Anora didn’t want to let go; if she did he might disappear, she’d never see him again. His face, Whit’s lovely face, handsome and strong, his blue eyes so kind—he wouldn’t hurt her, he’d never hurt her. He’d saved her from the river. This was real, he was really there. There, with her, carrying her away from the river, away from a dark and agonizing death.
Clinging, her arms around his neck, she pulled his head down. His lips touched hers. Tentatively, she pressed her mouth to his. Adding pressure, he returned the kiss.
It wasn’t Rueben, but she was being weighted down. She couldn’t breathe. The weight on top of her sent her into a panic. She screamed, kicked and started pounding his back..
The bad dream. She was being crushed and mauled, hands everywhere.
Freed form the weight of the body on top of her, she rolled over the side of the bed and curled up in a ball in her niche between the bed and the dresser. A hand reached out, fingers clasping her wrist. Turning her head aside, shoulders hunched, rigid, afraid to breathe, she feared Ruben had her, not Whit, not the dream but the nightmare.
The hand loosened its grip, and Whit’s voice penetrated through the murky darkness inside her head. She didn’t dare look at him. She had no words to explain her behavior. It was her survival instinct—cave in, protect.
His fingers slid down her neck to her shoulder. “You got scars here,” he said, his hand stopped and hovered over her bare shoulder. “So, how’d you get these scars, Anora?” Whit asked.
Whit? Not the tormentor. The body above her shifted on the bed to a sitting position. A hand tugged her dress to the side. The buttons had come lose in her battle to break free of Ruben. Her trembling fingers fumbled with the fabric, tugging the garment closed to hide her exposed flesh.
“What the hell happened? Ruben? Ruben, he do this to you?”
Whit sat straight up, reaching out to her. “My God, Anora. Who did that?” he asked turning her wrists over, exposing the circlet of scared flesh. “Ruben? Wish I’d killed the son-of-a-bitch.”
Turning her back on him, she buttoned the front of her dress—all the buttons—and rolled down the sleeves. Ruthlessly, she coiled her hair, gave it a twist and jammed a comb into it to keep it secure on her head.
Tight-lipped and silent, she stood before her bureau drawer, shaking, stroking the vacant space on top of the dresser where her mother’s toiletry set had sat. Erupting from a deep well of despair she’d kept tightly locked away in her chest, a sob escaped her lips. The walls of the cabin closed in on her. She needed air. She needed to be outside.
Behind her, she heard Whit mutter a curse. He joined her, sitting beside her on the top step of the porch. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a long while.
“Anora, you…we…should talk some, I guess. Tell me about Ruben? How did you end up here with him? Where’s your Aunt Carrie?”
Anora couldn’t answer, her throat had closed up with tears. She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, holding at bay the ugly truth.
Beside her, she heard him heave a weighty sigh. “I guess you don’t want to talk about it right now. I’ve decided, I ain’t goin’ nowhere, not for a while, anyway. We’ll talk when you’re ready. I bet you got questions for me. Bet you’re wonderin’ how I come to find you here.”
Anora couldn’t look him in the eye. Humiliated, ashamed, she hated herself. She was tainted goods. Ruben had done that to her. He’d sullied her to the point of unspeakable depravity. She wanted to scream at Whit. Scream, tell him to leave it alone. But he wouldn’t shut up.
“I know you’re a good girl. I guess I got a little carried away in there. I’m sorry. You gotta trust me. I won’t take advantage. I’d never hurt you. You aren’t a kid anymore, though. You’re wonderful. Beautiful. You’re a dammed exciting woman. I’d like to stay a while, maybe a month or two.”
Of course he wanted to stay, stay to bed her, stay to take her whenever the urge struck him. Use her like the filthy whore Rueben had created, molded into his slave. Anora shook her head at him, her eyes welling with unshed tears. Waving her hand to the interior of the cabin toward the bed, she moaned, “You shouldn’t have come.”
“Well, too bad, lady, I ain’t leavin’. Let me stay a while. I could help out. I don’t know what Ruben worked at besides the ferry, but I could stay until you get yourself up and going. With him gone, you’re gonna need some help for a while.”
Folding her arms across her chest, she rocked back and forth. When she came to her feet, she said, “I’ll fix you supper. I appreciate your offer, but you should go. I’m not…I’m not the same. Ruben…he…I’m not anything anymore. I’m muck, you understand. I’m muck, nothing you’d want.”
She started to go inside and stopped on the threshold. “You can stay the night up at the barn or over in town. I can’t have you here, Whit, it’s too late. You shouldn’t want me. I’m ugly and empty now. There’s nothing left of me that’s of any use to a man.”
They ate their meal in complete silence. Although Whit stared at her a lot, he didn’t say a word. He didn’t argue with her. She had to be grateful for that.
After she served him his meal, she opened the door and waved him out with no further discussion. From her window, she watched him lead his horse up to the barn. Pressing her back to the door, with tears streaming down her cheeks, she said to the empty room, “You’re too late, Whit. Too late. I’m a dead woman now.”
Anora, with clean sheets and a warm comforter on her bed, could find no peace. It wouldn’t have mattered if she’d been lying upon a luxurious mountain of down, wrapped in fine satin, she still wouldn’t have been able to sleep.
Over and over she kept hearing Ruben’s voice calling her trash, easy trash, a slut. She didn’t see how she could go on. She couldn’t look Whit Comstock in the eye, never again. Hard to believe he’d stayed, even though the barn was all she’d offered as choice of shelter. Closing her eyes, she prayed he’d ride away in the morning, leave her to rot.
With the dawn came the prospect of facing him. Before getting out of bed, she told herself she should be grateful. “Ruben’s gone, that should be enough.”
While dressing, she repeated the mantra, averting her gaze from her bureau and the vacant spot on top. Like all her other things—her innocence, her youth, her life, her dreams—they were all gone now. Things, that’s what they were. But Ruben couldn’t steal her memories. They were coming back strong. She wouldn’t ever let them go again.
She donned her mackinaw and opened her door to the rain. The pale glow of dawn gave light to the yard and the track up to the barn. Like every other morning, she had to go hook up Roscoe and Pete, and milk the cow and the goats.
Whit, coming from the barn, waved, leading the oxen already in their harness. “Morning,” he said, a warm smile on his face. The sound of his voice set the butterflies aflutter in the pit of her stomach. “I’ll get these two brutes hooked up.”
She didn’t know what to say. He grinned and looked very pleased with himself as he passed.
The cow, the goats—got to milk the goats, she reminded herself. God. I can’t think with him around.
The milking done, the eggs gathered, Anora set a breakfast of corn cakes and sausage patties with gravy on the table. As she’d cooked, she’d taken inventory of her larder, trying to calculate if she could hold off the inevitable until she could grow some vegetables. She decided it might be done, but not with a man around to feed. She’d fried up the last of the sausage, and possibly a cup of corn meal remained in the tin. She had enough flour for a couple more loaves of bread, but sugar was low. Soon she’d have to resort to killing off the chickens—they were running out of feed anyway.
She had butter in abundance without Ruben around. She’d have to barter with the herders and travelers soon, or go without flour, sugar, and salt. Deep in thought, she squeaked when Whit knocked on the cabin door before letting himself in.
“Hmm, I thought I smelled food. If I remember correctly, you’re a damn fine cook. I always looked forward to sitting around your campfire on warm, starry nights, eating and laughing. That is, when old Ruben was off somewheres.”
“I remembered you liked corn cakes,” Anora said, also remembering those nights of innocent flirtation and laughter, ashamed of what she’d become, wondering how Whit could stand to look at her.
She sat across from him at the table, keeping her eyes down to her plate. She tried to eat, but the food kept getting caught in the roof of her mouth like flour paste.
About to give up trying to eat, she started to clear away her plate, and Whit finally broke the silence between them. “Did I tell you Grandpa Joe has taken up with a squaw from the Calapooya Siletz tribe? Mary Two Hats, that’s her name.”
Anora set her dishes down in the wash pan. “What an odd name,” she said, then caught herself. She hadn’t meant to respond to anything he had to say. She cautioned herself to remember she wanted him to go, and scraped off her plate in the slop-pail.
“Yeah,” he said. She heard him chuckle and gave him a sideways glance. His face split into a grin, revealing the dimples in his high, tanned cheeks and lighting up his dark brown eyes.
Biting down hard on her lower lip, she averted her gaze.
“From what Grandpa told me, she earned that name as a little girl when she found two top hats in the surf. The story, the way she tells it, is those hats were full of crab. She and her family had feast after feast out of all the crab Mary can catch in those hats.”
Whit bit into his cornbread, butter and honey getting on his fingers, and smacked his lips before saying, “He’s taken a real shine to her. She’s got him doing a jig, feeling real frisky, grinning from ear to ear all the live long day. Gave up the notion of dying altogether.”
Anora poured warm water from her kettle over the dirty dishes in the pan. “I am happy to hear he’s doing well. And relieved he didn’t get his wish,” she said, scrubbing a plate.
Coming up behind her, Whit passed her his dirty dishes. Her gaze met his playful wink and she immediately felt the blush infuse her cheeks and earlobes with heat.
“Oh, he may get his wish, just not as soon as he thought. I have no doubt he’ll go straight to hell with a big grin on his face.”
Taking her by the hand, he turned her around to face him. “You married or something, Anora?” he asked, all traces of his smile gone, the light in his eyes dimmed with concern. She followed the direction of his gaze and quickly withdrew her left hand, immersing it in the pan of water.
The ring, she kept forgetting the ring. She chastised herself for not remembering. She never, or hardly ever, looked at it. She couldn’t bear to look at it. She never touched it or moved it. If the gold caught the firelight, or a beam of sunlight, she always hid her hand from her own eyes. She wanted to remove it, but couldn’t, becoming physically ill with the attempt.
“Yes,” she heard herself admit, her tongue getting stuck in the roof of her mouth.
“Where is he?” he asked. She couldn’t answer. The room began to slide from side to side, sloshing like a dingy on a rolling sea.
“Dead?” he asked and answered. She didn’t refute his surmise. How could she explain what she feared?
“Ruben, when I came through a while back, I saw a woman limping up the track to the barn. He said she was his misses. She still around? Was that her with him yesterday? That tart looked pretty spry to me.”
Sick, she felt sick to her stomach, her eyes closed.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, sympathy oozing from the tenderness of his tone. “Maybe we could go to Takenah this morning. I got a good price for a pair of mules and some gear a couple of weeks back. I ain’t spent all the money yet. I still got some of my winter pay burning a hole in my pocket. Let’s you and me go over to town?
“Hey. I just happen to think…you must’ve been here when I come through before. Funny you didn’t see me. If you had, you would’ve recognized Tansy? She’s still the sweetest little gal I know, after you, of course,” he said, his words accompanied with his famous smile and wink.
Anora started to tremble, teeth chattering.
Whit tweaked her nose with his finger and gave her a little shake. “I’ll get Tansy saddled up. You can ride up in back like you used to.”
He pulled her into his body, holding her close. She caved in, resting her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
With his hand moving in a gentle circle on her back, he said, “Remember the ride up to Independence Rock? We signed our names up there. Just think, Anora, other folks will be crossing again this spring and they’ll see our names up there side by side. I think I’ll have to go back there someday and try to find us.”
Yes, she thought, it would be lovely to go back and find that girl who had clung trustingly to the waist of that handsome boy, all smiles and starry eyed. How wonderful it would be to start from there fresh, untouched.
He kissed her on the forehead. “Okay, let’s go to town.”
Anora stood staring at the closed cabin door. As wonderful as it had been to see Whit, she didn’t want him to stay. Making up her mind, she went to the porch. A cool, drizzling rain hit her in the face, sobering her for what had to be done.
“Better get a coat and bonnet,” he called out, leading Tansy by her reins to the hitching rail. “It don’t feel as cold this morning. Come on, I’ll swing her ‘round and help you jump on.” Half serious, half laughing, he ordered her, “Go, go get your coat. We’re goin’ to town,” he said, maneuvering the buckskin parallel with the porch.
“No,” she said, forcing herself to make eye contact with him.
“Well, I guess you could ride side-saddle in front of me. But I don’t recommend it. I don’t think you’d be very comfortable. We don’t have far to go, I guess.”
“No. No, I can’t cross the river,” she told him.
At last, he lost his grin. “I don’t like the stubborn set of your jaw. I’m not sure what’s the problem, woman.” Muttering to himself aloud, he removed his hat to scratch his head. “If you mean you’re afraid to go down to river…well, I know better than that. I seen you paddling around in a river or two and you’re no great swimmer, but you seemed to take to the water well enough. If you mean you can’t go over to town, well, I don’t know why not. I won’t let nobody tell you, you can’t. So come on, let’s go. We got a good ferry; not just some logs tied to the wagon wheels. You ain’t gonna have to swim.”
“Come back inside?” she asked.
“Nah, come on, you need to get out and have some fun, Anora. I can see that.”
“Please, Whit, I have something I need to tell you.”
“All right, but you’re going over to town. Never knew a woman that didn’t feel better with a new bonnet on her head.”
Dropping Tansy’s reins, Whit followed her into the cabin and sat at the table, his gaze on her. She paced back and forth from the bed to the door. She stopped before the bureau drawers, drew a deep breath, locking her fingers together very tightly. “You have to go. I…I’ll be fine here. It…it’s a wonder you found me. You can’t stay. I am happy to know you and your grandfather are well. When you see him, give him my regards.”
Her voice cracking, her throat thick with unshed tears, she said, “You can’t stay, you see. You can’t…because I…I’m…I’m not the same. I never will be again. Too much has happened. You…you remind me of all that I’ve lost.”
He interrupted her. “You’re worried about your husband, what he would think…what folks in town will say?” He smiled, obviously pleased with himself. “I’ll sleep out in the barn. I got no problem with that. Might need another blanket, though. I’ll make myself right to home out there. Don’t send me away, Anora.”
He got up to take her into his arms, and she pulled away. “Why are you trembling? Are you scared? You got to tell me what’s goin’ on, Anora. Tell me how you got them scars. Talk to me?”
Setting her shoulders, Anora met his worried gaze. “Whit, listen to me, listen carefully. People in town call me crazy. Ruben has convinced them I’m not right in the head. And…sometimes I have to agree. I think I’m insane too. But I’m getting better. For a very long time, I didn’t know, or rather I didn’t care, who I was or where I came from. Ruben… Ruben, he said I was his wife. I accepted that. It just didn’t matter one way or the other. But I don’t want to believe it. It can’t be. I can’t be….”
She felt herself losing control, knees shaking, heart thudding against her ribcage, stomach cramping and sweat beading up on her lip and brow. Just a little longer, she promised herself. Hold yourself together for just a little longer. You have to get this out.
Finding it hard to talk, short of breath, she said, “I don’t …I don’t remember being married. Surely I would remember—all I have is this ring on my finger. Ruben says I’m his wife. But I don’t remember, but there’s this ring. I look at it and feel sick.” Eyes shut, she shook her head. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter.”
Shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks she cried, “Whit…he…hurts me. Chains me. He’ll come back and kill me. He said he would. You can’t be here.”
The sobs, coming up and out; she felt herself going over the edge. “Do you understand, he hurts me…over and over so many times, so many ways… I’m not fit to be near. I’m empty and used up. You have to go. Please go. I can’t stand to see the way you look at me. Go away.” Screaming, hysterical, she escaped, running for the barn.