Undeniable

by Laura Stapleton

  Daggart shifted from one foot to the other. “No, I’m just mad. My idiot wife gave an Indian runt something without a trade.”

  “Daggart!” she gasped and stepped from his arm’s reach when he glared at her.

  Clearing his throat, Samuel stated, “I don’t understand how this warrants a riot.”

  Enunciating each word as if to a child, Daggart told him, “She’s goin’ to give away all my supplies before I find a single gold nugget.”

  Nicholas walked up, holding the little girl’s hand. “Did I hear him yell something about Mrs. Bartlett causing the tribe to scalp and kill us tonight?”

  Samuel laughed, shaking his head, “I think the whole country heard.”

  “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Daggart sneered.

  The younger brother sobered up fast. “I find it ridiculous. No wonder Chuck sent me over here. I’ll see to it no one from the tribe bothers you today or tonight.”

  “You can’t promise me they’ll not hack us into little bits to eat.” He gave one of his mean little laughs. “They ain’t called savages for no reason.”

  Nicholas stepped up to him, the girl hiding behind and clinging to him. “I’m more likely to do such a thing to you right now than they ever will be. Consider this a promise.”

  Daggart took a staggering step backward as if propelled by the force of Nicholas’s fury. “Fair enough, then, I’ll take your word there’s no problem from savages tonight.”

  Beth saw people, both whites and Indians, gathered around them. Embarrassed, tears filled her eyes and she wiped them away with a sleeve. Daggart stomped off, and as he walked away, Beth glanced at those assembled. She saw pity in everyone’s face and shame filled her. She ignored their stares and gave a wavering smile to the little girl hiding behind Nicholas, clinging to his leg. Her voice broke the tension. “Hello again, sweetie.”

  Samuel asked, “Are you well, Mrs. Bartlett?”

  The argument now ended with Daggart’s departure, Beth sighed in relief after glancing around the crowd. All the bystanders each moved on with better things to do. “Yes, I’m fine.” She gave him a small grin as if she meant her response. “It seems I have a guest from the village, though.”

  Nicholas smiled at her, although his expression was still grim. “This young lady would like me to thank you for her gift. Her mother insisted on Sunny giving you something as trade until I explained this was a gift.”

  “Sunny? What a perfect name for her!” Beth nodded, “Yes, her wool is a gift. I wouldn’t want anything in return.”

  “I thought as much.” He knelt, said a few words to the girl, who laughed and ran back to her family. Nicholas straightened. “Despite what Bartlett thinks, these people don’t take what isn’t theirs.”

  “I’m sure they don’t,” Beth replied.

  “Your husband seems convinced all red men are savages,” Samuel said. “I would like for him to reverse his opinion before his words cause harmful action.”

  She nodded slightly. “I would like that too.” Especially since their captains had such strong feelings. What if Daggart offended them enough to be left behind, Beth wondered. She wanted to believe Nicholas wouldn’t do such a thing, but didn’t trust her own judgment of him.

  Nicholas’s eyes narrowed as he stared at her. “You have never stated your opinion. Do you agree with him concerning the natives?”

  Beth bit her lip, thinking of how to answer honestly. “As his wife, I shou—”

  “But you’re not—” Nicholas broke off at her warning glare.

  She smoothed her skirt of possible wrinkles. “As his wife, I should agree.” Looking up at both men, she added, “As a human being, I have difficulty doing so.”

  Samuel smiled. “Mr. Bartlett is fortunate to have a wife so loyal to him.”

  “Sam, she isn’t his—” Nicholas kicked the ground, cursing, “Damn it all to hell! I’ve got things to do.”

  His anger scared Beth. She watched him walk away and held her hands from nervousness. Rattled, she jumped a little when Samuel’s voice startled her.

  “Mrs. Bartlett, I apologize for my brother’s rudeness. He’s been in a foul mood since yesterday sometime.” He smiled at her. “My brother also dislikes anyone disparaging Indians. He’s very protective of them.”

  “I understand,” Beth said, although she didn’t. The man cosseted such an aggressive group of people. Surely they didn’t need his defense. She could think of only one reason why Nicholas would be so caring. “He must have friends in the tribe.”

  “Ah. Something like that, yes.” Samuel tipped his hat. “If Mr. Bartlett needs calming, do let me know. I have a talent for making hotheads see reason.”

  “Thank you, I will,” she lied. Beth feared the humiliation from her asking for another man’s help would kick off Daggart’s terrible temper. Beth sighed in relief as Samuel left.

  Everyone seemed cranky without warmth, coffee, or tea. A drizzle gusted from the north, chilling Beth to the bone. The downpour darkened the day too early, and no one wanted to stop long for noon. She agreed with the other ladies, better to keep warm by moving. Later that evening and through the next morning the temperature remained too cold to even talk. The wind pushed rain into wherever they tried to sleep. Chimney Rock appeared in the west after almost twenty miles, giving everyone the reassurance of progress.

  Beth kept on the south side of their wagon with Erleen, the sunbonnet’s brim keeping her face somewhat dry. The blowing rain made seeing anything impossible. She avoided Daggart, going to sleep just before dark. Even when around her, he’d kept to himself. For most of the day, their oxen needed his attention more than her mistakes did.

  The next two days stayed cold and less windy. Warm food and hot coffee lifted spirits as did dry clothes. The air seemed to sparkle with the party’s improved mood. Beth hoped to see Nicholas a little. The days seemed long without him. She didn’t have the nerve to ask anyone where he was, but did notice Mr. Lucky wasn’t around either. The men rotated as scouts, she knew, and speculated this was his turn.

  Just before nightfall, everyone took the opportunity to enjoy drinking from Scott’s Spring at Devil’s Gap. Abundant vegetation grew around the sweet, clear water, a welcome change from the muddy North Platte. A few tried climbing the bluffs to see from the top, but the loose soil at the bottom carried them back down each time. Beth gave socks to a grateful Chuck and Lawrence, with Samuel playfully unhappy at not receiving his.

  Once all the cattle, oxen, and horses gathered the next morning, the wagon train moved through Devil’s Gap. The sandstone underfoot bore deep ruts from other emigrants. A couple of wagons were able to fit side by side between the two tall chimney-like bluffs on either side, but most needed to pass through in single file. Past the bluffs, the land stretched out in front with no trees and no wood for noontime meals. A few had found driftwood by the river, but most of the timber still grew behind them on sandbars carved out by the North Platte.

  After traveling an easy thirteen miles, the group continued to a place called Horse Creek. Each took a drink from the water jar filled at the bluffs. Beth and Daggart went about their evening chores as usual. Near dusk, she leaned against Erleen as the cow tugged at the dried grass. She relaxed and closed her eyes, enjoying the animal’s warmth and comforting bulk.

  Erleen shifted her weight in search of a new supply of food, startling Beth into opening her eyes. She saw a couple emerge from the willows around the creek. Amelia and Nicholas walked along the bank, arm in arm. Beth didn’t want to watch, in case she saw an intimacy she’d not like. But, just as a disaster draws in gawkers, she couldn’t look away from them. The laughing girl whirled to face Nicholas, hugged him, and kissed both cheeks in a European fashion. She saw him grin and return her kisses. Beth turned towards Erleen, ignoring the sudden stinging in her eyes.

  Chapter 11

  “Do you want me to have a word with him?” Nick asked Amelia Chatillon. They walked a deer trail that hugged the creek’
s bank.

  “No, my goodness, Daddy can take care of him. He enjoys Mr. Bartlett’s company,” she replied.

  “Mr. Chatillon is in the minority.” He held up a tree’s branch for her to walk under. “I dislike the man more each time we meet.”

  Amelia playfully slapped his arm. “Oh, phooey! That’s only because you have designs on his wife.”

  Feeling as if his thoughts had been written on his forehead, Nick choked out an, “Excuse me? I have no designs on any woman in our group, married or not.”

  She waved away his protests. “Don’t be coy. I’ve seen the way you look at each other. Considering how little time Mr. Bartlett spends with his wife, it’s no wonder she seeks, how shall I put it? Comfort, somewhere else.”

  Anger filled him. Beth never initiated their kisses and he considered her a lady, not a courtesan. “Comfort? I don’t appreciate what you’re insinuating. Mrs. Bartlett doesn’t seek anything from anyone here, not like that.”

  She laughed, shaking her head. “My, you do have a bad case of it, don’t you?”

  Nick put his hands in his pockets, still a little angry and a lot more shamed. “It doesn’t matter what I think or feel. She’s a nice woman with a good-for-nothing of a husband. I do nothing more for her than for any other lady in the group.” He stared ahead, uncomfortable with the lie. Nick hadn’t let anyone, not even Sam, know the extent of his feelings for Beth, never mind the kisses.

  The girl stepped over a fallen log after him, holding Nick’s hand. “If you say so…”

  He’d heard the skepticism in her tone and had to correct her. “Yes, I do say so, since I’ve been teaching you French, helping Mrs. Watts with hitching their animals, and have carried a lot of water for the ladies.”

  At a wider part of the path, Amelia took his arm. “Especially the single ones, it seems.”

  Nick frowned, now aware of the married women not needing as much help. “I’ve not noticed until just now.”

  She laughed, “Don’t you find it odd how one minute they’re capable, but the next minute when you’re nearby, they’re helpless?”

  He cut his gaze to her. “Those girls are flirting with me, aren’t they?”

  Laughing at him, she turned Nick to face her. “Yes, they are. Now I know to not bother Mr. Claude with fetching things for me, since he won’t have a clue I’m flirting with him.”

  Holding back willow branches so she could pass, Nick retorted, “He’s a romantic Frenchman. He’ll know.”

  They paused once clear of the woods. Amelia turned to him, “Speaking of the French, thank you.” She kissed one of his cheeks and then the other. “And this is for teaching me how to flirt with Monsieur Claude in his native tongue. I hope he appreciates my effort.”

  Nick returned her kisses in the same way, replying, “You’re welcome, and I don’t see how he couldn’t like a young woman who’s gone to such effort for him.”

  “You are too kind.” She smiled at him. “Remember to send Monsieur Claude in my direction a few times, if you please?”

  Nick shook his head, resigned to a reluctant role of matchmaker. “I’ll send him but the rest is up to you.”

  “Not to worry. He won’t be able to resist.” She nodded to her left. “Speaking of irresistible, there’s Mrs. Bartlett.”

  He glanced over and saw Beth leading Erleen around for greener grass. She wasn’t facing them. Had she seen Amelia kiss him? The thought of Beth thinking him taken by the younger girl bothered Nick and he didn’t know why. Although wanting to think about the odd emotion, he first needed to reassure Beth of his… Nick stopped. Affections? He shook his head, unwilling to admit so much for her. Feeling his companion’s stare, Nick said, “I need to visit with her for a moment. Will you excuse me?”

  “Certainly!” Amelia put on her sunbonnet and winked at him, “Have fun, but not too much lest her husband catches you.”

  Nick mock glared at her teasing and then crossed the field to Beth. She’d made the perfect dress for her figure. The color, cut, everything enhanced her slender curves. He smiled, knowing she wore his clunky boots under such a womanly skirt. Nick supposed he should ask for them back but liked the idea of her wearing them.

  What would he say past the first hello? He stopped in his tracks, knowing he had no real reason to speak to her. Anything the Bartletts needed to know could be told to Bartlett himself. Nick veered away from her, toward his own camp. He stopped by the Watts’s, then the Chatillons’. Seeing Bartlett seated between Amelia and her father angered Nick. The man had a wife already, one kept shackled to him by an inane reason. Yet, he sat here, sparking another girl before releasing Beth. Instead of dragging Bartlett away by the scruff of his neck, Nick smiled at the trio. He tipped his hat and went to check on everyone else in the group.

  He found time to talk with the hands as they settled in for the evening. Spirits were high, knowing they’d be carousing at Laramie this time tomorrow. He passed on singing with them. Instead, he yearned to go to Beth, to talk and pass the time with her. His scouting the trail kept him from seeing her with any sort of regularity. Had she missed him as much as he had missed her? Nick hated the constant craving he felt, always wanting what he couldn’t have. To hell with this, he thought. He had every right to check on one of the party’s status and wellbeing. Nick went around the wagon circle first, making himself be patient in seeing her. Once done, he eased his way over to where Beth camped.

  He saw her sitting by the fire, concentrating on what he assumed to be Sam’s sock. The warm light flickered across her heart shaped face, lending an extra glow to her skin. While she looked down, her long eyelashes seemed to rest against her cheeks. Nick leaned against the wagon, enjoying this chance to stare as much as he wanted. She smiled, lost in thought, and he smiled with her.

  Nick noticed she’d lost a little weight since making her new dress. The waist didn’t fit as snug, nor did the neckline. He caressed the dipping neckline with his gaze, lingering over the shadow of her cleavage. He’d been wise to avoid her, the memory of how Beth’s lips and neck tasted still strong in his mind. Shifting his position a little, he looked away from her. He didn’t want to grow any more interested in Beth physically at the moment. If he let his imagination have free reign, he’d not be able to walk back to his camp.

  Instead, Nick imagined Bartlett’s reaction to him visiting with his wife. The man might be sniffing at Miss Chatillon’s skirts, but could still be a dog in the manger over his own woman. The reaction of such a mutt kept Nick’s desires in check.

  Before common sense stopped him, Nick strode over to her. “Mrs. Bartlett?”

  She glanced up while getting to her feet. “Yes, Mr. Granville?”

  He smiled, ignoring how much a kiss from her could help, instead saying, “I’m here to see what you might need. I’m sure you’re aware Fort Laramie is our next stop and a chance to restock on supplies. They’ll be at mountain prices, always a premium, but worth the cost to some.”

  “My husband might, but I’d prefer not to go tomorrow.” She tucked the wool into her cloth bag.

  Nick shook his head. Didn’t all women want to catch up on the latest news? He’d bet she needed supplies. “Is your husband getting fresh stores for you two?”

  Beth stood to face him. Focused on the fire and not him, she replied in a small voice, “I hope so.”

  Nick stared at her close up, entirely forgetting his purpose for speaking to her. Beth’s eyes were a little red, and she sniffed. She’d been crying. He took a couple of steps forward, ready to beat the innards out of whoever caused her tears. “How are you today, really?”

  “Fine, thank you for asking, and you?” She looked everywhere but at him.

  “I’m fine too. Although, I am tired of hearing my hands brag about how warm their feet are. Also, Sam’s been sulking because he’s the only one left out, so if you could somehow hurry on his socks, we’d all be grateful.”

  Beth gave a choked laugh and sniffed again. “I’ll step up the
pace, then.”

  “Thank you.” Waving in the slight breeze, tendrils of hair framed her face. Nick wanted to let one of the curls wrap around his finger as he kissed her. She must have taken advantage of the Platte being up. Beth smelled a little of flowers, leading him to believe she washed clothes with the rest of the women.

  She put away her cloth sack, getting the pail. “Mr. Granville? I do have a request of you. Would you mind walking with me for water? I don’t mean to be a ‘fraidy cat, but rumors of the Sioux are more alarming when it’s dusk.”

  He grinned, pleased she’d asked something of him at last. Nick knew and dismissed the rumors, knowing they had nothing to fear. Still, he jumped at the chance to be alone with her in the dark and with a real reason to do so. “I’m here to help.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate your coming along with me. I’ll get the pail.” She went to the wagon, discovering she already had the bucket in hand. A blush colored her cheeks. “Oh! Yes, let’s go, then.”

  Nick suppressed a smile at her distraction. He wanted to believe he affected Beth as much as she did him. They walked beyond the firelight’s reach, the gold replaced by a full moon’s silver. When Beth stumbled on a shadowed tuft of grass, he grabbed her hand to steady her. Her skin felt soft and sweet against his, despite her slight calluses. He couldn’t let her go and searched her face, hoping she mirrored his desire. “Why don’t I hold your hand, just in case?”

  “That might be a good idea. I wouldn’t want to fall and ruin my bucket.” She intertwined her fingers with his.

  “Is that what you ladies are calling it, now?” He leaned back, looking at her bottom.

  Laughing, she reproached, “For shame! You know what I mean.”

  Nick was pleased with himself for brightening her mood. He walked with her, enjoying her touch. Once at the bank of the North Platte, he said, “If you do choose to visit the fort tomorrow, let me or Sam know. There’s a ferry taking people across.” He liked the idea of escorting her, telling her the history and about the ghost haunting the place. Maybe Beth’d cling to him, partly in fright, partly because she adored him. He took her pail, though reluctant to let go of her hand. “Let me get this for you.”