Undeniable

by Laura Stapleton

  Sam’s laugh rang out, echoing off the oilcloth walls. “You’re such a poor liar! You know I mean the only she you’re not supposed to be near.”

  He glared at Sam, handing him back the whisky. “Have you been talking with anyone?”

  “No, I haven’t. I also can’t imagine anyone else suspects you’re a fool for her.” He took back his flask. “Except Mrs. Bartlett, of course. But then, the lady is looking for a hero to save her from that husband of hers.”

  “That’s not me. I’m not any woman’s hero.” Nick took off his boots to put on his other pants. He hated Sam’s smug attitude, sitting there in clean, dry clothes.

  Sam slipped a pack of cards out from one of the trunks. “You’d like to think so.” He paused while shuffling the deck. “Usually I’m the one on the white horse.” He shrugged, continuing. “This time, you’re the penny dreadful’s hero, saving the girl from certain doom.”

  Nick pulled on one of his cotton under shirts. He’d read a few of those novels and didn’t identify with any of the larger than life heroes in them. “I’m not good at saving a woman from anything.”

  His brother cut the deck and shuffled, adding, “You can’t continue to blame yourself for Sally.”

  “I can, every day. I’m also not playing cards tonight.” He laid out his cover, rolling up a horse blanket for a pillow.

  Sam nodded, dealing himself a game of Solitaire. “That’s acceptable. You’ll lose too much playing anything against me tonight. Your mind’s in another wagon entirely.”

  Nick ignored the jab and looked over Sam’s shoulder at the cards, unable to resist helping. He watched as his brother let the card tip to first one position, then another. He stifled the urge to tell him where to put it—the card and his observation. “My mind can’t be anywhere near her. I need to focus on getting the train to Oregon, not on some married woman.”

  “Good. I’d prefer not to see you get into a fight on this trip.” The younger man waved the card above the spread in almost a divining motion. “Which is something I can guarantee will happen if you tell me what to do with this two of clubs.”

  Grinning at Sam’s dirty look, Nick moved back and settled in for the night. A few flashes of light brightened the sky. The thunder still rumbled afterward, but softly in the distance. He noticed Sam had already put out the bigger bucket to catch all the rain possible. Storms tonight meant gritty coffee tomorrow if they used creek water. Nick fell asleep to the shuffle of the cards and steady drip of the rain.

  Morning dawned cold and bright. The clouds had moved off during the night and a light frost covered the ground. The sun’s rays through the trees melted the slight ice with every yellow touch. Sam hunched over the campfire, coaxing a flame, so Nick grabbed the bucket hoping for enough water for coffee. Last night’s chores led Sam to put the container out too late for enough. He stifled a groan and with the coffee pot, headed for the river.

  Only he, Sam, and their hired hands stirred. Last night’s rain must have kept everyone up late, he figured. Nick grinned. If he were a prankster, he’d yell “Indians!” and run through camp screaming like a woman. No one would ever sleep past daybreak again.

  Lizzy’s brown calico caught his eye as he strolled to an embankment at the water’s edge. Nick grinned, easing his way down a sharp decline to the river bottoms. She’d help with the screaming woman part, if he could coax her into a practical joke. After sidestepping down, he paused to watch her, puzzled by how reluctant she seemed to approach the water.

  She lifted her skirt a little before each step and then felt ahead with her toe extended as if checking for solid ground. Reassured, she stepped forward and began the process again. In this way, Lizzy edged closer to the river like a kid facing a whipping. He saw how she clenched and unclenched one hand, the other holding the pail in a white-knuckle grip. Lizzy was afraid of water, he knew and she had good reason to be after last night’s torrents. The levels had risen since dusk yesterday. Nick watched as she carefully eased herself down, dipping her bucket into the stream. Not wanting to startle her, he announced himself by whistling a tune.

  She turned toward him, and his heart sank at seeing her eye. Her smile told Nick there’d been no new hurts last night at least.

  “Good morning!” Lizzy blushed, staring at her feet and letting the loosely tied sunbonnet fall to cover her bruises.

  “Good morning.” He went over, scooped up some water for coffee, and asked, “Is Bartlett starting a fire yet?’

  Sighing, she replied, “I’m not sure. If I’d been thinking, I’d have started it before now.” She kept her face lowered as he approached.

  “But you wanted to get done what you’d been dreading, right?” She glanced up at him, her eyebrows raised, and he smiled at her surprise. “You approach a river like I do a hot spring. It only takes once.”

  “I’ve been told I’m too cautious at times.”

  Nick climbed up the embankment, turning to reach a hand out to her, which she took. “A little concern can be a good thing.” He pulled her up like a five-pound bag of flour, her bonnet falling back with the motion. “The land can kill the careless.”

  She nodded at him with a somber expression. “Mrs. Calhoon’s death proves it.”

  Staring back, he didn’t let go of her hand at once. The day’s new sun gave her hair a golden chestnut glow and deepened the green in her eyes. He wanted to cup her face in his hands and kiss her lips until she smiled at him again. In a quiet voice, he admitted, “I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”

  “Me too.” She slid her fingers from his. “After hearing what happened to her, I prefer being at the very back of the entire group.”

  “You’ll change your mind in the great desert.” He knew she might worry about being seen alone with him. If he had any sense, he’d be concerned too. Nick started back to his own wagon and motioned for her to follow. “I’ve seen animals cough up blood and die just from inhaling the dust.”

  “Good heavens!” Lizzy stopped, frowning at him. “How horrible! Is there some way to fix bandannas for them?”

  He laughed. “Your oxen would look funny, but I suppose a mask could keep them alive if the animals would wear them.”

  “They’d look like bandits.” She smiled at him. “I wonder why thieves don’t think to disguise their horses too?”

  “Probably because I’ve never seen a horse on a wanted poster.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Thus, they don’t need bandannas.”

  As they neared the campsite, he saw Sam rousing some of the lazier bodies, Bartlett being one of them. “I see your husband is still working on a fire,” Nick said in an effort to be diplomatic. “Would you like to use ours for your coffee and breakfast?”

  “Yes, please.” She sighed. “Excuse me while I get supplies.”

  He rushed to get coffee boiling, and biscuits and bacon cooking. By the time all three were done, Lizzy and Sam walked over to him. “Breakfast is ready.”

  “So soon? I only brought water and coffee beans to start.” Lizzy looked from one brother to the other. “I’d better hurry and get ours cooked before we’re left behind.”

  “Instead,” Sam said, “why don’t you get your utensils while your coffee boils? Nick can throw on more food.” He waited until she walked out of earshot before asking, “Will we have enough for noon, if need be?”

  He nodded, “I’ll make up extra.”

  Sam set out a wooden box for Lizzy’s seat and checked for her return. “Bartlett hadn’t even roused himself when I went to check on him. He’d also not gathered any firewood. She had tried herself, I saw, judging by the scrap and tinder collected.”

  “After being on the ground last night, nothing could burn.”

  “No, you’re right.” Sam held out his cup for Nick to pour the coffee. “I don’t usually mind the very tender footed in our group, but Bartlett is starting to anger me.”

  The admission from Sam surprised him, making Nick admit, “You’re a better man than I am
in this case. I was angry at first sight.”

  “When you saw the bruise?” He stood, done with breakfast. “What happens in a marital bed is no one’s business but those two.”

  He clenched his teeth to make himself say, “I know. I need to stay clear.” Easing to his feet, Nick took Sam’s eating supplies. “You can handle breakfast with those two while I handle cleaning.”

  Sam grinned and saluted him. “Will do.”

  Nick felt like a kid skipping school, only having to do the washing. Better that than playing nice with Bartlett. Every time he saw Lizzy’s eye, he wanted to hit her husband and ask if Bartlett liked the punch. Nick used the coarse river sand to scrub off the bacon grease. He’d heard some men argue their wives deserved a beating or had asked for one. He wondered if those same men would ever deserve or ask for a trampling from a buffalo.

  A movement on the far side of the river valley caught his attention. Slowly rising from a crouch, he squinted to better see. An Indian on his pony hugged the opposite embankment. The man wore a bright red shirt, blue pair of pants, and what Nick thought was a yellow sash for a belt. He didn’t appear to wear war paint, convincing Nick the rider was a local farmer.

  He headed back to the group, ready to get going. Nick laughed, spotting a row of children, various ages, staring at the Indian with large eyes. He knew some of the youngsters on this trip had never seen a red man. They’d get their chance soon enough to see more red men, women, and children besides. He strode past them. “Come on, let’s get going. There’re more Indians where he came from.” This earned a yelp from each child as they ran for their parents. He laughed and went to saddle his horse.

  The progress they made in the morning disappointed Nick. He looked back over the crisp wagon tops. The road they followed, usually hilly, had the added detriment of mud. Several times, the men on horseback stopped, tied the saddles’ pommels to the stuck cart, and helped the oxen as they pulled the wheels free from the drying clay. After each unexpected stall, the small company of fifteen wagons seemed like fifty.

  When Sam rode up to him, Nick knew what he’d ask and said, “Yeah, keep rolling to the next camp. Soon as we get there, we’ll stop for the night.”

  Sam nodded, turned his horse, and galloped to the rear of the party. Nick began at the front, telling the head of every group or family of their plans. Those who’d not packed lunch foods protested. He assured them of stopping as soon as they reached camp, no matter the time of day.

  Even as he said this, Nick knew the land between here and there. Very shallow creek ravines proved unavoidable and took time to cross. Two wagons in the lead were already stuck in a deep stream. Before he could ride up to help free them, a third barreled down the hill. The wagon picked up speed on the slight decline to the water, at one point pushing the animals supposed to be pulling it.

  The oxen crossed the water, breaking free of the yoke when the first two wheels of the wagon mired. The force threw the driver headfirst into the opposite embankment with some belongings tumbling out after him. His wife and two small children, all screaming, peered over the seat like prairie dogs in their homes. Only after seeing the father stand and shake his head free of dirt, Nick chuckled. The man was lucky the heavy rains turned the ground where he’d landed into mush. Otherwise, he’d have broken his neck.

  Those around on horseback, no longer waiting for tragedy, went to work heaving various carts up onto dry land as needed. Nick helped each across, his stomach knotting in anticipation when they neared the end. He saw Lizzy walking alongside the wagon as Bartlett led the team.

  Nick had a few minutes before the Bartlett’s turn, so he watched Lizzy. She still wore the ill-fitting brown paisley. He shifted in the saddle, impatient to give her the fabric purchased in town for her. There were empty hours between here and Fort Kearny to invent a story. He could ensure she had material for a new dress by then. The Bartlett’s readied for their crossing. As Lizzy approached, Nick noticed a limp but couldn’t tell which side she favored. Must be mud on her shoes, he concluded, riding up to the wagon.

  After helping the Bartlett’s across, Nick led his horse up the other side, following the wagon as it joined the group.

  Sam trotted over as Nick remounted and turned his horse toward the creek. “Do you suppose Mrs. Bartlett wants to stay here?”

  Nick looked toward the bank and saw Lizzy there. They watched as she’d pace to a narrow place in the creek, then go to yet another narrow place. Her actions mirrored what he’d seen earlier, if a little more frantic. “Damn,” he swore under his breath.

  Sighing, Sam shook his head. “I know. The girl doesn’t belong here, Nick. Our dear Mrs. Bartlett is afraid of water. You know as well as I she’s unfit for this journey.”

  Knowing this argument’s path didn’t stop him from trying. “We’ve helped terrified people across worse than this. Mrs. Bartlett will be fine. I think you’re borrowing trouble.”

  The younger man snorted a laugh. “I am? What will she do when a ferry overturns?” He indicated her, still pacing the bank. “You know as well as I what she is facing. Bartlett needs to be a decent sort and take her back home.”

  Glaring at his brother, Nick retorted, “What home and what makes you think he’ll give up California for Lizzy?”

  Sam stopped watching her to stare at him through accusing eyes. “I don’t suppose you are the one to convince Bartlett to do the right thing by ‘Lizzy.’”

  He searched for an argument in vain. Nick knew what answer his brother expected of him. “You’re right. Her husband needs to send Mrs. Bartlett back to her family.”

  “I’m glad you see reason. Now if we can just convince him to take her to whatever relatives he has.” Sam frowned at Nick. “Assuming he has relatives. Good lord! What if he was hatched?”

  Nick appreciated him trying to lift the mood, even if it failed. “Not me. I won’t be convincing anyone if it means she leaves.”

  Sam laughed. “I’ve owned mules more agreeable than you. Very well, let’s hope she survives to California.”

  “Maybe not on your watch, but she’ll survive just fine on my mine,” Nick said through a clenched jaw.

  The surly tone didn’t affect Sam’s grin. “Lawrence and Chuck are up ahead, so let’s get going. Help your lady across, and sometime between now and the Platte, have Bartlett teach her how to swim.” He turned to rejoin the others.

  At his brother’s fading hoof beats, he looked at Lizzy, hoping she saw his smile from this distance when she glanced up at him. She returned his grin and his heart felt odd in his chest. Lizzy bit her lip, looked back at the creek, and took a couple of fast steps toward the water. He shook his head, amazed. Even scared to death, she was going to jump. She stopped just short of leaping, stepping back up the bank. He saw her steel herself and try again. Nick gritted his teeth, vowing to protect such a brave and beautiful woman from Bartlett’s fists.

  Chapter 5

  Beth looked at the muddy water, clenching then releasing her hands. Even though she couldn’t see the bottom due to silt the passing wheels churned, the water appeared to be only a couple of feet deep. Pacing back to the only other narrow point, she trembled. If she hiked her skirt, could she jump the gap? What if she fell backwards into the water? She couldn’t breathe from the fear of such a thing. Maybe some rocks stuck out in the middle and she could step from one to the other. Beth shook her head, deciding to look downstream for an even narrower place. She walked until the stream curved, not seeing any islands to hop onto.

  “I have to get across,” Beth muttered, frustrated with her fears. She went two and fro, mulling over which spot would be easiest to jump over. Though none of the currents flowed swiftly enough to overturn wagons, the force might pull her under and downstream. Tumbling with her head under the water like before didn’t bear thinking of again. She gripped her hands to stop their shaking, her heart pounding as if trying to beat out of her chest.

  Dag had gone ahead, angry at her dithering. Glancing up t
o check their progress, she saw the last wagon leaving the ditch. Watching how the men scrambled to get up the incline, she noticed Nicholas hanging back. Once the last few stragglers resumed the journey, he started towards her. “Oh dear,” she murmured, ashamed. She needed to get across before he chastised her. So Beth took a deep breath and a couple of steps backwards, steeling herself to jump.

  “Ma’am?” Nicholas’s horse splashed as he rode over to her. “You need help crossing?”

  “I shouldn’t.”

  “Sure you should. No lady wants to get her shoes wet if she can help it.” He held out his hand. “Hop up here, and I’ll carry you across.”

  After wiping her sweaty left palm on her hip, she took his hand. She put her left foot in a stirrup he held out for her with his toe. He pulled her up with such force, she couldn’t help but swing her right leg over the horse.

  Seated astride that way, the position surprised her, and Beth looked behind to check how her dress fell. She laughed and tapped Nicholas on the shoulder. “Look, your horse looks very nice in brown.”

  He turned, seeing the skirt covering the horse’s behind, and laughed. “She looks beautiful. If mares wore dresses, there’d be more colts and fillies in the world.”

  She chuckled at his joke then stopped, aware of her hands at his waist. He still looked at her, into her eyes, and her smile faded when his did. The same feeling of desire hit as it had when he helped her up the embankment earlier in the morning. Nicolas had such long lashes, but in a masculine face like his, they didn’t seem out of place. Suddenly shy, she glanced down his nose to his mouth and the dark shadow of his beard. “We should get going.”

  “We should.” He tapped the horse with his heel. “The others won’t be waiting on us.”

  “All our food is rolling away even now.” She had the odd feeling she’d disappointed him.

  “Very good priorities, I see.” He turned, urging the horse into a faster walk.