“Pardon me for being forward, Sherri, but why don’t you have a husband?”
Sherri’s head snapped to Mary, who stood looking at her with a curious stare. Mary’s eyes kept drifting to where Alexander had slowed his horse and was riding alongside the Bitner wagon, talking to Herbert, who seemed to be the man in charge of the families.
“I guess I haven’t found the right guy, I mean, man,” she stammered. No need to go into detail that her last boyfriend had cheated on her, or that most other guys she’d dated were wrong for one reason or another.
“You obviously love children, seeing as how well you tolerate Maude.” Mary laughed. “Don’t get me wrong. I love her to pieces, but she can be a handful.”
“Maude has a lot of energy. She’s a great kid . . . little girl.”
“It’s a shame you don’t have your own.”
It was Sherri’s turn to laugh. “I guess I’m not ready to have children, yet. Besides, like I said, I haven’t met the right man.”
Mary’s eyes drifted to Alexander again. “Maybe the right one is closer than you think.” She nodded, then rushed off toward her wagon, mumbling something about needing to speak to Abner, and leaving Sherri to stare after her and ponder what she meant.
Chapter 7
Alexander rode into camp and stopped in front of Herbert and Betty Bitner’s wagon, dropping a deer he’d shot to the ground.
“You can let everyone know that we’re eating fresh meat tonight.”
Herbert looked at the buck with eager eyes. “That’ll be much appreciated. This is cause to celebrate.”
Alexander dismounted his horse and set to work gutting the animal. Several of the men worked to build a large fire in the center of camp while the women stopped by and collected large cuts of the deer.
Everyone thanked him for providing the welcomed fresh meat. It had only been three days, but most everyone was tired of beans and salted pork already. It would keep up the families’ good spirits as well as their strength if he supplied them with meat as much as possible. Besides, leaving the group to go hunting for a few hours was a good excuse to be alone for a while.
With that thought, Alexander glanced around camp until his eyes fell on the Shepherd wagon. Sherri stood by the tailgate, talking to two of the little girls, smiling and laughing with them. His thoughts instantly went to earlier in the day, when she’d laughed and played with the children. The dress she wore, obviously one of Mary Shepherd’s dresses, transformed her into a woman that made his heart skip faster.
The plain and worn garment hugged her curves naturally, unlike the constricting and tightly fitted fancy blue dress he’d been accustomed to seeing on her. It made it easier to forget that she was a woman of means.
He tore his eyes away and cursed under his breath. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? He’d told himself repeatedly that if he ever decided to settle down, it wouldn’t be with a woman who’d been raised in the city. He’d clearly not learned his lesson the first time. The best way to deal with his attraction to Sherri Stucki was to stay as far away from her as possible.
After offering her a means to get to Laramie, his original prediction about her had been wrong . She hadn’t wilted after the first day as he might have expected. She’d actually tried to do work and help with the camp chores, but it was plain to see that she didn’t have much experience with daily labor and tasks required of regular folks. She’d probably never lifted a finger in her life.
Seeing her this morning when her dress had caught fire had sent a jolt of dread through him the likes of which he never wanted to experience again. Holding her, trembling in his arms when he’d thrown her to the ground to put out the flames, had brought about a need to keep her close and safe forever. He’d quickly released her and walked away when Mary Shepherd had come along.
What was he thinking? He knew nothing about this woman, yet she seemed to occupy every crevice of his mind no matter how much he told himself to stop thinking about her. Nothing good could come of it, especially not with her kind.
Abner Shepherd and Herbert Bitner offered him a place with them when it came time to eat. The families all gathered around the large fire, and shared in the meat and other foods each family contributed. Usually, every family cooked and ate by themselves, but the fresh meat had brought them all together.
Alexander ate in silence, smiling and nodding at appropriate times when one of the men spoke to him. He offered his opinion on the type of terrain they would be covering in the upcoming days, and the safest routes to take, but only half-listened to most of the chatter around him. While he was following the same route as most of the people who’d crossed the plains on their way to Oregon in years past, that was not the destination of these folks. His job was to get them to Laramie, and from there, they would continue on to Idaho.
His eyes continued to stray where the children gathered. Every child under the age of ten sat in a circle around Sherri, who was telling some animated story to them. Even a lot of the women sat and listened. When most everyone was done eating, someone pulled out a fiddle and started playing. A harmonica quickly joined in.
The children were the first to get up and dance. One of the Shepherd girls stood and grabbed Sherri’s hand, dragging her to the middle of camp. Sherri laughed and held the girl’s hands, and together they danced and twirled in circles in time with the music.
Alexander turned away. He stood and strode off into the shadows of the fire to check on his horse. The more he struggled to dislike Sherri Stucki, the more she got under his skin. She wasn’t anything like Cordelia, but he couldn’t allow himself to fall for another pretty female. Whatever her reason was to get to Laramie, it wasn’t to leave her life of wealth behind.
Frogs and crickets competed with the faint music and laughter that drifted through the otherwise quiet of the night air. Horses snorted, and a cow bellowed softly as the night sky came alive with countless twinkling stars.
Alexander inhaled deeply. It was good to be out in the middle of nowhere again. He’d spent all his life in the wilderness, seeing few people other than his family most of the time. Leaving home to come east for a few years had taught him what he really wanted. In a few weeks, he could begin his life of peace and quiet once again.
Giving his horse a final pat, he turned to head back to camp where he’d laid out his bedroll. It didn’t sound like the families were ready to put an end to their music and dancing just yet.
He’d barely gone ten paces when a soft noise came from a short distance away. Alexander froze. With his hand on the hilt of his knife that hung from his belt, he moved quietly toward the sound. The faint glow of the campfires through the vegetation gave him just enough light to see what was in front of him. A lone figure sat slightly hunched over on a log by one of the trees. If the person hadn’t moved, he’d have missed seeing her.
“Miss Stucki?” His heart beat faster when he’d realized who it was.
She was sobbing, but the instant she heard her name, she stiffened and sat up straighter. When he’d left camp, she’d been laughing and dancing with the children, and now she was sitting in the dark, crying?
“Are you all right? Did something happen?”
Alexander moved closer. She glanced up and hastily swiped the back of her hand underneath her eyes, sniffling. She stood and turned in his direction.
“No, I’m fine.”
The shaky tone of her voice was a clear signal that she wasn’t fine. Then again, some women didn’t need a reason to cry. They did it to draw attention to themselves. That didn’t seem to be the case with Sherri. She’d clearly wandered off to be alone, and she looked rather nervous that she’d been discovered.
“Can I take you back to camp?” he offered. Maybe she’d gotten turned around in the dark and couldn’t find her way back, although that seemed highly unlikely. All she had to do was follow the sound of the music and the glow of the fire.
“I’d rather stay here for a few more minutes.” She gave a
quick laugh. “I don’t want Mary or the girls to see me like this.”
Alexander frowned as indecision gripped him. He could simply walk away and leave her standing here alone, or he could keep her company and take her back to camp when she was ready.
“I didn’t get the chance to thank you this morning.” She spoke softly, and her words were rather hesitant. She cleared her throat before adding, “If you hadn’t been there, I might have died. In the best-case scenario, I know I would have been badly burned.” Despite all her efforts, her voice cracked. She sat back on the log, hunched over and holding her face between her hands.
Alexander hesitated, then lowered himself onto the log next to her. He was already here. He might as well keep her company. She’d kept up a good pretense all day, but this morning’s event was coming back to haunt her now, and she was clearly shaken up by it. Who could blame her? A weaker woman would have resorted to hysterics for the rest of the day. She’d covered it up well, but keeping it bottled up inside was taking its toll.
He kept several inches of distance between them, while his arm itched to reach out and draw her into a comforting embrace. He’d often seen his folks sitting together with his father embracing his mother.
“I don’t know what I was thinking when I agreed to do this.” She raised her head and stared off into the darkness. “What was that crazy Reverend Johnson thinking when he told me I had to go to Laramie?” Her voice took on a decidedly angry tone as her words came out stronger and louder. “I don’t have the first clue of what I’m doing.”
Alexander sat quietly for a moment. Here was his chance to talk to her. He’d assumed she needed to get to Laramie to join some rich relative, not on the order of a preacher.
“You’re going to Laramie because a reverend told you to? Are you some kind of missionary?”
“What?” Sherri turned to face him for the first time. In the darkness, it was impossible to make out her facial features. She scoffed. “I’m not a missionary. I’m just a desperate woman looking to change my life. That’s why I agreed to this. I didn’t think it was going to be this hard. It never looks this hard in the mov –”
She abruptly cut off what she was going to say. What was she hiding? Her speech was odd enough, but there was something in her words that she didn’t want to reveal.
“What did you agree to do, Miss Stucki?”
She laughed softly. “Please call me Sherri. Miss Stucki sounds much too formal, or is that not allowed? Should I call you Mr. Walker?” She huffed and laughed again, shaking her head. “I don’t even know the right way to address someone in this time.”
“In this time?” Alexander raised his brows. What did that mean?
Her body visibly tensed. “I meant to say, I don’t know the right etiquette out here in the west.”
His eyes narrowed. She was clearly lying about something, or her brain was addled by her near-brush with death. “You can call me Alexander, and if you prefer being called by your given name, I have no problem with that,” he reassured her. “But you didn’t answer my question.”
“Question?”
“You said a Reverend Johnson told you to go to Laramie, and you agreed to do something for him.”
Sherri shifted on the log, stretching her legs out in front of her, which was a most peculiar pose for a lady. She sucked in an audible breath, and let out a most unladylike snort. “I agreed to go to Laramie and get married. I’m a genuine mail order bride.”
A feeling came over him as if someone had sucker-punched him in the gut. Mail order bride? That was the last thing he’d expected her to say. He’d heard of men who advertised for women from the east to come and marry them, since women were scarce in the territory. The thought was rather peculiar, but it seemed practical if a man wanted a wife and family.
He stood. All the reasons why he shouldn’t even be talking to her surfaced again. Relief swept over him, followed swiftly by a twinge of annoyance, and even jealousy. She was spoken for by someone else.
“Do you know the man you’re going to marry?” He gritted his teeth when the question was out before he’d even had time to hold back the words.
“Never met him before. He’s supposedly some rich cattle rancher.” She stood, too, and walked a few paces away. A quiet scoff came from the darkness. “I went to school to be a teacher, even though my mother wanted me to become a lawyer like my father. They tried to bribe me with expensive things to do what they wanted, but I didn’t want to go to law school. I accepted all the money and stuff they gave me, but in the end, I did what I wanted anyway.”
Alexander stared in the direction of her voice. Lawyer? Women were becoming more educated. One of his family’s closest friends was a lady doctor, so a woman lawyer shouldn’t be too far of a stretch.
“My folks always told my sisters and me that we should be free to choose our own path in life. It was our life, and no one else should decide for us what we should do or where we should live. They gave us their advice and opinions when asked, and made sure we didn’t do things that were dangerous, but they always allowed us the freedom to make our own decisions, and our own mistakes.”
Sherri turned back toward him. She would have walked right into him, but Alexander reached out his hand and held her by the arm. His lips twitched in a smile.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “It’s getting really dark.” Hastily, she added, “Your family sounds wonderful.”
The faint shadows cast by the glow of the nearby campfires played off her lovely features. She smiled, and there was a thankful look in her eyes. Alexander released her arm and took a step back. They were standing much too close. He cleared his throat.
“I suppose I should get you back to camp before Mary Shepherd begins to worry about you.”
“You’re probably right.” She raised her head and looked up at the sky. “Thank you, again, for saving my life today. I don’t know what I would have done without your help ever since I got off the train in Independence.”
Alexander chuckled. “You’re not gonna need me to watch out for you tomorrow morning, are you?”
“If you’re referring to the fire, I think I’ve learned my lesson. I know you warned me that you’d leave me behind if I didn’t pull my weight, but I think I’ll collect water rather than try to make coffee next time.”
“I suppose fire tending wasn’t something you had to do before. Cooking over an open flame can be tricky, and it’s different than on a stove. It takes time to learn.”
She laughed softly, the sound mournful rather than happy. “It’s a new experience for me, like pretty much everything else I’ve had to do so far.”
Once again, the feeling that she was holding something back washed through him. She hadn’t really said much of anything about herself, other than she had schooling and rich parents. The burning question of why she would choose to become a mail order bride remained.
Chapter 8
The stew looks ready, and it smells delicious.”
Mary Shepherd bent over the cast iron pot that hung over the fire on a tripod. She kept her lower body a good distance from the flames, enough so that she was in no danger of burning her skirt. Sherri stood beside her, a wooden spoon in her hand.
She’d made most of the stew tonight. Hopefully it tasted okay, but Mary had watched her carefully and instructed her on what to add and how to check it for doneness. Every time she got close to the fire, the urge to bunch up the skirts of her dress was overwhelming, but that would definitely cause a lot of raised brows.
She’d unbuttoned the top buttons of her dress the other night while still sitting outside the wagon, and Harold Wilkes had stared at her until his wife slapped him on the arm and shot a most disgusted look at Sherri. Clearly, it was a big faux pas to show even an inch of skin.
She scratched at her itchy neck. What she wouldn’t give for a real bath rather than a quick wash with a cloth every night. Even then, she couldn’t take off all her clothes. It had to be done inside the cramped wagon
while trying not to spill the pan that contained barely an inch of water, and while remaining in her underclothes that looked like a long, white nightgown.
Sherri smiled with pride, looking at the pot over the fire. She stood a little straighter. “My first stew cooked over a campfire. Well, my first stew cooked anywhere, really. I think it might take a while before I get the hang of making biscuits and not burning them.”
Mary laughed. “It takes time, but you’re catching on and learning fast.”
“The girls know how to cook better than I can.” She gave the stew another quick stir. Her attempt at making biscuits had failed miserably the night before. Maude, Millie, Meredith, and Molly had all tried to teach her how to knead the dough and add just enough of the ingredients to make it soft.
The biscuits had looked okay, but then she’d left them in the fire too long, and they’d burned. Abner Shepherd had shot her a disgruntled look when she served him dinner. They had tasted awful – hard as bricks and black as coals, but they had to be eaten.
“No one’s ever died eating burned biscuits.” Mary had shot her husband a sharp look when he’d complained. “The food’s got to get eaten. We can’t simply throw them away, now can we? That would be downright wasteful.”
Sherri had excused herself to the wagon shortly after, her face flaming with embarrassment. These people couldn’t even afford to throw away food that tasted horrible, and it had been her fault that it was almost inedible.
“You’ll get the hang of making biscuits soon enough,” Mary predicted, pulling the pan out of the fire. She lifted the lid, revealing a batch of beautiful, golden-brown biscuits.
“I’d better get the stew off the fire, or it will get burned,” Sherri mumbled. At the moment, cravings for something to eat from her favorite restaurant were almost unbearable. At home, all that was required was a quick call for takeout. Here, it took an hour just to prep everything before getting dinner started. Her cravings for chocolate nearly drove her to having a mental breakdown. What she wouldn’t give for some peanut butter and chocolate. At least tomorrow would be a day of rest, and they wouldn’t have to rush to make breakfast and get going.
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