Seeing that a more drastic measure was needed, Sky scanned the room.
Picking up the full pitcher of water that sat by the wash basin, he threw its contents in his cousin’s face. Bolting upright, sputtering and choking, Jason looked wildly around the room, water dripping from his double chin as the bottle of whiskey clattered to the floor. “What the blazes!” He started to reach for his gun belt slung carelessly over the head of the bed, but Sky got there first, pulling it out of his reach.
Recognition dawned on Jason’s face as he regarded Sky through glassy eyes. “Shhkyy.” The word was slurred as he blinked hard, no emotion in his voice. “What are you doin’ here?” He ran a hand over his wet face in an apparent attempt to clear his vision.
“We need to talk.”
Jason started to lie down, waving a careless hand in his direction. “Come back insha mornin’.”
“No, we will talk now.” Sky had him by the lapels of his grimy red shirt, pulling him to his feet. Jason stood there, swaying, then stumbled after Sky as he turned and left the room.
Back in the main room, Jed, who had stoked up the fire, waited for them.
“Coffee’s on,” he said with a meaningful look in Sky’s direction, nodding to the fireplace.
Sky pulled out a chair, motioning for Jason to sit. Walking to the fire, he poured a steaming mug of thick, black coffee and set it on the table in front of his inebriated cousin. Then, pouring himself a cup, he sat down next to him, turning his chair so he could look into Jason’s face. He let Jason sip his coffee for several minutes before he said anything.
“I’ll buy her from you.” The words were spoken bluntly. Money was the only thing that might sway Jason’s mind. Across the room Jed, who had been leaning one arm on the mantle, stood erect in surprise.
“Wha...? Who?” asked Jason, his befuddled mind apparently only beginning to clear.
“The girl you are supposed to marry tomorrow. How much did you pay for her?”
Jason rubbed the heels of his hands against his bleary eyes, leaning his elbows on the table. Then, looking at Sky, remembrance flooded his face. “I’m getting married tomorrow.” The words emerged as if this were news to him.
Sky, one hand wrapped around his mug, sipped quietly, waiting for what he had said to sink in. He did not have long to wait.
“You want to buy her?” Jason rubbed a hand over his face, the stubble on his cheeks rasping as his hand passed over it. He picked up his coffee, took a large swig of the scalding brew, and grimaced.
“How much did you pay for her?” Sky asked again.
“Seventy-five bucks. Fifty to her uncle and twenty-five to the wagon master who fetched her out here. Plus an extra five to the minister, so he’d do the ceremony at Greer’s Ferry.”
Sky swirled his coffee, staring into it. He still had his seed money. He had put a lot of work into the south field, hoping to plant it in wheat come spring. He set his cup down on the table. “I’ll pay you two hundred for her.”
Jason snorted. “Not likely. Five hundred maybe.”
Without hesitation Sky extended his hand. “It’s a deal.” It was all the money he had.
Somewhat befuddled, Jason shook his hand, sealing the deal.
Taking two pieces of paper from his shirt pocket, Sky placed them on the table. “You got pen and ink, Jed?”
Jed was gone only briefly, returning with a blue ink bottle and a turkey-feather pen. Carefully dipping the pen into the ink, Sky filled in something and then handed Jason the pen, shoving the papers toward him. “Sign them.”
Jason grinned at him. “Where’s my money?”
Pulling the money out of his shirt pocket, Sky laid it on top of the papers. A light danced in Jason’s eyes as he picked up the money and fingered it.
Then, taking up the pen, he scrawled his signature across both the papers.
Motioning to Jed to come to the table, Sky handed him the pen and he signed his name underneath Jason’s.
A weight lifted off Sky’s shoulders. He had freed the girl, and he had a signed paper to prove it. Carefully folding one paper and placing it back in his chest pocket, he walked over toward the fire. Jed busied himself with stoking the blaze but paused as Jason stood from the table. Scratching his belly, he yawned loudly and shuffled across the floor, heading back to his room.
Pouring himself a cup of the black brew on the fire, Jed looked at Sky. “Well, ya done it now. Whatcha gonna do with her?”
“Do with the girl? Send her home, of course. I don’t want her,” Sky spoke as he handed the other paper to Jed.
“Hmmph,” Jed snorted, “I can see you ain’t thought things through very good. Ain’t no wagon trains gonna be headin’ east till spring. What you gonna do with her inbetwixt time?”
Sky brought one hand up to rub the back of his neck, staring into the fire in thought. “Send her to Lewiston maybe. She could stay there.”
“Hmmph. ‘Thout a chaperone? Know what’s gonna happen to a poor girl left to fend fer herself midst a pack of wolves, don’t you? She be et up, I tell ya. Taken advantage of, sure as shootin’. Hmmph, Lewiston he says!” The last sentence was aimed at the fireplace mantel, with a gesture of his hand in Sky’s direction.
Again the face of Victoria Snyder jarred him to action. The very thought of Victoria all alone in a strange town and left to fend for herself made his mouth dry. “I could bring her up here, I guess. She could stay out at my place till spring.”
Jed rolled his eyes in derision and smacked his forehead twice in succession with his palm. “An’ who’d have the girl after he be findin’ out that she lived in a cabin in the woods with a fellow for six months? You got to think o’ the girl’s reputation! You’re just gonna have to marry that girl. Ain’t no two ways about it.”
“What’s the difference? Whether I marry her or not, she’s still going back east come spring.”
“I ain’t never said nothin’ about sendin’ the girl back. That be all your idea. You get married, you do it for keeps. Love’ll come. Mark my words, love’ll come.” With that, Jed threw the dregs of his coffee into the fire and stalked out of the room, signifying the end of the discussion.
Sky stared into the fire for a long time. Finally he began to pray for the strength to do what needed to be done and exited quietly to ride for home.
Sky slept late the next morning and had just gotten up when he heard the irate curses of his cousin as he stormed into the yard. When Sky stepped out onto the small porch of his cabin, he could see that Jason’s horse was lathered and heaving, proof he’d ridden him hard the whole way from town.
Jason jumped from the saddle even before the steed came to a stop. Stumbling across the yard, he glared at Sky. “You thieving low-life scum!” He swore. “You can’t have her! I don’t care what I said. I don’t care how much you paid for her. You can’t have her; she’s mine!” His chest heaved, and his balled-up fists shook at his sides as he glowered at Sky.
Sky merely raised one eyebrow and smiled. “Good morning, Jason. Not having a bad day, I hope?” He’d been expecting something like this. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“You’re a cheating scoundrel!” Jason’s tone was disgruntled as he started toward Sky again, but some of his anger seemed to have dissipated.
Raising one hand palm outward, Sky spoke as his cousin stopped. “Maybe I should read you something.” He pulled one of the notes penned the night before out of his pocket. Unfolding it carefully, he began to read,
“I, Jason Jordan, do solemnly swear that the following statement is true and correct. On the night of August the 2nd, 1885, I sold to my cousin, Skyler Jordan, all rights to do as he sees fit with my betrothed, a mail- order bride due to arrive at Greer’s Ferry on August the 3rd, 1885. The sum thereof being the amount of $500.”
Sky folded the letter, tucking it back into his pocket. “It’s signed by you and witnessed by Jed. There is nothing you can do about it. And,” he added meaningfully, “Jed has a copy in his saf
e.” His tone softened at the dejected slump of Jason’s shoulders. “Sorry, Jace. I couldn’t let you marry her.”
Jason stared off into the trees. “You’ve always been better than me, haven’t you, Sky?”
“Jason.” Sky sighed. “I just believe that what we were taught when we were growing up is true. Somewhere down in your heart you have to know that the way you are living is wrong. I can’t believe you could throw all Grandma Jordan’s teaching to the wind.”
Jason stared at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. All the fight seemed to have drained out of him.
“I know you’re miserable, Jace. I can see it in your eyes, especially at times like this. You can’t go on living like you are. You know too much of the Word.”
Jason scuffed an arc in the dust with the toe of his boot. Then he huffed, “Gram. She always made us memorize Scripture.”
Sky grinned and leaned his shoulder into a post. “You always knew the verses better than me and got the first warm cookie from the oven.”
An imperceptible smile softened Jason’s lips. “You heard from her lately?” Sky nodded, knowing how much Jason loved Grandma Jordan. She had raised him after his parents died.
Jason had always been one of Grandma Jordan’s favorites growing up. It had hurt her to no end when Jason had turned his back on God. Though it pained her not to write him, she had decided that would be best. She wrote to Sky every month but had asked him not to share with her about Jason unless it was good news.
“Gram is doing fine. She writes that she prays for you constantly. And that Marquis is doing well, although she misses you.” Sky watched him carefully. Were those tears in his eyes?
Jason quickly turned away. “I won’t fight you about the girl. She’s probably gonna be more trouble than she’s worth anyway.” He started to turn toward his lathered horse.
“Jason?”
Jason paused and looked back over his shoulder.
“Want some coffee?”
Turning, Jason considered him for a beat, as if judging whether the offer was genuine. Then he shrugged. “Sure.”
Sky had ridden away an hour later, leaving Jason sitting at his table reading all of his letters from Grandma Jordan.
Now as he finished saddling his stallion, he prayed this would be a turning point in the life of Jason Jordan. Adding a prayer for his new wife, he headed back toward the cabin to see if she was ready.
4
Brooke, Jack Greer, Percival, and the minister sat around the table chatting easily. The burly mountain man had gone on the night before, and the stage driver and the man who rode shotgun were outside hitching the horses to the stage in preparation for the ride back to Lewiston.
Brooke, her back to the door, tasted her tea. What she wouldn’t give for a nice cup of strong coffee. Uncle Jackson was strictly a coffee person, but he had insisted she drink tea “like a lady.” On the wagon train west, she’d refused to drink anything but coffee and had developed a taste for it.
“Tell me a little about your trip out west,” said Percival. “You said you came out the old-fashioned way, by wagon, right?”
“Yes.”
“Why? The train would have been much faster.”
“Our wagon master brings lots of mail-order brides out west. Sometimes he comes by train. This time, wagons were cheaper because there were so many of us.”
“I always wanted to join a wagon train just to find out what they’re like.”
Brooke’s eyes twinkled. “There’s something you don’t know about, Percival?”
He laughed good-naturedly. “My mother always tells me that I talk too much. So, what was the most interesting thing about your trip?”
Brooke smiled. “Actually, I learned a lot about this area from you yesterday. It might come in handy someday’ you never know.” She took a sip of tea. “Miss Emily Donaldson was the most interesting thing on the trip, I guess.”
The men looked at her questioningly.
“She was an older woman who was rather—” Brooke searched for kind words for the woman who’d been the most like a mother to her on the trip— “accustomed to having her way.”
The men smiled knowingly.
“The wagon master often had to help her out of situations she got into because she never listened to what he said.” She stared at the wall. “I miss her.”
Sky entered the cabin through the outer door, which had been left standing ajar to allow the cool morning air in.
“So, what was the funniest thing that happened to her?” asked Percival. Brooke, her back to Sky, chuckled softly, and Sky stilled, knowing he was seeing her relaxed for the first time. “Miss Donaldson drove our wagon. There was supposed to be a man to drive it, but he didn’t show up at the last minute, and she said she would do it. We had come to some river—the Platte, I think. Anyway, she didn’t think that the place where we were crossing was the best place to cross. She thought another place just downriver would be smoother. But Harry—he was the wagon master—said it wasn’t a good place to ford. Emily couldn’t pass it up, though. She always thought she knew best. I made her let me down, and I rode the ferry across. But she pulled out of line when Harry wasn’t looking and started across the river. She wasn’t five feet out when our horses’ feet went out from under them, and the wagon started to float downriver.”
Brooke chuckled again. “I shouldn’t laugh. She could have really been hurt, and I was so scared for her at the time, but I’ll never be able to think of Emily Donaldson without seeing her dancing on the seat of our floating wagon, her skirt up around her waist, her bloomers showing for all the world to see. She was screaming, ‘Harry! You were right! Save me! Harry! You were right! Save me!’” Brooke mimicked her screams in falsetto.
Laughter filled the room.
At that instant Brooke saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Turning, she found Sky’s gaze fixed on her. His eyes darted to Percival for a moment, slight suspicion there, but quickly came back to hers. He didn’t laugh but merriment danced in the depth of his eyes, a light smile playing on his mouth. Brooke quickly pulled her eyes from his. Is he going to think I was flirting? Memory of Hank and a similar situation assailed her, and her heart beat faster.
“Jack,” Sky said to the ferryman when the chuckles had died down, “thanks for everything. We should be heading home now.” The men shook hands, then he turned to Brooke. “Ready?”
“Yes. Just let me get my bag.”
She started for the bedroom, but Sky preceded her. Her small bag rested on the bed. He picked it up and asked, “Anything else?”
“No.” She shook her head.
They went back into the main room, and Brooke bade everyone farewell. Percival lingered in a slow bow over her hand.
Sky shuffled his feet and took her elbow but offered, “Come visit us sometime,” with a tip of his hat toward Percival.
Percival stepped back and smiled, his eyes never leaving her face. “I think I just might.”
Sky glanced down, a momentary frown creasing his forehead. But just as quickly as it appeared it was gone, and he pressed a hand to her back, guiding her to the door.
The sunlight shone golden bright, glinting off the surface of the rushing river as they stepped outside. Brooke noted with some unease that only one horse stood in sight and Sky was tying her bag to the pommel of the saddle.
Sky swung up and settled easily just behind the saddle. “Do you ride?” he asked, looking down at her.
She swallowed and nodded.
And before she knew what was happening Jack Greer had her by the waist and had handed her up to Sky. She hooked one leg around the saddle horn naturally, although she preferred to ride astride. Uncle Jackson had caught her twice, and both times she had received a beating for behaving in such an unladylike fashion.
Sky scooted up close behind the cantle and reached around her to take the reins. The hardness of his chest and the brush of his muscled arms as he held the reins sent her heart into an erratic f
lutter. She did not like these muddled feelings. One moment she felt terrified and the next she was hopelessly attracted. And caring for a man was something she had promised herself she would never do again. The repercussions of it on one’s emotions were too painful after the inevitable betrayal. She took a deep breath and tried to still the beating of her heart, but he began to talk and she found that the deep resonance of his voice did funny things to her as well.
“I should tell you that I am not Jason, the man you agreed to marry when you came west.”
She had suspected as much yesterday at the ceremony but had been too overwhelmed to question him.
There was a long silence and finally she said, “I never agreed to marry anyone. My uncle made the agreement, and I don’t suppose he’ll much care as long as he got his money.”
“I see,” he said.
She wondered at his strange tone. It didn’t help that she couldn’t see his face.
“Well, just so you know a little about me, my full name is Skyler Tyrell Jordan. I was born and raised on a ranch in the Willamette Valley of Oregon. My parents are Rachel and Sean, and I have one brother named Rocky and one sister named Sharyah. All of my family still lives in Oregon, so you won’t meet them for some time.”
Brooke was relieved to hear this.
Sky continued, “Other than that, there’s not much to tell about me. I own a small farm on up the hill a ways and have lived in this area for about five years.”
She wanted to ask who Jason was but kept quiet and began to take in the scenery around her.
The trail wound its way up the opposite side of the gorge that the stage had plunged into yesterday. It was narrow and dusty. Tall evergreen trees shaded it in most areas, but some of the hillsides grew nothing but huge expanses of yellow daisies and an occasional patch of scrub brush. The droning of bees could be heard amid the stillness of the day and birds twittered happily, darting in and out amongst the trees as they chased one another. After yesterday’s long trying day, the warmth of the sun, the creaking of saddle leather, and the sounds of nature combined to make her very tired.
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