Page 11 of Westbound Awakening

"I can't believe you're leaving me here and taking a two-bit whore's side." Jefferson's arms waved wildly and his eyes bulged in his mottled swollen face.

They'd made it to the outskirts of a particularly small town, and John stopped the wagon. It was close enough that Jefferson could walk, yet far enough it would take him some time to arrive.

The men stood a few feet away from the wagon facing off. John towered over the shorter male. He stood taut, his features tight with anger.

Although the younger male's words were nothing new, Mae forced her attention away from the duo to the tiny town. In the distance, Mae made out only a couple of people exiting what looked to be a small general store. Other than another man walking into what looked to be a shop of some sort, no other people were present.

With a hand over her brow to shade her eyes, she turned to see Jefferson direct an angry glare at her. "She ain't worth it Captain McClain. You'll find out soon enough. I 'spose you already got plans, as it's a long lonely road to Texas..." The young man's words stopped when John grabbed him up by his collar and pulled him face-to-face with him.

Mae strained to hear John's reply to Jefferson's exclamation. Whatever John replied in a low growl to the now struggling man was too soft for Mae to make out the words. Not that it mattered. The only reason she remained on the wagon rather than Jefferson was because John gave his word to Miss Lady, and if nothing else, he was a man of his word, otherwise she'd bet a large amount it would be her standing on the side of the road. She doubted he felt badly for what happened to her. He'd actually thought she'd willingly lay with Jefferson.

When Mae looked over her shoulder one last time, she saw John push a sputtering Jefferson away and walk toward the wagon. A passive expression did not hide the clench of his jaw and brightness of his eyes. When he climbed up to sit beside her, she kept her back straight and eyes ahead as the seat shifted under John's weight.

From under her lashes, she spied John's grim expression, his face sharp angles from the tight lips and drawn brow. He snapped the reins, and the horses moved the wagon forward at quickened pace into the town. Just a few minutes later, he pulled to a stop in front of the general store. Without looking at her, he jumped down and tethered the horses. "Would you like to come inside with me?"

Mae shook her head. She preferred not to face people with her bruised face and cut lip. Once left alone, she leaned out to look back, nervous that Jefferson would come up from behind her. It was obvious the man had a mean streak, probably kept a grudge too. With his pack over one shoulder, the young male headed toward town. Fortunately he was still far enough she couldn't make out his features. Relieved he seemed to be taking his time, she peered through one of the shop's windows. John stood at the counter, hat in one hand and a parcel in the other. When he turned to head out, Mae resumed her perusal of the road ahead.

The wagon shifted when John climbed into the wagon just a few moments later. He replaced his hat on his head and held out the small parcel to her. "It's some hard candy. For you." Mae's mouth watered, yet she took her time opening the parcel, careful not to tear the paper too much and then offered it to him. Once he popped the candy into his mouth, John grabbed the reins. "The shopkeeper told me there's a boarding house a few hours ride from here. We should reach it by nightfall. I know you'd appreciate spending the night on a real bed for a change. Is it to your liking?"

"Yes, it would be wonderful." Mae almost cried at the combination of the sweet candy in her mouth and the thought of a warm bath followed by a soft bed.

The reins tight, he snapped the horses to get moving. "Well, seems we got us a place to head to then." The crinkle of her closing the paper over the candy caught his eye. "May I have another one please?" She shared his peace offering, and he took one more. "Thank you."

They rode in silence for a several hours before John brought the wagon to a stop. He climbed down and checked her horse's hooves. "This one seems to be limping." He patted Mae's horse on the rump. I don't notice anything amiss, although it's better to be safe. I'm going to unhitch them and take a better look. You may want to take advantage, we won't stop again."

Mae scrambled down and made her way to some trees for privacy. Once in the shade of the trees, she leaned against a tree and closed her eyes. Who was John McClain? Why did he treat her with disdain one moment and buy her candy the next? Guilt. He felt guilty for what Jefferson had done. It was the only answer she could think of.

After relieving herself, Mae made her way back toward the wagon. The horses were once again ready to go, and John stood at her side waiting to assist her. Their eyes met. His dark gray eyes seemed to bore into hers, and for a brief moment everything stood still. Mae took a shaky breath at the warm sensation when his hand touched her elbow to push her up into her seat. Road weariness was the only explanation she could find for her reaction. John McClain would never consider her more than a burden.

To him, she was nothing more than a common whore.

Soon they were on the road again, the horses trotting along perfectly. Her back stiff, Mae stretched and moaned. It was too soon into the journey to be so sore. They were not even half way. How would she survive until Texas?

Twilight's long shadows began to fall over the wagon, Mae shivered in the cool evening air. "How long before we arrive?" Hours earlier, she'd given up pretending to be strong, too exhausted to care and had slumped over, her head on John's shoulder. "Maybe we should just stop and make camp. I am so tired."

John's shoulder moved up and down when he shrugged. "I promised you a bed Mae, and you should have one tonight. We've got another hour or so before night falls. Let's give it a bit."

How could he remain so strong? Probably due to his years in the Calvary, riding for days on end, with little in the way of accommodations or regular meals even. Truth be told, she'd not slept a wink after Jefferson's attack. Afraid he'd return, she'd kept an eye on the back of the wagon. If only she could relax more, understand John.

Seeming to read her mind, he began to talk. "On one of my assignments, two men and I spent so many days out in the wilderness chasing after a deserter we became delusional. We were so hungry. The sounds of our stomachs growling became so loud, I was sure if we neared the man he'd hear us coming." He chuckled and Mae got the feeling he could see the scene he spoke of. "We spotted some wild fowl and had a feast that night. For some reason, the next day Corporal Harrison began to cluck like a chicken in the direction of another soldier. The man, a sergeant, lost his temper and dove from his horse to grab at him. Well, I don't know how they managed it, but both got all tangled up and ended up hanging upside down from Harrison's horse."

Mae giggled in spite of the tiredness, thinking of the poor men hanging upside down on a horse. "What happened to them? Did they get hurt?"

"Not really, except Harrison did get a black eye. I guess his face rammed into the horse's leg. I suppose the horse was too startled to move, and it gave several of us time to help them get off the horse." He shook his head at the memory. "When I asked Harrison why he was clucking, he said it was a joke. He'd overheard the sergeant tell another soldier he had a hard time plucking fowls’ feathers and then eating them."

It was the most he'd spoken to her, the deep timber of his voice soothing her. She opened her mouth to ask him another question in an effort to keep the conversation going, but he spoke again.

"There it is," John told her pointing. "Looks like the place the shopkeeper told me about."

Suddenly aware that she still laid her head on his shoulder, she straightened and her gaze scanned the building. It was a modest two-story house, a bit smaller than hers. Smoke from the chimney promised a warm interior. Light streamed from the windows. When they neared, the front door opened, and a large barrel-chested man came out to greet them. His eyes lit on Mae's bruised face for only a beat before he rounded to John's side of the wagon. An easy smile curved his lips. "The wife saw y'all comin' and sent me out to greet ya." With a hearty laugh, he shook his head. "Mighty bossy for a such a tiny woman. I'm Clark Clearwater. The wife's name is Beth Ann." The men shook hands, and John looked to her and her eyes widened.

Without speaking, both realized they would not be able to stay the night. An unmarried couple would not be welcomed into this or any respectable home. It took several gulps for the lump of sadness to finally get past her throat.

John turned back to the man. "John and Maebelle McClain. The missus and I are hopeful you have a spare room for us. She's had a hard time of it. We were accosted a ways back."

The man's scrutiny made Mae shift. "Well goodness sakes, I'm glad you weren't hurt too bad."

"I ran him off," John told the man, and Mr. Clearwater's eyes lit on the bruising on John's jaw and then the cuts on his knuckles. "It would be nice to get some safe shelter for a night."