by Linda Ford
She further examined her feelings. Was it love she felt? Or did his attention flatter her? She didn’t realize she’d groaned.
“Judith, are you okay?” Gil caught her chin and pulled her round to face him. He searched her eyes and looked at her cheeks. “You aren’t sick, are you?”
“No, I feel fine.”
He exhaled. “Good.” Then his eyes narrowed. “So why did you groan?”
She couldn’t tell him, couldn’t admit to being so self-centered. Instead, she sought for another reason. “Isn’t it getting cold all of a sudden?”
His quiet study of her informed her that he knew she was avoiding his question. Then he tipped his head as if to say he would allow her to do so. For now. He grinned. “By my reckoning we are well into November. Can’t expect August heat.”
“No, of course not.” But the wind had picked up and had a bite to it. She reached in back for a sweater for Anna and a shawl for herself.
“Can I get you a coat?” she asked Gil.
“Got it here.” He reached under the seat and pulled out his coat and slipped into it.
Still she felt the cold and pressed close to Gil. She drew Anna between their feet. At least she was out of the wind as she played on the floor.
Gil wrapped an arm about her and pulled her close. “Better?”
“Yes, thanks.” She might be able to kill a snake, but that didn’t mean she objected to being cared for from time to time. To feeling valued. Which brought her full circle back to Frank. If he’d valued her he would have lived and found a way to overcome his problems.
Clouds scudded across the sky and covered the sun. The sky grew dark. Judith wished they would stop and make camp but they rumbled onward.
The cold and wind had both intensified by the time Buck ordered the wagons to circle.
While Gil took care of the animals, Judith, shivering, built a fire. Anna fussed from cold and hunger and Judith fed her before Gil returned. He had circled around their wagon twice as if looking for something.
As they ate, she asked, “I noticed you took longer than normal making sure the camp was safe. Are you worried about something?”
“We are in for a good soaker and I need to be extra vigilant.”
She noted that he did not meet her eyes and was convinced there was something more than that, but if he had taken care of it she had no need to worry.
They ate hurriedly, feeling the dampness in the air.
Gil donned an oiled slicker that had a musty smell to it. “Best you and Anna get in the wagon.”
She hurried to comply and paused at the gate. “Where will you be?”
“I’ll be keeping an eye on things.”
She was right. “You’re worried about something.”
Before he could answer, the heavens opened and the rain fell in sheets. He pulled his hat low. “Close everything up tight and stay away from the canvas.”
She knew better than to start water wicking through the walls but still, it was nice for him to show some concern. She wrapped a blanket about Anna, letting her keep a handful of rocks to amuse herself with and then draped a blanket about her own shoulders.
The pounding rain make it impossible to hear Gil although she strained to locate him. She hoped he would find shelter.
The inside of the wagon filled with a cold mist and she held Anna closer. The baby relaxed and fell asleep. The best thing for her. She’d stay warm and dry.
She hadn’t done much praying since Frank died but had learned its value again with Gil’s example and she prayed for safety for all, both here and at the main wagon train. Verses she’d learned with her mother’s help came to her and she silently recited them, finding comfort in God’s unfailing promises.
Fatigue overcame her and she lay her head upon her pillow but her sleep was fractured by the sound of the rain beating on the canvas and the memory of her encounter with a snake. She jerked wide awake at an unfamiliar sound. It took her a moment to place it and when she did, she sat up, her heart pounding against her chest.
The mules were braying. Gill had said they were as good as any dog or man at guard duty.
What had upset them? She strained to hear Gil. Was he safe? A fearsome thought claimed every bit of her brain. What if those murdering robbers had followed them and discovered the lone wagon? In the pounding rain, no one would hear them if they took it upon themselves to rob and even murder the few occupants in the hope of finding something to steal.
“Gil,” she whispered, even knowing he couldn’t hear it. If indeed he was able.
She needed some form of protection. What happened to the sturdy stick she’d killed the snake with? Hadn’t Gil carried it back to the wagon? Where did he put it? She mentally retraced the movements. He’d slipped it under the seat.
Unmindful of the rain, thankful it had slowed to a patter, she slipped silently from the covers and inched forward, loosened the ropes and reached through the opening to feel under the bench. Yes, it was there. She pulled it inside, closed the opening again and sat ready, the stick in hand. She could kill a snake and she sure could defend herself and Anna from intruders.
She perched on her knees and held her club with both hands, turning her head side to side, straining for any sound that would warn her of danger.
The mules continued their ear-searing racket, making it impossible to hear anything else.
A shot rang out. And then a second. The mules quieted. She was certain she heard them shuffling and stomping, still restless.
She heard a thud and then something banged into the side of the wagon. She gripped her club with both hands and held it aloft.
No one was getting into this wagon without a fight.
9
“Judith?”
She knew that voice. But just to be sure, she whispered, “Gil?”
“Yes.”
She tossed aside her club, loosened the rope at the back opening and leaned out to wrap her arms about his neck. “You’re safe? Praise God. I was so worried.” Her words were half laugh, half sob.
“You’re going to get all wet.” He reached behind his head to grasp her hands. She knew he meant to pull her arms away and she tightened her hold.
It had stopped raining but water dripped from the soaked canvas plopping on her head and neck. Her arms and the front of her soaked up moisture from Gil’s clothing.“I don’t care.” Her tears intermingled with the moisture dripping on her.
Instead of unwrapping her arms from his neck, he slipped his own around her and held on.
It was too dark to see him so she trailed her fingers over his face to make sure he truly was okay. The tip of her index finger reached his mouth and her heart overflowed with emotions. She leaned closer and found his lips with hers. She might have been embarrassed, might have drawn back, but he claimed his own kiss before she could pull away.
She pulled back, but she did not end the embrace. At the moment, she wondered if she would ever be able to let him go. “Gil, what happened out there?”
“Some wolves had been following us and I guess the rain gave them reason to try and steal some food.”
“That’s what the gunshots were?”
“Yes.”
“I was so afraid it was those murdering thieves.” Something thudded into the wagon and she shuddered. “What’s that?”
“I tied the mules to the wagon. They’re restless and upset and I didn’t want them to run off on us.”
“You’re cold. Come inside with us.”
He eased back. “I’m too wet.”
“It’s stopped raining but there’ll be no dry place to lay your head. Take your slicker off and hang it on the side of the wagon. I won’t feel safe unless you’re where I can see you.” And touch him.
“Buck has posted extra guards and I can hear the mules if anything upsets them.”
She wondered if he was arguing with himself and decided to add her own thoughts to sway his mind. “There’s plenty of room in here.” Without any trunks or
furniture, the inside was almost roomy.
When he continued to hesitate, she took his hat, shook the water from it and hung in on the end of the wagon.
He slowly slipped from his slicker as if he needed the delay to find an excuse to refuse her invitation. The smell of rain, wet canvas and nearby animals wafted to her. Clouds hung low, making it so dark she couldn’t see anything but shapes.
As soon as the wet garment had been hung to drip, he bent to work his boots. When he straightened, she found his hand and gently urged him toward her, letting go only when he lifted one leg over the tailgate and swung inside.
She shifted to one side, Anna asleep at her feet and Gil sat beside her, his back to the tailgate. She reached out, searching for his hand. When she located it in the dark she clung to it. He turned his palm to hers and their fingers intertwined. Only then did she realize that it had been a long time since she’d properly filled her lungs and she sucked in the damp air.
She pawed about with one hand until she found the blankets, made sure Anna was well covered then pulled the others over herself and Gil.
Slowly, she felt him relax. “You must be tired. Go to sleep.”
“I have to stay alert.”
“Didn’t you say Buck had posted enough guards?”
Just then a shot rang out and he started to rise.
She pulled him back. “Someone will let you know if you’re needed.” As if to prove her point Buck called from nearby. “Just another wolf. No need for concern.”
“There you go.”
He sank back beside her and tipped his head back but he sat up too high. He slid lower until he found a headrest. Within minutes, his head lolled to the side and rested on her shoulder and she knew he’d fallen asleep.
She eased downward hoping he would slip into a more comfortable position. His head jerked up and he moaned.
“It’s okay,” she murmured. “Go to sleep.” And even though he wasn’t a child, she hummed a lullaby.
He stretched out and she smiled, knowing he needed to rest and would have denied himself without a little urging from her.
The mules shifted about. The camp dog barked once and was ordered to be quiet. Anna snuffled in her sleep. Beside Judith, Gil breathed deeply. Once he called out something in his sleep, but she couldn’t make out what it was.
A baby slept at her feet. A man—her husband—slept beside her. The dangers she feared had passed. The rain had stopped and the world outside the wagon was quiet.
All was right with her world.
Gil came awake in an instant, but lay motionless as he tried to think where he was and how he got there.
The dark shape of the canvas said he was in the wagon. Right. Judith had persuaded him to join her here last night. Not that it took much persuading especially after she’d kissed him. And he’d kissed her right back, finding her warm lips an enticing contrast to his own cold ones.
Judith curled into his side still slumbering, her body warm, and her breathing deep.
He should have refused to sleep in the wagon. Shouldn’t he? But he could think of no cause. Judith was his wife. He had every reason to spend the night with her. Morning sounds reached him. Men yelling at the oxen, the rattle of harness and the crack of whips. The mules tethered to his wagon shuffled about, knowing it was time to get to work. Gil should slip away, but the temptation to stay where he was kept him from moving.
Anna stirred and sat up. “Mama.” She crawled over and patted Judith’s cheeks. “Mama.”
Judith’s eyes opened. “Hello, little girl. How are you?”
“Mama,” Anna said.
Judith hugged Anna. “Yes, I’m your mama now.”
Gil knew the moment she realized he lay beside her. Her breathing stalled. Slowly she came round to face him. Her eyes were sleep clouded.
“Good morning.” His gaze drifted to her mouth. Would she allow him another kiss?
She blinked, sat up and looked around. “It’s morning.”
He sat up too, grinning at her. “So it is.”
She pulled Anna to her lap and looked past him. “You stayed here the night.”
“We are married,” he felt compelled to point out, waiting and wishing for her to meet his gaze.
She shoved the blankets the rest of the way down. “I have to start breakfast.” She tucked Anna under one arm and started to climb from the wagon.
“Wait. I’ll give you a hand.” He bolted to his feet, discovered he was in his socks then remembered he’d left his wet boots outside. He scrambled over the gate and worked his way into the shrinking leather. By the time he had them on his feet, Judith had gotten down under her own steam and went to build a fire.
She looked about for dry wood and found the store he had stuffed under the wagon. She continued to carry Anna in one arm, reluctant, he supposed, to put her down in the wet grass.
He lifted his slicker from the side of the wagon and spread it on the ground. “She can play here.” He took Anna from Judith’s grasp. His hand grazed her arms and her gaze came to his. At the uncertainty he saw, he touched her cheek.
“Judith.” His heart filled with so many things—tenderness, longing, surprise at how much he wanted her to be part of his life, part of his plans. But not a word came to his mind.
She released Anna to his arms and returned to the task of building a fire.
He watched her a moment, wanting so much to ease the tension between them, but not knowing how. Perhaps it was best to simply continue on as they had. Or not. He simply didn’t know. Seems spending four years on the Santa Fe Trail with mostly men and animals to deal with had robbed him of the ability to deal with his feelings.
After he settled Anna, he went to the animals. It was usually easy enough to think of nothing but feeding, watering and harnessing the mules. Most of his attention was normally occupied with studying his surroundings, being aware of every sound and movement, always alert for danger and change. But today was different. Although he tended the animals competently enough, and his gaze often scanned his surroundings, his thoughts circled around Judith and what to think of last night. She’d seemed awfully glad to see him. Had insisted he climb into the wagon. She’d seemed concerned that he be warm and dry, but this morning, she appeared to regret all that. He didn’t know what to make of it.
He returned and took the cup of coffee she offered. “Thanks.” He hunkered down by the fire, glad of the heat on the chilly morning.
“You can help yourself to the food. I want to finish feeding Anna.”
“I’ll wait and enjoy my coffee.”
Judith offered Anna another spoonful, but the little girl refused more and toddled over to Gil. He perched the baby on his knee. She babbled about something but as usual he didn’t understand what she said, but he followed Judith’s example and nodded. “Yup. That’s right. Sure thing.”
Anna seemed to approve of his replies.
He glanced up in time to catch a smile on Judith’s face.
“You better be careful what you’re agreeing to,” she said. “Isn’t that what you told me?”
“Soon enough we’ll have to watch what we agree to.” He held her gaze, felt her questions and uncertainty. He smiled. “Agreement doesn’t have to be something to avoid.” He meant their marriage and hoped she’d understand his simple message that he didn’t regret having taken this step even if she might have cause to think he had been forced into it.
“Sometimes we agree to things without knowing what we’ve agreed to.” Her eyes begged for assurance. Or at least that’s what he told himself. And knowing how Frank’s manner of death had left her feeling uncertain he was pretty sure he had it right.
He put his cup down and closed the distance between them.
Her eyes narrowed. She glanced to her side as if wondering if she could escape.
He caught her by her shoulders. “I don’t regret my choice.”
She stared at him. Her gaze went to his mouth and he did the only thing he could think th
at would convince her. He lowered his head and caught her lips with his. He lingered, tasting coffee. His heart drank in her sweetness.
She leaned toward him as he ended the kiss and he chuckled.
“Papa,” Anna tugged at the knee of his jeans.
“Papa, is it?” He laughed and swung Anna into the air.
He and Judith smiled at each other over Anna’s head. “Seems she’s adjusted to her new family.”
Judith’s smile faded. A darkness filled her eyes. Without her speaking he knew her thoughts had gone back to Frank’s stepbrother who had robbed her of the husband and family she’d expected to have.
He knew he couldn’t replace Frank in her affections, but couldn’t they move forward from here, accepting Frank and Lillian as their past? Instead she clung to it, thought finding Frank’s stepbrother would somehow make it more bearable. He didn’t see how it would. Figured clinging to that notion made it impossible for her to embrace the present or look to the future.
Gil was part of the present and the future and as such didn’t fit into her plans. Yet she had married him, promising to be faithful. That seemed to mean one thing to him and quite another to her.
Breakfast over, everything stowed for the day’s journey, Judith sat beside Gil on the hard wooden seat, Anna playing at their feet.
So many things raced through her mind, tangling her thoughts until she couldn’t sort out one idea from another. She’d been kissed by Gil, not once, but twice. She’d even initiated the first kiss which gave him cause to think she meant—what did she mean? She’d been glad to see him, to know he was safe and she was safe. Was that all the kiss was? Gratitude. She couldn’t say. Or perhaps she didn’t want to.
She had vowed to find Frank’s stepbrother and if she abandoned her quest simply because something else had come up was she any better than Frank or his stepbrother? She didn’t think so. A person should live up to their promises and responsibilities. She had to right the wrong between the brothers. Of course, she couldn’t undo what was already done, but by getting the brother to acknowledge how his wrong doing had caused Frank to end his life, she felt she was somehow making it right for Frank. That had been her goal from the beginning, but now it didn’t seem so simple because she’d also promised to be faithful to Gil and, as he had said this morning, she was now part of a family.
