Passage West Read Online Free PDF Page A

stream. Forcing herself to swallow, she said, “They’re fine, Carrie. Next time, use a little more lard.”
    “Will Pa eat them?” the girl asked nervously.
    “Pa will eat anything after another swig of that whiskey.” Abby’s lids flickered, then closed.
    “Poor thing,” Vi muttered, glancing at the huddled form of the young woman. “She’s done more than a body should ever have to.”
    “She ought to eat something. If she isn’t careful, I’ll soon look like her big sister.”
    The older woman shook her head and touched a finger to her lips to silence her young niece. “What she needs more than anything is sleep. She can eat later.”
    Under a canopy of stars Rourke tossed in his bedroll, his body bathed in sweat. In his mind he saw them again. Bodies. The fields and meadows littered. Forests, rivers, swamps, all teeming with the dead. His own body tensed, then relaxed. In his dream, he was heading home. Away from the battlefields. The thought of rolling meadows, of rich farmland, drove him relentlessly. He made the journey again in his mind, as he had so often, searching for familiar landmarks now missing. Nearer he came, and nearer still. There. The familiar town, only different. Something wrong. Very wrong. Home. At last, home. Katherine. Katherine.
    “Katherine?”
    He awoke, trembling, and sat bolt upright, his hand clutching his gun. The images vanished. The fear and loathing were replaced by a gnawing emptiness. Glancing at the moon, he felt a surge of disappointment. He hadn’t made it through the night. There would be hours of darkness to endure before another day. He wiped a hand across his brow. The darkness would be gone soon. Soon. He clung to that thought. Morning would be here shortly, and with it the light that would sweep away the dark shadows from his mind for another day.
    Keeping the blanket wrapped around him, he leaned his back against the wagon wheel and struck a match to a cigar.
    During the day he could stay busy and keep the thoughts and images from his mind, holding the demons at bay. But at night… He blew out a stream of smoke and wearily leaned his head back, feeling the cool air dry the sheen that covered his skin. At night the demons struck, denying him sleep, opening all the wounds.
    In the distance a night bird cried, reminding him of a baby’s cry. His heart contracted. Stubbing out the cigar, he draped the blanket over his arm and strode naked toward the creek. Once there, he washed and dried himself quickly. The clothes he had earlier washed and spread out on low-lying bushes were completely dry. He dressed, then sat in the tall grass to pull on his boots, wishing he’d brought along his cigar. There would be at least another hour before dawn.
    A rustling in the grass nearby caused him to grab for his gun and freeze.
     
    *  *  *
     
    Abby awoke on the hard ground, enveloped in the foul-smelling damp blanket. The fire had died to embers. The rest of her family had retired to the back of the wagon.
    Sitting up, she glanced down at the soggy clothes she still wore, then stretched her cramped muscles. Every part of her body ached.
    Pulling off her moldy boots, she wiggled her toes, then stood stiffly. Walking to the back of the wagon, she rummaged around for her night shift and a cake of her aunt’s bayberry soap. Draping the white muslin gown over her arm, she made her way to the edge of the creek.
    The storm that had threatened earlier had blown over, leaving the earth parched, the water calm. A full moon bathed the creek in a pale amber glow. It was that hushed, quiet time between darkness and dawn, when the whole world seemed to hold its breath. Even the occasional chirp of a cricket was muted.
    She unbuttoned the scratchy shirt and dropped it in a heap at her feet. Slipping off the oversized britches, she kicked them aside, then untied the ribbons of her white chemise.
     
    *  *  *
     
    Hidden in the tall grass, Rourke was spellbound by the vision who was so