloping ground until she reached the trail. As she drew near the man, her fear returned. He could be anyone. She wasn't safe just because he was wounded.
Fern shook off her misgivings. She had shot him without provocation. He could be dying. She must help him. If there was danger, she had to risk it. She had never before let herself be ruled by fear. She didn't know what had happened to her tonight.
She approached warily. Between the dark and her horse's skittishness, she couldn't make out the rider's features.
''Are you hurt?” she called out as she drew close.
”Of course I'm hurt, dammit,” the man answered. ”You put a bullet in my arm.”
It was Madison, and he was furious.
Fern's heart beat wildly. The full impact of what she could have done made her so weak she feared she might faint. She gripped the pommel to steady herself, but it was several moments before the blurred scene stopped swimming before her eyes. She could have killed the man she loved. And she probably would have if she hadn't fired so quickly. And all because of blind, stupid fear.
”You did say you were going to have my blood.”
”Are you bleeding a lot?” she asked.
”I don't know. How much did you want, a cup? A pint?”
”I'll take you to the house.” They had to shout to be heard even though their faces were only inches apart.
”I'm certain your father will be delighted to give me a matching bullet hole in my heart.”
She'd worry about her father later. Madison was hurt, and right now that was all that mattered.
”I'll lead your horse.”
”No, you won't,” Madison yelled back. ”If I can't make it on my own, I'll stay here until I can.”
His anger and sarcasm made her feel better. Maybe she had hurt his pride more than his arm.
The roar of the wind hurt her ears. Both the horses were becoming difficult to control. She almost reached out for Buster's bridle when he tried to veer from the trail. Only the knowledge that Madison would never forgive her enabled her to draw her hand back.