Her head began to ache as the sky darkened. Neither of the Warrens had returned, and she didn’t want to go looking for them. Marie relaxed into her bed, lying on her side while reading the book.
She woke up warm and against Charles. Anger still clung to her like a thin sheet of frost on the prairie. Marie swallowed, wanting to be away from him, but not away from the blankets. She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to dwell on conflict so early in the day. Last night’s argument had been nothing new; yet, Marie’s attitude had changed. When the dawn spread across the sky, she knew the day would start with or without her. She eased herself from under her husband’s arm, careful to bring the guidebook with her. After exchanging the book for the coffee pot in the back of the wagon, she made her way to the river.
Marie passed by Sam’s camp. She at first fought the urge to look for him. Her efforts lasted until seeing him asleep. She stopped, staring. He looked younger, almost like a little boy. Thinking of how it’d feel to wake up in his arms, she shuddered. Marie longed to kneel beside him, kissing his face. She smiled, not even minding if he had scratchy stubble. The desire to touch him compelled her a step forward. The movement shook her out her trance. She turned and continued on to the water, needing the coffee to clear her mind of all these daydreams.
By the time she returned to where Sam and his men slept, they were all awake. She nodded a greeting at Uncle Joe when he smiled at her. Once past Sam, Marie struggled to not look back at him. She hurried to camp. Careful to step around Hester and Charles, she stoked the embers, adding the dried brush stacked nearby. She exchanged the cook pot with the coffee pot and started the coffee brewing.
She peered inside the pan. No one had cleaned it. Last night’s sludge grayed the contents, and her stomach churned a little at the mess. She wanted to leave it for Hester. Unwilling to listen to the other woman’s complaints, Marie grabbed the handle, a spoon, and went to the river. Sam and his men had left their camp. She saw ahead how Arnold washed dishes, and Uncle Joe folded blankets with Lucky. Lefty and Sam weren’t in view. Not that she was hoping to see anyone in particular, Marie thought. She neared the bank, suppressing a smile at her foolishness.
Even from here, Marie could tell how Sam kneeled next to the river in among the tall grasses. She went to his right and scooped up some water so the pan could soak. Placing the pot down on the riverbank and settling in nearby, she began using a spoon to chisel off the food.
He paused in his shaving to say, “Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
He shaved for a while before adding, “There’s not a lot of people up and around just yet.”
“No, most are slow from the chill.” She stood up and poured the water away from where they sat. Not quite satisfied, Marie refilled the pot and sat.
“You seem fine.”
She paused in her work and smiled at him. “I am, thank you, as do you.”
“So you’re not leaving us until later.”
“Not until Fort Hall, it seems.”
“We’re taking the long way, now. The plan is to follow this stream until it joins with the Big Sandy. It adds a few days to the trip and shortens the desert we have to cross.” He glanced at her, “I’m confident taking our time until Fort Hall won’t doom any of us.”
“Maybe we should have gone south after all.”
He glanced at her with a mixed expression of fear and sorrow. “No. You can’t do that.” As if embarrassed from his outburst, Sam took his small towel and wiped the traces of foam from his chin. He smiled and leaned into her. “Feel my face, to see if it’s smooth enough.”
She put a hand to his cheek. His face seemed cool under her palm. Before she could stop herself, she gave him a slight caress. “You feel perfect to me.”
In a sudden movement, Sam turned his head to press his lips against her skin. He kissed her, taking a little nibble of the fleshy part near her thumb. She gasped at the feeling, and he looked into her eyes. Marie lost herself in those clear blue eyes. “Sam.” He held her one hand in both of his as if unwilling to let her go. She bit her lip as he kissed each of her knuckles. Neither had broken their gaze and in as quiet of a voice as possible, she said, “I love you.”
Chapter 7
Her words both thrilled and scared Sam. He stared at her for a few seconds. “Did I hear you correctly?”
“Oh dear.” She put a hand to her mouth. “I suppose, a little.”
He grinned at her blush. “It feels like a lot to my heart.”
After a quick glance around to see if anyone listened in, she said, “I’ve thought the words so much about you, they’ve become natural to say aloud.”
Fort Hall suddenly seemed much too close, the time and distance too short. “Marie, you can’t leave me.”
“No, I can’t. Not yet, anyway.” She patted his arm. “We’re infatuated now, which will soon pass.” Standing, she tossed out and refilled the pan while saying, “By the time we reach the fort, all this could amount to nothing more than friendship.”
He searched his feelings like a tongue searches for a missing tooth. Getting to his feet, Sam looked into her eyes to see if she believed her words. He smiled. She didn’t and the earnestness he saw there telegraphed how much she wanted to do so. Very well, he’d let her think whatever she wanted. He had a couple of months until Hall to convince her otherwise. “I agree.”
She frowned at him. “You do?”
“Yep. I’m good with seeing if familiarity does breed contempt.” He winked at Marie’s blush. “I’d like to see just how contemptuous we could be together.”
Her face grew redder. “Mr. Granville, you are an awful man.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He tipped the brim of an imaginary hat to tease her. “I can’t stay so you can tell me more. We have a long day ahead and need to get going.”
“Too bad. Maybe this evening?”
“As soon as possible.” He turned to his own wagon, feeling lighter than air. For whatever reason, she’d said she loved him. Infatuation tingled like soda bubbles in his blood. He stowed the breakfast dishes he had washed and left on the tailgate in back. Latching up the wagon, he found Scamp waiting for him with the other horses. Spotting Lefty, he asked, “All accounted for?”
“Yes, sir. Lucky’s getting ready…” The bugle interrupted the young man, and Lefty waited until the noise stopped. “Never mind.”
Sam laughed at his scrunched up face. “Think they heard that on the other side of the world?”
Putting a hand to his ear, Lefty retorted, “What’s that? I can’t hear anymore.”
Lucky turned the corner just then. “You didn’t hear me? Do I need to give the signal again?”
As Lucky raised his bugle, Lefty yelped and clamped his hands over his ears. Sam hollered, “No!” and the man’s dismayed expression led him to add, “We all caught your order the first time.” He nodded as Allen’s wagon passed them. “See? Miss Jenny and her family heard you just fine. Come on men, let’s get rolling. Can’t let our charges beat us to Green River today.”
The early morning sun bathed the gray buttes in golden light. The air held a heavy cold, causing a shiver to course through him. Scamp’s body heat warmed his legs. Sam hoped the saddle’s blanket also warmed his horse. He passed the first wagon and nodded a greeting to Mr. Allen. Once leading the way, he and his animal settled into an easy walk.
He kept a watch on those traveling ahead of them, those following behind, and the Indians to either side. The natives kept their distance so far. Camping in the middle of the various groups was a long-standing rule with Sam. The extra layers of people prevented Indians from stealing. He grinned. There’d be enough time to think about safety. Right now, he wanted to dwell on how Marie said she loved him.
What had possessed the woman to confess such a thing? Probably the same feeling that had also overwhelmed him. Away from Marie, he felt like a normal, moral person. But close up? Staring into her deep, dark eyes, full of affection and mystery? Sam
shook his head. He didn’t stand a chance of resisting her in person.
Looking up at the lightening sky, he marveled at how his brother had avoided spending time with the married woman he’d fallen in love with out here. Their circumstances were different, true. Nick had interfered in a sham marriage, not a true one like the Warren’s. The memory sobered up Sam, and his lovesickness faded. He and Marie would have no such tidy resolution brought about by a confession. He swallowed, his throat dry.
Every day he resolved to avoid falling more in love with her, and every day he failed. Sam turned, watching how oxen pulling the first wagon struggled up the hill to him. They drew up close, and he led the way down the slight decline to the river. A quick glance at the ground showed he and his horse had little shadow under them. He waved to Uncle Joe, the older man behind and to the east of him. Joe nudged his horse into a trot and approached.
At his questioning look, Sam said, “We’ll stop here for noon.”
“Green River is nearby.”
“I’d like to press on, but it’ll be a hurry up and wait. Might as well take our time and make it easy for the working animals.”
“Sounds good, sir.” Uncle Joe gave a flick of his spurs and headed back east.
Sam took the western side of his group, meeting Arnold at the end. He and the younger man rode together, bringing up the rear with Lefty. The party fanned out along the riverbank, the animals drinking their fill. Thinking aloud, he said, “We will likely stay at Green River for a couple of days, waiting for the ferry.”
Arnold asked, “There’s nowhere to ford it ourselves?”
The other two slid off their horses when Sam did. “Not this time of year. The snow runoff from the mountains raises the water levels. It’s usually safer to wait and take the ferry.”
“How close are we to the Green?” Arnold dug around in his saddlebag, getting his lunch.
Sam interrupted his own hunt to reply, “Close enough to have gone on without stopping if it had been just us.”
Lefty nodded. His animal finished with drinking, he retrieved his cup and some jerky from a saddlebag. “We’d be home by now, I reckon.”
Sam used his own up to scoop up some drinking water. “Maybe, but without our supply wagon, it’d be a tough trip.” He drank between each bite of the dry biscuit left over from breakfast.
Brushing crumbs from his chest, Lefty dunked his canteen, topping it off with fresh water. “I used to not need supplies so often. The older I get, the more I like the comforts of civilization. Hunting has thinned out in the past few years, too. Less to eat for everyone.”
They all agreed with the older man and hopped back up on their horses. Lefty and Sam ambled back to their position at the front of the party. If he remembered correctly, a large stretch of nothing lay between them and the next water. Heat from the sun penetrated his shirt, pressing against him as if the rays had physical mass. He fidgeted in the saddle.
They inched west, and the air shimmered in the distance. He removed his hat and wiped his forehead in one move. The brown felt trapped heat too well in the desert lowlands. He put it on the saddle pommel and ran his hand through his hair. Even warm, air flowing between the strands gave a small relief.
The river ahead cut a green path through the grayish beige desert. Away from the water, people and animals kicked up dust as they went about their business. He spotted the ferry, a little north of their approach. The long line waiting to cross snaked a half mile east. He could estimate how long they’d wait for their own turn, but wanted solid confirmation. The wagons moved slowly enough. He’d have time to go ask and get back. Sam waved to Lefty before kicking Scamp into a trot. “Would you go see how long the wait is?” He looked at their approaching party. “I’ll lead everyone north to camp ‘til then.”
“Sure, boss.” The young man galloped over to the ferry, dust billowing after him.
Sam rode up to Winslow’s wagon, and when spotting Jack, said, “Follow me.” At Mr. Winslow’s nod, he ambled to the right and upstream to an opening along the riverbank. Everyone else trailed behind in a slow, graceful arc.
Lefty trotted up to him. “Sir, the ferryman said a day but others have been waiting for two.”
“What the hell?” exclaimed Charles.
Warren’s shout behind him got Sam’s attention. He turned to the man. “Excuse me?”
Charles hopped down from his perch. “Did I hear right? Two damn days before we cross?”
From the corner of his eyes, he saw Lefty back away and ride to the first wagon. “You did,” Sam replied. “I assume this bothers you?”
“Hell yes, it does! I don’t have time to lollygag at every drop of water in this country.”
“Lollygag?” Sam grit his teeth to keep from saying anything else that might betray his anger to the client.
“I hired you to get us to Oregon promptly, not slowly lope through the land. I expect you and your men to do your jobs every day.”
Sam took a deep breath, resisting the urge to slide down and punch Warren. Ignoring the irritation, he continued, “It’s a shame you feel that way. Let’s discuss this later, when everyone is settled for the night.”
Warren’s jaw jutted forward. “Good. I have some things to say about how you run things around here, and it’s about time you listened.”
He watched through narrowed eyes as Warren got back on his wagon. They rejoined the others who’d had to move around him, stopped there in their way. Hate and fury in Sam mixed so strongly he could almost taste it. Later, he resolved. He’d allow all this anger later when chores were done. Animals needed tending, bacon needed cutting, and they’d have time for a cobbler tonight. Planning on slow cooked beans and cornmeal biscuits cheered him as much as the idea of dessert. He ignored his hunger pains, concentrating on seeing everyone else settled. Satisfied each family had found a campsite, he found his wagon and rode over to it.
Uncle Joe held the cook pot in one hand and the Dutch oven in the other. “I reckon today’s as good as any for a Sunday dinner.”
Sam laughed. “You’ve been reading my mind.”
“Sir?”
He turned to see Lucky there, holding out his hand. “What? It’s not payday, yet.”
“I know that.” The younger man grinned. “I’m staking out the animals, horses included.”
Handing over the reins, Sam said, “Let me take off his livery first.” He set the saddle next to the wagon wheel, placing the blanket over it. “So you’re letting us find something to burn, huh?”
“Yep! Good luck finding anything.” Lucky led away the horse, grabbing Lefty’s and Uncle Joe’s mounts, too.
Sam didn’t bother to reply. He’d watched for campfire fuel all afternoon. Everyone else had, too. He said to his last two hands, “Lefty, Arnold, let’s go see what we can scavenge.” They walked along side each other, stopping at a discarded wagon. Ox bones lay scattered on the ground, bleaching in the bright sun. Everything useful had been stripped, wheel spokes, axils, the canvas top. The seat and long boards making up the bottom remained. A few other metal parts, half buried in the drifting soil, rusted. “Let’s take a couple of these boards each. We can cut them up at our wagon.”
The wood pulled free from the metal frame without much force. Sam always wondered about the people involved with this sort of defeat. No one ever left their home with the intention of failing, and yet, he didn’t know how they’d succeed with no transportation.
The three reached camp, and Uncle Joe looked up from building the fire pit. “That’s a lot of wood. How much food do you want me to cook?”
Lefty grinned while Sam and Arnold chuckled. They propped their spoils against the wagon while Sam dug around the back for their saws. Finding both of them, he handed one to Arnold. “We can do the cutting, Lefty, while you do the stacking. Some outside, some in the pit, and the rest will need a place in the back here.” As the two of them worked, the other two built a fire.
It took them a while to finish. Arnold wipe
d the sweat from his face, asking, “Are we washing today or tomorrow?”
Sam glanced at the sky. “Tomorrow. First thing, so our bedding has time to dry.”
“Granville, we need to talk.”
He winced when hearing Warren’s voice. Turning to face him, Sam replied, “All right. I have time. What do you want to discuss?”
“Our slow crawl.” He held up his hands to stop any protest. “I already talked to the ferryman, offered him some financial incentive, and he refused.”
“He did?” Sam had a tough time believing someone turned down cash. He wondered what the catch was.
“In a way. More like he wanted too much for one crossing.”
“I’m surprised people waiting in line didn’t protest your cutting in ahead of them.”
“They did. So, to foster goodwill among potential customers, I stepped aside.” Warren grinned. “I’ve decided a day or two resting won’t hurt anything. It’ll give the women a chance to catch up on their housekeeping and me a much-needed rest.” He followed Sam to the front of the Granville wagon. “All this responsibility is exhausting. You’re fortunate to have so many men helping you.”
Sam shrugged, not thinking he’d hired too many for the job. “I pay them enough, and they’re good people.”
“Yes, well, I’m sure they are.” Warren tipped his hat. “If you’ll excuse me. I have several things to do this afternoon and not a lot of hired help.”
“Of course.” He motioned an after-you to him, and he left. Glancing back at Uncle Joe and Lucky, he saw their guarded expressions. “What’s up with you two?”
“He’s beggin’ for an ass kickin’, boss,” said Lucky.
Sam grinned. “He is, but he isn’t going to get one from me.”
Undesirable Page 17
