Bound for Sin

by Tess LeSue

  Oh my. This was really happening.

  Another cheer went up from the hotel as they rolled forward. People held their coffee cups aloft in salute.

  “Happy trails!” someone called.

  Forget happy. Just let them be safe trails. Georgiana took a deep breath and straightened her spine as they rolled on through the dark streets. People stood at windows and clustered on porches, waving as they passed.

  The wagon shuddered and creaked. It wasn’t going to be a comfortable ride, Georgiana realized. She understood now why Matt had told them they’d be walking the whole way. She felt like her teeth might well rattle right out of her head. The shuddering woke Wilby, who began to whine. Georgiana leaned over and stroked his head. He stuck his lower lip out and looked like he might cry. But she managed to soothe him, and soon he pulled himself up to look over the tray and out at the big, old, ugly behinds of the oxen.

  “Horse!” he said, pointing.

  “Ox,” she corrected. “Remember our oxen? The big cows?” Her voice was all shaky from the movement of the horrid wagon.

  Oh my. As they rolled into the square, Georgiana began to get an idea of the scale of the enterprise. Matt and Josiah Sampson were on the courthouse steps, directing traffic. Their scouts did the legwork, talking to the drivers as they rolled into the square, directing them where to park their wagons. There were more wagons than could possibly ever fit into the square. As the first pale green wash began to spread on the eastern horizon, the wagons built up, snaking back through the streets in all directions. The scouts ran along the rows, giving orders.

  Georgiana’s wagons were right at the front, close to the courthouse steps, near Matt’s chuck wagon, which Sebastian Doyle was driving.

  “We’re going to be here awhile, I reckon,” Wendell observed, standing on the seat and peering over the sea of white canvas hoops, which glowed in the predawn light.

  The square looked like nothing so much as a busy harbor, seething with yachts at full sail. Clumsy, bulky yachts.

  People were climbing down from their wagons and stretching their legs. The twins wasted no time in joining them and belting past Georgiana, up the courthouse steps, to look at the view. She climbed down too but asked Susannah and Wilby to stay where they were. She didn’t want to lose them in the crowds. There were hundreds and hundreds of people.

  “It always seemed like chaos watching a roll out,” Mrs. Barry, the doctor’s wife, said, joining Georgiana, “but I must say, it seems even worse being in it!”

  Georgiana had met the woman a couple of times before at the Saturday night dances. She was a calm, practical woman, with a round face and a gentle manner.

  “It looks like we’ll be traveling together,” Mrs. Barry said with a smile. “It’s kind of Matt to put us up the front of the line. I imagine the dust is horrendous farther back.”

  “I imagine so.” Georgiana pulled a face and looked up at the clouds of dust hanging in the air above them. She supposed it was kind of him to let them ride up front. Although, it would also be expected, since she was supposed to be his fiancée.

  “I don’t envy him,” Doctor Barry said, as the three of them watched Matt organizing things from the courthouse steps.

  “Maybe not. But don’t pity him either,” Tom Slater drawled. He was slouched back on the seat of the Barrys’ wagon. “He thrives on it. If you’re going to pity anyone, it should be me.”

  “You stay right where you are,” Mrs. Barry scolded, “or your brother will have my hide.”

  “Did I hear he was bitten by a snake?” Georgiana whispered, when Tom Slater had turned his attention back to the courthouse steps. “I do worry about the children,” she admitted. “Do you have any advice about snakes, Doctor?”

  “Don’t go near them?” Doctor Barry suggested. “In fact, stay away from all the wildlife. Including him.” The doctor nodded his head at Tom Slater. “He’s an ill-tempered critter.”

  Tom heard them and, surprisingly, smiled. He looked different when he smiled. Less terrifying. But he didn’t look like Matt in the slightest.

  “Would anyone like some coffee?” Mrs. Barry asked. “I brought the pot and a jug of cream. We’d best use the cream, as it won’t last.”

  They clustered together, drinking Mrs. Barry’s coffee and watching the chaos around them. Slowly, they saw order form in the chaos and found themselves clumped with a bunch of other wagons. By the time Matt came to talk to them, the green wash on the horizon was turning rosy orange. The twins followed him and even climbed up on the chuck wagon beside him when he leapt up to address the wagons nearby. All around the square, Georgiana could see his scouts doing the same thing, swinging up onto the backs of wagons to address smaller groups within the whole. Like a round, she heard voice after voice call:

  “Listen up, the following parties!”

  And that was when Georgiana saw the whore. She was standing on the seat of a wagon, right near the edge of the square, on the fringe of wagons over near the sycamore tree. Her unmistakable bright red hair blazed in the lamplight from the lantern she was holding, and her bonnet streamed garish purple ribbons. Her dress was completely inappropriate to the occasion, with ribbons galore. She was smiling like a contented cat.

  He’d brought his whore!

  Georgiana felt like someone had poured ice water down her back. How dare he. Pain and rage competed. Why would he? How could he?

  “Listen up, the following parties!” Matt called. “Smith, Barry, Ahlström, Blomgren, Nilsson, Klein, Berger, Turner, Colicut, Hill!”

  The crowd around Georgiana grew hushed, but she couldn’t look away from the whore. Seline turned and whispered something to someone next to her, and that’s when Georgiana realized it wasn’t just one whore, but a whole wagon full of them. They were like a bunch of parrots, in their too-bright dresses and feathers and ribbons. It was scandalous. She turned to glare at Matt, revising her opinion of him. What kind of party was this?

  “You’re with the lead group,” Matt continued, oblivious to Georgiana’s ire. “Seb here is your man.” Matt pointed at Doyle, who gave them a wave. “He’s driving the chuck wagon, and you’re to fall in behind. You can ride two to three wagons across when there’s room permitting, more when we’re on the plains, but sometimes it will have to be single file, particularly when we’re crossing rivers.” Matt’s voice carried easily. “The Barrys will go first, followed by the Smiths, then the rest of you can sort yourselves out.” As he spoke, the first spear of sunshine broke between the buildings.

  “I suggest staying in your wagons until we’re free of the town. After that, you may prefer to walk or ride. Seb will lead out in just a moment, so get yourselves ready. I’ll be sending two scouts on ahead while I wait here until the train is out. After our party is out, Joe Sampson’s will be rolling, so please keep moving. Do not stop. We need to keep going until both parties are well clear of the town; I’ll catch up with you by the time we stop for the noon meal. Have a good morning.”

  There were cheers and a smattering of applause as he jumped down from the chuck wagon. The tension in the square was palpable.

  Mrs. Barry gathered up her cups, and Georgiana shooed the twins back to their wagon, reiterating all her warnings about being careful and not falling under the wheels. Wilby had climbed over the tray and onto the bench next to Susannah. Georgiana made sure to issue the same warnings and to keep them tightly sandwiched between herself and Wendell.

  Matt ran up the courthouse steps and conferred briefly with Josiah Sampson. The square was full of the jingle of bridles and the creak of wagons and the low chatter of voices. Georgiana felt a moment of panic. Once they rolled out, they couldn’t turn back . . .

  The sound of a gunshot made her jump.

  It was Matt, standing on the steps, firing into the air. At the sound of the shot, a bugle sounded. It was a sound they’d be familiar with before long. T
he bugle called the morning roll out, and the stops along the way. Seb yelled “Ha!” and the chuck wagon lurched forward. The Barrys’ wagon followed, and then Wendell was whipping the oxen, and Georgiana held on tight to Wilby as they jolted into motion. The wagon shuddered and rattled, and a great cheer rose from the square.

  “We’re off!” someone yelled.

  “See you in Oregon!”

  “California!”

  “Oregon!”

  The cheer swelled. It was joined by excited gunfire.

  “What are those fools doing?” Wendell grumped. “Someone’ll be shot in the head with all those bullets raining down.”

  Georgiana looked anxiously skyward, but they seemed to be out of danger.

  As they left the square, people lined the roads, waving the party off. They leaned out of windows in their nightclothes or stood in the doorways with their morning coffee while their children and dogs chased alongside the wagons.

  “Say good-bye to civilization,” Wendell said cheerfully. “You won’t see anything like it for a good long while.”

  “There aren’t any towns?” Susannah asked.

  “Nope.” Wendell slouched back in the seat, settling in for a long drive. “Only a trading post or two and the odd fort. No towns like this. Not till we get to California.”

  Georgiana and Susannah took in their last look of civilization, both of them subdued. No more stores and tearooms, no more hotels and dances, no more cookhouses and no more beds with feather mattresses. No more baths, no more decent food, no more quiet days. There was just the shudder of the wagon and the unknown of sleeping in a tent on the hard ground . . .

  By the time the spectacular golden sunrise had faded into a fresh blue day, and the town had given way to the scrubby Missouri wilderness, Wilby and Susannah were bored and squirming. Eventually, Georgiana grew tired of fretting about them falling off the wagon and deposited them both in the tray behind the bench.

  “It’s hot back here,” Susannah complained.

  “I’m bored!” Wilby joined in.

  “Listen,” Georgiana pleaded, “this is the first morning of a very long journey. I’m sure you’ll get used to it eventually. Watch the scenery. Maybe you can walk after lunch. Susannah, isn’t your slate and chalk back there? Why don’t you draw things for your brother?”

  They did as she asked, but without enthusiasm. As she listened to the squeal of the chalk, Georgiana felt it was going to be a long trip.

  18

  “OF COURSE YOU put us at the back,” Seline complained, when Matt rode past her wagon.

  “Just be grateful you get to come along,” Matt told her. “Joe ain’t happy about it.”

  “Tell Joe we’ll give him a freebie to make up for it,” one of the other whores giggled.

  “You tell him. You’re in his party. I’m off now.” He turned Pablo and circled back, fixing Seline with a serious look. “I’ve gone out on a limb for you on this one,” he told her. “Joe is a good guy. Don’t be making trouble for him, you hear?”

  “Honey, we’ll save him trouble,” Seline scoffed. “We’ll keep all these ’uns peaceful.” She gestured to the groups of men milling about. Nearly all of Joe’s party was made up of men, some single and others who’d left their families home while they went to make their fortune. The ones nearest to the whores were giving them a close inspection.

  “See that you do,” Matt warned, “and do as you’re told.”

  Seline nodded and gave him an angelic smile. “You might not be as cuddly as your brother, Slater, but you’re a damn fine man. I appreciate all you’ve done. Even if we do have to ride right at the back in all this dust.”

  “Good luck,” he said, and kicked Pablo into a gallop. He waved at Joe as he rode by the courthouse steps. The last of his wagons were just trundling out of the square. Joe would give them ten or fifteen minutes, and then send his chuck wagon and first group after them.

  Matt kicked Pablo hard in the ribs to speed him along. He was glad to finally be rolling out, even though he didn’t feel nearly rested enough for the long trip ahead. Rest wasn’t in the cards this year. Nothing much he could do about that. He was glad to leave this mad town behind, even if he had to take some of the mad people with him. He could rest up when he got back home. He was thinking that after this last nightmarish year he might take a season or two off and stay put at home in Utopia for a while. Get away from the gunslingers and emigrants. Have some peace and quiet.

  He felt the tension in his shoulders loosening as he left the town behind. Deathrider was almost well again, Georgiana Bee Blunt was on her way to being out of his life: things were looking up. He stopped alongside each wagon as he rode, having a brief chat with the folks inside. He seemed to have chosen nice folks this year. They were all settlers, not like the rougher sorts back in the square, who were aiming for California gold country. These folks were mostly families looking for a better life.

  A wagon train was a funny thing. It was almost a living creature. You started it rolling and it just kept rolling along, as though it had a mind of its own. The chuck wagon was the thinking head of it, and when the chuck wagon stopped, gradually the rest of the body caught up and the halt rippled on down the line. Matt still wasn’t anywhere near the front when he heard the distant call of the bugle, and there was a slow ripple as the wagons rolled to a stop for the noon meal. He’d been too busy chatting. There were close on 200 wagons in his train this year, and he wanted to take time to get to know the people in them.

  “You’re a long way from your chuck wagon,” Henrick Shott told Matt as they ground to a halt. “How about you stop and take the meal with us?”

  “That sounds like a pleasure,” Matt agreed. This was how it usually went, and he’d been expecting to lunch with someone mid-train. But he couldn’t help feeling a pang, thinking about Wendell Todd lunching with Georgiana up there at the front. Stupid. But he couldn’t shake the petty little envy. The feeling was so persistent and so distracting that he barely heard a word anyone said as he ate.

  * * *

  • • •

  “YOU DON’T THINK he’s lost?”

  Seb Doyle laughed at her. “Matt? Lost?” He just about split his sides. “Lady, you got no idea who you’re marrying if you can ask a question like that! Matt don’t get lost. Not ever. You could blindfold him and drop him in the middle of the Lava Lands and he’d find his way out.” He shook his head. “Lost!”

  “I just thought he should be back by now,” she said lamely.

  She was stretching the kinks out of her legs while Seb built a cook fire for them. All along the line behind them, she could see similar fires being built. A huge billow of reddish gold dust rose into the blue sky above them; it hung, unmoving, in the still air. Soon, pale curls of woodsmoke mingled in with the dust.

  “Best get your vittles ready. I’ll have the fire up by the time you’re back from your wagon,” Seb advised. “We don’t stop long, so you don’t want to be wasting time.”

  Georgiana pulled a face. She supposed it was time to test her nonexistent cooking skills. She sighed and made for the back of the second wagon. She’d stashed the hard-backed ledger Mrs. Tilly had given her for a recipe book in the burlap bag with the cook pot. She lowered the back gate of the wagon and reached for the bag. As she did, she heard a sneeze.

  “Boys! I told you not to climb around in there!” she snapped. Honestly. They never listened.

  But then she heard their voices drifting over from the Colicuts’ wagon behind her. She turned. There they were, making friends with the three Colicut boys.

  “Susannah?” she turned back to the wagon. It wasn’t like her daughter to go climbing around. She was usually so prissy and well-behaved.

  There was silence in the wagon. Georgiana tilted her head. “Kipp?”

  Nothing. Maybe she’d imagined it. She pulled the cooking uten
sils free of the wagon. They clanked as they fell to the ground. She fussed inside until she found the recipe book. She had no idea which ingredients to get until she worked out what to cook. Mrs. Tilly had filled the first few pages with some simple recipes for her.

  “You can get more recipes from some of the other women as you journey,” Mrs. Tilly had said cheerfully. “By the time you get to Oregon, I’m sure you’ll have filled every page. And it will be a nice way to get to know people, won’t it?”

  Georgiana didn’t know about that. Truth be told, she found the idea of cooking quite daunting. Especially as her failures would be public.

  She flipped through the book, trying to find something quick. None of the biscuits or breads or stews could be done in the brief time she had to make lunch. Lovely Mrs. Tilly had written some handy hints on the inside cover, she saw, including one Georgiana filed away for later tonight: Make double serving of evening meal, so you can reheat leftovers for lunch the next day. Yes, she’d do that. Reheating sounded far easier than actual cooking. But it didn’t help her now, as she had nothing made that she could reheat.

  Here was a possibility though. Fried tomatoes and bacon. How hard could that be? And she’d bought some loaves of bread from Mrs. Tilly to see them through the first few days of traveling. Tomatoes, bacon and bread. That was a meal. And frying didn’t seem too daunting. You just threw it all in the pan. She dug out the pan.

  Finding the bacon proved harder. It was packed in there somewhere, but she hadn’t packed this wagon herself, so she wasn’t sure where. She had to haul herself up to try and find it. She was glad no one was with her to witness her clumsy climb in.