Wagon Train Sisters (Women of the West)

by Shirley Kennedy

  Jack paused and ran a hand over his face. All these years, he’d hidden his unbearable pain. At last he’d allowed it to surface. Sarah wanted to throw her arms around him, comfort him, but she knew better. He must finish what he started. He wanted it that way.

  When Jack could speak again, he continued, “So I did what Jenny told me to do. Took the money and headed west. Since then I’ve been on my own and lived with the guilt. If I hadn’t been a coward, I might have saved her.”

  Florrie slammed her hand on the table. “That’s not so! How can you blame yourself? You were just a child.”

  Sarah nodded vigorously. “She’s right. What if you’d gone in the room and tried to help? You, too, could have been killed by that monster.”

  Jack took a long pause before he said, “Let me finish.” His eyes drilled into Florrie’s. “The worst of it is nobody gives a damn. You think it won’t happen to you? You think your beauty won’t fade? It will, sooner than you think, and when it does, you’ll have nowhere to turn. By then you’ll be so estranged from your family you’ll be too humiliated and degraded to ask for help. So you’ll die alone, like my mother and Jenny did, with no one to care.”

  Florrie pressed her hand to her mouth. “I never thought about it that way. It’s been so much fun, the parties and all.”

  Jack nodded with understanding. “I know, but it’s not the life for you. You’re made of finer stuff than you think. Give up this life. Go home to your baby and your loving family. Only there will you find happiness and self-respect, the only things that truly matter in this world.” He reached beneath his shirt, found the chain around his neck, and gave it a jerk. He pulled the chain out, slipped off the gold ring, and laid it in front of Florrie. “This belonged to Jenny. She gave it to me when she died, and I’ve carried it ever since. If you walk out of here right now, she’d want you to have it and wear it in her honor. She’d be proud to think she’d played a part in bringing you home.”

  The door swung open, no warning knock. Mrs. Northcutt swept in looking highly annoyed. “You’re wanted downstairs, Florrie. Your guests must go.”

  Florrie sat silent for a long moment, biting her lip as if in deep thought. At last she sighed and stood to face Mrs. Northcutt. “I won’t be entertaining tonight.” She picked up Jenny’s ring and slipped it on her finger. “Nor ever again.” She smiled at Jack. “I shall be honored to wear Jenny’s ring. Now, let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter 22

  As Jack, Florrie, and Sarah descended the front steps of the brothel, Sarah drew in a fresh breath. How wonderful to get the last vestiges of heavy-scented air from her lungs. How wonderful to have her sister by her side. The bundle Florrie carried wasn’t that big. She’d left the fancy dresses and gaudy jewelry behind. Jack walked beside her. That she’d been overwhelmed by his words to Florrie was an understatement. Never had she seen a man dig so deep inside himself, lay his emotions so bare despite the obvious pain. She clasped his arm. “Jack, I don’t know what to—”

  “Don’t say anything.” He was back to normal now. The one tear that had slid down his cheek was long gone. He was smiling. “You’re taking her to the hotel?”

  She nodded eagerly. “I can hardly wait to see the look on Pa’s face when he sees Florrie and the look on Florrie’s face when she sees her baby.”

  “I’ll walk you to the hotel and be on my way.”

  “You don’t want to come with us?”

  “It’s a family thing. You don’t need me.”

  They had much to discuss—at least, she had much to discuss—and she wasn’t going to let him get away that easily. “I won’t be long. Where will you be?”

  He lifted one dark brow and grinned at her. “Visiting my horse. When you’re done, come see me.”

  * * * *

  When Pa opened the door to his hotel room and laid eyes on Florrie, his reaction was beyond even what Sarah had imagined. “My daughter!” He pulled her inside and wrapped his arms around her.

  Florrie buried her head on his shoulder and started to cry. “Oh, Pa, I’m so, so sorry—”

  “Don’t you be sorry for anything. That’s all behind you now.”

  Pa understood. Thank God, he wasn’t going to give Florrie a lecture or shower her with guilt. Sarah’s heart filled with gratitude. “We’ll make up a story. Ma need never know.”

  Pa gazed at Sarah over Florrie’s shoulder. “There will be no stories. When Luzena sees her daughter and granddaughter, whatever the truth is, it won’t matter. Did you think she’d turn them away?”

  He was right. She could see that now. No one in the world had a more understanding heart than Ma. No need to make up some elaborate lie.

  Becky appeared, holding little Addy in her arms. “Florrie! Well, it’s time you showed up. Here’s your baby.” Her gruff voice belied the tear in her eye when she extended her arms and handed little Addy to her sister-in-law.

  Florrie took the baby in her arms. It was easy to see from the warmth in her eyes it was love at first sight. “Oh, how adorable!” She touched Addy’s cheek. “What soft skin she has. Look at her eyes. They’re just like mine. And her hair! I love how it curls in those little blond ringlets.” Eyes glowing, she looked at Sarah. “Thanks so much for getting her back. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

  Sarah couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “Don’t give it a thought. It was no trouble at all.”

  * * * *

  When Sarah entered the stable back of the store, she found Jack standing beside Bandit, concentrating on running a brush over the horse’s already shiny coat. “Hello,” she said softly.

  He looked up. “So Florrie’s back with her family?”

  “Yes, and it went beautifully. Already she loves her baby. I can’t imagine she’d ever want to get into that life again, and it’s all thanks to you.”

  In silence, Jack continued brushing Bandit. At last, he threw the brush aside and turned to face her. He placed the flat of his hand on his chest. “It’s strange having the ring gone.”

  Words flew to her mouth, but she didn’t say them. She must be careful, even though she longed to point out what to her was so obvious—that all those years the gold ring was a constant reminder of the guilt he felt over Jenny’s death; that tonight, by opening his heart to Florrie, he finally realized Jenny’s death wasn’t his fault. He was only a boy of twelve. He couldn’t possibly have saved her. So he didn’t have to wander anymore, spend a lifetime running from his supposed guilt. That’s what she wanted to say, but she wouldn’t. If he couldn’t figure it out for himself, she wasn’t going to throw her pride away and try to make him understand. Maybe he’d never understand. Maybe he was born to wander, and nothing she nor anyone could do would change him. “Thanks so much, Jack. Florrie loves the gold ring. She’ll wear it always.” Now what would he say? Her stomach clenched tight as she waited for his answer.

  “What happened tonight—it’s a lot to take in.” He threw back his head and let out a great peal of laughter. “My God! Suddenly I feel like a burden’s been lifted off my shoulders. I don’t know…maybe my talk with Florrie had something to do with it, do you suppose?” He clasped her arms. “Will you please tell me why I haven’t asked you to marry me?”

  “I really don’t know.” She kept her voice cool. “Does this mean you’d like to?”

  His arms went around her. “I’d very much like to.”

  “Then I will.”

  She hardly got the words out before his arms encircled her and pulled her so close she could feel the beat of his heart. He asked, “Did I mention that I love you?”

  Her arms slid around his neck. “Yes, but you can tell me again.”

  Epilogue

  Placerville (Formerly Hangtown), California, July 4, 1865

  Here came the parade!

  With her husband and three children, Sarah McCoy stood amidst the crowd on a corner of Main Street waiting for the Fourth of July parade to start. What a
glorious day this was. What fun to see all of Main Street decorated with bunting, flags, and garlands. She looked up at the new bell tower, a twenty-five-foot wooden structure with a big bell on top, used to summon volunteer firemen. It brought back a moment of sadness when she remembered the terrible fires of 1856 that swept through Main Street, destroying everything in their path. That included the pie shop and Hiram’s hotel. They’d rebuilt, bigger and better. Faithful Cedric was her partner now. With his help, she’d turned her simple pie shop into Sarah’s Bakery, the biggest in town.

  “Mom, Dad, look, it’s Anming!” Elizabeth, Sarah’s ten-year-old daughter, pointed to the first float of the parade. A big sign on the side read Xiang Wei Lou Restaurant. With its bright colors and big, papier–mâché dragon, it was unmistakably Chinese. Anming and her husband, Ling, stood at the front of the float waving to the crowd.

  They all waved back, Jack remarking, “They’ve come a long way, haven’t they?”

  Sarah glanced up at her husband. Fourteen years had past since she married him, but even now she loved being near him. He hadn’t changed much—maybe a bit of gray in his hair, but that was all. He’d remained as kind and caring as ever, and now was wealthy, too, what with his and Ben’s prospering businesses. “Yes, Anming and Ling have come a long way.” Who would have thought the lowly coal miner and the slave girl with the awful scar would end up happily married, with five children and prosperous restaurant owners besides. Xiang Wei Lou, the first Chinese restaurant on Main Street, was famous for its Liuyang Lobster Sauce and hot, savory Hunan cuisine. The fires of 1856 destroyed it, but the undaunted couple quickly rebuilt. Now their restaurant was known far and wide, more popular than ever.

  Sarah’s older son, Nicholas, stood on her other side. At thirteen, he was already taller than she and looked just like his father. He pointed to a float that was coming. A big sign on the side read, The Bella Union Hotel & Casino. “There’s Uncle Hiram and Aunt Becky, and look, there’s Louise and Gregory.”

  Sarah waved. They looked so happy. Hiram, the successful hotel owner—how many did he own now? Becky, the social leader of Placerville—my, how she’d changed. She became a different woman when she and Hiram adopted Louise, a one-year-old little girl with big brown eyes, and Gregory, a two-year-old boy with blond curls. Not that Becky didn’t still have a sharp tongue at times, but she was pleasant to live with now that motherhood had erased her bitter discontent. Sarah dimly remembered how she had often wished her sister-in-law would someday get her comeuppance. Whatever that meant, it never happened and was no longer necessary.

  Once again, as she had many times over the years, Sarah recalled her part in the story of Louise and Gregory. It was a story Becky and the rest of the world would never hear. It began the night Sarah brought little Addy home from Moose City when she’d described to Jack the awful scene she’d encountered: the brothel, the muddy yard, the tent in back where Addy and two other children were being kept by an Indian woman named White Feather.

  “What happened to the other two children?” Jack had asked.

  “They’re still there.”

  After that, Jack remained strangely quiet with a grim, thoughtful look on his face. He said nothing more but had a long, private talk with Hiram the very next day. Neither confided what was said. Shortly after, the shocking death of Hannibal Palmer was all anyone could talk about. Word had it he’d been checking on the Golden Hill dam when he accidentally tripped an explosive device someone had planted there, and that was the end of the notorious millionaire. No one mourned his loss, probably not even his wife, Isobel, who moved to their Nob Hill mansion in San Francisco shortly thereafter.

  The day after Hannibal’s death, Jack and Hiram went off someplace, they didn’t say where. Hiram soon showed up with a little brown-eyed girl and a blond, curly-headed boy. As Becky told the story, all he ever said was, “I’ve got two children here who need a mother. Would you mind—?”

  “Gladly,” she’d cried, and that was the end of the discussion. Now the two rescued children were the light of Hiram’s and Becky’s lives. Sarah would never know what Hannibal’s plans were, but later, when she heard horror stories about children sold to brothels, she was endlessly grateful to Jack and Hiram for their rescue. Both Gregory and Louise had turned out wonderfully well. At sixteen, tall, blond Gregory possessed an engaging personality, as well as a sharp mind. Already he was showing a keen interest in his father’s hotel business. At fifteen, bubbly Louise was turning heads with her charm and pretty, dark looks.

  The last float rolled by. The crowd dispersed. This afternoon there’d be picnics, games, and speeches. As Sarah and her family walked home, Timothy, her younger son, asked, “When will Aunt Florrie and Uncle Theodore be here?”

  “By this evening, I hope,” Sarah replied. “Don’t forget, they’re coming clear from Mokelumne City.” Florrie, what a miracle. After all these years, Sarah still marveled at her sister’s extraordinary luck. After her brief life of sin, she could have been disgraced for life. Instead, the day after she arrived in Mokelumne City from Hangtown, she met Theodore Goetzmann, whom Ma had wisely invited for dinner, and they fell in love practically at first sight. Sarah still had to chuckle. She’d found the beet farmer dull, ponderous, and boring, whereas her sister found him bright, witty, and a wonderful catch. Actually, he was a wonderful catch for Florrie, considering he’d become a loving father to little Addy. Now, in addition to his four children and Addy, they had three more of their own, and Florrie couldn’t be happier. She never mentioned her brief life as a Sister of Joy, and most certainly no one ever brought it up.

  “Looks as if the whole family will be at dinner tonight,” Jack remarked as they strolled along.

  “Yes, everyone.” Not quite true. Even now, Sarah got a catch in her throat when she thought of Ma and Pa, both gone now. At least they’d lived long enough to know their grueling journey to California had been worthwhile. I’m doing fine, Ma and Pa. Wish you were here.

  Jack took her arm as they strolled along. “It’s not the same Main Street, is it?”

  How true. The rough-and ready days when miners swarmed the streets were long gone, but the town had gained new life from the Comstock silver strike in Nevada. It had grown into a thriving trade center where well-built stores and business buildings lined the street, no more structures made of canvas.

  “I’m so glad we’re not called Hangtown anymore,” Sarah remarked.

  “Thanks to you.”

  “I suppose I helped.” In 1854, Sarah worked on a committee that demanded a more dignified name instead of one that was a constant reminder of the town’s not-so-glorious past. Now they were the City of Placerville, which was much more fitting.

  “What would I do without you?” Jack stopped in the street and planted a tender kiss on her forehead.

  As they continued their stroll along Main Street, hand in hand, a tiny smile played on Sarah’s lips as she counted her blessings. Not every woman had three beautiful children and a husband who continued to be the love of her life. How lucky she was to have everything she’d ever wished for. She’d come such a long way from Fort Wayne, Indiana, in more ways than one.

  Be sure to read the first book in the series, Wagon Train Cinderella. Each heartfelt tale is chock-full of history and adventure and is a standalone novel.

  Wagon Train Cinderella

  Can an oppressed young woman find love, confidence, and courage on a wagon train to California?

  As a baby, Callie Whitaker was left on the doorstep of an isolated farmhouse in Tennessee. The Whitaker family took her in but treated her more like a servant than a daughter. Forced to work long hours each day and restricted from an education, Callie is scorned and ridiculed by her two older stepsisters.

  A new world opens when the Whitakers sell the farm and join a wagon train to California. Rugged Indian guide, Luke McGraw, helps Callie realize how poorly she’s been treated. With Luke’s family teaching her to read and to se
e her own worth, Callie’s confidence begins to flourish…and with each mile they cross, her love for Luke grows.

  Despite the dangerous trek and the terrible way her family treats her, Callie emerges the strongest of them all. Amidst deprivation, heartache, hardship, and death, her love for Luke remains steadfast. When disaster befalls Luke, only Callie’s new-found courage and determination can pull them through.

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  Chapter 1

  Along the Overland Trail, 1851

  Walking through the woods, Callie Whitaker was drawn to the sound of a waterfall. When a snake slithered across her path, she dropped her bucket and stopped in her tracks. It disappeared into the dense undergrowth. What brought me here? I cannot believe this is happening to me. Only a month ago, she was leading a dull but safe existence in the Tennessee farmhouse where she’d lived her entire life and rarely left. Now here she was in the middle of a wilderness she never knew existed, heading to California, a place she’d never heard of. Bone-tired from the endless work, she was sleeping on the ground under a wagon instead of her tiny bed under the eaves. The farm wasn’t much, but she’d give anything if she could return to Tennessee where she didn’t have to worry about Indians, snakes, and who-knew-what-would-happen-next?

  A lump formed in her throat. Silly girl, you have no time for feeling sorry for yourself. Darkness was about to fall. She must get to the stream, scoop a bucketful of water, and hurry back to the wagon where everyone expected their supper. She picked up her bucket and trudged on. Through tall trees, the flowing water came into view. Ah, there it was. She drew close. How beautiful. Cascading water falling over moss-covered boulders, gorgeous ferns in every shade of green, clumps of tiny violets growing around the pool beneath and standing in the pool, the water up to his knees… Oh, my stars. She froze in her tracks, backed a few steps away, and peered over the top of a red hawthorn bush. It was a man—tall, lean, sinewy, with long, dark hair—and completely naked. He appeared to be bathing, bending to scoop water into his palms, then bringing it up over his head with a giant splash. The water cascaded over a powerful set of shoulders, down over the rippling muscles of his stomach to his sturdy thighs, to his…