Claimed on the Frontier, page 17
“And close your mouth. You’ll catch flies,” I muttered.
She clamped her mouth shut, and I swear I heard Aaron laugh, though he quickly covered it up with a cough. “Pearl,” came his deep voice, scolding, behind me.
I sighed. “Yes, sir.”
Geraldine’s eyes flitted from me to him.
“You mind how you speak now, young lady.”
I nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry,” I mumbled to Geraldine. She nodded.
“Do you always call him sir?”
The question took me by surprise. “Well, yes,” I said. “When he addresses me, I do.”
She frowned. “Seems to me she’s a right to her own mind, Aaron,” Geraldine said loudly, her knitting needles flying.
“And you have the right to speak yours, Geraldine,” Aaron said placidly. “But now that you’ve stated your opinion, I’ll thank you to hold your tongue.”
I wasn’t sure at first if she was mocking him, or if he just spoke with such sure authority that she couldn’t help it, but her immediate response was, “Yes, sir.” Then she blushed furiously. I bit my cheek to keep from grinning.
The wind howled outside and Aaron got to his feet. “That wind is whippin’ up something’ fierce. Let’s get you home, Geraldine.”
Geraldine folded up her handiwork and rose to her feet. I stood and stretched, and followed them to the door. Before he left, Aaron turned to me again.
“Now, when I leave, don’t forget—”
“I know, I know,” I said, exasperated. “Latch the door!”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Quite right, little lady. And I think we’ll have a little chat this evening about your tone of voice with me.”
I frowned. Right in front of Geraldine! But she was merely pulling on her gloves and if she’d heard anything, she clearly pretended not to. Thank goodness.
Aaron sent her out ahead of me, and as she walked to the buggy, he turned an eye to me. “You be a good girl, now.”
I nodded, chastened. “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” he said, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead.
And then he was gone. I quickly latched the door and pulled to make sure it was secure. I hated being indoors in his absence. I felt it imperative I obey and I busied myself with preparing supper. My bread was already rising, so I dusted the table, flipped the dough out and let it rest a bit, then checked on the beans I had simmering on the stove.
It was only a few minutes after Aaron and Geraldine had left when I heard Aaron’s signature knock on the door. I thought it odd he was back so soon. I glanced around the cabin quickly, wondering if Geraldine had left one of her belongings behind. I spied her shawl on the rocker and went to retrieve it. Surely, they’d come right back for it when she realized she’d left it. Snatching it up, I wiped my floury hands on my apron and went to the door, yanking it open.
I had a split second to register shock—it was not Geraldine or Aaron, but a wild-looking man with hair askew and a lewd look about him. Suddenly frightened, I tried to step back and shut the door on him, but I was too slow. One large hand shoved on the door, the other on me as he shoved me in.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he murmured. “Thinking that’ll keep you safe, did you? Never think I’s lyin by, just bidin’ my time, ready to use your man’s knock as my own?”
My eyes quickly roamed the cabin. Aaron had taken his gun with him, but had left his small pistol in our bedroom. I was only to use it in case of emergency, but if ever there was an emergency, this was it. On the table lay the cast-iron pan I’d set out to oil, and there was little else.
“Tryin’ to think on how’s to get away?” he crooned, and his voice made me sick. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair ragged, and his fingernails were dirty and unkempt. I felt my stomach churn as I stepped backward. “Never give a thought to how I’d get away, did ya now? When ya lambaste my name all over town, takin’ my wife and daughter somewheres to live? You think that’s fine and dandy, don’t ya?”
I knew there was no reasoning with the man, and I knew Aaron wouldn’t want me to provoke him, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.
“You’re nothing but a liar and a sneak!” I shouted. I hoped I would get him angry and he’d lose his wits. “No one in town needed my word for it. They know who you are! And your daughter and wife wouldn’t want to be with you if you were the last man on earth!”
I’d forgotten the man was adept at attacking women. With one vicious swipe of his filthy hand, he had me by the hair. I screamed as loudly as I could, hoping it would throw him off his game and it was my only hope that someone out there would hear me. I kicked my feet but missed, as he dragged me straight across the room and pulled, smashing my head on the edge of the wooden table. My vision blurred as pain streaked across my scalp, my hands clawing at his, trying to release his fingers from their wicked grip. He tried to lift my head again, but my foot finally connected with his calf and my boot sank into the soft flesh.
He howled and released my hair. I had no time to contemplate my next move. As he hopped around on one foot, I tried to run. I didn’t get far before he snatched at my apron and yanked me back, reeling me closer to him. As soon as he could grab me, his hand was around my arm. He spun me around and slapped me. My cheek flamed from the blow and I cried out, seconds before he wrapped both of his hands around my throat in a vise-like grip. I struggled against him, but he was far more powerful than I. I wrapped my hands around his wrists, tugging, but it was useless. I couldn’t breathe. My head felt hot and too big for my shoulders. The room was growing dark. I was going to die here, with this cruel man’s hands wrapped around my neck. Aaron would find me like this, lifeless on the floor of our home. I wanted to tell him thank you. I wanted him to hold me one last time. I wanted to tell him I loved him.
I would not go down without a fight. My kick had saved me once before. I tried again, this time aiming right between his legs. My foot connected, and his grip loosened enough that I was able to get away as I took huge, gasping breaths of air. He was bent over by the table. I took a risk, stepping close enough to him so that I could grab the heavy handle of my cast-iron frying pan. I swung. It was solid, so heavy I needed two hands to lift it, and when it was hot, Aaron typically insisted on lifting it himself. The man rose just in time, as I swung the pan straight across at him, hitting him on the temple. He fell to the floor with a scream of rage. But I’d only just grazed him, not hard enough to actually knock him out. Still dizzy from the stranglehold he had on me, I raced to my room to fetch the pistol.
I could feel him, hear him hot on my heels. Where was Aaron? Geraldine’s house was a short distance away, and if he’d only dropped her off quickly, he could come straight home. Had he stopped to visit with Phillip? He rarely did. Or maybe it all just seemed like the time was going by way too quickly.
I had to distract the man. When he came into the room, I grabbed the quilt off my bed and threw it at him. It tangled on his face and arms as he wrestled with it, trying to get it off. He screamed with rage as I fumbled in the drawer and my hands clasped on the cold metal of the pistol.
I spun around to him, my hands shaking as they held the gun.
“You will leave me alone,” I said, with as much courage as I could muster. “You’ll back away and not touch a hair on my head. If you do, I’ll blast a hole straight through you.”
I stared at him. An angry welt was rising on the side of his face. His eyes were mean and vacant. Saliva dripped from his bleeding lip and his hands were fisted. But he did not stand back. He came straight at me. With no other choice, I pulled the trigger while my hands shook. He threw back his head with a howl of rage. My bullet had just grazed his ear. I could see a spurt of crimson blood as he grabbed for his face. I could still hear the deafening sound of the gunshot ringing in my ears. I shook my head. I only had one shot before I had to reload, and there was no time, or ammunition. I’d lost my only chance at shooting him.
Still holding onto his head, he charged at me. I used the butt of the pistol as a weapon, swinging it, but he ducked, his hands looped around my waist. He threw me on the bed face-down while I pushed and kicked with all I had, but it was no use. I couldn’t get away. I couldn’t stop him. He muttered crude, wicked things at me as he shifted up my skirts. Cold fear clawed at me and I fought with everything I had, but he was too strong. I couldn’t lift him. He was going to have his way with me, and I didn’t know how I could stop him.
I never did hear the door of the cabin open. I heard the shouts and saw a blur as Aaron entered the room. In a flash, he had the man by the shoulders, dragging him back as he spun him around and delivered a crushing blow to the man’s jaw. Again and again, his fists flailed, but the man was strong and tenacious. Even as his head reared back with the blows, he was moving. He ducked his head and charged at Aaron, his head connecting with Aaron’s stomach. I could hear the air whoosh out of Aaron as the man shoved him against the door of our room.
They fought, fists flying, and the sounds of the thuds and grunts made me sick. I wished I knew what I could do, but I knew Aaron would want me to stay out of the fray. I sat on the bed, watching it all happen, thinking with all I had about a strategy to help Aaron.
They were back in the main room of the cabin now, and I leapt down from the bed and ran in after them. Aaron was besting the man. He had him on the floor now, down between his legs, and Aaron’s fists were falling, one blow after another. But the man would not give up. He ducked a blow from Aaron and grabbed his fist, pulling him down. With a shout of fury, he grabbed Aaron by the front of his shirt and whacked his head against the floor.
To my horror, I watched as Aaron’s body went limp.
I didn’t know until later that the bloodcurdling screams in the cabin were mine. I never even remembered grabbing Aaron’s rifle. All I remember was the ringing in my ears from the sound of the gunshot and my own screams, holding the rifle in my hands, and the way the man’s blood pooled on the floor. His eyes were vacant as they stared up at me. I’d killed a man, and it didn’t even register. My only thought was to get to my husband.
* * *
I needed help. I didn’t know what to do. I looked around the cabin that was eerily quiet now. Gingerly, I stepped over the man to get to Aaron. Aaron’s breath was shallow, but he was breathing, and I clasped him up to my breast, feeling tears and hysteria bubbling up at the same time.
“Wake up,” I moaned. “Oh, please, Aaron, wake up.”
I rolled him over and his eyes remained shut. It was then that I noticed the knife, stained with blood on the floor. Aaron’s blood. I was paralyzed with horror for seconds before I realized I needed to move.
I needed help.
I moved my fingers over Aaron’s chest, and blood seeped against my fingernails at his right side.
I tore off my apron and bound it tightly against Aaron’s injured side, immediately staining it scarlet. Gently resting Aaron’s limp body on the floor, I pushed to my feet and ran.
Samuel must’ve seen me before I saw him. He was facing ma’s house, but when it finally registered that it was Samuel in front of me, he was already coming toward me on his horse at a full gallop.
“Pearl, what is it? Where’s Aaron?”
I mumbled something barely coherent about a dead man, a gun, and a knife wound. Samuel turned and shouted over his shoulder.
“Matthew!” Matthew came trotting out of the barn. “Go on, git Phillip! Tell him to fetch the doctor and make haste, boy. Take Trigger.”
Trigger was Samuel’s fastest horse and Matthew was never allowed to ride him. Matthew wasted no time in obeying and I heard the galloping of Trigger’s hooves seconds later.
“Get up on here,” he said, “And for God’s sake, quit shakin’ that gun afore you take someone’s eye out.”
I didn’t even realize I still had the rifle. He snatched it from my hand, offering me his other hand, and I quickly hoisted myself up behind him. We galloped to the house. Samuel leapt down from his horse, tying her quickly to a post, before he snatched my hand and yanked me down off the horse. I raced ahead of him.
Please let him be okay. Lord Almighty, please let him be okay.
Matthew took in the scene, shaking his head. He went straight to Aaron, rolling him over.
“It’s his side,” I whispered. “He took a knife to the side.”
Samuel stripped off Aaron’s shirt and undershirt. I gasped at the sight of the wound, ugly, scarlet, and seeping.
“Get me some rags, and be quick about it.”
I had a clean store of rags in my pantry I fetched hastily, handing them to Samuel.
“Now boil us some water.” The Dutch oven in the hearth was already filled with steaming hot water I’d been preparing for evening tea. Carefully, I lifted it, nestling it on the floor. I retrieved a large bowl, ladled the steaming water into it, and brought it to Samuel.
His eyes were grave as he took in Aaron’s condition.
“The knife wound’s superficial,” he said. “Just a graze. Ain’t much of a cut. But the head, there’s no tellin’.”
Between the two of us, we carried him to our bed. Samuel had bandaged up the wound well, and there was no more bleeding now. But I hated the sight of my pale husband, weak and unconscious. Samuel left him with me as he dragged the body of the man out of the cabin. I never did know what he did with him. I was focused solely on my husband, willing him to be okay. Willing him to come back to me. I cradled his head in my lap on the bed, running my fingers through his hair and trailing a finger down the scruffy beard.
“I love you,” I whispered. “I love you, Aaron. Please. Please, wake up.”
I heard a commotion in the doorway and Matthew entered with Phillip and the doctor. Shortly after that, the sheriff arrived, and then ma. Her face was stricken as she took note of Aaron in bed, the doctor’s stethoscope pressed up against his bare chest, as the doctor looked gravely at Aaron.
Doctor Gentry was an elderly man, with white hair and a white moustache, gold wire-framed glasses perched upon his nose. He’d practiced medicine for decades and was revered among the settlers as a patient, learned man who could as soon as help you clear a wart off your hand as he could deliver your baby.
“His heartbeat is slow,” Doctor Gentry said. “But it’s to be expected in the event of head trauma. All other signs point to his being fine.” He’d dressed the knife wound and agreed with Samuel that it had indeed been superficial. He’d checked over every inch of Aaron’s body, taking note of no other prominent injuries but the head.
“You do your best to take care of him,” the doctor said. He stood, patting my shoulder, as I nodded. Ma came up behind me and her arms went around my shoulders as the men took their leave and we were left alone with Aaron. He looked pale and lifeless against the sheets. My strong, capable man, always in charge, always powerful, now looked as vulnerable as a child.
And as everyone left and ma spun me around, she drew me into her soft frame. She was a bit shorter than I was, but fuller. I’d never been embraced by a mother when I was hurt or sad. I’d known the feel of my husband’s embrace, but it was different. Her words tickled my ear.
“He’ll be fine, child, you’ll see. He’s been hurt before. And I thought we’d lost him once, when he was a young man taken with fever ‘n ague. But now, Pearl, he’s got somethin’ to live for.”
Did she mean what I thought she did? Was it me?
“He loves you more than life, Pearl,” she whispered. “The sun rises in your eyes and sets in your smile with him. I’ve never seen a man more devoted to his wife, unless it was my own husband. Aaron is his father, through and through. You know that? He’s his pa, all over again. That man’s laid claim on you, and he’s too stubborn to leave you now.”
It was then that I felt the tears come as she voiced my fears. And there in the darkened room, with her arms about my shoulders, the first time in my life in the presence of a woman I called ma, I wept. I wept for the little girl raised without the comfort of parents who loved her. I wept for ma’s own loss, the knowledge of the pain she must’ve felt and still felt, not having her man by her side when she woke in the morning, or next to her when she went to bed at night. I wept for the woman whose husband was dragged from my home and would be buried in a criminal’s shallow grave the next day, for her daughter who now had no home to call her own, and a father who lived a shameful life. I wept for Aaron, my strong man who mourned the loss of his father and every day aimed to be a better man. I wept because the one person I needed by my side was breathing shallow breaths in bed, injured because he would’ve laid down his life for mine.
She hushed me, her arms holding me tighter as my tears flowed and my shoulders racked with the sobs that wrenched from me. And when I was done crying, peace came. I lifted my face and wiped my tears. She handed me a handkerchief from the clean pile of Aaron’s clothing next to my bed. I squared my shoulders and inhaled.
“Right, then. Time to be strong for my man.”
She smiled, one woman to another. Nodding, she turned me to face him. And that was when his eyes opened.
* * *
“You git on over here and sit,” Aaron growled. He was frowning, his eyes darkened and his heavy brows drawn together.
He had no idea how pleased I was to see the familiar scowl.
“Oh?” I said, the temptation to prod him far too difficult to resist. “Or what?” I asked innocently, my eyes intentionally wide as I did not sit but stood, my hands on my hips. It was all I could do to keep my face calm and placid and not break into a grin.
His voice dropped. “You little vixen,” he said, though his lips twitched. “You think I’m not keepin’ a tally on how many licks you’ve earned while I’ve been laid up like this?”
