Tears pushed into Hope’s eyes as she realized Mrs. Smythe wasn’t kidding. She honestly wasn’t going to travel west with her. Her gaze sought the woman, pleading for mercy.
A gentle smiled tugged at the woman’s lips. “You can do it. Put your faith in God.”
Hope snorted. Was God going to come down and cook her family’s meals? Was He going to get blisters on His hands driving the wagon? Was He going to walk through miles and miles of harsh land? No. No more than He miraculously put a stop to her son’s hooliganism.
Hope had two strong hands and a strong body to boot. She could learn to cook. She would learn and by the time she reached Oregon, she’d be the best cook that ever flipped flapjacks over an open fire.
Gathering her courage, she squared her shoulders and leveled her gaze at Mrs. Smythe. “Come and draw your pay. I will provide the fare for passage back to Chicago. Feel free to stay at the house until you procure other employment. I will be happy to write you a letter of recommendation, as well.”
Tears glistened in the woman’s eyes. Hope wrapped her arms about her.
“I feel like a traitor, leaving you like this, Miz Parker.”
Hope forced a cheery tone. “Don’t you think anything of it. We’ll be okay.”
Only a slight tremor betrayed her confidence. But Hope Parker faced what she had to face. And when things didn’t work out the way she expected them to, she found another way to get what she wanted. A little snag like suddenly having to learn to cook was not going to do her in.
Five
The smell of burning meat beckoned Andy from his dreams of walking through the woods handinhand with his beautiful young bride. Yellow Bird. Her soft, bronze skin quickened his pulse, and he pulled her against him just as a loud clanging interrupted the tender moment.
“I hate this!”
The cry of distress brought him fully awake and to the remembrance that Yellow Bird was no longer his wife. Hope was. Uneasy guilt crept through him as he dragged himself from his pallet outside the wagon opening and rubbed his eyes.
He stretched, wishing he’d been granted a few more hours of sleep. Between trying to prepare for the trek west and keeping his promise to Hope that Gregory wouldn’t wander away under cover of darkness, Andy had barely slept two hours a night during the past few days. The lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll on his strength.
After taking a few moments to wake up, he joined Hope at the fire.
Smoke billowed from the skillet and Hope stood over it, waving away the thick clouds with her apron. She avoided his gaze and fanned, doing little to thin out the smoke.
“Move back,” Andy instructed. Grabbing the bottom of his shirt, he used it as a glove and removed the skillet from the fire, tossing it facedown into the dirt. The smoke soon dissipated.
“I’m never going to get the hang of this cooking.” Hope spewed the words rather than speaking them. She paced in front of the smoldering skillet waving her arms like a crazy woman. “We’re all going to starve to death if I can’t find someone to come along to cook for us.”
At the catch in her throat, Andy’s chest swelled with tenderness. “I don’t claim to be any kind of kitchen maid, but I can rustle up bacon and eggs and some hardtack biscuits.”
Hope sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and her eyes clouded with indecision. “It doesn’t seem fair, with all the other things you have to do, that you should have to cook, as well.”
“I don’t mind.” Truth be told, he’d just as soon cook the food himself and have an edible meal for a change.
Tears filled Hope’s eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Andy. I didn’t realize how difficult a job cooking could be. I just never thought about it before. Mrs. Smythe made it seem so effortless. I. . .I don’t think I paid the poor woman nearly enough.”
Chuckling, Andy reached out and thumbed away a tear, marveling at the softness of her skin and picking up on the fact that she’d called him by his given name for the first time in their twomonth acquaintance. Hope didn’t often show a vulnerable side, and Andy enjoyed it more than he would have thought possible. He was drawn to her glistening eyes, which appeared green against the backdrop of trees a few yards away. They searched his face for a moment, then clouded and looked away.
He dropped his hand. “Why don’t you go and wash your face? When you come back I’ll show you how to fry bacon.” Again.
Her eyes clouded with skepticism, but to her credit, she gave a curt nod. “I’ll only be a minute.”
Watching her walk away, Andy’s heart went out to her. He had a feeling Hope Parker wasn’t accustomed to failing at something she attempted. And he had no doubt that, given time, she would master cooking, as well. In the meantime, he hoped she wouldn’t be too offended if he helped out. He’d cooked over an open fire on the trail more times in his adult life than he’d had a homecooked meal.
“Oh, no. Don’t tell me she burned breakfast again!”
Betsy’s voice rang through the early morning air, and Andy was sure everyone in the camp heard the little girl’s cry. He hurried to the second wagon and snatched her up, pulling her through the opening in the canvas before she could embarrass Hope any more.
“Hush, Bets. You want the whole camp to hear you?”
“Did she burn the bacon again?” Her tone, though decidedly softer was just as filled with disappointment and dread. “I’m sick of burned food. I hate it.”
Andy brushed a finger across her perky little nose and gave her a stern frown. “Your ma’s trying her best to learn how to cook, so you show her some respect.”
“Yes, sir,” the little girl mumbled.
“Now take that skillet and wash it out for me. Then I’ll cook us up some crispy brown bacon that will melt in your mouth.”
“You’re going to cook?” Betsy asked, her eyes clouded in skepticism.
“Yes, little missy, I sure am.”
Emitting a longsuffering sigh, she shook her head. “I’m going to starve before we get to Oregon,” she muttered, picking up the skillet and heading to the bucket of water.
Watching her go, Andy grinned and grabbed a few potatoes from the bin in the first wagon. His moving around awakened Billy. The little boy sniffed the air and gave a sleepy moan. “Ma burned breakfast again. I’m not getting up.”
“Yes, you are,” Andy said firmly. “And don’t let me hear you saying anything to make her feel bad about it, either.”
The boy sat up, his brown hair sticking out from his head like a scarecrow’s arms. Andy couldn’t hold back a smirk.
“What?” Billy asked, frowning.
“Make sure you take a comb to that hair before you come outside.” He grinned at the boy. “Looks like you’ve been running in a stiff wind.”
Andy walked back to the fire. Betsy had returned with the scrubbed skillet, but Hope was nowhere to be seen. Figuring she must not want much of a cooking lesson, he went ahead and started breakfast. They had a full day ahead of them—the last day before pulling out in the morning.
He sliced some bacon and, while it cooked, he peeled and cut up the potatoes. After the bacon was done, he set it on a separate dish and kept it near the fire so it wouldn’t get cold. Then, he set the slices of potato into the popping bacon grease to cook. He stepped away from the fire and folded up his pallet. He set his blankets inside the wagon shared by Francis and Gregory. The old driver’s bed was empty, but Gregory’s snores nearly shook the wagon.
“Time to get up, son.”
Receiving no response, he reached in and shook the boy. “Let’s go, Greg.”
The figure beneath the quilt sat up.
Andy sucked in a breath to discover Francis had been sleeping beneath Greg’s covers.
“What are you doing?” he demanded of the older man.
“I would think that’s painfully obvious,” Francis retorted in his habitual manner of showing contempt for Andy. “I was sleeping and now I’m waking up.”
Ignoring t
he condescending tone, Andy motioned toward the other berth. “Where’s Greg?”
“How should I know where the boy is?”
“You’re using his blanket.”
The surprise on Francis’s face couldn’t have been feigned as he glanced down at his covers. “He must have laid this over me and snuck away.” A chuckle rumbled the man’s chest. “A bright idea.”
“Yeah, the kid’s a regular genius,” Andy muttered, feeling like an idiot for thinking the two of them had reached a sort of understanding yesterday.
He stalked back to the fire. “Betsy, keep stirring those potatoes so they don’t burn. If your mother comes back, tell her I went looking for Greg.”
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Riley.” Hope’s accusing glare accompanied the icy tone of her voice. Greg stood beside her, disheveled and, clearly, he’d been in a scuffle. His eyes spit rebellion; his expression dared Andy to do something about it.
Snatching Greg by his collar, Andy yanked him away from his mother and walked him back to the wagon before Hope could recover and protest. He picked him up by his shirt and belt loops and tossed him inside. “Get cleaned up and be ready for breakfast in ten minutes. We have a full day’s work ahead of us.”
“You can’t tell me what to do!”
“Yes,” he said pointedly, “I can. Francis will stay here to keep an eye on you until you’re dressed.” Turning to Francis, he gave the servant a look that clearly warned him not to argue.
Greg glared, all the camaraderie of the day before gone from his demeanor. Andy felt like a fool. The lad had obviously been building his confidence so he could sneak off when Andy’s guard was down. And it had worked. He must have slept harder than he’d realized. And the boy had taken full advantage of it.
Stinging with wounded pride, he walked back to the fire. Betsy still stirred the potatoes, which were now a ball of mush, but at least they weren’t burnt and, therefore, were edible.
He took over and spooned the potato glob onto another dish. He set Betsy and Billy to cracking the eggs into a bowl while he scraped the potato remains from the skillet. When breakfast was finally ready, the fare included cold bacon, mushy potatoes, and scrambled eggs.
Andy found himself unable to meet Hope’s gaze. He knew he’d let her down, and he felt the weight of regret knot inside his gut. All she’d asked of him was that he help her get to Oregon and protect her son. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing disappointment in one more person’s eyes.
Would he ever do anything right?
❧
Hope couldn’t contain her tears as she scrubbed the eggcrusted skillet. Perhaps she was making a mistake after all. It wasn’t too late to pull out and go home. The wagon train was due to move out first thing in the morning, but things were looking pretty bleak for Hope. Confusion twisted her stomach into knots.
The twins were beside themselves with excitement and would be crushed if she turned back. But Gregory had already found trouble. Even in a new town. Would this be his pattern forever? Did it really matter if they moved two thousand miles away from the influences of Chicago? Apparently, bad boys were drawn to each other without any rhyme or reason.
If Gregory was going to draw those sorts of influences no matter where they went, what was the point in putting herself and the twins through the hardship? This latest development with Gregory, coming on the heels of Mrs. Smythe’s resignation, had crushed what little optimism Hope possessed.
The fact that she was a miserable excuse for a cook had stolen all of her confidence. Despite all evidence to substantiate the wretched truth of the matter, she had trouble wrapping her mind around the fact that her cooking was inedible. Hope Parker did not fail. She did whatever it took to succeed. So this lack of culinary ability bit her to the core. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t seem to get the hang of it. She wiped the skillet dry and hung it on a peg on the outside of the wagon. At least she could wash a dish. That was something, anyway. Though she had to admit she didn’t much care for the chore.
Wiping her palms along the sides of her skirt, she glanced about the camp. White tents sat alongside wagons and small fires smoldered as the campers prepared for their final day before they officially became emigrants. In the wagon directly next to theirs, a young bride blushed at something her gangly husband whispered in her ear from behind. She shooed him away, feigning offense. The young man grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him. The bride gave up all pretenses and melted against him.
Hope bit back a smile and averted her gaze to give them privacy. Young love such as theirs had eluded her. And now, she was in the second loveless marriage of her own choosing. Pushing down the melancholy, she steeled her heart against an onslaught of emotions. She had entangled herself legally in a marriage of convenience for Gregory’s sake. What sort of fool was she to think that the boy would make a miraculous turnabout just because she’d sacrificed?
Climbing into her wagon, she sat at the edge of her berth and looked around the cramped quarters—her home for the next five months. She buried her face in her palms and tried to focus her raging, conflicting thoughts into something concrete. A plan of action. That’s what she needed. And it had to be fast.
She had two choices. Sell the wagons and supplies she’d purchased and go back to Chicago on the next steamer up the river. Or forge ahead with her plans and hope for the best where Gregory was concerned. The choices made her head spin.
She still couldn’t believe the boy had slipped through Andy’s fingers last night. She knew it wasn’t her husband’s fault. The poor man had barely slept in weeks in order to keep Greg from sneaking out and running away as he’d threatened when he discovered Hope’s plans.
She had to admit, Andy had more than paid back the measly two hundred dollars she’d paid to get Mr. Dobson to call off his thugs.
With a rise and fall of her shoulders, she considered her actions over the past weeks. What sort of a fool married a stranger and paid him to stay married to her? Especially when it appeared Gregory would be no better off, despite the two thousand miles separating him and the bad influences awaiting him back in Chicago.
Perhaps she should allow Andy an annulment and take the children and head back to Chicago. Standing, she tied the makeshift cot to the wall and started to climb down. A warm hand on her back startled her, and she let out a screech.
“Take it easy,” Andy’s voice broke through her panic. “I was just going to help you down.”
Heat suffused her cheeks. “Wh–where’s Greg?”
“Working the team with Francis.”
“I’m glad you came back, Mr. Riley. . .”
“Are we back to that?”
Frowning, Hope tipped her chin and met his gaze. “What do you mean?”
The soft brown eyes twinkled as they stared down at her. “You called me Andy earlier. I thought maybe we were dispensing with formalities.”
“Oh. I. . .I suppose that would be all right. Except that. . .”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Except what?
“I was actually just about to come and find you.”
A valley formed between his eyes as he scrutinized her. “Come here.” His hand wrapped hers easily in its warmth, and he led her to the bench he’d crafted the first day in camp. They sat. Keeping her hand firmly in his grasp, he demanded answers with his gaze.
“I think I made a mistake coming here.” Unable to bear the intensity of his questioning gaze, she stared at their clasped hands and cleared her throat. “I. . .um. . .I just think that we might all be better off if I just go back home.”
His eyes narrowed. “What are you getting at?”
“Just what it sounds like. I’ve decided to take my children home. You’re welcome to the wagons and supplies. It’s the least I can do after all your help.”
“What about the bad influences you were so concerned about?”
Hope chilled to his mocking tone. Her defenses rose. “Apparently Greg will find trouble no matte
r where he goes.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” He dropped her hand. “I don’t guess I can blame you. I didn’t keep my end of the bargain.”
Selfcondemnation burned in his eyes. Hope touched his arm. “I didn’t mean that. You’ve done remarkably well these past weeks. Sometimes you just can’t run away and expect things to be any different than they were in the first place.”
“I didn’t figure you were running away so much as breaking a path for your children to have a better life.” He captured her gaze. “I admired you for it.”
And now he doesn’t.
“Thank you, Mr. Riley. I’m sorry to destroy your admiration, but I see no point in uprooting the twins for a child who will most likely not change despite my efforts.”
He stood and nodded. “I can see your mind’s made up so I won’t try to hold you. But I think you’re making a big mistake. A lot can happen to change a boy in five months. I think it’ll do Greg a world of good. But you’re his mother. I’ll start packing the gear and I’ll let the wagon master know we won’t be traveling with the train in the morning.”
Watching him stride away, Hope pushed aside a sudden rush of doubt. Depression settled over her as she began rifling through her belongings, separating the items to keep and those they would resell.
It was for the best.
Six
Andy tethered his horse to a hitching post a full block from the saloon entrance. His throat thickened as he fought an inward battle. A battle he’d thought was over weeks ago. Now it raged with a ferocity that left his gut quivering, his hands trembling as he clenched and unclenched his fists.
For the past two hours, he’d wandered through streets, on horseback, trying to find a reason to turn around and ride back to the wagon train without giving in to the temptation.
Everlasting Hope Page 4
