Undeniable

by Laura Stapleton

  Chuck asked her, “Ma’am, if you don’t mind me wondering, what’s in your hand?”

  She glanced at Nicholas talking to Claude. “This?” Beth held up the items. “Mr. Granville requested a pair of socks after seeing me knit my own pair.”

  Samuel cut his eyes over to his brother, while Chuck, Mr. Lucky, and Lawrence made catcalls. After Nicholas said something inaudible to Claude, he too joined in on the taunts. Beth felt certain she blushed to her toes.

  Standing, Nicholas quieted them. “Now, now, gentlemen. The lady has been kind enough to make me something that not only warms my heart, but my toes as well.”

  “Oh goodness!” she gasped, entirely mortified. “I enjoy knitting, and you needed something less holey. Nothing more than this, certainly.”

  He went to Beth, holding out his hand for his socks. She gave them to him and he examined them, grinning. “These are perfect, thank you very much.”

  Nicholas went to his place in the circle. While Claude and Samuel watched, he took off his boots and socks. At that, everyone, including Beth, acted as if they smelled how foul his feet were. He gave them all a withering glare before pulling on his new socks. The men laughed as he wiggled his toes, except Claude until Samuel translated. He joined in and said something to Nicholas Beth couldn’t understand at all.

  Nicholas put on his boots and stood, saying, “Gentlemen, Monsieur Claude wants a pair of his own. I’d like to suggest he find some other charming woman to knit him socks, someone sweet and lovely like Miss Amelia.” This earned him more good humored jeers.

  “However, if Mrs. Bartlett is asked nicely and would want to waste her time on the likes of all of you,” he paused for their snide comments to end before continuing. “Then, I’m sure she’ll consider knitting anyone interested a pair of their own.”

  As one, the men looked at her. Shy, she looked at her hands then up at them. “If you wanted, I might.” They all nodded, including Nicholas. “The only thing I ask is when we reach Fort Kearny, you see if there’s any wool. I used the last of what I had on Mr. Granville’s request. If you choose what color you prefer, I’ll knit socks for you too.” She tilted her head, smiling at them. “Unless, of course, there’s a beautiful girl you want to knit for you instead.”

  “I can’t imagine anyone more lovely than you, my dear,” Samuel said. “I also can’t imagine how waiting for dinner will make us any hungrier than we already are.” He dished up a tin cup of food, passing it to her with a spoon.

  She waited until everyone had food before taking a bite. It was delicious, a much welcome change from the usual. “What is this?”

  “Rabbit stew,” Chuck replied. He took a quick look up at her from his dinner, adding, “Mr. Lucky shot a big hare, not like those little brown rabbits back in Missouri.”

  Taking another bite, she was grateful for his assurance that no sweet little rabbits had died for her dinner. Her dismay must have shown on her face, Beth figured. She ate all of it, enjoying every spoonful. They had carrots and potatoes in the stew. She missed her garden more after every mouthful. Beth noticed Nicholas finishing just after she did and then putting his dishes in a bucket.

  “If you don’t mind, gentlemen, I’ll walk Mrs. Bartlett back to her camp.” He took her dishes amid their protests, placing them with his own. “Her husband might be done winning all of Chatillon’s money and wondering where she is.”

  Beth told them, “Thank you for a wonderful dinner.” She addressed Samuel, “Thank you too for inviting me. I had a pleasant evening.”

  “You’re welcome, Mrs. Bartlett,” he replied, putting up his things as well.

  She followed Nicholas out of the camp. They walked along the outer edge of the wagon circle. Now alone with him, Beth realized everything she wanted to say were things Samuel had warned her against. She sighed in frustration.

  Nick gave her a sidelong glance. “Let’s step a little bit away from the wagons.”

  Biting her lip to hide a smile, she asked, “Is that safe?”

  He leaned close to her, whispering, “No.”

  She laughed and nodded. “Oh? I like an honest man.”

  “Then you’ll love me.” He stopped walking and she also halted. “I’m honest to a fault, which can be bad in some cases.”

  “I could see that,” she acknowledged with a grin. “Especially if a woman wants to know how a dress fits her or if you think another girl is prettier than her.”

  Holding his hands up in surrender then taking one of hers, Nicholas said, “Exactly so.”

  As he led her on to her camp, Beth added, “So, now I know not to ask you questions if I don’t want to hear the answer.”

  “Do you think so?” Nicholas guided her a little ways out from the circle where the light faded. “If you asked how your dress fits, I’d have to say perfectly. It accents every beautiful curve. If you asked me if any woman could be prettier than you, I’d have to say no, never.”

  She chuckled a little, unsure of how to react in a sophisticated way to such language. “I think you’ve been taking sweet talk lessons from Samuel.”

  He faced her, tilting her chin up to him. “The talk may be sweet, but it’s also honest.”

  Beth tried to think of her promise but Nicholas stood too close to her, his scent affecting her too much. “You can’t really feel such things. Not about me.”

  “I do feel such things about you, all the time.” He caressed her cheek.

  “You can’t, anymore than I can. When I’m around you, I want to forget all the agreements I’ve ever made to anyone else.” Beth put her hand to his chest, more to push her away than him. His eyes were so dark in the dim light. A shadow of whiskers dusted his cheeks and chin.

  “You agreed to something you don’t want anymore?” He cupped the back of her neck in an embrace.

  “Anymore? No, never.” She shuddered with revulsion, taking her hand from his chest and holding one of his suspenders. “I was forced into accepting something I never wanted.”

  Nicholas pulled her closer to him with one hand on her arm as his other hand caressed her tense neck muscles. “Do you know you’re speaking in riddles?”

  “Yes, and I’m sorry.” She ran her fingertips slowly up and down his suspenders. “Part of the promise is to never tell anyone what truly happened.”

  “If you asked, would they release you from this?” Nicholas rested his lips against her forehead.

  Beth paused. She wanted to tell him everything but couldn’t. Then too, she couldn’t lie to him. Maybe he’d be satisfied with some of the story for now. Beth closed her eyes before telling him more. “I made a promise to my father and Daggart. My father’s gone, so I’d be disrespecting the dead. And, Daggart wouldn’t ever release me, not while,” she paused. Unable to think of a fitting reason, Beth continued, “Well, never.” She felt his smile against her skin.

  Each word he said felt like a kiss as Nicholas countered with, “Never is a very long time. I’ve said never again then recanted far sooner than I expected.”

  Seeing a chance to divert him from her own history, Beth asked, “Did it have something to do with you being a hermit?”

  He pulled away, giving her a stern glare. “Sam told you?”

  She nodded. “It was when he warned me away from you. He also said you’d have to tell me yourself if I wanted to know any more about you.”

  Nicholas took her hand, leading her further into the dark. “Come with me.”

  His brother’s warning came to her mind as the light behind them faded. She shuddered, whispering, “I can’t. I promised Samuel.”

  He took her other hand and walking backward, said, “You can and will. I give you permission.”

  “But if Sam…” she protested as they went deeper into the darkness.

  “He isn’t invited,” he said, drawing her close to him.

  Chest to chest, his arms around her, Beth panicked, thinking of Samuel’s warning. Only, with the smell and feel of Nicholas, what had he said? Don’t
something? “Nicholas, we can’t…”

  His mouth covered hers, tender at first, then insistent, hungry. Beth tried to resist, keeping her own lips still under his caress. When he drew away, his mouth still touching her own, the sudden absence increased her desire a hundredfold. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him into a deeper kiss as he held her to his waist. Their bodies were pressed so close, she couldn’t tell which one of them moaned first.

  The ferocity in his kisses both scared and thrilled Beth because she felt the same driving need for him. The thought of her and Nicholas accomplishing what Daggart drunkenly tried to do occurred to her. Upon imagining she and Nicholas undressed together, she felt his tongue touch her own. Beth whispered, “Please, Nicholas, please. I want more of you. All of you.”

  He kissed down her neck to Beth’s shoulder. “You don’t know what you’re asking, sweetheart.”

  She wanted to argue her meaning, but as his lips traveled down her cleavage, she couldn’t speak. Such pleasure now seemed worth any price Beth would later pay. Nicholas leaned her back in his arms. He nipped at the swells above the bodice. She gasped as he did so, the first time she’d ever felt such a thing. He braced her weight against his hips. When Nicholas pressed something hard against her, she suspected he was aroused. “Are you wearing a gun?” Beth asked, and then felt his smile against her breast.

  “No, that’s not my gun.” He pulled down a shoulder of her dress, lips pressing against the warm flesh exposed to the cool air. He kissed his way from one of her shoulders to the others, pausing at her cleavage.

  Every touch, every breath she heard increased this craving for all of him. Beth tried to control the hunger her body had for his. She must stop herself, must stop his lovemaking. “Nicholas, they’ll start looking for us if we don’t…” Beth ran her hand through the hair at the back of his head, pressing him closer to her. “I need to care if they see us like this.”

  He kissed his way up to her lips, back where he started and less intense than earlier. After replacing her dress’s shoulder where it belonged, he ran his hand down her spine. Resting in the small of her back, his hand pressed her nearer to him. “I want you, Elizabeth, but not yet. Not until everything’s ideal for us,” he murmured against her mouth.

  She wanted to argue with him, tell him everything was ideal right now. The hardness of his desire pressed against her, causing Beth to say, “That can’t all be you.”

  He quietly laughed. “If not, something’s different from last time I checked.”

  Beth chuckled, pressing a hand against his chest as if pushing him away from her. “You’re so terrible! Manly too, but mostly terrible.”

  Nicholas kissed the tip of her nose. “I think it’s a little soon for you to be so sure I’m terrible at this.”

  “You tease!” She pretended to pull away, but his arms held her fast. “Nicholas, I really must tell you something.”

  He groaned, saying, “Sounds serious and I don’t want to be. Tell me tomorrow.”

  Smiling at his petulance, she went on, “It is serious. You should know Samuel frequently reminds me of my marital status.”

  He loosened his hold on her a little. “I see.”

  “He’s very charming about it, mostly.” She bit her lip. “And he’s right. I’m supposed to be married. We shouldn’t be alone in the dark.” Beth swallowed the lump in her throat. “He seems to think I have no morals concerning you.”

  Nicholas sighed as if hearing the worst news. He shook his head, saying, “We can’t have Sam being right. He’s full enough of himself as it is. You need to get these morals as soon as possible.”

  Beth’s jaw dropped until she realized he was joking. She held his suspenders out, then let go, laughing at their snap on his chest. “You’re a wicked man.”

  “I am, when it comes to you.” He stepped back, releasing her from his arms. “And you’re correct too. As long as you have promises to keep to others, we can’t be alone again.”

  Beth crossed her arms, chilled from his absence, and nodded. Not wanting to agree, she said, “I’ll do what I can to avoid us being together.”

  “Damn it all. I don’t want that. I want you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. Let’s return. It’s getting late and I need a plan for us.”

  Chapter 9

  The next day found Beth grateful she had enough wood for breakfast and dinner. Daggart’s bedroll appeared slept in; he must have been there and gone without waking her. Coffee stayed hot on their campfire embers. She drank deeply, wanting the boost of energy. Her stomach tensed inside. Had she kissed Nicholas last night? Had he kissed her? Beth held on to the warmth of her coffee cup. She wanted him with a lust unknown to her before now. Was this what Daggart and Lizzy felt for each other? If so, little wonder he couldn’t let go of her memory.

  Beth drained the coffee and readied to decamp. The air smelled of rain and river, a combination unnerving her. She didn’t look forward to today, crossing a flooded Platte. They’d survive only to reach Fort Kearny where Daggart would end up drunk. She heard the signal to leave, and yet her husband didn’t appear. After packing the tent, Beth hitched up the oxen. She stood by, ready to lead them on while keeping a look out for Daggart. Although a relief, his absences meant more work for her. She thought it a shame he didn’t just get another horse and ride on to California, letting her do as she pleased.

  Her breath caught, thinking of going to a different destination from Daggart. Would he let her go to Oregon alone? The idea sparkled in her mind like snow on a sunny day. She didn’t want to live underground, digging for phantom gold. Beth couldn’t even bear the idea of mining for real gold. Living without the sun and fresh air wasn’t a life at all. Her husband might be happy as a mole, but not her. The best part of traveling proved so far to be finding new flowers, seeing butterflies, and spotting various birds and animals. She looked up at the puffy clouds, outlined in sunset’s brilliance.

  She longed for her garden, certainly, and all the fresh vegetables grown there. Making bread, growing herbs, and gathering eggs were high on her list of desires. Beth imagined all the yarn she’d be able to spin if she could have had her own sheep again. Everyone would have blankets, a nice coat, and socks of course. Did anyone in the California hills have sheep to shear? Maybe only farmers in the Oregon Territory had them and Beth would have to go there for any wool.

  She led the animals on, following others up the Platte River bottom. Although the course curled and twisted, the train hadn’t needed to cross yet. Everyone stopped for a cold lunch and fresh water. Another group of wagons, twice their number, camped on the other side. Beth watched across as those on horseback worked a large herd of cattle, keeping them with the wagons. She liked the tranquility of their smaller group. Only a few head of cattle traveled with them, keeping stampedes low.

  They continued along the Platte until noon. Daggart walked up while she ate lunch and greeted her. “Good day.”

  “Hello. Are you hungry?” She went to get him some dried meat, flat bread, and a pickle.

  “Yea.” He sat and ate, saying in between bites, “We’re crossin’ to Kearny late today. The Platte is about three foot deep, and there’s no ferry.”

  Now nauseous, she put down her food. “Three foot? That’s pretty deep.”

  Daggart gave her a withering glare. “Only you and children would think so.”

  She ignored his jibe, searching for a solution to being in water herself. “The animals won’t need walking across, so I could ride in the wagon, couldn’t I?”

  “Yea, you can.” He stood and brushed off the crumbs. “I’ll take the team this afternoon. You didn’t tear up anythin’ this mornin’ while leadin’, so that’s good.”

  His near praise surprised Beth. Whatever he’d been up to this morning helped his mood. Maybe Daggart had learned of a cheap claim in California. Whatever the reason for the lack of ill-treatment, she wouldn’t complain. Best of all, she had permission to ride over and not walk in the ri
ver.

  She followed the teams as they kept on the south bank. Shallow pools dotted the wide bed, most of them foul smelling and green. As they went, the Platte’s level rose. With storm clouds in the distance, word passed around they’d stop for the night near Fort Kearny, but not cross the river. Beth agreed with the decision when informed, not willing to risk anyone in a flash flood.

  For the first time during the trip, she saw wagons rolling east. Some traveled on the north side, fewer on the south. The people walking and riding appeared beaten by the elements. Beth wondered if those in her group would be in the same condition at their journey’s end. No one going back joined them when the train camped that night.

  Even with the smell of rain blowing in from the west, the Platte kept its smooth currents. Beth didn’t fear washing up supper dishes, nor scooping water for tomorrow. She’d found a fresh flowing part, away from the stagnant ponds. While heading back to camp, she saw Nicholas and Claude walking toward her. As they passed, both men nodded in greeting but didn’t halt their conversation in French. She loved hearing anyone speak the language. Maybe some intrepid schoolteacher thought to bring a book on French to California or Oregon territories. If they let her copy a few pages at a time or even borrow the book, Beth could learn the language on her own.

  “Ma’am?” Lawrence sought her attention. “The captains say to prepare for a storm.”

  “Oh dear. Will it be bad?” She chewed on her bottom lip.

  “Yes ma’am. There are gusts right there.” He pointed up to a bow of clouds rapidly moving out from the towering thunderhead.

  “Thank you, Mr. Lawrence. I’ll prepare everything.” Beth smiled at him. She didn’t see Daggart anywhere, so she tied the oxen to the far side from the wind and Erleen to the back, facing east. When the storm front hit, the wagon shuddered with the force. No lightning flashed, but the rain beat down like hailstones. She’d fastened the flaps, making the wagon as watertight as possible. Even then, rain seeped in, soaking the bottom few inches of everything. Beth made a mental note to rinse the damp food for tomorrow’s meals. After the gust front, the rain settled into a steady drip, lulling her to sleep.