The Wildest Heart

I kept my mind closed—my face blank. If I had looked into a mirror now I knew that my eyes would have showed no expression at all—they would be wide, staring, the eyes of the stranger I had seen so often in the mirror.

He held me against the wheel of the wagon in which Monique and I were to sleep afterwards, and his ardent kisses covered my face and bosom.

“How shy you are, Rowena! It never fails to surprise me. But we are in the shadows now, sweetheart, and no one can see us.” I had to suffer his fingers against my skin, as they unfastened my gown and then roamed at will. His whispers, that told me of the nights we were to share later. I sensed that in some strange way he enjoyed the thought that only the wagon separated us from the campfire and the men who still sat around it, their voices carrying to us clearly.

Even when, finally, he let me go, and I climbed back into the wagon still shaking with reaction, his words kept echoing in my mind.

“You’re mine, Rowena, mine at last. No one else shall have you, do you understand me?”

“So, you’re back at last.” Monique’s voice sounded drowsy. “There’s nothing like putting a man off, is there? It makes them all the more eager and appreciative later.”

I felt, rather than saw, her stretch as she turned on her back.

“Wear your prettiest shift, Rowena. Or better still, wear nothing at all. I do not think it will take your husband long to fall asleep tonight. I had Henri mix a little sleeping draught with that last glass of wine.”

I felt that my nerves had turned into taut wires that would snap far too easily. Monique appeared to be my friend and ally, but how far could I trust her? It amused her to play procuress at the moment, but I had already learned how her moods could change. “My gladiator,” she had called Lucas. I had heard the story, on our journey here, of how she had deliberately arranged for two other men who also wanted her to become angry enough to fight him—and all because he had refused to demonstrate the Chinese style of unarmed combat he had learned.

“Joe and Magruder were both such big dirty-fighting Irishmen. But Lucas… ah, I have never seen anything so exciting in my life. Yes, John was right—it was like a Roman circus that day. I have never seen anything like it—so primitive, so fierce… and I made myself the prize…” I had not asked her if the victor had claimed his spoils or not. But now I wondered if Monique’s love of intrigue and excitement might not lead her to betray us—merely to see what would happen.

Tonight, I deliberately feigned indifference.

“Well… perhaps he’ll find those señoritas in San Antonio far more enticing than another man’s wife…”

Turning my back on Monique, I stripped off my clothes, pulling a plain cotton chemise over my head. I heard her chuckle lazily.

“Oh, he’ll be here. I do not think Lucas is as disinterested as he seems. Perhaps you are a challenge to him, for the moment.”

“And for the moment, perhaps I find myself challenged by him,” I answered perfunctorily, turning on my side.

I could not sleep, of course. I stayed awake, listening to the sounds of the camp die down, until there was only silence, broken by the faint sounds of coyotes howling in the distant mountains, and closer by, the stamping and whickering of horses. I even imagined that I could hear the angry noises that the fire made, as it subsided sullenly into itself, to leave only a glowing bed of coals.

Where was Mark—where was Lucas? Perhaps, learning of the guards that had been posted, he had decided that it was too risky to attempt a clandestine meeting with me.

I started when I felt a sudden draft of cold air fan my face. I should have remembered that Lucas could be as silent as an Apache when he wanted to be.

I snatched up a blanket to wrap around myself, and heard Monique whisper, “Try to get back before it’s light, you two. And enjoy yourselves!”

And then I found myself embarked on a journey that was to change my life forever, although I couldn’t have known it at the time—and would not have turned back, even if I had. For I had learned, by then, that happiness must be paid for, and the price is often pain, but I was ready to risk anything for happiness with Lucas.

What I remember most about that night, though, is the feeling of relief I experienced when I realized that Lucas had come for me after all: the sensation of being swept up into his arms and carried, my face against the curve of his neck and shoulder.

He knew, of course, where each of the guards were posted, and even with my weight in his arms he was able to travel on foot further and faster and more quietly than he would have done if he had set me down.

We came, at last, to the place where he had left the horses, and a pack mule.

“The ponies are desert-bred—an’ that old mule once belonged to the army. It’ll make for faster traveling, at the beginning, and we can pack supplies. Water an’ food…” an infinitesimal pause and then he went on in the same expressionless voice, “an’ a rifle and some extra ammunition.”

We would be followed, of course. Mark might have my money, but he wanted me too. The runaway wife… and because of me, we would both be in danger—Lucas more so than I, for I felt that Mark would want to get me back alive.

I remember that all these thoughts ran through my mind as I stood there, straining my eyes to see the expression on Lucas’s face. A premonitory shiver ran up my spine, and the blanket slipped from about my shoulders.

“Jesus, Ro!” His voice was half-amused, half-exasperated. “Seems like you’re always half-naked when you start runnin’ off somewhere. A good thing I thought to bring some clothes with me.” It was as if, in silence, there had been an exchange of some kind between us. There was no more asking each other if we were sure, if we trusted. Words like ‘do you love me? How much? Will you love me and take care of me always?’ no longer needed to be said, for at some point, without words, we had progressed beyond such preliminaries, and everything had been decided.

I had crossed the Jornado del Muerto before, and that on foot, but this time there was an urgency that was missing before, when we had chosen our own pace.

We traveled on without stopping for the rest of that first night. The miles we put between ourselves and the camp, and the fact that Lucas knew this desolate country as well as any Apache, would be our only advantage during the long and grueling hours that lay ahead. I realized this as well as he did, and I vowed to myself that I would show myself to be as stoical as an Apache woman. Lucas would not find me a burden, slowing him down in our headlong flight.

For flight it was—and we were the hunted, although we were not certain until sometime in the morning of the second day we spent traveling across the desert.