Chapter Eight
Breckinridge had never heard the girl at Humboldt’s place speak, so he couldn’t recognize her voice. Despite that, every instinct in his body told him she was his late-night visitor.
He didn’t trust that this wasn’t some sort of trick or trap, but there was only one way to find out. He raised the pistol and eared back the hammer, just in case, and said, “Here I am, gal. I’m warnin’ you, though . . . You best not try anything funny.”
The undergrowth crackled a little as the girl made her way toward him. She stepped out of the brush and into the little clearing where he had camped. Even though there was almost no light from the moon and stars under the trees, his keen eyes spotted her. She was only an indistinct shape in the gloom.
“That’s far enough,” Breckinridge told her. “Who are you, and what are you doin’ here?”
“My name’s Sadie Humboldt,” she answered without hesitation. “I followed you from my grandpap’s farm, mister. I saw which direction you went and hoped I could find you.”
“Why?”
“Because wherever you’re headed, I want you to take me with you. Otherwise I’m gonna be stuck there takin’ care of Grandpap until he dies, and then I’ll just have to marry some ol’ farmer who’ll be more of the same. I want to get out and have me some fun before that happens.”
To a certain extent, Breckinridge could sympathize with her. Back home, he had spent many pleasant hours daydreaming about running away from his family’s farm and having adventures instead of spending all his time either working like a dog or sleeping an exhausted sleep.
Now he had left home, but it wasn’t anything like what he had envisioned. Parts of his current existence weren’t really that bad—he liked being out in nature and seeing new places and things—but he could never forget that he was a wanted fugitive, on the run from the law forevermore.
Breckinridge climbed to his feet and asked, “How old are you, anyway, girl?”
“I’m sixteen,” Sadie said. “But don’t let that worry you, mister. I don’t care how much older than me you are.”
She had mistaken him for being older than he really was, which was a pretty common occurrence. Rather than correct her, he said, “You ain’t old enough to be runnin’ away from home, especially with a strange man. Your grandpap would be comin’ after me with a posse. I don’t need the extra trouble.”
“Yeah, Grandpap said you were likely on the run from the law. He liked you anyway. I don’t think he’d be too upset if he knew I was with you. That’s why I left him a note tellin’ him I’d gone after you and planned to travel with you. I can’t write that good, but I was able to manage that much.”
Breckinridge bit back a groan of dismay. All his good intentions of staying out of trouble, and Sadie had gone and landed him right in the middle of it anyway. He bet that if the law showed up on the Humboldt farm now, the old man wouldn’t be so generous about not mentioning that he’d seen Breck.
“All right, you’ve got to turn around and head home right now,” Breckinridge said. “When you get there, you be sure and tell your grandfather that I never laid a finger on you, you hear?”
His eyes had adjusted to the darkness well enough that he saw her give a defiant toss of her head as she said, “Oh, shoot, is that all you’re worried about? I ain’t what anybody would call a good girl, mister, and I ain’t been for a long time. Most of six months. Plenty of gals in these parts, by the time they’re my age they’re married and swole up with child. Not always in that order, neither.”
Breckinridge still held the pistol, although he had lowered the hammer and pointed the weapon at the ground beside him. He used his free hand to scrub at his face in frustration for a moment, then he said, “I don’t care about any of that other stuff, but you can’t go with me. Where I’m goin’, I can’t be saddled with no girl-child.”
“I just told you, I ain’t no child. Where are you goin’?”
“The Rocky Mountains,” Breckinridge answered without thinking about it. “I’m gonna be a fur trapper.”
He knew when he heard those words how right they sounded. When he’d left home he hadn’t had any clear idea of his goals except not to get hanged, but now he knew what he wanted to do.
“That sounds mighty excitin’,” Sadie declared. “I’ll come with you. I’ll be a fur trapper, too.”
“Ain’t you listenin’? I just told you you can’t!” Breckinridge paused. “Anyway, there ain’t no gal fur trappers. None I’ve ever heard of, leastways.”
“Then I’ll be the first.”
Breckinridge felt like a man who couldn’t swim, being drawn into deeper and deeper water by an irresistible current. If Sadie wasn’t going to cooperate, he didn’t see how he could make her go back to her grandfather’s farm short of picking her up and carrying her there. And if he did that she’d probably fight him every step of the way. He couldn’t afford to lose that much time, either, when the law might be on his trail.
Somehow, he had to talk her into going back on her own, and he could tell he wasn’t going to be able to do that tonight. She was just too blasted determined to get her own way. Maybe he could risk letting her travel with him for a day or two. Once she had seen how hard it was to live on the trail like he’d been doing, she would turn around and head home on her own.
With that hope in his head, Breckinridge said, “All right, since you’re so damn stubborn I reckon you can come along. You got to promise, though, that if your grandpap comes after us or sets the law on us, you’ll tell them the truth of the matter, that this was all your idea and that I never took advantage of you.”
She came closer to him and said, “It ain’t takin’ advantage if it’s what I want, too, is it, mister?”
“Blast it, girl, stop that! Did you bring anything with you?”
“A blanket and a little food.”
Breckinridge pointed and said, “You take your blanket and curl up on the other side of the clearin’. I got my side of camp, and you got your side.”
“All right,” she said with a saucy lilt to her voice. “Just remember it don’t have to be that way.”
Breckinridge went back to his bedroll and listened to Sadie getting settled on the other side of the clearing. He said, “You don’t even know my name, do you?”
“You told my grandpap it was Bill, but he said he could tell that was a lie.”
“Your grandpap’s too damned smart,” Breckinridge muttered. “For now we’ll just say it’s Bill, all right?”
“Sure.” A moment later, Sadie added brightly, “Good night, Bill.”
Breckinridge’s sleep was restless that night.
* * *
When he woke in the morning it was to the smell of coffee brewing, a pleasant sensation he hadn’t experienced since leaving home. And he shouldn’t be experiencing it now, he thought as he sat up sharply and looked around.
Sadie had a small fire going, just big enough to boil a pot of coffee and fry some strips of salt pork in a little pan. She must have brought all that with her, Breckinridge thought. At the moment, his stomach was glad she had come after him whether his head was or not.
The sun wasn’t up yet, but there was enough light in the sky for him to get his first good look at her as she hunkered next to the fire in what Maureen would surely think was an undignified, unladylike position. Thick ropes of honey-colored hair hung around Sadie’s face. It was a nice face, too, even if it was a little dirty.
She wore a plain gray homespun dress that looked like it was a little small for her. Either that or she was just pretty womanly for her age. In Breckinridge’s experience, hill girls tended to mature early. Sadie had been right about one thing: most places she’d be considered marriageable enough.
However, the last thing in the world Breckinridge was looking for was a wife.
She had noticed that he was awake. Hard not to, when he’d sat up the way he had with a gun in his hand. She smiled across the fire at him and said, “Good mornin’, Bill.”
Breckinridge wasn’t a liar by nature. It bothered him that he had given her a name not really his own. But under the circumstances, it was the best thing for him to do, he thought as he grunted, “Mornin’.”
“Hope it’s all right I started a fire and put some coffee on to boil. I figured if you’re gonna make me sleep way over there on the other side of the camp I ought to make myself useful to you in other ways.”
“Yeah, it’s fine.” Breckinridge couldn’t help licking his lips at the smells filling his nostrils. “I got to admit, that coffee smells mighty nice. It’s been a while since I had any.”
“You’re welcome,” she told him, even though he hadn’t thanked her.
Breckinridge stood up, stretched, and went to tend to his morning business. While he was doing that, he got to thinking that maybe the fire hadn’t been such a good idea after all. If anyone was close behind him on his trail, they might be able to follow those smells right to the camp.
It was too late to worry about that now, he told himself. In the meantime he was going to enjoy the coffee and salt pork. He might even wind up enjoying Sadie Humboldt’s company, although he vowed he wouldn’t let her share his bedroll. That would be an unwanted complication and an invitation to even more trouble that he didn’t need.
The breakfast was a good one, he discovered when he rejoined her. He wasn’t sure, but when he complimented her on her cooking he thought she blushed a little. He didn’t expect that from somebody as brazen as she apparently was.
By the time they had eaten and cleaned up, the sun was scarcely above the horizon. It was time they were moving on, Breckinridge thought. He fastened the two bedrolls behind Hector’s saddle, hung the supplies Sadie had brought with his own, and then told her, “Come here.”
She stood in front of him, the top of her head barely up to the bottom of his chest.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Hold still,” he told her. Then he grasped her under the arms and hoisted her into the air. She exclaimed in surprise and started kicking her feet, which were shod in well-worn work shoes.
“Put me down, you big ox!” she cried.
Breckinridge set her on her feet again.
“What was that about?”
“I was just seein’ how much you weigh,” he told her. “Hector’s a strong horse. I reckon he can carry both of us without too much trouble. But if I see that he’s gettin’ tired, you may have to get down and walk for a spell.”
She raked her hair back from her face and said, “You could always walk, you know.”
“Yeah, but he’s my horse,” Breckinridge said. “And I don’t recollect invitin’ you to come along on this trip.”
“All right, fine,” she snapped. “If I have to, I’ll walk.”
Breckinridge nodded and swung up into the saddle. He extended a hand to her. She hesitated, then took it and climbed up in front of him. Breck heeled Hector into an easy walk.
As they rode, Breckinridge asked, “Your grandfather, did he mistreat you?”
“Grandpap?” Sadie said. “Shoot, no. He’s one of the nicest fellas you’d ever want to meet. He was good friends with Dan’l Boone, you know.”
“Yeah, he mentioned that.”
“He never treated me bad at all,” Sadie went on. “He just never saw that I was pinin’ away for somethin’ different. Somethin’ better. I don’t want to spend my life as no farmer’s wife, workin’ from before dawn to past dark and raisin’ a bunch of squallin’ brats. That’s no way to live.”
The way she talked about it, Breckinridge couldn’t help agreeing. It sounded like a life of misery and drudgery, all right.
Then he reminded himself that his mother had lived that way, and it never seemed to bother her that much, although she had her times of melancholy, sure enough. He supposed that whether a person’s life was good or bad depended more on what was inside them than anything else.
Breckinridge’s route still angled southwest. For one thing, the lay of the land made that the easiest route for traveling, because he and Sadie could follow the valleys between the numerous ridges that ran in that direction.
For several days they drifted along in that fashion. At night Sadie still made a comment now and then about how she was willing to warm his blankets, but Breckinridge was steadfast in his refusal. Morality didn’t come easy to him, so he knew he had to be stubborn and not give an inch, or else there was no telling what he might do.
Eventually they came to a crossroads where a little whitewashed church sat. Nobody was around at the moment, but a signpost stood at the intersection and on it were written the words CHATTANOOGA 10 MILES, with an arrow pointing to the southwest, the way they had been going.
“I never heard of a town called Chattanooga,” Breckinridge said. “It must be new. But if it’s big enough to have a sign pointin’ toward it and sayin’ how far away it is, I don’t reckon I want to go there.”
“You try to stay away from towns, don’t you?” Sadie said. “What’s the matter, ain’t you the sociable sort?”
“Of course I am. I love bein’ around people. But it ain’t a wise idea right now.”
Sadie nodded solemnly and said, “Because you’re on the run from the law.”
“Because I got a wild, runaway gal with me,” Breckinridge said, not admitting that he was a fugitive. He turned Hector onto the trail that led almost due west. “Come on, we’ll see what’s this way.”
Sadie sighed. She said, “I thought I was runnin’ away to a more excitin’ life. Instead all I ever see is you, Bill. You ain’t hard on the eyes, but a gal gets a little tired of lookin’ at the same thing all the time, especially when it’s a fella who won’t even spark her.”
“It was your choice to come along.”
“You’re gonna keep throwin’ that in my face, ain’t you?”
“As long as it’s true, which is gonna be from now on.”
Sadie snorted and then fell silent.
A few hours later, Breckinridge reined in at the top of a hill and looked down at the biggest stream he had ever seen. There were lots of creeks and a few rivers around home, but nothing like this. The blue water stretched for a hundred yards from shore to shore. He figured it had to be the Tennessee River, which started up at Knoxville where the Holston and the French Broad rivers flowed together.
“Son of a gun,” Breckinridge said. “How are we gonna get across that?”
“Look!” Sadie said excitedly, pointing at the near shore. “There’s a ferry.”
So there was, Breckinridge saw as he looked down the hill. The ferry landing had a cluster of buildings around it, too, a village that had no doubt grown up because this was a place where folks could cross the river.
Breckinridge felt worry stir inside him. So far he had avoided being around people very much on this journey, and it had worked out well for him.
Now, though, he didn’t seem to have much choice. He wanted to continue heading west, and he couldn’t do that without crossing the river.
“You’re nervous about goin’ down there, aren’t you?” Sadie asked.
“Yeah, a little.”
“I’ll behave myself, I promise. And that ferry looks like the only way we’re gonna get across.”
“I know.” Breckinridge heaved a sigh and nudged Hector into motion again. “Let’s go.”
He felt like he was riding into trouble, but there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.