Sooner or Later Read online

  “Isn’t that RJ’s horse?”

  Mason squinted and pulled his hat down on his forehead to block the early afternoon sun as he followed Jimmy’s finger. He grimaced when his hat pressed against the cut on his head. His heart lodged in his throat when he saw RJ’s horse lying alongside the trail, a ring of buzzards eagerly awaiting its certain death. He stood and scanned the countryside, clear to the horizon, but he couldn’t see RJ anywhere. A band of tension tightened around his chest, threatening to choke his breathing. Why had he been so crotchety with her? Maybe if he’d been more hospitable, she wouldn’t have run off.

  “Whoa,” he crooned to the big horses as he pulled the equine quartet to a stop. Setting the brake, he grabbed his rifle and fired into the air, scattering squawking buzzards in different directions. In one big leap, he lunged over the side of the wagon and approached the horse. It only took Mason a moment to determine Prince had been down too long and wouldn’t be able to rise again. He didn’t like what he had to do, but the animal needed to be put out of its misery. The whites of the horse’s eyes and his flaring nostrils showed his frantic fear of the buzzards.

  “Jimmy, get in the back of the wagon with Katie,” Mason ordered.

  Jimmy opened his mouth to object then seemed to realize what Mason was preparing to do. He gave a quick nod and hopped over the seat.

  Mason cocked his rifle and skillfully shot the horse in the head, putting it out of its misery. Slowly he walked around the large body, studying the footprints in the dirt and the places where the prairie grass was smashed down. As best he could tell, RJ hadn’t been injured when the horse most likely collapsed.

  Why hadn’t she listened when he warned her about the danger of riding her horse in its condition? Especially when they didn’t have enough water available to give him a decent drink. Mason grimaced. If they didn’t happen upon water soon, he’d be shooting his own horses.

  West Even being on foot, the crazy woman walked west instead of coming back to him. Didn’t she have any sense at all? What if she’d run into outlaws or Indians? The muscle clenched in his aching jaw. Had he not hidden her rifle in hopes of keeping her from leaving, she’d be armed right now. If anything happened to her, he’d be as much to blame as she.

  Mason climbed back in the wagon and released the brake. “He-yah!” he yelled, startling the big horses into a lumbering trot. “Jimmy, get up here and keep a close eye out for RJ,” he ordered.

  “Unca Mathon, I gots ta go,” Katie called from the back of the wagon.

  “Not now, Katie. You’re gonna have to wait. I have to find RJ.” Mason didn’t look back. If he saw his niece’s pouting lips and big blue eyes, he might waver. He had to find RJ before some wild creature or ruffian did. As they crested the next hill, Mason pulled the horses to a stop and stood, once again scanning the area.

  “See anything, pard?”

  Jimmy shook his head. “Why ya think he left in the middle of the night?”

  Stubbornness and independence, he nearly blurted out loud. But he wouldn’t mention those character traits to a child. Mason clicked the horses forward. “Probably just too proud to accept help. Some folks feel the need to do things for themselves.”

  “Kinda sounds like you.”

  He gave Jimmy a sideways glance of disbelief. “Am I that bad?”

  Jimmy’s cheeks turned a shade of rosy pink, almost matching his sunburned nose. “Well,” he started, as if unsure of continuing, “you do like to boss everyone around.”

  “I am the boss.” He eyed Jimmy, unsure what point he was trying to make.

  “Yeah, but … sometimes you boss grown-ups, too. Pa used to say that.” Jimmy ducked his head and picked at the edge of his frayed shirt.

  Mason’s mind raced. Jake said he was bossy? He struggled to think back two years to when Jake had been around. As if he’d been doused with a bucket of frigid water, he shivered as some of Jake’s last words rocked his mind. “Danielle don’t need me around when she’s got you. A woman’s s’posed to look to her husband for things, not her brother. You two’s closer than a possum and its young’uns.”

  Ducking his head, Mason stared at the dirt on his boots. His father had always told him he was too stubborn for his own good. But being stubborn helped him survive all those harsh whippings his father had given him—even when his mother begged the colonel to stop. Mason grimaced. His father was stubborn, too. Was he becoming the very man he despised?

  “Look! What’s that over there behind that tree?” Jimmy cried.

  five

  Glancing in the direction Jimmy pointed, Mason’s gaze raked the area, searching for some sign of RJ. In the distance, a hint of soft blue against the green tangle of honeysuckle bushes and wind-tossed grasses snagged his attention.

  RJ

  Something deep within him wanted to shout out thanks to God, but he stuffed it down. He wasn’t on speaking terms with God these days.

  Giving the reins a strong flick, he turned his horses toward her, wishing their plodding feet could move faster. Impatience won out. He jerked back the reins, and the big horses lumbered to a walk. Standing to his feet, he was ready to jump out of the wagon the moment it shuddered to a stop. Mason yanked the brake back and threw the reins to Jimmy.

  “Stay put,” he told the boy. Grabbing his rifle, he jumped down and set off in a dead run toward his target, certain the blue he’d seen was RJ’s shirt.

  “RJ!” Jimmy yelled. Fear laced the young voice that was nearly drowned out by the cold wind.

  RJ lay on the ground, unmoving. Mason lengthened his steps, dodging prairie-dog holes and leaping over a downed tree. Maybe it was urgency he felt, or fear, or guilt for his harsh treatment of the girl; but his legs, usually agile and swift, felt weighted and sluggish.

  “RJ,” he called, closing the distance to her prone body. He willed her to move, to let him know she’d heard his calls, but her body remained motionless. Mason’s heart plummeted, fearing the worse. He kicked his stride up a notch, his boots thudding against the hard ground. Caught by the breeze, his hat flew off, leaving his sweating head exposed to the chilling elements. He ignored it—ignored the plummeting temperatures and the brisk winds fingering his neck and slipping into his shirt. Easing down beside her, he set his rifle aside.

  “RJ. It’s Mason.”

  He checked her arms and head, looking for cuts and bruises, but saw no signs of injury. Still worried she might have wounds he couldn’t see, he eased her shoulders off the ground, cradling her in his lap. Without the old brown felt hat covering RJ’s features, Mason was gifted with his first real look at the girl in the sunlight. He took a moment to catch his breath and gather his senses while he studied her pale face.

  Like tiny feathers dancing in the breeze, long strands of saddle brown hair swirled around her chilled cheeks. A smattering of cinnamon-colored freckles dotted her pink, turned-up nose. Long black lashes rested in a half-moon against sunburned cheeks, hiding her sky blue eyes. He wanted to see those blue eyes snapping in defiance again, but RJ didn’t seem to realize he was even there.

  “RJ.” He whispered her name as he caressed her brow. “Come on, sugar, wake up,” he said with a little more force. Then he shook her softly and willed her eyes to open. He nearly yelled for joy when she moved.

  “Mmm, cold,” RJ murmured against his shirt. Her body shivered and Mason lifted her closer, pulling her against his chest. Turning his body so that the brisk wind buffeted his back, he shielded her from nature’s assault. Hugging her and rubbing her arms and back to generate heat, he listened to her soft moans and battled his own private storm.

  Snuggled in her quilt, safe at home in bed, Rebekah felt warmth filling her being. The soft, comforting voice poured over her like warm honey on fresh-baked bread. She leaned into the voice rumbling against her cheek and relished its calming reassurance.

  “Suguh, wake up,” it called again.

  Rebekah rubbed her eyes, realizing it was already dawn. Her heart skipped a beat.
If she didn’t get up soon, Pa would climb the ladder to her small loft and take a switch to her. She had to rise, but she didn’t want to leave her cocoon of warmth.

  “RJ, you’ve gotta wake up.” The voice was firm this time, the gentle crooning gone.

  Forcing one abnormally heavy eyelid open, Rebekah peeked out at a blurry shirt pocket with a torn flap. The faint scent of campfire smoke lingered within its threads. Mason’s shirt. She blinked twice, her gaze clearing, but it was still there. With her palm, she pushed against Mason’s chest. His arms yielded, allowing her to lean back and look into his concerned face.

  Instant relief flooded her. Oh, thank You, Lord!

  Suddenly the reality of her hasty predawn decision hit her.

  “I—I killed Prince.” She hiccupped back a sob.

  Mason pulled her back into his arms, tucking her head under his chin. “No, sugar, that horse was ancient. He probably would’ve died soon even if you hadn’t ridden off on him,” he said softly, smoothing her hair with his big hand.

  She wanted to linger in the warmth of his embrace. Her problems seemed so far away with his strong arms and gentle voice comforting her. But the problems weren’t going away—and one of the problems was Mason. With a start, she realized the glare that had been in his eyes ever since they’d met was gone.

  She sighed and pushed away from Mason’s chest again.

  “Can you stand up?” he asked.

  Nodding, she pressed against the ground and struggled to her feet, the chilly wind making a valiant effort to knock her down again. Mason hopped up and reached out to steady her. When her legs trembled, threatening to dump her on the ground, Rebekah took hold of Mason’s arm.

  A movement caught her eye, and she turned her head just as the stiff breeze picked up her hat and sent it sailing away.

  Rebekah froze. The only part of her body moving was her long braid, flapping against her back.

  He knows!

  Swallowing back the sudden queasiness rising to her throat, Rebekah took a deep breath and looked up. Amusement flickered in the gaze that met hers. Mason’s inviting mouth quirked up at one corner, along with his dark eyebrows.

  Rebekah licked her lips with the tip of her dry tongue. “That’s why you let me sleep with Katie, isn’t it? You knew I was a woman.”

  Mason gave her a single quick nod. “Didn’t figure you’d want to sleep under the wagon with me.” His mouth twitched in his obvious effort to hold back a grin.

  Rebekah straightened, not particularly enjoying the pleasure he derived from her discomfort. She wanted desperately to remove her hands from his arm, but she didn’t trust her legs, weakened again by a day without food. “How long have you known?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Ever since I found you sprawled out along the trail. Your hat was off and I saw your braid.”

  She couldn’t resist smacking him in the chest and nearly laughed herself when his amused expression turned to surprise. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  He looked down at his boots then caught her gaze. “I figured you had your reasons. That you probably didn’t feel safe enough around me to come clean.” Mason looked toward the wagon, and Rebekah noticed a flicker in his jaw.

  She felt grateful for his honesty. Her cheeks warmed when she realized how secure she’d felt in his arms. When he wasn’t growling at her like an old bear, Mason was rather pleasant to be around. Maybe she had misjudged him. Just maybe, traveling with Mason wouldn’t be as bad as she’d first thought.

  Rebekah didn’t want the flare of anger to be rekindled in his eyes, but she had to know. “Are you angry with me?”

  His head jerked back in her direction, and she noticed a fresh cut on his forehead. He stood with his hands on his hips, eyes hooded, lips pursed into a solid line.

  Uh-oh, he’s mad Praying her legs wouldn’t betray her, Rebekah took a step back and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I ought to be. That was a stupid, dangerous thing you did, taking off without food, rifle, and especially water. What were you thinking—no, wait, you weren’t thinking, were you? You scared ten years off my life.”

  Rebekah ventured a peek at Mason’s face.

  “I ought to be mad, but I’m just so thankful you aren’t dead. …”

  A smile broke its way through her mask of uncertainty. He’s not mad at me Her mother’s words flittered across her mind. “Sooner or later, you’ll meet a handsome man who will sweep you off your feet.” Rebekah didn’t think she’d mind too much if Mason was that man.

  “There’s just one thing I gotta know.”

  “What’s that?” she asked, squelching back the ridiculous notion of her and Mason ever getting together. He doesn’t even like me

  Mason combed his fingers through his long dark hair. Rebekah wondered if his red ears were a result of the freezing wind or something else. Butterflies danced in her tummy when Mason’s mouth turned up in an embarrassed grin.

  “What does RJ stand for? I swear I was awake half the night trying to figure that out.”

  “Uh … RJ’s your initials, not something you made up, right?”

  The sweet smile that had been on RJ’s face faded, and a spark ignited in her eyes. “You’re not accusing me of lying, are you? Why would I make that up?” She tugged her arms tighter against her chest, whether in frustration or to ward off the cold, Mason wasn’t sure.

  He cleared his throat. “Well, you are the one wearing a disguise.” He smiled back, daring her to disagree.

  “I never lied to you. My name is Rebekah Jane Bailey, though most people call me Rebekah.” She thrust her chin in the air then wobbled in the breeze, as if she hadn’t the strength to withstand it.

  “Well, Rebekah Jane Bailey … uh, Rebekah, I’m Mason Danfield, and we’d best be getting back to the wagon fore you freeze your pretty little self to death.”

  She nodded and stuck her hand out to him. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Danfield.”

  One eyebrow and the corner of his mouth tilted up in mock consternation. “Mr. Danfield,” he said with added precise emphasis, “is my daddy, and he’s back in Georgia, living on his plantation. I’m Mason.” As if to prove he was in no mood to argue, he took the hand she held out and put it on his shoulder. When her eyebrows pinched into a questioning V, he bent down and lifted her up. He pulled her against his chest, smiling at her stunned expression.

  Rebekah squirmed, kicking her feet and pushing against him. “I can walk. I don’t need you to carry me.”

  “It’s warmer this way.” He took a few steps, stooped down, and holding Rebekah up with his knee, picked up her carpetbag. Turning, he shuffled over to a nearby bush. “Grab your hat.” He bent down and she reached out, pulling against his shoulder, and grabbed her hat, which clung to a honeysuckle vine. Then she cuddled against his chest.

  Mason started for the wagon, his thoughts on the young woman in his arms. Rebekah was shorter and lighter weight than Annie had been. Annie’s Swedish heritage had been evident in her white blond hair and tall, sturdy frame. Mason glanced down at Rebekah’s thick braid lying over her shoulder and across her chest. He’d always tried to get Annie to grow out her shoulder-length hair, but she’d refused, saying long hair took too much work.

  Mason drew in a ragged breath. Why was he comparing the two women? He wasn’t looking to replace Annie. She was the love of his life. Mason stopped at the back of the wagon and helped Rebekah crawl inside.

  “You’re a girl!” Jimmy stood in the middle of the wagon with his hands on his hips, looking at RJ as if he’d been betrayed. Mason understood how the boy felt. RJ—no, Rebekah—had many secrets, but thankfully she hadn’t lied to him. His nephew barreled toward the tailgate, slithered over the side, and dropped to the ground. Jimmy gazed up at him accusingly. “Did you know?”

  Mason nodded.

  “Why didn’t you say something? A man shares his secrets with another man that he wouldn’t tell no girl.”

  Tightening his lips, Mason st
ruggled to hold in his chuckle, wondering what manly secrets Jimmy might’ve shared with Rebekah. “I figured she had her reasons for keeping her identity a secret, and she’d tell us when she trusted us.”

  Jimmy shook his head and stomped off, mumbling.

  Katie hopped up, leaning out of the back of the wagon and reaching out to him. “RJ’s a girwl! Yippee! I’m glad.” Her bright smile ignited a warmth in his chest that swept through his whole body. “Unca Mathon, I still gots ta go.”

  He chuckled and reached for his niece.

  “It’s cold!” Katie burrowed into his chest as he lifted her out of the wagon. “Is it gonna snow?”

  “No, sugar, it’s too late in the spring for snow. It’ll just be cold for a bit, and then it’ll warm up again.”

  Mason set Katie down in the grass and ambled over to where his hat rested, pressed against a mammoth oak tree. The tree branches groaned their resistance to the stiff breeze, and the young leaves hung on for dear life, twisting one way and then the other. He smacked his hat against his leg then pressed it on his head as he gazed heavenward, watching the dark gray clouds drifting past with the speed of an agile roadrunner. He glanced back at his four draft horses. A pang of pity shot through him as he stared at their hanging heads. They needed water, and if they didn’t get it soon, he’d have to shoot them. With two small children and a willful young woman, it would be a long walk to the middle of Indian Territory where Jake was supposed to be.

  He looked heavenward again.

  Come on, we need some rain

  The words were the closest thing to a prayer that he’d uttered in the past six months.

  six

  Sometime in the middle of the night the rains came, fast and furious. A sudden blast of thunder and the initial pitter-patter of raindrops alerted Mason to the pending downpour. With the earthy scent of parched dirt and fresh rain filling his nostrils, he scooped up Jimmy and their bedding and made a dash for the protection of the wagon.