“Is it much farther to Fort Kearney?” she asked.
“Two days, I reckon.” He reached out, saying, “Here—let me take the boy.” He took Timmy as they walked slowly to the wagons. “We follow the Blue right in to the Platte. It’s not much of a place—Fort Kearney, but they’ve got a store where you can get anything you might need.”
“I don’t need anything now.”
He looked down at Timmy. “Well, I mean things for later—for when the baby comes, I mean.” He seemed embarrassed, and hurried over his words. “If it’s money, don’t worry about that. We can settle it when we get to Oregon.”
“That’s very nice of you, Mr. Winslow. There are a few things that I’d like to have.”
“Look, when you say ‘Mr. Winslow,’ I always check to see if my pa’s around. Sky’s good enough.”
“All right.” She smiled at him, saying, “I’m Rebekah.”
The wagons raised a cloud of dust, and they moved off to one side to avoid it. Most of the women were walking, for the wagons were filled with goods. Sky had packed each of them so that there was space for two women to sleep in the rear, but most of them chose to walk during the day—at least for part of it. Their dresses made spots of color as they walked across the prairie, like the small, colorful desert flowers that carpeted the plain.
“Is it hard on you—all the walking, I mean?”
She looked at him uncertainly, then realized that he was thinking of her condition. “Walking is good for me.” She reached down and pulled a few blossoms, then arranged them into a tiny bouquet. “Later I’ll have to be careful, Karen says.”
“She knows babies?”
“She had two. They both died of smallpox—and her husband, too. I feel so sorry for her!”
Sky marveled that a woman with her problems would have feelings to spare for another’s grief. She didn’t seem to worry about having a baby in the middle of Indian territory without a doctor—although he personally had some difficulty with the idea. Often he wished he had not permitted her to come, but it was too late to change that.
“Maybe we’ll be at Fort Bridger—or at an army fort—when it’s time for the baby. There’d be an army doctor.”
“Don’t worry about it, Sky,” she said. “I know you feel responsible for me, but you’re not. You’ve got the whole train to worry about. God will take care of me and the baby.”
He shot a glance at her, then shook his head. “That sounds like my folks. Everything is in God’s hands.”
“You don’t believe that?”
He weighed his thoughts. “I’d like to,” he said honestly.
“Maybe I better ride on and find a campsite now. I’ll put Timmy in the wagon. He’s too heavy for you to carry.” He walked quickly to the second wagon, lifting the baby over the back gate onto the space reserved for him. “Be careful, Becky—don’t do too much,” he warned, then untied his horse and rode off across the flat plain.
“He’s a driven man, isn’t he, Becky?”
Rebekah turned to face Rita and May who had come up to walk beside her. “He’s got too much to do, Rita.”
“He’s got time to talk to you, Becky,” May grinned. “Wish he’d stop by and give me a kind word. He is one good-looking man, ain’t he, now?”
“Better forget Sky Winslow, May,” Rita said with a smile. “He’s woman proof.”
“No man’s woman proof,” May shot back. Her red curls danced in the sun as she tossed her head. “Just have to catch ’im off guard, that’s all.”
Rebekah liked May, though some of the other women said she was too outspoken. “How’d you do it, May?”
“Why, I’d just buy me a red ten-dollar dress, put some French perfume here and there,” May confided. “And then I’d be real helpless and lean against him, innocent as a newborn lamb! I’d have that gent in front of a preacher before he knew what hit him, I tell ya!”
“That’d work with most men,” Rita agreed, “but not with Sky. He had a bad wife, I think, so he’s gun shy—he’ll run like a deer from any woman who’s thinking marriage.”
“He told you about his wife?” Rebekah asked.
“Oh, he’s never said a word about her. Talks quite a bit about his boy, though—and that’s why I think she let him down.” Rita shrugged. “His eyes got cold when I mentioned her, so I let it go—but he doesn’t trust women. You can bank on that. I’ve been around a few men who had good wives, and you can always tell.”
“Well, maybe I can’t have our fearless leader,” May said. “But I’ll have a husband when we get to Oregon—even if he’s cross-eyed and has only one leg!”
“You want a man that bad, May?” Rita asked curiously.
“I want a home, Rita,” May responded, and for once she was totally serious. “Just give me a man who’ll treat me decent, and give me some kind of house, and some babies. That’s all I want.” She looked at Rebekah. “Fact is, I wish I was having the baby instead of you, Rebekah.”
“You’ll be having your own, May,” Rebekah replied calmly. “And you’ll make some man a fine wife.”
“What about me, Rebekah?” Rita asked. “Think I’ll find some man and settle down to washing diapers for the rest of my life?” Her laughter was hard. “Nah—I don’t see myself doing that. You two will fall right in with some man—but I’m not like you, am I?”
“You’ll feel differently when you meet the right man, Rita,” Rebekah said firmly. “Don’t you want a home and a family?”
Rita gave an angry shake of her head. “Can’t see myself as a nice obedient little wife!” She walked off rapidly before either of them could speak.
“Know what, Becky?” May queried as she studied Rita as she marched away. “I think she’s gone on Sky. Notice how she manages to get him all to herself every night after supper? She’s out to get him—and before we get to Oregon, she’ll have him wrapped around her little finger!”
Rebekah changed the subject, but the scene lingered in her mind, and for the next two nights she noticed that every time they set up camp, Rita changed her dusty clothing for a fresh dress, and each night after supper she managed to engage Sky for a short talk. There was one brief flare-up when Jack Stedman stopped to grin at Rita, and she smiled back at him; but they had said only a few sentences when Sky walked by and observed the pair.
“Jack, get back to your own fire.”
Stedman’s face reddened. “You the only one who can talk to a woman, Winslow?”
“That’s it.” Sky turned to meet the challenge of the big man with an easy self-assurance. “You knew the rules before we left Independence, Jack. Now, you can either get back to your fire—or you can make your way back home. Tonight. Alone. Which’ll it be?”
The challenge came so abruptly that Stedman was taken off guard. He thought about the pistol he had holstered at his belt, but Sky had one as well—and a reputation as a sure-shot to boot. But Jack Stedman was not one to back off from any other man, and for a brief moment, he stood there, weighing his options as the others held their breath.
Stedman glared at Sky, the desire to fight in his eyes and his hand hovering over the gun at his hip. But there was something about Winslow that made him suddenly cautious; with a curse he wheeled and walked back toward the fire where the other drivers had been watching.
A hum of talk rose up, and Dave Lloyd murmured to Tom Lake, “Stedman just about run his string out that time.”
“He’s a pretty rough customer, Dave,” Lake responded, adjusting his spectacles. “Been pretty pushy since we started this trip. Might be too much for Winslow.”
“No way, Tom! In a rough-and-tumble he’d probably be too much for Sky, but he’d get his ticket punched if he tried to pull that gun of his. He knows it, too.” Lloyd looked at Lake’s slight form and said, “Better stay clear of him for a few days, Tom. He’ll be like a bear with a sore toe. Man like Stedman can’t take a put-down like that without taking it out on somebody.”
“Got no quarrel with Jack.
”
“Makes no difference. Just watch out for him.”
The next day they reached the Platte, which Sky claimed was a mile wide and six inches deep. Rebekah walked over a rise beside Karen Sanderson; on the other side, the world flattened out before them as far as the eye could see. Rebekah had never seen anything like it; she had lived in a world hidden by trees and buildings and hills—a small world for dolls, where distance was something three blocks away. Now she saw the sky tilting to meet the flattened ground, and whispered, “Karen, look at it!”
“I know,” the other woman replied quietly. “It makes me feel very small.”
All afternoon they walked along, feasting their eyes on the panorama of sky and land, the borders of which met along a seam that was almost invisible. The next day they saw the fort, shining white in the afternoon sun high up on a bluff. Spotted below were white objects that they discovered were tepees. As they approached, two mounted Indians came out and met Sky, the trio forming an outline against the red sky. In a few minutes, he wheeled and galloped back alone to lead them to a spot outside the fort.
“It’s not much, is it?” Rita looked around as they all walked eagerly inside the walls of the fort. There was a drab monotony about the collection of log huts that occupied the interior of the log ramparts. “At least I’ll be glad to sit down on a real chair! I hope we stay here for a week.”
“I heard Mr. Winslow tell Dave that we’d pull out day after tomorrow,” Karen told them. “In any case, I doubt there’s much in the way of entertainment here.”
Like most western army posts, Fort Kearney had little in the way of elegance. Officers occupied private quarters, but enlisted men were crammed into barracks where rows of bunks stood head-in to the walls. Candles provided a flickering light, and a round iron stove offered a tiny circle of warmth. Privies were outside, and there was no bathhouse.
Colonel Malachi Kenyon sent word to Winslow shortly after they arrived, inviting him to come to his office. The colonel had been stationed in the North at one time, and had become friends with Christmas Winslow and his family. Sky remembered him as a trim lieutenant, but the years had added pounds, so that now he bulged in his uniform.
The colonel insisted on having some of the ladies in for a meal. “Not all of them, Sky,” he said with twinkling eyes, “Can’t fit them all at once. Just bring about five or six of the prettiest ones along.”
Sky said ruefully, “Colonel, I’ll have the others mad at me for the rest of the trip—but I’ll do it.”
He had avoided choosing by telling Edith of the invitation. “You pick out four of the women, and I’ll ask Dave to come along.”
Just before sundown, he found Edith waiting with Karen Sanderson, May Stockton, Rita Duvall, and Rebekah. They walked the short distance to the fort and went directly to Colonel Kenyon’s house. The officer was a widower, and he greeted them at the door with a smile. “Come in! Come in, ladies!” He shook hands with each of them. “Fort Kearney is honored. Haven’t seen such attractive ladies since I was back east ten years ago. Well, let’s see what my cook has put together; then we can visit.”
He led them to a dining room where a Mexican woman was setting a steaming meal on the table, which was covered with a snowy white tablecloth. Real china reflected the lights of the overhead lamps, and the gleam of silverware completed the picture.
“A bit primitive, I’m afraid,” Kenyon apologized. “No ice to chill the wine.”
“We’ll just have to suffer, I reckon,” Sky returned with a straight face, and Lloyd grinned impishly.
They ate course after course of the spicy Mexican food. Some of it was canned, of course, for the colonel was a gourmet. May picked up a morsel from a small plate. “What’s this?”
Colonel Kenyon waited until she placed it in her mouth, then said, “That’s escargot.”
May chewed for a moment. “What’s that mean, Colonel?”
“It’s French for snail.”
May’s jaws froze and her eyes opened wide. Then she turned her head to spit it out in her napkin. “Some blamed fools would have swallowed that!”
The shout of laughter that followed freed the visit from any formality, and they sat around the table lingering over the delicious pie and coffee that followed. Kenyon was a highly intelligent man with a lively curiosity about their venture. He broached the subject carefully. “I don’t want to offend, but sink me if I can understand why such attractive ladies as you would have to risk your lives to find husbands.” He sat back and glanced at Sky. “Winslow—I’m afraid you’ve deceived me. You left all the homely women with the wagons, didn’t you?”
“I chose these ladies, Colonel Kenyon,” Edith spoke up. She was wearing a plain gray dress and no jewelry at all, but she was attractive in spite of that. She regarded the officer with a trace of humor in her gray eyes, knowing that his curiosity was the norm. “Everyone wonders why we’re going to Oregon. It’s quite simple, actually. There are many women in the East and few men, but in Oregon it’s just the opposite. I want a home, and this is the way for me to get one.”
“I see,” Kenyon replied. He examined Edith carefully, and took a sip of coffee. “What about romance, Miss Dickenson? Do you suppose you’ll find that in Oregon? I was under the impression that all women are entitled to it—expect it, in fact.”
“My expectations fall in a different category, I’m afraid, Colonel,” Edith answered. “I was engaged once, and my fiance supplied me with an abundance of romance.” She lifted her head high and stared right into his eyes. “Then he left me at the altar. No, moonlight and roses and poetry are all very well—but there’s more to a marriage than that.”
“I don’t think you really mean all that, Edith,” Karen Sanderson smiled. “I want a home the same as you—but surely we can hope for a little romance as well?” Her blond hair was a crown of braids that framed her oval face, and a gentleness touched her broad lips as she added, “Does it have to be one or the other? Surely a marriage can have mystery as well as permanence and commitment.”
Rita shook her head, her eyes set off by a dark green gown cut low to expose creamy shoulders. “Most of the marriages I’ve seen have been more business arrangements than moonlight and roses. Men are willing enough to play at romance for a time—but once the ring is in place, they put it away with the piece of wedding cake. Something to remember, but not to practice.”
“Why, I’m surprised to hear you say so, Miss Duvall,” Kenyon remarked, though he did not mean it. The woman stood out from the others in a glaring fashion. “If you feel so strongly, why would you cross a continent to enter the institution?”
The question caught Rita off guard, they all noticed, but May rescued her quickly. “Well, let me tell you my plan, Colonel,” she interjected in a lively voice. “All my life I’ve had to take the leftovers as far as men are concerned. Always took whatever the pretty ones cast off—but it’s going to be a different story in Oregon, you can be sure!”
“Going to be hard to get, are you, May?” Dave asked with a grin.
“That’s the size of it. The man that wants me will have to whip at least a dozen other men to get me—just for starters. Then I’ll let him hang around my door with a dozen roses every night for a month or so—maybe write some of that gooey poetry that I never got. Then, if he pleases me, I may agree to marry him—but you can bet he’ll have to keep up some of the romancin’ even after we tie the knot!”
“Bravo!” Colonel Kenyon cried out. Rising to his feet, he walked around the table filling wine glasses. “I think you should do exactly that, Miss Stockton—and all the rest of you as well! After all, if you’re going to all the trouble of traveling to Oregon, it’s the very least those bachelors can do. A toast—to all the bachelors of Oregon!” He raised his glass, saying with a grin, “May you ladies make them totally miserable—until you make them totally happy by taking their names!”
Resuming his seat, Kenyon noted that the final member of the company had said not
hing. Thinking to include her in the light talk, he addressed her. “Now, then, Miss Jackson, tell me—are you determined to get a husband on the terms mentioned by Miss Stockton? Make them fawn at your feet?” He saw that the woman was embarrassed, and tried to soften his remark. “I suppose that you want to have a home and children?”
Later Kenyon wished he’d let well enough alone, for Rebekah lifted her face and looked at him with a quiet air that reminded him of the Scottish women he had met on his trip abroad. She was not flamboyant like Rita Duvall, nor was she as self-possessed as either Edith Dickenson or Karen Sanderson, yet he admired the natural beauty of her face.
“I have a baby, Colonel, and another on the way. I hope to find a man who loves children and will be a father to them.”
A silence dropped around the table, and Colonel Kenyon cursed himself for being so clumsy, but redeemed the moment by saying gently, “I’m sure there will be that kind of man—especially when he will gain such a fine young woman for his bride.”
Edith changed the subject quickly. “I’ve been worried about the Indians along the way, Colonel. Do you think we’ll have trouble?”
“Always a danger of that, of course,” the officer told her, relieved to be on safer ground. “But you’ve got a good man to lead you. No one in the West knows this country better than Sky Winslow. ’Course, if you were in a train of fifty wagons, it would be much better. Stragglers may get picked off, but Indians would never attack a train of that size.” He smiled and added, “Which brings up a matter.” Turning to Sky, he said, “There’s a small group camped by the river, Sky—just four wagons. They dropped out of a bigger train that left last week, and they asked me to be on the lookout for another train for them to join.”
The Reluctant Bridegroom Page 13
