The Green Lace Corset, стр. 22
“How do you know where to go?” she asked. “Have you been here before?”
“You’d be surprised what I learned in town.”
The sun set in an explosion of fire colors that waned to darkness. A few stars sprinkled the sky. Will he ravage her body, kill her, and dump it into a ravine?
The sky grew pitch black, and she shivered.
“Use those mittens and hat from the floor in front of you,” Cliff said quietly.
She leaned over and picked up the items. She pulled the mittens on over her gloves, removed her bonnet, and pulled the wool cap on her head. He must have bought these at the mercantile. She didn’t want to admit it had been thoughtful of him.
“Now, hand me the blanket.”
She did, and Cliff threw it over their legs.
The trail crisscrossed here and there. Once they arrived at the homestead, she’d have no way of finding her way back to town.
She watched the horses’ rears as they clopped along. She hadn’t spent much time around animals. Some folks at home had horses that they rode all over town. Her ma had never let her ride, saying, “It’s undignified for a lady to do so. Those beasts are for pulling carts and carriages and herding cattle.” Sally Sue had to admit she was afraid of horses. Her mother had always pulled her away when she got too close. “Never walk behind one, or it’ll kick you.”
Perhaps if Sally Sue pretended to go along with Cliff and gained his trust, he’d go easy on her.
“How do the horses see in the dark?” she asked.
“I think they instinctively know the way.” He slid a bottle from his pocket, pulled out the cork, and offered her a swig.
“No, thanks.”
“It’ll help keep you warm.”
It smelled like the rum her father used to drink. Before he left them, she’d seen her ma hide it many times and heard them argue about it.
“Lips that touch liquor shall never touch mine.” Sally Sue put her hand over her mouth. She couldn’t believe she’d blurted that out.
Cliff guffawed. “Suit yourself.”
The moonless sky donned a plethora of stars. Sally Sue’s hands and feet and even her nose grew cold, and she regretted not having taken a sip. Cliff put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She flashed back to when he had grabbed her at the bank, and she tried to pull away, but he held her tightly now too.
“Don’t fight me.” His silver-blue eyes shone in the dark. “You’re with me now. Don’t worry—I’ll take care of you.”
What did he mean, take care of her? Here she was, nestled under a blanket with a murderer.
A cold wind blew. She shivered again and let her body lean into his for warmth but not for pleasure. She closed her eyes and silently prayed, Please save me.
She prayed to God all the time but hated church. Every Sunday her whole life, her ma had made her dress up and go. When Sally Sue was young, she’d fidget on the hard pew and her ma would pinch her hands or hit them with her fan and whisper, “God hates you when you don’t sit still in his house.”
Sally Sue never understood why, if God was everywhere, he had to live in a house. Wasn’t he living in their home too, in the petunia beds and maple tree out back? Besides at church, they prayed to him at supper, and at bedtime too. Actually, Sally Sue talked to him all the time without anyone else knowing. Not out loud, only to him, through her heart, like she had just now. It came in handy, especially that day at the bank when he had held the gun to her chest and had his arm around her—the same arm that was now around her in the wagon.
In fact, maybe the Good Lord was her best friend. Not like the girls in school who were sometimes her friends and other times not. She could sense their parents had told them to steer clear of her because she came from a broken home.
The wagon jolted, and Cliff’s arm pushed hard against her.
She screamed.
“Sorry, just hit a big rock is all.”
With a chuckle, he began to sing “She’ll Be Coming ’Round the Mountain.” His deep voice echoed across the canyon.
What a surprise that he knew all the words to the song. She did, too, but resisted the urge to join in. He held the last note for a long time, until it faded into the sky.
How could a bank-robbing murderer know how to sing like that? Sally Sue wanted to ask, but she didn’t dare. He might get angry at her, and there was no telling what he’d do.
16
The buckboard carried them along. Sally Sue’s eyes began to droop again. Needing to stay sharp, she shook herself awake and looked up at the sky. A shooting star streaked down from the heavens. She hadn’t seen one in years, and her mind hurtled back to a night long ago, as she remembered her father saying, “Make a wish.” At that time, she had wished her parents would stop arguing. Now she wished to get away from Cliff.
The next star, she’d fill her mind with good thoughts—good wishes—for after she got away from Cliff. She kept watch until another shooting star graced the sky, and on that one, she wished to see the ocean someday. Another star flew from the sky, and she put her hand on her belly. She wished to someday have a child to hold and call her own. A boy as sweet as that Isaiah McMillan. These were all chimerical wishes, though, things that she hoped for but that were impossible to achieve.
As they crossed a wooden bridge, dimly outlined buildings