by Merry Farmer
“So you can’t go back,” he said, mind working on all the possibilities ahead of her. “I’m sure there are lots of places you could find work. There are probably loads of men looking for wives too.”
For the barest flash of an instant, hope filled her face. She looked at him—looked at him. His heart skipped a beat, but just as quickly, his mind told it to hush. He had plans. He would work and buy land. If he didn’t, he would have nothing, all bets lost. He needed all of his attention for his plans, not for a wife. And that was assuming her thoughts had even gone to the same place.
“The problem is, Mr. Quinlan—”
“Call me Greg. I insist.”
A faint smile flickered across her lips. “The problem is, Greg, I owe Mr. Huber money.”
“Oh?”
She nodded. “He sent me the fare for the stagecoach. Now he says I have to pay him back, even though he doesn’t want me. But I don’t have any money. Not a cent.”
“Hmm.” Greg rubbed his jaw. “That is a problem.”
“So I have no choice,” she finished. “I have to convince him to marry me after all or I’m ruined.”
“You don’t think you can earn the money to pay him back?”
Greg didn’t like the suggestion, even though he’d made it. There were ways that a pretty woman could earn a quick buck out on the frontier, but they weren’t exactly savory.
He was relieved when Darcy said, “I could never earn it fast enough,” with a particular look that told him what she wouldn’t do that. He smiled. He liked a woman with character. If only he could help her.
“What seems to be the trouble here?”
Greg turned to find the trail boss for their wagon train, Mr. Pete Evans, striding across the parched grass toward them. He smiled.
“Pete Evans, I’d like you to meet Miss Darcy Howsam,” Greg said.
Pete came to a stop and tipped his hat. “Ma’am. I just had a miner who will be joining our train come up to me and warn me not to let you out of my sight. He says you owe him money.”
“That’s not exactly true,” Greg answered before Darcy could. He couldn’t help himself. Something deep within him needed to protect this pretty woman, to fight for her.
Pete arched an eyebrow, crossed his arms, and looked to Darcy.
Darcy sighed and held her letter out to Pete. He took it and read as she explained, “I came out here from Maryland to marry Mr. Huber, but now he says he doesn’t want me. He does want his money back—the money he sent me for the stagecoach. I don’t have it.”
“I see.” Pete humphed and handed the letter back to her. “Mail-order briding is a serious business. There’s rules and regulations about that sort of thing. I’m not sure he can just abandon you like that.”
“Really?” Greg perked up. It seemed Darcy’s problems could be solved. Although why that didn’t make him completely happy was a mystery.
“Breach of contract,” Pete said. “I’ve seen cases brought up in court before. But there’s not time to settle it now. We need to get this train moving.” He shifted his weight, staring off over the milling mass of wagons and people, then blew out a breath. “Tell you what, ma’am. We’ll get this confusion sorted out for you, but we’ll have to do it on the trail.”
“I’d be so grateful,” Darcy said.
“Greg, you willing to let Miss Howsam store her stuff in your wagon? I’d throw her in with one of the families with women, but most of them are awfully crowded, and we don’t have much time to sort it all out.”
“Sure thing, Pete,” Greg replied. He was glad to do it, too. He liked Darcy Howsam. She was brave to face what she was facing with as much grace as she was showing.
“Miss Howsam, you okay with that?” Pete asked. “Of course, as we walk on, you might make friends with some of the other women, and you can move your stuff over with them when you do.”
“Thank you, Mr. Evans. But what about Mr. Huber? Won’t he still demand his money?” she asked.
“I don’t doubt he will.” Pete shrugged. “If he troubles you over it, you send him to me. Hopefully I’ll get a chance to talk to him before then. Don’t you worry, ma’am. We’ll get this sorted out.”
“And I’ll do whatever it takes to help,” Greg added.
He had a feeling that helping Miss Darcy Howsam could be the perfect way to start his new life on the new frontier.
Chapter Two
Darcy wasn’t entirely certain what had happened. Her world had crashed to pieces, then all of a sudden, everything kept moving. In more ways than one. The kind trail boss, Mr. Evans, directed her to hand her bag over to Greg, and within minutes the sea of wagons and people around her was in motion.
“I’ll put this in the back of my wagon where you can see it,” Greg said, gesturing for Darcy to follow him to the modest Conestoga nearby. “Just so that you feel secure. We’ve got a lot of walking ahead of us. Hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind,” she said, breathless even to her own reckoning. As the wagons around her lined up and started around the fort and on to some point on the horizon, she was too stunned to mind anything.
It wasn’t until they were several yards away from the fort on the west side that she blinked herself back into sense and studied her surroundings. The wagons stretched out in a long, dotted line as they clattered on across a path that was worn hard by countless pioneers before them. Most of the people walked, with only a few of the very oldest or youngest riding in the wagons. Several wagons had seats where a driver perched as he goaded the oxen yoked to the wagon on with a long whip on a pole. Just as many people walked alongside their oxen, coaxing them on with words and touch. Greg was one of the ones who walked.
Darcy wondered if Conrad was the sort who would walk or who would ride on his wagon. She twisted and turned as her steps took her forward, looking for him. In spite of the fact that they were just a few humble travelers in the middle of a vast, uninhabited wilderness, it wasn’t easy to pick someone out of the crowd. She had to step far to the side, craning her neck to see farther up the line and hang back to check behind her before finding Conrad. He drove his wagon—sitting high on the driver’s seat with a whip clutched tightly in his fist, the man who had been with him now sitting next to him with his arms crossed, talking—several wagons behind Greg’s. Darcy hung back, intent on talking to him.
“Don’t think you can get away with cheating me out of twenty bucks,” Conrad shouted at Darcy when she tried to approach. “I’ll get my money from you yet.”
The smile that Darcy had put on in her attempt to do something to change Conrad’s mind faded. “I’ll do what I can, Mr. Huber, but don’t you think it’s a shame to go through all that effort only to have to do it all again and find another bride?”
His buddy leaned over and murmured something in his ear.
“You’re too stubby, too weak,” Conrad sniffed, glancing to his friend, then staring straight forward.
“But don’t you think—”
He cracked the whip, causing his oxen to jolt forward. They couldn’t go very far with another wagon in front of them, but he effectively ended their conversation. Conrad’s friend sneered down at her as though he’d won a victory.
Darcy let her shoulders drop and headed back to Greg’s wagon. If she really was strong, she would stand her ground and force Conrad to see how useful she could be. She had the itching feeling that his friend was whispering against her, and that if she tried hard enough, Conrad would change his mind. But after the rattling stagecoach ride and the twist of fortune that had meant the end of the journey and her hopes, she didn’t have the energy to fight. She picked up her pace, wanting nothing more than to distance herself from the failure that Conrad’s rejection presented.
Her only consolation was that, after weeks of sitting in a cramped and stuffy stagecoach, she was free to walk and breathe fresh air. She drew in a large breath and forced herself to smile. Smiling was healthy. It helped you to feel positive when nothing around
you was working right, or so she had always been told. So she smiled and glanced around at the sun-touched wilderness the wagon train traveled through.
For weeks she hadn’t been able to see much through the stagecoach’s windows. Walking out in the open now was a revelation. She wasn’t sure when the landscape had changed from the endless, flat prairie to a different sort of prairie—rougher, with a hint of mountains on the horizon. It was far from the rolling hills and dense vegetation of Maryland, but the territory that they walked through now had its own shape and life. It was almost as if the land was stretching and beginning to stir at the dawn of a new day before it reached on toward the future.
At least she didn’t have to be here alone. Conrad may not have wanted her, but fate had ensured that she wasn’t entirely friendless. Greg Quinlan had helped her when he didn’t have to. She watched him several wagons ahead of her as she strode to catch up. He had the strong back and straight posture of a man who knew what he wanted from his life and was willing to go out and get it. That thought widened her smile and quickened her pace. If nothing else, she could walk with him for a while and seek his help with her predicament.
She was close to hitching up her skirts and jogging to catch up to him when Mr. Evans rode up to Greg’s side, dismounting so that the two men could walk together.
“I want to talk to you,” Mr. Evans opened the conversation.
“What can I do for you, Pete?” Greg answered.
The two men were close enough that Darcy could catch a hint of their conversation, even though they walked with their backs toward her. Curiosity got the better of her, and she quickened her pace and moved close enough to hear them.
“…is just not interested,” Pete was in the middle of saying when she picked up the thread of the conversation. “He was hoping for a bigger, strapping gal who can keep house and help him mine. That cute slip of a thing that showed up on the stagecoach back there just won’t suit, or so he told me.”
Darcy’s spirits fell.
“But he spent the money, put in the effort to send for her,” Greg defended her. “He’s just going to toss that away?”
“Looks like it.” Mr. Evans shrugged. “Though I think his buddy, Bruce, has something to do with it. Not the most friendly sort. Apparently he co-owns Conrad’s mine. Now Conrad’s acting ornery about his money. He wants it back, no two ways about it.”
“Miss Howsam said she doesn’t have it, and I believe her.”
Greg believed her. It was a small comfort. Darcy inched closer to them as the wagon train rattled on.
“That’s what I told Conrad,” Mr. Evans went on. “He doesn’t care. But I did manage to convince him to give Miss Howsam until the split point at Ft. Bridger. Conrad is heading on to California from there.”
“And how long will that take?” Greg asked the question that weighed on Darcy’s mind.
“Not more than a couple of weeks. Less than that if the weather holds out. It’s rough going, but I’ve been out this way a dozen times and more,” Mr. Evans replied.
“Well, that’s something,” Greg said. “Maybe Miss Howsam can do washing or mending for people, or at the forts we pass.”
She could. She could do any number of things. But Greg didn’t know how much money Conrad had sent her. How was she going to earn twenty dollars in just two weeks’ time on the trail? She still honestly believed she would do better to convince the man to marry her after all, as unsettling as that prospect was.
“I can’t see as it’s really any of my business,” Greg said, drawing Darcy’s attention back to him.
“That’s what I want to talk to you about, son.” Pete slapped him on the back. “I want you to keep an eye on that poor thing, take her on, as it were.”
“Take her on?” As Greg flinched at the comment, Darcy could see the color that splashed his face. A knot formed in her stomach. “I don’t know, Pete.”
“It’s just temporary,” Mr. Evans argued. “She’s got no one until Conrad steps up to his responsibility, and seeing as you’ve got nothing else going….”
“I do have something going,” Greg argued. “I’ve got plans. Big plans. As soon as I get to the Oregon Territory—”
“Hold on, now. That’s not what I meant,” Pete stopped him. “I’m only saying that you don’t have a family to watch out for or much more than a wagon and oxen to keep track of. You can spare a bit of attention for a wayward miss, can’t you?”
Greg hesitated. With each word he didn’t say, Darcy sank deeper and deeper into sadness. She truly wasn’t wanted, by anyone. The one man who she had hoped could turn things around for her was hesitating instead of helping.
“Sure, Pete,” Greg answered at length. Darcy saw his weary smile in profile as he nodded to Mr. Evans. “I really don’t mind, it’s just that—”
He caught sight of Darcy out of the corner of his eye and stumbled. His smile flickered before he paused and waited for Darcy to catch up.
“Miss Howsam,” Mr. Evans said, pausing with Greg.
Neither man could stay still for more than a few seconds as Greg’s oxen pulled his wagon on.
“Hello, Mr. Evans, Mr. Quinlan,” Darcy greeted them half-heartedly. They had to know that she had overhead their conversation.
“Now, Darcy, I thought I told you to call me Greg,” Greg said, as friendly as if he actually wanted her there.
“I’m sorry, Greg,” she corrected herself. “I don’t want to be a burden,” she went on. Might as well deal with things upfront.
“On, no,” Greg insisted, making sure she was walking by his side, between him and Mr. Evans, before settling into a stride again. “If you overheard me, I can assure you it was a misunderstanding. I’m just concerned because I’m a single man traveling on my own and you’re a single woman.” He glanced across Darcy to Mr. Evans. “Are you sure it’s right and proper?”
Mr. Evans shrugged and let out a breath. “It’s the trail. One thing I’ve come to know about the trail is that normal rules of society have to be put aside for practicality sometimes. Like now.”
“I suppose,” Darcy said. She still had no wish to be a burden to a man who didn’t want her around, even if that seemed to be her lot in life.
“All right, you have me convinced,” Greg told Mr. Evans, his smile returning full-force. “Darcy, would you kindly walk with me until we can figure out how to get you out of your fix?”
In spite of herself, hope bloomed in Darcy’s heart once more. “Well, if you put it like that, I’m not sure I can refuse.”
“Good,” Mr. Evans said. He stopped long enough to mount his horse, then walked up beside them again. “Now that that’s settled, I’ll just go see how the McTavishes are doing. I didn’t like the look of Trudy McTavish’s fever earlier. Ma’am.” He nodded to Darcy, touching the brim of his hat, and rode ahead along the line of wagons.
An awkward silence fell between Darcy and Greg. Darcy broke it by saying, “I didn’t realize there was sickness in the wagon train.”
“Since we set out, it’s seemed like someone has always had a fever or a cough or something. It’s not as bad as some stories I’ve heard. Traveling like this is strenuous,” Greg answered.
“I suppose so, though it’s much better than stagecoach, I can assure you.”
Greg laughed. “Traveling by stagecoach was that bad?”
“Worse. One night I woke up from a sound sleep to find a gentleman whose name I barely knew asleep with his head in my lap, drooling.”
The two of them laughed together. Darcy took a breath and went on with the story. Greg listened with interest, asking questions that prompted more conversation. As the lonely trail miles wore on, they lost track of time and enjoyed each other’s company. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Greg had seen a lot of rough things in his time on the trail so far, but nothing prepared him for the spate of bad weather that hit them a few days later. What had started off as a hot, dry summer turned stormy and miserable in no t
ime. By the time they were three days out of Ft. Laramie, he wondered if they hadn’t accidentally ventured into a monsoon.
“Careful there,” he called across to Darcy as she trudged alongside the oxen pulling his wagon. “Jupiter is looking a little unsteady. Just reach out and stroke his neck and I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
“Like this?” Darcy asked, smoothing a hand along the wet coat of the ox on the right of the team pulling his wagon.
The rain beat down on them. Darcy’s dress was soaked and plastered to her shoulders. The wide-brimmed bonnet she wore sagged so badly that Greg wasn’t sure how she could see. But she was a determined little thing. She stroked Jupiter’s neck without fear and kept her pace steady by the beast’s side.
“Just like that,” he said, smiling through the storm.
A crack of lightning struck far on the horizon to their left. Greg’s skin prickled with the danger it presented.
“Shouldn’t we take cover somewhere?” Darcy asked, searching all around the slow-moving wagon train.
“Where?” Greg answered. “There’s nothing we could really use as shelter within a mile except a few scrub trees. At least the lightning is keeping well to the south.”
He thought he caught Darcy shivering as they walked and picked up his pace to sway closer to her side. The least he could do was provide some shelter from the rain with the bulk of his body if it came to it. Plenty of other families had piled into their wagons, but Darcy insisted on walking if he was walking. She was much tougher than she looked.
“What did you do when you ran into storms before reaching Ft. Laramie?” she asked.
Greg shrugged. “Same as we’re doing now. We walked right through them. If we didn’t, it’d take twice as long to get where we’re going.”
“And where are you going?” she asked as if the thought had just occurred to her.
She peeked up at him through the soggy brim of her bonnet, looking for all the world like a drowned cat. Her smile was still in place, though. That was almost as good as sunshine.
