by Cheri Chaise
Evan drove the other wagon right alongside me with the perpetual frown he’d worn since I’d shared the news of Estella’s impending arrival. Even though he wasn’t happy about the coming changes, I could pretty much guarantee his thoughts didn’t stray too far from my own.
Or maybe not, with that scowl on his face.
While he hadn’t completely complied with my request on the beard, Evan had at least trimmed up the unruly length to placate me and looked more human and less grizzly after a winter collecting pelts and furs.
The supply he’d brought in this year was less than in previous. Buffalo herds were dwindling, and the beaver pelts the city men preferred for their absurd hats were also harder to come by this past winter. Even so, I was glad to have him traveling with me to greet the new mistress of Carston Ranch.
As long as she’d gotten on that damn train last month.
The possibility of disappointment coated every waking moment of the last days on the trail. My roiling stomach kept me from eating any more than the basic needs to keep my body going during the long days in the saddle.
I really could’ve used Bret’s reassurance. He was the one I usually commiserated with when it came to the subject of Estella, but he’d gotten stuck back at the ranch with a mare showing signs she was ready to foal any day now.
Absent my brother’s assistance, we were lucky enough to connect with a neighboring rancher and one of his son to share the driving duties of our small, joint herd.
Russ sidled his horse up between Evan’s wagon and where I rode Buck. His skin looked even more leathery after the hard winter when we last spoke around the holidays.
“You’ve been quiet over here.”
“Yup,” was all I could muster.
“Having second thoughts about marrying this gal?”
“Nope.”
The wagon wheels squealed and clanked as we made our way up the rise and stopped to take in the view of Fort Union in the distance. The sheep and cattle sensed the pause and took the opportunity to graze in the grass of the rich soil from the nearby river confluence.
Russ looked up at the sun then at his progeny positioned on the other side of the herd before he twisted in his saddle to face me. “So if this woman squeezes out a daughter for you, are you planning on keeping your promise to me?”
I cocked up my chin to stare at the old man from beneath my hat brim. “Are you still gnawing at that bone after all these years?”
“Hey, you’re the one who promised me wives for my sons after I helped you out with the sheep shearing those first few years after your parents…” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Sorry ‘bout that, Colton.”
I set my hat back on my head to get a good look at him then took another swig from the canteen to set my thoughts aright. “Well now, Russ…that was back when I thought I’d have a whole passel of kids by now.” I stared off at his son as he hiked a leg over his saddle – then sprawled on his ass in the dirt when his boot didn’t follow. “At this rate, Dirk and Doug are gonna be a mite too old for any daughters I’m likely to produce.”
A wide grin erupted from the leathery face. “I’m just funnin’ you.” Then he sighed when he noticed his younger son scuffing around with only one boot on like he didn’t know what to do with himself. “But that boy over there needs a good woman to keep him focused. He just ain’t been right since his ma run off with that gold miner.”
I wasn’t sure anything was gonna help that boy. Doug was already older than Drew and yet, unlike my brother surprisingly, was lost in his own little world. “Have you thought about maybe advertising?”
“Well now, I’ve given thought to it since you mentioned this mail orderin’ thing. I figure if this all works out for you, I might just see what I can do.”
“You realize it’ll involve a lot of letter writing,” I cautioned. And that there’s no guarantee she’ll show up.
“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of,” Russ said as Doug laid out on the ground with his hat on his face like he was planning to take a nap. “But then again, I was always a fair writer. Spun a few good yarns on those drives from Texas in my younger years that entertained the other hands.”
“Maybe between the two of you…”
I left it at that as we watched Doug wallow in the dirt like a worm. Pity the poor woman who ended up on the end of that little fishhook.
Evan interrupted my thoughts with a spit of tobacco. “Shoulda left Doug at home instead of Dirk.”
“And come home to a burned out husk?” the old codger replied, tamping his hat down. “Ain’t no way that boy’ll be in charge of my ranch anytime soon…if ever.”
Russ was a great guy and an even better rancher. For years after our father’s death, he’d always made a point of coming out to check on Ma and make sure we boys knew what we were doing. Doug and Drew would play together – until one day they didn’t. I didn’t have the heart to tell Russ it wasn’t just his ma’s leaving that had messed with the kid’s head.
“Hey,” Drew called. “Are we gonna get there before nightfall or not?”
“Keep your shirt on,” I responded.
“That’s what I’m hoping not to do tonight…if I can help it.”
“We gotta get there first, before all the girls at the brothel are spoken for.”
My youngest brother urged the wagon to move faster with a sharp whistle. “Let’s go get us some pussy, boys.”
I hawed and whooped to get the crew going, steering Buck toward the stragglers to get them moving again. I too was planning not to keep my shirt on tonight either. Or anything else, for that matter. One way or another.
I only wished it was my bride in my bed.
Chapter Nine
Estella
Night had begun its descent by the time I set foot on land for the first time in more than a month. I almost cried with untold relief when my feet touched the docks. The ground beneath my boots had finally stilled, but everything around me continued to move and shift as I fought to find stability on solid ground.
The meal I’d eaten only an hour before threatened a reappearance, which I found rather humorous considering how the water’s movements had affected me thus when the journey began.
And now it was at an end. I stood among the hubbub of disembarking passengers and dock workers transporting trunks and crates – my own collection somewhere among them. Once again I was the lone female among a sea of mooing cattle, bleating sheep, and leering males.
Cole didn’t appear to be among them. No one called my name or offered an introduction as I searched the myriad faces. Little by little, my heart squeezed in silent disappointment. Had he forgotten? Changed his mind?
For months, I’d imagined our first meeting. For weeks, I’d pictured stepping off the boat into the outstretched arms of my intended as he swept me from my feet and kissed me for the first time.
But like mother used to say, dreams were a poor representation of reality. I shuddered to think of what that portended in this instance.
But what had I expected? That we would miraculously arrive at Fort Union at precisely the same moment? For all I knew, I was a few days early. Or even tardy. After all, steamboat itineraries were more of an approximation than an exact science by all accounts.
Exhaustion washed over me as I fought against a veil of unshed tears. I lifted my chin and made my way through the mass of unwashed bodies and unruly animals. A headache threatened to invade my temples.
The cacophony reached a fever pitch when a stallion reared up as it was led from yet another boat tied up farther down the docks. He shook his dark mane and pranced about like a prince, lifting and striking out with powerful forelegs that revealed a ready manhood. The magnificent beast trumpeted his displeasure over some offense – from the looks of things, possibly whisked away too soon from a pretty filly. It took five men to bring him under control.
Drawing away from the center of the crowd gave me a whole new perspective of my surrounds, and I stared in utter fascinati
on. The whitewashed walls of the fort practically glowed in the crisp air as it drew me closer. Temperatures quickly plunged as night blanketed a sky so vast it took my breath away. More stars than I’d ever seen twinkled above my head.
No words could possibly describe the breathtaking beauty on display, but I vowed to do my best in letters to Abby and Mrs. Barker. They’d be anxious for news of the conclusion of this venture. Perhaps if I set pen to paper tonight, I’d be able to send the missives out with a boat’s return downriver.
Awe was replaced with duty as Mr. Stubbs touched my elbow protectively. “Let’s see if we can’t find you a room in the main house for the night.”
He motioned to a dockhand with the day trunk I’d kept in my room tucked under an arm. I’d freshened the contents with accoutrements repacked from a larger trunk the porter had brought up from below that morning.
“Thank you, Mr. Stubbs, but I’ve kept you from your business long enough. I’m sure I can find my way about.”
“I’ve no doubt of that,” he returned, pressing me forward rather quickly. “But the boat won’t return downriver right away, and I’m not about to relinquish my duty to see you safely delivered to your intended with so many savages about.”
“Really, Mr. Stubbs, I…”
Words failed me as a collection of small fires revealed strangely dressed locals gathered around, all covered in leathers, furs, and feathers. It took a few more seconds to notice an assortment of teepees encamped near the fort’s entrance – where I needed to pass.
The newfound stability in my legs threatened to give way upon the first sighting of the local Indians mentioned in Cole’s letters. The light cast from the fires revealed narrow faces with sharp cheekbones. They watched our passing with a sober stare.
Cole had mentioned they had good relations with most of the local populace and traded often with them. Reportedly, it was only a few bands who caused any havoc these days.
Mr. Stubbs kept a tight grip on my arm, but I didn’t detect anything menacing in their disinterested glances. Certainly nothing savage in their actions as they sat quietly and sedately around warming fires. Thus far I’d had more frightening experiences from supposed rational men than what I saw in these visages. So who then was the savage?
Surely the fort leadership wouldn’t allow the Indians to camp so close by if their presence heralded any evil intent.
“Why are they here?” I whispered to my companion.
“To trade, most likely,” Mr. Stubbs informed. “They come from the local reservation with furs to trade for things like weapons, food…and I wouldn’t doubt women, if they so desired.”
My spine stiffened. “Pshaw. Now you’re being absurd, Mr. Stubbs.”
I knew firsthand the dangers of furtive glances, whispered words, and unfounded labels and gossip. Certain words and actions of the stranger in my room came to mind. But I’d long grown weary of such things even before that distressful meeting.
Though my misdeeds were well known back home, far too many had delighted in embellishments that kept former friends and acquaintances tittering from sunup to sundown over ghastly debaucheries I’d never committed.
I’d come to despise labels and the public preening of supposed virtuous ladies and gentleman. Their only virtue was that, unlike myself, they’d never been caught.
It all made me wonder about the labels placed upon the heads of the Indians scattered about – and my own immediate reaction to what appeared to perhaps be a misjudged people. I looked forward to a heartfelt conversation on the subject with Cole. Better yet, his affected brother.
“If you haven’t yet noticed, Miss Estella, women are a highly precious commodity out here.” Mr. Stubbs pierced me with a hard stare. “Never underestimate what any man would do to claim one.”
As I already well knew.
With no difficulty, we passed the gate into the safety of the fort’s enclosure. “I’ve no doubt of the sincerity in your words, Mr. Stubbs. However other than you, I’ve seen more savage behavior from men aboard that steamboat than from those laid out before this fort. It makes me question who the savage truly is around here.”
The elder man offered up a cautious grin and a placating pat on my hand resting in the crook of his elbow. “Yes…well, you may have a point there, Miss Estella.”
After ensuring a room for me at the enormous main house, Mr. Stubbs took his leave for the night with the promise to make certain my goods were secured, and that he’d meet me for an early breakfast before checking into the steamboat’s return launch downriver.
All I wanted was a steaming, scented bath to wash away the aches and pains of never-ending strain these past weeks. Anticipating me, two young men trundled in a small, metal tub and several buckets of frigid water in my wake. I feared their contents came straight from the river.
After this, one brought in and stacked wood in the small fireplace and along the hearth while the other struck a flint to it. They both blew until flame licked along the edges and a sturdy fire crackled to life.
I almost raced out the door to beg Mr. Stubbs to stand guard when the men lingered overlong in my room. As I raised my chin to display a confident challenge I didn’t feel, a kindly older woman in a faded pintuck shirtwaist and plain wool skirt puttered into the room with a steaming kettle in tow. She barked to the men to go fetch the others.
She fussed after them, short white curls bouncing around her round face. “You mustn’t pay my sons any mind now, miss. You have any trouble with them while you’re here, you come to the kitchen downstairs and see me right away. Name’s Mrs. Martin…Agatha, if you will.”
“Estella Davies.”
“Ah, Davies. A good Welsh surname.”
I almost wept to see a feminine face. To hear another woman’s voice again. “I…I apologize for all the trouble.”
“No trouble a’tall,” she said, pouring steaming water into the tub. “It’s not often we see a pretty, young lady like you making her way so far north…or at least a respectable one.”
Pretty? I’d never been called that by anyone other than my father – and I hadn’t heard myself referred to as respectable at all in the last five years. Between the two of us, Abby had always been the attractive one in our circles. With the thought of home, my heart squeezed with longing to see my sister again.
And I hadn’t been considered adequately young for at least two years. Maybe longer. At that moment, I felt downright ancient as I struggled against exhaustion, homesickness, and a griminess I desperately wanted to wash away.
The boys tromped in and out with four more kettles, which Mrs. Martin added to the tub and tested the temperature with her elbow. Deeming it fit, she shooed her sons away when she caught them staring at me again.
“Have you had supper, Miss Davies?”
“Estella, please…and yes, I had a bit on the steamboat before we docked.”
“Then how about some fresh raspberry cobbler and coffee before you tuck in for the night, hmm?”
My sigh was deep and long. “That would be lovely.”
“Right, then.” She laid out a towel, cloth, and a few homemade toiletries on a nearby chair. “I’ll tell one of my boys to wait outside the door. You just knock and let him know when you’re ready for it.” Mrs. Martin raised her brow as she cradled the open door. “Just you keep this locked until I return now, you hear? My boys may be trustworthy in most things, but they’re still male.”
I hardly had the energy, but a chuckle passed my lips anyway. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Do ya need assistance with your corset?”
“No, ma’am.”
With a curt nod, she left. I immediately did her bidding with the door before stripping to my skin to languish in the heavenly depths of the metal tub. I couldn’t believe I’d finally arrived at my destination in one piece. Safe and sound.
If only Cole had arrived to greet me when I’d stepped off of the boat. Mr. Stubbs mentioned the one certain thing about a steamboat’s schedule
was the departure. That made sense, considering the potential for trouble on the river.
Still, it hurt to have weeks and months of anticipation build up only to have curiosity left unsatisfied. In curls of steam, I imagined the firm planes of his face. The shine of his hair in the sunlight. The gleam in his eye as he sought to rid me of constricting clothes and peruse the soft curves of my body.
But would he be able to get past my too-wide eyes and pointed chin to enjoy what lay below? My lover certainly had. For several unforgettable months, he’d ignored my face as he worshiped at the altar of my breasts. Tasted the forbidden fruit of my garden. Plunged into my deep well.
His words had been a wealth of erotic poetry, especially after Alan had complained about my every physical flaw that only worsened in his eyes as I matured. For the first time, a man had wanted me for more than social standing and my father’s business dealings. My looks meant little to my lover as long as my body was open to his touch. Open to the fascinating and decadent realm to which he’d introduced me.
And I’d opened to him countless times – in the early days. As the months marched forward and my love for him grew, my lover had grown distant. Disinterested. At the end of four glorious months, he’d left me stranded and alone. Without friend.
And effectively without family.
Before Abby’s final visit, Mrs. Barker had become the closest to either I’d had in so long. I’d forever be grateful she hadn’t abandoned me when virtually everyone else had.
Tension I hadn’t realized I’d carried unfurled as the warmth of the water soothed more than my muscles. Distance from the past relaxed my jaw. Release of what I’d tried to hold on to unclenched my hands. The tightness in my shoulders lessened as both body and mind fully relaxed for the first time in weeks. Perhaps years.
The moisture streaming down my face was more than rivulets of steam. I grieved. Grieved the loss of hearth and home. The passing of innocence. Grieved the absence of a father’s love. Of family. Of companionship.
