by Vivi Holt
“Perhaps you’re right. I met a nun on the journey to New York – Sister Bertram. She spoke of God very differently to how the rector did. Maybe she had it right.” Charlotte paused a moment and listened to the sounds of the camp and the rustling of the prairie wind in the long grasses.
Camilla stood to her feet and stretched her arms high. “I’m going to wash up these dishes and head to bed. I’m exhausted – it’s been a long day.” She took their plates and disappeared to find water to fill the wash basin.
Charlotte and Harry sat quietly side by side, each still lost in thought. “Did you ever imagine that you’d be sitting beside a camp fire on a Wyoming prairie with me?” she asked him with a smile.
He shook his head and laughed. “Never in my wildest dreams.”
“It is funny the way things have turned out.”
“I don’t think we’re through just yet. We still have a long way to go.”
“That’s true.” Charlotte pushed stray strands of hair behind her ears and rubbed her tired eyes with her fingers.
“What did you think you’d be doing in the New World?” asked Harry, leaning back on his hands as he watched the fire spitting and smoking.
“I thought I’d be the belle of the ball in an exciting city, with beaux hanging from my every word and everything I touched turning to gold.” She laughed and wrinkled her nose. “How naïve I was.”
Harry ran his fingers through his hair, standing it on end. His face was covered with a thick beard after weeks without shaving, and his skin was darkly tanned. “Naïve, yes, but understandably so. That was the world you were used to. You didn’t know about this world – the one the rest of us live in. Poverty is a great equalizer. Even though you’re still Lady Charlotte Beaufort, until your parents send you help, you’re one of us.”
“What did you think you’d be doing?” asked Charlotte, mulling over his words.
“I thought I’d be doing this. Just not with you. And I couldn’t have imagined the size and wildness of this place – it’s very different from Greyburn village, that’s for sure.”
“Yes, it is.”
“If you could change anything, what would you change?” Harry leaned closer to Charlotte and tapped her playfully on the shoulder. His eyes sparkled in the firelight.
Charlotte felt her heart skip a beat at his touch. “Hmmm … what would I change? A few weeks ago, I would have said Mother and Father sending me money. I’d change that. Because New York was hard, so very difficult. But now, I don’t know. This trip has been amazing. I wouldn’t change anything, really. I mean, I’d love a washroom and some clean clothes and a bigger sunbonnet. A hot meal of something other than jerky or biscuits with beans. But really, none of those things matter so very much. This is the adventure I always wanted. I love that I’m sitting in the middle of nowhere with you beside a warm fire, with a full stomach and no idea of what tomorrow will bring. It’s magical, really.”
She felt a thrill run up her spine and down again. She hadn’t put her thoughts into words before, but it was true. She was reveling in their adventure. It was what she’d hoped for without really knowing it when she ran away from home all those months ago.
The hardship of their time in New York had worn her down until all she wanted was to go back home to her parents and the Duke of Notherington. She’d almost forgotten about the burning desire she’d held inside for years to embark on something unknown, exciting and life-changing. And now that she had, all those dreams and hopes were being resurrected deep inside her.
She didn’t want to go home any longer. She wanted whatever the future held for her. She wanted this – this adventure with Harry and Camilla. She didn’t know what would come, but she was ready for it now. She’d learned so much, changed so much. Whatever came her way now, she believed she was now better prepared for it.
“Really?” Harry looked at her with what seemed like surprise mixed with admiration. “You wouldn’t change anything?”
“No. Nothing much, anyway.”
“I have to say I’m impressed, Lady Charlotte. I would have sworn you’d wish yourself back in England, married to the Duke after all.”
“Perhaps when we were in New York … but not now. This –” She waved her hands toward the darkness beyond the circle of firelight. “– this is the life for me.”
He nodded, his face beaming. “You are truly an enigma. And I agree – New York didn’t suit you. I could see how much it ate away at you living there. You withdrew into yourself. You weren’t the woman I knew from back home. And now, out here, you’re becoming yourself again. You’ve more color in your cheeks, you look alive again. It’s wonderful to see.”
“Thank you, Harry. I feel more alive.”
She met his gaze with her own. The intensity of the look he gave her almost took her breath away. He was so close, her skin tingled at the thought of his touch. Her eyes dropped to his lips and she nibbled her own, remembering their last kiss, the warmth of his embrace, his soft, full lips on hers. Her cheeks flushed with warmth and she dropped her eyes to the ground.
She felt him move closer, then his hand was on her arm. “Charlotte, I …”
Before he could finish, she spun her head around and slanted her lips up toward his. Her eyes closed, she explored his mouth with her own, teasing with her tongue, her hands caressing his bearded cheeks.
She pulled away, horrified at herself for tormenting him that way. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Harry. I shouldn’t have done that.” His eyes were closed and they blinked open. His gaze was intoxicating and he leaned closer for more. She quickly stood to her feet. “I don’t know what came over me. I guess it was the stars, they make me quite dizzy.”
Turning on her heel, she almost ran from him to the tent she shared with Camilla. Diving inside, she huddled beneath her blanket, pulling it up to her chin. The injured look on his face as she ran away still burned bright in her mind’s eye.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Harry didn’t understand why Charlotte kept shutting him out. He knew she felt the spark between them, yet she continued to deny it, continued to run from him – literally. After their conversation last night, she’d kissed him and then ran right back to her tent, leaving him alone and hungry for more, his heart hammering in his chest.
He knew in his head they’d make a terrible match. He just wished his heart would agree with his head. But so far, it wasn’t looking good. He had to shake these feelings. It wasn’t doing him or anyone else any good for him to spend his time pining over a woman who didn’t see him that way and would likely never see him that way. To her, he’d always be one of the boys from the village.
He strode forward through the grass, passing the sail wagon parked on the side of the trail. The men on board waved and smiled as he walked by. “Good mornin’,” they called.
“Good mornin’ to you. No wind today?” Harry tipped his hat, forcing a smile onto his face to be polite, his thoughts in turmoil.
“No wind. We’ll just wait for it to pick up again. Might see you later on.”
“See you then.” He waved and continued hiking down the trail behind the Holloways’ wagon. Their cow plodded quietly behind them. Fred walked up front beside the oxen, a long plaited whip in his hands, the end draped across the animals backs to steer them.
Charlotte was taking her first turn driving their own oxen, and they were behaving better than expected given their obstinate nature. They’d settled down a lot since that first day on the trail and now mostly plodded along with their heads bobbing to the steady rhythm of their steps.
He shot a look over his shoulder at her. Stray locks of her long blonde hair had wriggled free of her hair clasp and blew over her face in the warm breeze. She pushed at them, trying to fix them back into her bun, with no luck. Her cheeks were rosy, and even from where he walked ahead of the wagon he could see the glint of a smile on her face. She was in her element. All traces of the worn, pallid, quiet woman from New York had been erased with
a gust of fresh prairie air.
Even though she’d grown and changed since living at Beaufort Manor, she much more closely resembled the woman he’d known there – full of life and laughter. He smiled, and his heart skidded in his chest. Thinking that way about her would only lead to heartache. He shook his head, trying to clear all thoughts of Charlotte Beaufort from his mind.
Instead, he focused his attention on his parents. He wondered what Mam and Da were up to and if anything had changed since he and Camilla left. He doubted it. He’d written a letter to his aunt and uncle in Cutter’s Creek and mailed it at a town in Nebraska Territory. Hopefully they’d arrive in Cutter’s Creek in a couple of months, which should give the correspondence plenty of time to warn his relatives of their impending arrival.
Harry noticed a trail of small paw prints on the damp ground ahead of him. They’d had a heavy rain shower the previous night, and the morning had brought them a sparkling clean prairie with the smell of freshly cut grass and moist earth to fill their grateful lungs. They’d managed to catch some of the water in various pots and pans as well, to replenish their canteens.
He squatted in the grass to study the paw prints. Never having had a chance to do much hunting in England – given that all the land around the village belonged to Lord Beaufort – he was new to the art of tracking. He squinted at the prints. They looked to belong to a large hare or rabbit.
Everyone was tired of the dried meat they’d brought along, and their friends Fred and Maria from the wagon train had shared their hunt with them on occasion, but Harry felt it was time he pulled his weight and learned how to feed his family on his own. Charlotte may not have been part of his family, but she was pretending to be his wife for the journey and that was good enough for him. For now at least.
He jogged back to the wagon and leaped aboard. “I’m just going to take the rifle. See if I can hunt down some supper for us.”
The rifle was soon found, against the side of the wagon. He sat on the wagon seat and lifted it onto his lap to load. The sun was still low on the horizon and the dampness of the morning hung around like a heavy blanket across the wide green plains. The grasses, short and brown through the winter time, had spurted skyward with new growth and by now were waist-tall, waving their green heads under the caress of the breeze.
“Do you think you’ll find something?” Charlotte’s eyes gleamed.
“Maybe. I saw some rabbit tracks back there. I’m going to see if I can find their warren. Maybe you’ll have rabbit stew for supper.” He grinned and jumped down from the wagon to the hard ground below in one swift movement.
“That would be delicious – my mouth is watering at the thought of it. Oh, I do hope you find some.”
He tipped his hat at her and sauntered off to free Honey from the back of the wagon. He climbed onto her back and pressed his heels into her sides. Eager to run, she leaped forward and the two of them were soon galloping back to find the rabbit tracks.
As he rode away, he trembled inside at having sat so close to Charlotte, without being able to hold her or tell her what was on his mind and how he felt about her. It took every ounce of strength he had not to take her in his arms and kiss her worries away.
He leaned forward over the mare’s neck and urged her onward and past the rabbit tracks. He wanted to ride further, to speed across the plains and be reckless for a while. He reveled in the feel of the air buffeting his skin and the strength of the horse beneath him. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he swept his gaze over the wild openness of the prairie around him and the neverending blue sky above.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Charlotte stoked the fire, and a flame leaped into the air above the neatly stacked kindling. As tiring as the endless days on the trail had been, she never tired of building fires. It made her feel strong, independent and free, as though she could do anything.
She stared into the flames as they licked the base of the coffee pot. The milk in the jug was fresh – she’d just milked the cow, and the daily habit was becoming a ritual she enjoyed. The cow was sweet by nature and always happy to see her. Charlotte often shared her thoughts, hopes and dreams with the animal, who swished her tail in response.
She laughed, thinking about how much her social life had changed in the time since she’d left England – where previously she’d attended every society event and soiree and strove endlessly to be the life of the party with friends by the dozen, now she was happy in the company of a cow!
Her thoughts returned, as they often did these days, to Harry. What did Harry want from her? She couldn’t stop thinking about their exchange the previous evening. That kiss. The kiss that had set her heart jittering in her chest and sent a bolt of lightning through her entire body. She couldn’t get it out of her mind. And yet, at the same time, she knew she had to, knew she couldn’t keep thinking of him that way.
When she first noticed her feelings developing for him, she’d been certain it was only a crush, that it would fade as she spent more time with him. It’d always worked in the past. Every man she’d ever cared for, she’d lost interest in after a while. But not Harry. Try as she might, she couldn’t get past the fact that every passing day made her feelings grow, not fade. It was most aggravating.
It didn’t make sense. He didn’t make sense, not for her. He wouldn’t be a good match for her. She knew it. She couldn’t trust him. Didn’t trust him. He was unpredictable. Exciting, yes, but was that really the kind of trait one should desire in a husband? She should really settle down with someone reliable and dependable. Someone closer to her station in life. She was unlikely to find a prince or duke in Montana Territory, that was true, but she might find someone more suited to her station. Someone her parents would approve of.
Not someone boring – she couldn’t abide being married to a boring man, of course. But boring and predictable weren’t the same thing, were they? Well, Harry certainly wasn’t either of those two things. Nor was he a man she felt as though she could entrust her heart to. He drank more than he should and gambled far too heavily. She never knew what he would say or do next. He kissed her whenever he chose to, even though he knew she didn’t want him to.
It was as though she had no control over him whatsoever. And Charlotte wasn’t accustomed to having no control over a man. Generally when a man had courted her in the past, she could get him to do or say anything she wished. He’d be at her beck and call, ready and willing to do her bidding at a moment’s notice. He’d never take the liberty of kissing her without her consent, would never reveal his vices to her openly as though they were nothing at all, the way that Harry did.
The thing to do was to get him out of her head. He didn’t belong there, didn’t belong with her. She had to simply change her mind about him. Or was it her heart? Her mind seemed certain they didn’t belong together; it was her disobedient heart that made her confused.
He was kind and warm and loving and fun. But all that didn’t matter if she couldn’t trust him. What if they got married and had a family and then he gambled away all of his meager earnings, leaving her and the children destitute? The thought made her quiver with fear. No, she wouldn’t put herself into a situation like that. She should marry someone who could support a family and provide a beautiful home for them. A man who could be relied upon.
She’d heard rumors about the kinds of things men got up to when they drank too much. She’d seen him in that state herself, the night he and Ben had gone out on the town together. The first time he’d kissed her. He’d been inebriated then, and who knew how often he came home in that state. No, Harry Brown was not husband material, no matter how much he made her legs tremble and her heart thud.
A noise startled Charlotte out of her reverie – the sound of hoofbeats on the hard ground. Honey trotted into camp and Harry leaped from her back, a string of plump rabbits hanging from the saddle. “Well, looks like you found them.” She stood to her feet and smoothed her hair, feeling her cheeks flush at the sight of him. His e
yes sparkled in his tanned face and his muscular frame was even leaner and stronger than usual after weeks on the trail.
“Sure did. They should make a nice supper. Do you know how to dress them?” He raised an eyebrow as he climbed from the saddle and untied the rabbits.
“Hmmm … I’ve never done it before. Perhaps Camilla will know what to do.”
“She does. She’s cleaned many a rabbit over the years.” He smiled and handed the string of rabbits to Charlotte.
As he led Honey off to her tether, Charlotte studied the creatures in her hands. They were larger than any rabbits she’d ever seen before and would make a hearty meal for the three of them. They could even share some with their neighbors, who’d been very generous with them in the past.
She hurried off to find Camilla, who soon showed her the best way to skin and clean the creatures. Then, she looped the handle of a pot over her arm and meandered to a nearby creek bed. They’d camped beside the stream for the night, which was a refreshing change. It meant they could water the livestock, do their wash and fetch what they needed for drinking and cooking without having to trek for miles.
As she wandered toward the bank of the creek, she passed another of the covered wagons. Two men were seated by the campfire and she noticed that Harry stood beside them, Honey’s empty bridle hanging from one hand. “So you’re up for it tonight then?” asked one of the men, his lower lip, full of snuff, protruding out over his upper.
“I sure am. I was hopin’ there might be a game on the trail. It’s a welcome surprise, I must say. What kind of stakes do you play?” asked Harry.
“A dime a hand is about as high as we get, usually,” the man replied with a sniff.
“Okay – well, I’m in. I’ll see you after supper.” Harry tipped his hat at the men and headed back to their camp. He caught sight of Charlotte watching him and grinned at her with a nod, then continued on his way.
