“We need to let Marie know. She can’t go to California with them.”
“Especially if she finds out about their affair once there. She’d be alone, knowing everything, and have nowhere to turn.”
“I can’t let that happen.” Sam stood. Seeing her questioning expression, he said, “No, I don’t know what to say, but I’ll have to think of something before Fort Hall.”
“That would be best for her.”
“Thank you for the talk. See you after dinner?”
“I’ll try.”
“Good.” He tipped his hat and went back to his own campsite. Keeping the disgust and anger from his face proved more difficult as he approached his men. They knew him too well, would see the emotions he struggled to hide. He paused, took a deep breath and exhaled, thinking of a placid lake’s smooth surface. He would be that lake. Ready now to be calm around his men, Sam walked up to the group. “Game is scarce around here boys. I’m glad you went ahead with cooking, Joe.”
“I figured as much. We’re rolling over ruts too recent for there to be much around here.”
Sam picked up the last plate. “I’m glad I got here when I did.”
“We’re not. We’d had plans to split your share.”
He settled for giving Arnold a mock glare, making the younger man laugh. Hunger made for a good sauce. Joe’s beans and ham tasted better than usual. White flour biscuits cooked on the embers. Sam presumed they’d be for tomorrow. Would then be the day Marie learned the terrible secret of her husband and his sister? If so, who’d tell her? Would their own actions betray them, or would he and Ellen? As he ate, the food began tasting more like mush. He had guessed at her and Charles’ relationship so far. He worried about her reaction, not knowing if discovering the truth would break her heart or merely infuriate her. He shifted in his seat, uneasy at the idea of her being devastated by the news.
“Something bothering ya?” asked Joe. “I reckon from your frown something’s off with the beans.”
Sam looked up, catching Del’s concerned expression as well. To reassure them both, he said, “No, nothing like that.” He tried to keep his expression even and thought up the most likely reason for a bad mood. “Damn mosquitoes are getting to me.”
“I heard one of the Winslow boys has it bad. All swollen from the bites,” Lucky said, taking Sam’s empty plate.
Sam exchanged looks with the younger man. “I hope he doesn’t get any worse.” They both remembered burying the sickly little Calhoon boy not too far from here.
“Miss Winslow and I spoke earlier this afternoon,” Del said. “Buster is doing better. She sends her regrets about attending any festivities tonight.” He gave Lucky his plate and utensil. “She also mentioned I might want to stay until Fort Hall at least.”
Sam saw how his men all looked everywhere but at his friend. They probably all thought that Ellen and Del were sweet on each other. While most likely true, he figured she wanted his friend in on the plans to help Marie, when or if the Warrens stopped hiding their affair. A glance at the man’s face confirmed it for Sam. He saw a flicker of pity cross his expression. After raising an eyebrow, he gave Del a slight frown. Sam didn’t need sympathy. He needed a reliable solution for helping Marie. “I’ll take first watch.”
“I’ll get the bedding ready for the rest of us.” Uncle Joe stood with a little difficulty. “Reckon you’ll want me and Lucky to take second?”
“Sure. Lefty or Arnie can help with first, whoever feels up to it.”
“I will,” said Lefty.
Arnold stood. “I can help Joe with seeing to the stock.”
Sam nodded and went to the river, intending to help Lucky with the washing. As he walked down the slight decline, the air grew cooler. He met the younger man coming back to the camp. “Done already?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good job.” At the camp, he saw how chores were done, and Lefty already lay in his bed, scribbling in his journal. Even though Sam tried not to pry, he saw drawings on the page opposite Lefty’s notes. He’d noticed the young man’s drawings before now, but hadn’t commented. Seeing how the picture resembled today’s landscape so much, Sam had to say something. “Looks nice, Lefty. I mean, from this distance and all. I can’t read what you’re writing or anything.”
The boy looked up with a slight grin. “Thank you, Mr. Granville. I appreciate you saying so. It’s not so important, just the day’s events.”
“They’re your thoughts, so that makes them valuable. I didn’t mean to be rude, just the mountains look familiar.”
“I’m glad. They’re supposed to.”
He grinned at the happy tone of Lefty’s voice. “Keep drawing, then, and any time you want to share, I’d like to see. My brother is an excellent artist, and this is as fine as any work of his.”
“Oh?” Lefty sat up. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He went back to writing, flipping the page, and began sketching.
Sam let him have his privacy and went to get his rifle for tonight’s watch. He met Arnold going to the wagon, too. “Remember, ask first and shoot later. I’ve not seen anything of the chief’s son.”
“Some other lovely lady might have him distracted.”
“Probably so. Still, I’ll feel better when we’re further down the road.” He and Arnold split up, going separate directions. Each man went around the wagons’ semi-circle, reached the river, then turned and came back to the center. Sam nodded at his employee and passed by him to retrace Arnold’s steps to the river and back. They did this for a couple of hours, scanning the landscape for movement.
He managed to not stop and look at Marie each time he walked by her and the sleeping Warrens. Sam refused to think of them as a family. People you love didn’t do such despicable things as Charles had done to her. Maybe Hester had a pass, not being a blood relative or spouse to Marie. Sam gritted his teeth, angry at Warren’s deception. His teeth began to hurt, and he took in a deep breath. Emotions might distract him from keeping watch. No need to be furious at the moment. Marie might know all about the Warrens and condone it. He choked back a laugh at the thought, certain his mind was too tired to think properly. She didn’t know at all. He paused at her family’s campsite, straining to see her face in the campfire embers dull glow. Too dark, so he went on to the main camp. Joe and Lucky waited there, ready to take their shift. They changed watch without a word, wanting to let the others sleep. Sam slid into his own bed, grateful for the soft warmth.
Breakfast cooking woke Sam. He opened an eye to see Lefty cooking. Turning to lay on his back, he stared up at a clear blue sky. He sat up, cheered by the clear weather and ready to get started on the day.
“Good morning, sir. Just in time to eat.”
“Thank you, Lefty.” He looked around to see only Lucky still slept. “Where is everyone?”
Lefty shrugged while handing a cup to Sam. “Out doing things. Some of the ladies wanted fresh berries for their breakfast. A few of the men wanted to try hunting first thing.”
He held the cup out as the boy poured coffee. “Before or after chores?”
Grinning, he admitted, “You got ‘em there. They left after breakfast and taking care of the stock.” He dished out potatoes and ham on the plate Sam held. “Said they’d be back in time to pack up and wash up. If I didn’t have it done already, that is.”
Sam considered doing their work for them a small price to pay for fresh food. He ate, ignoring how plain the meal now tasted. Something in the air caught his attention. He paused in eating, listening. All the usual sounds from animals, the river, the fire continued. He glanced up at Lefty, knowing the distant chatter, strident, of a group drifted over on the morning breeze. He stood. “I think something’s gone wrong.”
In the distance, a man screamed, and Lefty’s eyes widened as he also got to his feet. “I think you’re right.”
He turned, and before Sam could say anything, Del came around the wagon to them. The look on his friend’s pale face caused his stomach to rejec
t the meal sitting there. “What happened?”
Others crowded around them, including Marie, Lucky, and Uncle Joe. Del was the first to answer. “Mrs. Winslow is dead, Sam.” At the admission, Marie sobbed, and the man put his arm around her to comfort her.
Sam knew the question, but the words stayed stuck in his throat. Something else was wrong, and he had to know. “Is she the only one?” he asked, dreading the answer.
“I’m not sure. Miss Winslow is gone.”
Chapter 10
Marie’s heartbeat pounded in her ears. She struggled to hear over the noise. Everyone seemed in shock, their tones clipped, and faces pale with worry.
“What do you mean gone?” asked Sam.
Uncle Joe answered, “We’ve searched all the brush around the body.”
“I’ve tried to see if blood stained the bottom of their feet,” Del added.
Sam nodded. “We’ll need to send out a search party for her. It’s been recent enough, we stand a good chance of finding her.”
“No. You don’t want to do that.” Del crossed his arms, shaking his head. “A search party is too slow and cumbersome for this. They took her into the mountains.”
“How do you know for sure?” asked Uncle Joe.
Del looked off into the distance, squinting as if to see Ellen herself. “It’s what I would do.”
Jack Winslow staggered around the wagon yelling, “What the hell happened to my wife?”
He brushed past Marie to the circle of men. The smell of whiskey assaulted her nose. Without thinking, she glanced at the sun to check the time. Midmorning and he reeked of rotgut. She took a deep breath of fresh air as he moved downwind. No wonder his family was so spindly; he carried more drink than food. Whatever faults Charles had, she liked how he stayed sober.
Jack stood in the middle of the circle of men. “I heard she’s dead. That can’t be true.”
“Yes, sir,” Sam began. “It’s my duty and regret to inform you…”
“No!” Jack lunged for Del. Sam and Lucky grabbed hold of him, keeping him firmly in place as he screamed, “One of you red skinned bastards killed her!” He spat at Del, the gob getting caught in his beard and running down his chin. “I’ll see you hang from the nearest tree.”
Sam said through gritted teeth, “There’s no need for that, Mr. Winslow.”
“The hell there isn’t! I’ll bet the bastard raped her before slitting her throat.”
Del’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know her throat was cut?”
Jack paled and sagged in Sam’s and Lucky’s arms. Sam shook the man as he began sobbing. “Answer him. I thought you didn’t know how your wife died.”
Leaning his head back while still limp, he gave a high, keening wail until out of breath. Before he could inhale, Sam shook him again. Jack made a gurgling sound before replying, “I guessed.” He panted a few times. “This animal never carries a tomahawk, just a knife.”
Del folded his arms. “So I do. You carry a rifle. Does that mean every person shot in the territory has died by your hand?”
Winslow let his head sag to his chest, his entire body deadweight. Lucky shot Sam an exasperated look, and Sam nodded. They both let Mr. Winslow sag to his knees. When his shins hit the dirt, he began his wailing again. The younger men eased away from him and went to Del. Sam spoke first in a quiet voice. “We can’t go on without Ellen.”
A moment had passed before Del swallowed as if a lump had formed in his throat. “Yes, you can. Continue and we’ll catch up.”
“We?” asked Marie.
“Yes. I will find Ellen and bring her back when I do.” Del took Sam’s offered hand, and the two had a brotherly hug. They separated, and Del stared down at the keening man below him. “Though I’m not sure he deserves a daughter like her.” Glancing at Jenny wiping the tears from her eyes, then at Marie, he added, “Ellen’s brothers and friends need her, so I go.”
“She’ll want something familiar when you find her,” offered Marie. “It’ll comfort her.”
Sam nodded in agreement. “We’ll go and pack her some food and fresh clothes.”
The darker man made an after you motion with his hand. “Let’s get started.”
Jenny began sobbing as the men went to get Del ready to leave. She went into Marie’s open arms. To comfort the young girl, she said, “There, there, Jenny. This is horrible, I know. If anyone can find our dear Ellen, it’s Del.”
“Poor Mrs. Winslow,” cried Jenny.
Mr. Winslow must have quieted while she focused on her friend, Marie noticed because he began his infernal wailing again. Wincing at the racket, she gave her friend a squeeze before letting her go. “We need to think of the boys.” Winslow grew louder, and Jenny squinted at the noise. To get away from the man, Marie led her to Winslow’s family wagon. “Let’s go see Skeeter and Little Buster. They probably need care.”
They went to the two children. Marie’s first instinct was to quiet the crying Buster. Jenny reached him first, gathering him in her arms. Skeeter sat apart from his little brother. The boy’s pale face showed no emotion. He wore pants and an unbuttoned shirt.
When he spotted Marie approaching him, he said, “I got my shirt muddy.”
She began buttoning his shirt. “It’s all right, dear. We’ll get you dressed and back at play very soon.” As she helped him off the tailgate, Marie saw Sam and Mr. Winslow approach. The younger man held up the other as he shuffled along. They drew closer, and she heard more of their discussion.
“These women are fine for now, Granville, but I’m going to need someone permanent.” He saw Little Buster and cried out before staggering over to the child. “My poor little motherless children.”
Skeeter trembled as he clung to Marie’s skirt. He leaned against her. She blinked back tears, her heart aching for the children. “We can all help you until Ellen is found.”
Jack fixed her with a hard stare. “What makes you think I want that Indian’s whore back here?”
His horrible choice of words almost stopped her heart. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me just fine, ma’am. Now that some animal has made her his squaw, I don’t want her back here.”
Marie’s jaw had dropped before she recovered enough to say, “Mr. Winslow! She’s your daughter and will need you after she’s rescued.”
He shook his head. “I don’t care. She’s been hanging on Granville’s friend here. Let him have her.”
She glanced over at Jenny, standing to the side and holding Little Buster. The girl stared at Winslow opened jawed until seeing Marie. Jenny shut her mouth into a thin line. Without a word, Marie knew they both agreed at how Winslow had crossed a line with them.
Winslow reached out for Buster, saying, “My baby boy.” The child went to his father and Jenny handed him over carefully. “You and your brother are all I have left of my beloved Lucy.”
“Mrs. Warren, Miss Allen?” Sam began. “We need to start rolling. Please tell your families to pack up if they’ve not begun.”
She’d been upset and not noticed how Sam still stood behind all of them, watching Mr. Winslow’s drama. Marie followed him toward her own wagon with Jenny going to opposite way. Anger radiated from his body as if he’d gotten out of a hot spring on a cold day. “Mr. Granville?”
“Yes?”
Now that she had his attention, she wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. “I suppose Mrs. Winslow’s body has been interred?”
“Of course. The men are finishing up right now.”
“I supposed Mr. Winslow had a difficult time of it.”
“Seems so.” Sam looked at the head of the wagons, seeing Lucky waving at him. “I need to go. Take care of yourself, will you?”
“I will. You do the same.”
After a nod, Sam strode away. She tried not to watch him leave, instead concentrating on getting ready to go. When done, she went to the wagon seat to find Charles. He and his sister sat there, talking. The twins used their own language to speak in hushed, sh
arp tones. An odd word they used caught her attention. She’d heard it before now, but not often enough to repeat or remember it for long.
“Granville knows about…”
“Has he said anything to you or her?”
“Nothing I’m aware of.”
“What happens if she finds out about us?”
Us? She knew everything about the two already. But the use of “us” implied something sinister. She retrieved her sunbonnet. The three of them were together nearly every minute of the day. Charles had full control over her finances. Very little of her worldly possessions remained. Puzzled, she wondered what more did the two have planned without her consult.
The bugle sounded, and they began the day’s journey. Being alone gave her time to ponder what the twins meant by the expression “oochegoo.” She wondered if it were a new word for the natives. Although, all the Indians they’d seen so far already had a tribal name. She shook her head, making a mental note to ask them about it later at dinner.
A long afternoon of travel alone gave her a lot of time to admire the landscape. Wonderful grass for the livestock carpeted the Bear River Valley. Fir trees along with a few others lined the streams that wound their way down mountains to the main river. Upstream from where they crossed, the water ran clear and freezing cold. She began carrying a cup in her pocket after the first creek she stepped over. Drinking now made up for all those thirsty days behind her. Between the freezing water and cool breezes, she shivered despite the hot afternoon.
She saw Jenny every so often. The girl clung to her family, understandable to Marie. She’d also kept an eye on the Winslow children. The two stayed with the Norman children, leaving their father able to concentrate on driving the wagon. She pursed her lips when thinking of how drunk he’d been this morning. Had he gone to bed intoxicated or started drinking after his morning coffee? She shook her head. Either way was deplorable on his part.
Undesirable Page 25
