He wiped his parched lips with the back of his hand, anticipating the warm feeling of liquid amnesia. He hadn’t touched the stuff since Hope had pulled him out of the alley. Once the shaking stopped and the cravings dulled, he’d had the fortitude to vow never to touch another drop. But that was when he had another purpose in life. Now that Hope and the children were leaving for Chicago, what reason did he have to keep walking the straight and narrow?
Back at the campsite, he knew the pioneers were making last minute preparations. Excited children were being put to bed by equally excited parents. All but one family who, instead of preparing for tomorrow’s adventure, was spending one more night in the wagon train and would board a steamer in the morning to head back up the Missouri River. The thought sent daggers of regret through him.
Disappointment propelled him, once more, toward the sound of the outoftune piano music accompanied by raucous laughter. The kind of laughter born, not of humor, but of the desperate need to laugh rather than cry. Because once the crying started, there was no stopping it.
He hesitated and stared again at the swinging doors. His emotions and desires played a tugofwar with reason and good sense.
The last few weeks had changed him. He could admit that. When Yellow Bird died three years ago, life lost all meaning. Hope and her children had redefined that meaning. For a little while.
This morning, stark reality came flashing back to him. Reality that nauseated him. Made him want to slam his fist into a wall to let out some of his frustration. Failure seemed to chase him like a wolf after a rabbit.
Perhaps he could turn his luck around once he arrived in Oregon. Back home where, hopefully, his ma and brothers hadn’t forgotten about him. Tomorrow he would begin the trek west.
At Hope’s insistence, he’d accepted the wagons and supplies as payment for his help over the past few weeks. Payment. Andy’s bitter laugh raised a curious glance from a passing cowpoke who was headed into the saloon—no doubt to spend every penny of his hardearned salary.
Andy hadn’t needed payment. Hope had saved him, married him, and for a while, had given him a glimpse of a new life. If either of them deserved some kind of payment, she did. Now, because he’d failed to keep his promise to protect her son, she was leaving him. He’d never see Billy and little Betsy again. Even Gregory, as much as he frustrated Andy, had found a spot to call his own in Andy’s life.
Tentacles of pain once again clutched Andy’s heart, tearing away the last of his resolve. With purpose, he stepped toward the doors.
“Pa!”
He jerked around just as someone slammed into him. Scrawny arms gripped him around the waist and held him tightly.
“Greg?”
“Help me, Pa! Don’t let them take me.”
Andy glanced up to see the sheriff striding toward him, lines of anger etched in his face. Dread burned inside of him. What had the boy done now? “Why aren’t you at the wagon train looking after your ma?” Carefully, he set Greg away from him.
“Why aren’t you?” Greg shot back.
Heat burned Andy’s neck, but he had no time to set the lad straight. “What seems to be the problem, Sheriff?”
“This your son?” The sheriff gave them both a dubious onceover. Andy could only imagine what a contrast they made in appearance. With his dark blond hair and hazel eyes, Greg didn’t even come close to resembling Andy.
“By marriage,” he replied truthfully.
The man nodded. “Well, I’m afraid he’ll have to come with me.”
“What are the charges?”
“Stealing. And I caught him redhanded so there’s no point in telling me I’ve got the wrong boy. The other two got away, but this one was right there with them.”
“Don’t let him take me, Pa. It ain’t true.”
“Be quiet, Greg!” Thankful that he wasn’t trying to think through a whiskeyinduced fog, Andy searched his mind for a solution to this predicament. He grasped Greg’s upper arms and forced the boy to look him in the eye. “First thing we’re going to do is go with the sheriff so I can get to the bottom of this.”
Fear flashed across Greg’s face. “My ma ain’t going to like that.”
“Well, your ma ain’t here,” Andy retorted. “I am. And I’d rather go to the sheriff’s office than stand out here on the street and tell the whole town about your thieving. I think your ma would be a sight more ashamed of that. Lead the way, Sheriff.”
Once they reached the jail, the sheriff opened the door and stepped aside so Greg and Andy could precede him into the building. “I’m going to have to lock him up.” He grabbed a large metal key and Andy heard the sound of metal clanging upon metal then the barred door opened.
“No! You can’t put me in jail!” Greg latched onto Andy. “Don’t let him put me in there. Please. I’ll do anything
you say.”
Andy’s throat grew thick from concern and disgust. The boy was acting like a papoose. Worse than a papoose. Most Indian babies were disciplined early on. Greg desperately needed to be taught a lesson. Disentangling himself from Greg’s grasp, he nodded to the sheriff.
“Let’s go, boy.”
Greg backed away, his eyes wild with fright. Andy’s heart went out to him, but he knew there was nothing he could do. The boy had to learn about consequences. Reaching around, he gripped Greg’s arm. “Take it like a man,” he said quietly.
Angling his head so that he looked up into Andy’s eyes, Greg fixed him with a ragefilled glare. Raw hatred that clearly blamed Andy for the mess he was in. He jerked his arm free and sauntered into the cell. “My ma’ll get me out by tomorrow anyway, then we’re headed back home.”
“Don’t count on it, son.” The sheriff banged the cell shut.
“Care if I have a word with you outside, Sheriff?” Andy motioned his head toward the door.
The sheriff nodded. Once on the boardwalk, Andy studied the lawman. “What did the boy do, exactly?”
A heavy sigh passed through the sheriff’s lips. “I caught three of them sneaking out of Gray’s General Store.”
Relief sifted through Andy. Anything the boys had stolen from a store could be returned to the owner. “I’d be happy to see the boy returns anything he took.”
“I wish it were that easy.” Shaking his head, the man leaned against the building. “Somehow those boys found out that Mr. Gray keeps a locked box of cash in a secret space under the counter. Mr. Gray claims there was over a hundred dollars in the box.
“What about the other boys?”
“I didn’t catch a good look at them. I got ahold of your son in there, but the others took off licketysplit. They took the box.”
Andy’s heart sank. “What’ll happen to the boy?”
“The judge should be through in the next couple of weeks, and he’ll most likely sentence him to a juvenile reformatory somewhere.”
“A reformatory?” Andy had heard about boys who went to the socalled “houses of refuge.” Generally, children came out worse than when they entered such a facility.
“Be glad he has that option. Otherwise he’d go to prison along with grown men.”
“There’s no way you can drop the charges?”
He scratched at the stubble on his chin. “Mr. Gray is madder than a wet hen. Unless he drops the charges himself, my hands are tied.” He nodded across the street to the sign indicating the store. “You’re free to try to reason with him, seeing as how young your boy is and all. Wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot. Just knock on the front. He lives in the storeroom.”
“Thanks. I believe I’ll do just that.” Andy shook the sheriff’s hand and said goodbye. A scowl crunched his face as he walked across the street. If the boy had to rob a store, couldn’t he have used good sense and picked one that wasn’t across from the sheriff’s office?
He knocked on the door. No one answered, so he knocked again. With more force.
“Who is it?” The gruff voice came from within, but Andy couldn’t see into the darkened
store.
“Name’s Andy Riley.”
“Store’s closed. Come back in the morning.”
“Actually, I came to talk to you about one of the boys who robbed you tonight.”
Silence ensued until the key slid into the door, and a bell dinged as the man opened up. “Did the sheriff find my money?”
White tufts of hair stood out from the middle of the man’s head where his hairline receded. The wrinkles on his face pinched together in a scowl that Andy couldn’t quite begrudge him. After all, when a man had been robbed, he had a perfect right to be angry. But Andy hoped reason might prevail over anger.
“The only boy he caught didn’t have it on him.”
“Well, at least one of those hooligans will spend a good long time locked up for stealing in the first place. Maybe that’ll be a warning to the rest of his friends.” He swiped his gnarly hand over his hair. “Not that that does me much good.”
“Mr. Gray.” Hoping to appeal to the man’s sense of reason, Andy latched on to his last statement. “That’s exactly the point I’d like to make. My boy isn’t the only one involved and he doesn’t have any of your money. His mother is leaving for Chicago in the morning and would be heartbroken if forced to leave her boy behind.”
“Just what are you getting at?” Deep creases formed between the man’s eyes. “You want me to drop the charges?”
“I’d be obliged. We can assure you that Greg won’t be around town to do you any more harm.”
“But that still don’t get me my money back.” He shook his head. “No. The boy’s got to learn a lesson.”
“What if restitution were made?” Andy swallowed hard. How would he come up with a hundred dollars? His mind shot to the saloon. A few good hands might do the trick. But could he really risk it when he only had ten dollars to his name?
“Well, now. I might be inclined to talk to the sheriff if I had my money back in my hands by morning.”
Despite the hopelessness of the situation, Andy found himself promising to repay the full amount by the time the store opened the following day. He shot a glance toward the jailhouse then headed that way, determination guiding his steps. Before he came up with a plan to get that money, he and Greg were going to come to an understanding.
❧
A gray dawn followed a sleepless night for Hope. She’d watched Andy ride away from camp at sundown, but hadn’t seen him return. Her heart sank to her toes as she surmised where his destination mostly likely had been.
After seeing Gregory safely tucked into bed with Francis’ promise not to let the boy out of his sight, she had retired, as well. Her mind swam with possible futures. What if she did return to Chicago and Gregory was worse than ever? What if he straightened up and decided he’d caused her enough grief? What if she went on to Oregon? Would he be a changed boy by the time they arrived? Or would he be worse than ever?
An even worse scenario presented its horrifying image sometime near dawn. What if they were attacked by Indians and the whole wagon train was murdered and scalped. What sort of mother took her children across two thousand miles of rough terrain and hostile lands? On the other hand, what sort of mother took her troublesome son back to Chicago where he most certainly would reconnect with his bad friends?
“If You could give me some sort of sign about what I should do, maybe I’d believe in You,” she whispered into the darkness of her canvas home.
A knock outside the wagon startled her, and she felt like she’d been caught stealing. She shook her head at her foolishness. She’d actually said a prayer.
“Just a moment,” she called, reaching for her wrapper. When she was decent, she opened the flap. Her heart reacted to Andy’s presence standing tall and handsome outside of her wagon. Gregory stood next to him. “What are you two doing together?”
“The boy has something he’d like to say to you.”
“What is it, Greg?”
His face reddened considerably and he swallowed hard. Andy nudged him. “Go on.”
“I. . .I just wanted to say I’m sorry for all the. . .” He paused and leaned toward Andy. Andy turned his head away and whispered. Greg nodded. “. . .grief I’ve caused you in my young, miserable life.”
He paused again. Andy whispered again. Hope felt a giggle coming on and fought hard to suppress it.
Greg cleared his throat. “I appreciate the sacrifices you’ve made to make me straighten up.” Pause. Whisper. Nudge. “And I think I would become a much better citizen if we go to Oregon like we planned.”
Fighting hard to keep her laughter at bay, Hope regarded her son evenly. “Are you sure this is what you want, Greg?”
The boy scowled. Andy cleared his throat. Loudly. “Yes, Ma.”
“It’s not too late?” She turned the question to Andy.
“All the supplies are still here. The only thing is that I’m going to help drive the wagons instead of riding horseback.”
“What will you do with your mount?”
Greg and Andy both stared at the ground. Now it was Andy’s turn to pause. He scrubbed at the perpetual stubble along his jaw. “I. . .uh. . .”
“He sold it, Ma.”
A gasp escaped Hope’s throat and she looked from Greg to Andy. “But why?”
“I can’t share my reason, Hope. You’ll just have to trust me that I didn’t get into trouble. I didn’t lose it in a game or sell it for the same purpose.”
He gazed at her with such earnestness that Hope couldn’t question him. She decided to trust her husband. Whatever he’d done to convince Greg to straighten up had been brilliant. The boy looked more subdued than she could remember in a very long time.
She smiled at her son, and then Andy. “Well, I’d better get dressed. We have a long day ahead of us. I suppose you’d better give me that cooking lesson after all.”
“My pleasure.” His smile reached his eyes, making Hope’s pulse race.
Flustered, she averted her gaze. “F–fine. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
Without waiting for a response, she dropped the flap. A smile curved her lips as she hurriedly donned one of her new, serviceable gowns. “Wake up, sleepyheads,” she called to the twins. “We’re going to Oregon today!”
Billy raised his head and gave her a sleepy look. “Did you forget? We’re going back to Chicago.”
Ruffling his head, Hope laughed out loud. “No, I didn’t forget. Our plans have changed back. We’re going west. So get up so we can start the day.”
Billy whooped and jumped up. “Betsy! It worked! We’re going to Oregon. It really worked!” His exuberance overwhelmed him and he flung himself into Hope’s arms. She laughed.
“What worked?” she asked.
“The reverend said if we prayed and it was God’s will for us to go to Oregon that God would talk to your heart and make you think it was your own idea.”
“Oh, the reverend did, eh?” Indignation rolled over Hope, smothering her sudden joy. “Well, just remember it’s okay for people to have their own beliefs.”
“Yes, ma’am. And I believe God is sending us to Oregon just like we prayed!”
“And Ma thinks it’s all her idea, just like the reverend said she would.” Betsy hopped up and joined her brother’s antics, jumping around the tiny space. “It’s a sign!”
A sign? Hope suddenly felt cold and hot all at the same time. What had she prayed only a few minutes earlier? If You could give me some sort of sign about what I should do, maybe I’d believe in You.
Jerking her chin, she pulled at her hair, setting it into a firm knot at the top of her head. “And maybe I will.”
“What?”
She glanced at her bewildered twins. “Never mind. Get dressed and meet me outside.” She crawled toward the flap then turned back and grinned. “Today we go to Oregon!”
Seven
The excitement of pioneering wore off before the first exhausting week on the trail came to an end. Now, several weeks later, the thought of spending every day for
the next four months staring at the backside of a horse seemed intolerable. Cruel, in fact.
Furthermore, despite Andy’s assurance that she would grow accustomed to the rigors of the trail, her screaming muscles contradicted the promise with every movement. She woke each morning with knots of pain in her legs and arms.
But she would have gladly endured whatever hardships were demanded of her if only she didn’t have to cook. Not only was she a complete failure at the task, she hated every second of it. There wasn’t one thing she could fix that her family deemed tasty. Indeed, her efforts were met with dread and disgust. But who could blame them?
More often than not, it was Andy who—under the guise of giving a cooking lesson—prepared the meals. This was the bane of her existence. As if the layers of dust weren’t bad enough. At the end of the day, she had the humiliating experience of the entire camp witnessing her failure.
But today, she was determined not to focus on the negative issues like trail grime and bad cooking. The wagon master had presented the pioneers with an unaccustomed reprieve from the monotony of life on the trail, and she had every intention of enjoying a few hours of relaxation.
Last evening, the wagon train veered off the beaten path, camping only two miles from a small town. Though the wagon master usually stayed clear of settlements, he announced his opinion that the little band of emigrants needed a change of pace. The travelers heartily agreed and began preparing for a day to explore the countryside or roam the town.
To Hope, neither roaming nor exploring held any appeal. She’d decided to spend the day resting. She allowed Andy and the children to gallivant while she stretched out on her berth and rewarded her aching muscles with some muchneeded relaxation.
The stillness of the camp was broken only by the occasional lowing of cattle or the sound of industrious men making repairs to their wagons or reinforcing axles. In the distance, she heard the strumming of a guitar accompanied by soft singing. The gentle strains lulled her to a semiconscious state. And soon she submerged under a veil of dreamy darkness.
Tap tap tap.
Hope woke with a start and sat up quickly. Sleepinduced confusion caused her to blink and glance around the wagon, wondering why on earth she was sleeping in the heat of the day.
Everlasting Hope Page 5
