It was now the last week of May and the weather had turned hot and muggy. Grace’s work group had been rotated to the cooking crew. Because of that they had to get up at dawn in order to prepare breakfast.
On the morning of May 31, Grace was the first member of her group to arrive for duty. She was just about to fire up the cookstove when Jackson appeared. Determined not to let him anywhere near her already bruised feelings, Grace said emotionlessly, “Good morning. Coffee will be ready in just a moment.”
“No hurry.” He took a seat at the trestle table near her and watched her silently.
Ignoring him as much as was able, Grace set a fire beneath the big vat of water that would soon hold the grits, then began on the coffee.
“Grace, can you and the ladies be ready to leave in two days’ time?”
His words caught her so off guard that for a moment she could only stare. Then she smiled. “Why, yes. Do you think we’re ready?”
He nodded.
She was so excited she wanted to kiss him. “Can I tell the others?”
“Whenever you like.”
“Thank you, Jackson, for everything.”
“You’re welcome.”
After breakfast Grace made the announcement and the news was greeted by cheers that filled the valley. The prospect of finally getting on the road had everyone smiling, and the women began loading their belongings into their respective wagons. Even the Mitchell sisters were happy, although no one believed it would last for very long.
The women worked late into the night and many were assisted by family members who’d driven back to see their brides off. Belle Cannon’s parents were among that group and according to Loreli, Belle’s father had been adamantly opposed to Belle’s leaving.
“So, how did Belle react?” Grace asked Loreli as they talked about it later.
“She was respectful but ignored him. Her parents spent the whole time bickering.”
Grace sought Belle out the next morning and found her sitting outside her tent reading her Bible. “Morning, Belle.”
“Hello, Grace.”
“Are you excited about leaving?”
“Excited and a bit frightened.”
“Why frightened?”
“Because I don’t know what the future will bring.”
“I heard from Loreli that your father doesn’t want you to leave.”
She looked sad for a moment. “No, he doesn’t. He can’t understand why I’d want to do this. Says I shouldn’t be going so far away to marry a man I’ve never met.”
“He’s just concerned.”
“His only concern is who’s going to wait upon him once I’m gone. You see, I do all the washing, cooking, and cleaning. Mother hasn’t lifted a broom or a pot in years.”
Grace nodded solemnly. “So are you going to pass as a widow once we reach Kansas City?”
“I’m still pondering that.”
“Is there any chance the baby’s father will acknowledge his child?”
Belle shook her head. “No, he’s married and has four children.”
Grace wanted to take a buggy whip to the man. She remembered Reverend Petrie saying the baby’s father was a deacon in Grace’s father’s church. “Whatever decision you make, you’ll have my support.”
“Thank you, Grace.”
Grace gave her a pat on the shoulder, then left her to her reading. As she was walking across the camp she was stopped by Katherine Wildhorse.
“I wanted you to take a look at this journal entry just to make sure you approve. I’m going to wire it back to my editor, Geoff, hoping he’ll send it on to newspapers across the country. I think this is an historic undertaking, and folks in other places may be interested.”
Grace took the paper and read:
Tonight, 35 women of the race prepare to embark upon a unique journey. They’re bound for Kansas—not as Exodusters fleeing the madness in the South, but to become brides to men they have only seen sketched in a portrait. Some of the families are distraught over the idea of their beloved daughters and sisters traveling the vast plains alone to marry men they’ve never met, but the women are determined and resolute in their desire to go. There are only two men on this journey, the wagonmaster and the guide. While the men predict the journey would test the courage of even the strongest man, they are confident the women will succeed.
Your agent,
Brother K. Love
“This is simply wonderful,” Grace exclaimed. “But who is Brother K. Love?”
“Me. Some newspapers won’t accept items from a woman, so at times I pose as a man.”
Grace understood. “Well, one day things will change.”
“I agree, but if I have to keep up the masquerade until then, so be it.” Katherine smiled and headed off to continue her own preparations for departure.
The women spent the first day of June dismantling the camp. This would be the last night the tents would be used. Down came the laundry, the clotheslines, and Wilma Deets’s makeshift hairdressing shop. The trestle tables were stacked and ready to be placed into one of the supply wagons. The weather was hot and muggy. The humidity had been building steadily for the last four or five days, making everyone wish for a good hard rain. The wish for rain was a double-edged sword, however; yes, everyone wanted it to rain, but no one wanted to begin the journey to Kansas hip deep in mud and soaked to the skin.
By the end of the day, Jackson went back to his tent one tired wagonmaster. He and Dix had spent every waking hour supervising the departure preparations. They’d scanned every inch of each and every wagon one last time in a search for damage or defects; helped the ladies load grandfather clocks, rocking chairs, and sea chests so heavy they had to be filled with rocks. He’d pulled and tested the tightness of the ropes lashing the water barrels to the wagons and made a few women redo the ones that failed his inspection. He’d loaded the supply wagons, fed the animals, and ignored the Mitchell sisters’ complaints about their place in line; it seemed they didn’t want their wagon anywhere near the one being driven by Loreli.
The remembrance of that encounter made him rub his hands over his weary eyes and once again wonder whatever had possessed him to think he could handle this. Admittedly the women had passed each and every test and he was real proud of them, but it was going to be a long, rough drive if he had to listen to petty whining from women like the Mitchell sisters the entire way.
And Grace, what was he going to do about her? Not being able to resolve the dilemma she presented was keeping him up at night. As much as he desired her, he already knew he couldn’t have her the way he wanted her; not always, not forever, because he had too much pride. He couldn’t give her the material things she’d grown up accustomed to having, and with Texas clouding his future, he couldn’t make a commitment to her on any level.
The only logical thing to do was to stay away from her, period, but he didn’t want to do that either. The prospect of not being able to take her in his arms and reacquaint himself with the sweet, hot rush of her kiss or hear her sigh when he brushed his lips across the tops of her breasts was keeping him up at night.
He had no business leaving her dangling this way, but he’d never been in a situation like this before. He’d always preferred cathouse ladies. No claims, no commitments. Six months ago, had someone told him he’d be mooning over a bad-tempered red-haired hellion of a lady banker with buccaneer bloodlines, he’d’ve taken away their tequila. Yet here he sat, wishing for some tequila of his own so he could temporarily banish his need for her.
In the end, his heart won out over his pride. He left the tent to seek her out. The sooner he talked to her, the sooner she could get on with her life and the sooner he could get some sleep.
A weary Grace had just changed into her nightgown in anticipation of a much-needed sleep. She’d spent the day loading her wagon, helping other women load theirs, and overseeing the dismantling of the camp. Now, all she wanted to do was sleep. She was just about to blow out her lantern
when she heard, “Knock, knock.”
She stilled at the familiar sound of Jackson’s voice and the familiar lurch of her heart. “Just a moment,” she called back in reply. She put on her robe. “Come in.”
As he entered her firsts thoughts were, Why did he have to be so handsome? If he’d had the face of a goat maybe he wouldn’t move her so.
“Evening, Grace.”
“Jackson. Is everything coming together?”
“Yep. We should be able to leave on schedule.”
“Good.”
The air between them was thick as the humid night.
“I need to talk to you about something.”
“Go ahead.”
Wondering what this might be about, she steeled herself and waited for him to find the words.
Jackson’s whole being screamed that he not do this, but his mind was made up. “You and I have had a good time these past few weeks and I—”
“You want to bring it all to a halt,” she stated.
He went silent.
“I’m no naive ingenue, Jackson. If you’ve lost interest, fine.”
“Grace—”
“No explanations are needed,” she told him. “It’s been fun, really, and I see no reason why we can’t remain friends.”
Her heart was breaking, but she’d be damned if she’d show it.
Jackson was a bit taken aback by her emotionless acceptance. He’d expected—hell, he didn’t know what he’d been expecting. It was as if she were the one intent upon ending things between them. She’d accused him of losing interest, and although that had nothing to do with his reasoning, he couldn’t help wondering if she were the one who’d lost interest instead. That thought didn’t sit well.
“Is there anything else?” she asked pleasantly.
A bit stunned by the turn of events, he shook his head. “No.”
“Then I’ll see you in the morning.”
Grace swore she’d pluck out her eyes before letting him see her cry. But before he could depart, an ominous rumble of thunder shook the silence. They stilled. A loud crack of lightning sounded. Suddenly, strong winds buffeted the tent. More thunder followed, and then the rain began hitting the tent like rocks. The tent began to sway in the rushing wind. “We need to get to the animals!” Jackson yelled, and ran.
Grace rushed to follow.
Outside, the wind and rain were so fierce it momentarily stole her breath. Flashes of lightning turned night into day and she could see women running helter skelter to secure their wagons and flapping tents and to help Jackson. Barefoot and in her nightgown, Grace was soaked through to her skin before she’d run two yards, but she ran as fast as she could.
At the corral she imitated Jackson’s actions as he yelled and hit the animals on their rumps to move them inside the corral. The Mitchell sisters hadn’t done such a good job rebuilding it, but the small roof Dixon and Jackson had added a few weeks ago served to shelter the animals as much as it could. Other women ran over to lend a hand, as did the Black Seminole lawman, Dixon Wildhorse. Once the animals were reasonably secured, Jackson screamed at her over the clashing elements, “Go back to your tent!”
“I’m staying!”
“Stop being so damned stubborn and go! I can handle it from here!”
The other women and Dix didn’t have to be told twice. Dashing off through the storm, they went back to their tents to seek shelter. Grace peered through the pelting rain in an effort to make sure everyone reached safety.
“Dammit!”
The next thing Grace knew, she was being picked up and carried at a run back toward her tent. She couldn’t protest because the wind kept stealing her breath, so she placed her head against his storm-drenched chest and prayed they didn’t get struck by lightning on the way. Tents were being blown around like tops and Grace prayed hers would be still there. It was, and once inside, he set her on her feet while the wind whipped at the canvas. No longer able to share his body heat, she stood there drenched and shivering from the cold rain. Although the darkness made it hard to see, he evidently sensed her distress. “Get out of those wet things before you catch pneumonia.”
Taking his own advice, he stripped off his wet shirt and dried himself with it as best he could. The intermittent flashes of lightning lit the interior long enough for her to spot her sea chest and she searched inside for a dry gown. She found one by touch and without hesitation reached down and dragged the soggy gown up over her head and off.
Jackson turned her way just in time for a flash of lightning to reveal her nakedness, and his manhood hardened instantaneously. Their eyes met and she paused. Time stood still as heated memories arched between them, then the interior was plunged into darkness again. Another flash showed her quickly donning the dry gown.
Haunted by the touch of his eyes, Grace took the thin blanket from atop her bedroll and wrapped herself in its warmth. “This is the only blanket that isn’t packed,” she told him. “We can share it if you’re cold.”
“No thanks,” Jackson replied, his back to her now. If he went anywhere near her, all bets would be off. He wondered how long it would take him to recover from the stirring sight of her lightning-lit body. “Are you still shivering?”
“Just a little.”
The storm continued to blow and the thunder and lightning continued to call and respond. Grace wondered how everyone else in camp was faring. She hoped no one had gotten hurt. The howling wind seemed to be doing its best to rip the tent from its moorings, but the guide ropes and stakes held. She now appreciated Jackson’s rigid training. Had he not taught her so well, the tent might have already blown away.
Ten minutes later the rain slackened and the rumbling of thunder grew fainter. Thankfully the storm had moved on.
In the darkness, she blindly searched for her matches atop the crate that served as a nightstand. Once the flame caught, she found his eyes waiting, watching. Grace looked away lest he see how he affected her. “We should go out and assess the damage,” she said, dragging on the brogans most of the women had taken to wearing.
When she looked up he was still watching her with hungry eyes.
“Is something wrong?”
For a moment there was silence as Jackson thought to himself, Yes, there is. I want you so badly I can almost taste the rain on your skin, your lips, your breasts. But aloud he said, “No. Let’s go see what’s still standing.”
She followed him out.
Grace was glad for the ugly boots on her feet as she slogged through the mud. The valley was littered with downed tree limbs, damaged tents, and blown-over empty barrels and crates. Led by Loreli, many of the women had taken shelter in the shell of the old church at the top of the rise and they were now descending to see what the storm had done. Very few of the tents were still upright. The weight of the contents in the wagons had kept them from being blown around, but things like bedding and unpacked clothing were soaked.
“You ladies without tents should probably sleep up in the church,” Jackson told the bedraggled women. “We’ll right everything in the morning.”
The women gathered up as much dry bedding as could be found, then trudged up the rise to the church.
Grace and Jackson were left in the clearing alone.
“I’ll walk you back,” he told her.
“That’s not necessary. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She walked off into the night.
As he watched her leave, Jackson realized that declaring himself free of her was going to be a lot more difficult than he’d imagined. His previous efforts had failed, but he was determined to succeed this time. Grace deserved better than a broken-down cowboy, and because she did, he’d just have to be that much more disciplined in her presence. But as he headed over to his own tent, all he could think about was making love to her while thunder roared and lightning flashed around them.
Jackson woke up the next morning in a surly mood. He’d had yet another sleepless night and he blamed it squarely on Grace. W
ere she as ugly as the Mitchell sisters he wouldn’t be having this problem. Getting up, he washed up in the water from his bucket and got dressed. He stepped out into a beautiful blue-sky day, but his mood was gray and dank.
Grace rose that same morning thinking of Jackson and pledged that after this she would avoid handsome men at all costs. Her heart had now suffered at the hands of two such individuals and it would not happen again. Although she’d promised herself she wouldn’t dwell on the matter, she again wondered if Jackson had set his sights on someone else. He’d promised not to prey on the brides, but as handsome as he was, he was probably accustomed to sampling women as if they were chocolates in a box. Her declaration that she wouldn’t be going to Kansas City with a broken heart now rang hollow.
Thoughts of Jackson dogged her morning and put a damper on her excitement over leaving. After breakfast she went back to her tent to ready the last of her possessions for transport to her wagon. She’d just closed her sea chest when she looked up to see him standing in the entrance of her tent. There was a scowl on his face and he appeared as if he’d had a restless night.
“Is there something you need?”
“Yes,” he said, striding over to her. “This…”
And he pulled her to him. With his arm locked across her back, he looked down at her with dark blazing eyes and said, “Thought you might like one last kiss.”
He then kissed her so possessively and thoroughly she melted into her brogans. The kiss was at first angry, then tender, overpowering and dazzling. Any thoughts she might have had about protesting his actions turned to ash in his fiery embrace. She found herself responding with such fervor he groaned and dragged her closer. For a few hot moments all their pent-up passion and need exploded like a blast of lightning, and when he turned her loose, she was breathing heavily. “Now, that’s how to say good-bye.”
Always and Forever Page 17
