“Are you sure I’ll need all this?” Sophia pointed at the luggage.
Lucy’s lips tightened in a firm line, and her hands shot to her hips. “You’re a lady, Miss Sophia. A lady needs to be prepared.” Her eyes filled with concern.
“Why you would want to leave Boston and head into uncharted wilderness is beyond my comprehension,” she huffed. She secured the latch on the trunk and swiped a hand across her damp forehead. “There are nothing but bloodthirsty Indians and murdering scoundrels the further west one travels.”
“I’ve read in the newspapers that a lot of people are moving west. California and Oregon seem to be where everyone is heading.”
Lucy scoffed. “Like I said, nothing but scoundrels. Certainly not a place for a lady.”
Sophia laughed. “I don’t think we’ll be going all the way to the Pacific Ocean, Lucy. My father tells me that the Teton Mountains are nowhere near the other side of the continent.”
“We’ll be in the middle of nowhere,” Lucy whined. “I’m not suited for a life without modern comforts and conveniences, and neither are you.”
A heavy sigh escaped Sophia’s mouth. Hadn’t Joseph told her the same thing, that she couldn’t handle the journey? Well, she just had to prove them both wrong. With an Indian mother, and an experienced mountain man for a father, it was in her blood. How hard could it be? So she’d have to suffer a few inconveniences along the way. Nothing she couldn’t handle.
“Well I will leave the decision up to you whether you want to accompany me,” Sophia said, and slipped her hand into a white glove. “You can unpack your trunk, and I’ll let my father know that I’ll be traveling by myself.”
Lucy stepped in front of her, one hand on her hip. She pointed a wagging finger at her, glowering with narrowed eyes. “If you believe for one moment that I’m going to let you go off alone to some godforsaken land with that . . . that man downstairs, you’re sorely mistaken, young lady. I spent the better part of twenty years looking after you, and I’m not going to shirk my duties now. Besides, someone has to make sure you come back to Boston.”
Sophia smiled, and threw her arms around the older woman before she could continue her rant.
“I love you too, Lucy,” she whispered.
Lucy stood stiffly for a moment, then patted Sophia’s back. She stepped away from her, and cleared her throat.
“Well, I believe we are ready to go.” Lucy sighed dramatically. “I’ll call for James to have the trunks brought downstairs.” She swiped her hand over her eyes.
Sophia nodded, and smoothed down the front of her bodice with her gloved palm. The close-fitting long sleeves of the silk dress rubbed against her skin. She should have chosen a more comfortable, less confining dress to wear for their first day of travel. The pleated, three-flounced skirt swished around her legs as she headed for the door. She pushed down on the handle when loud angry voices echoed from downstairs.
Sophia shot a glance over her shoulder at Lucy, who had obviously heard the commotion as well. The maid pushed past her out the door and into the hall.
“Dear Lord, what is that westerner up to now,” she scoffed and sauntered toward the stairwell, Sophia at her heels.
At the top of the stairs they both stopped. Sophia’s hand shot to her mouth to cover the gasp she couldn’t hold back. Below, standing in the entry, were Lloyd Preston and Joseph Walker. Mere inches separated the two men. Lloyd’s face was a shade of scarlet, his eyes bulging from their sockets as he stared at the unwavering man in buckskins before him.
Sophia’s heart beat furiously in her chest. It had been two days since her announcement that she was leaving Boston. Two days since she had last seen Joseph. An inexplicable wave of warmth passed through her at seeing him standing fearless before one of New England’s most powerful businessmen.
Neither Lloyd Preston nor Andrew had stopped at the house to question Sophia’s decision to cancel her engagement. She knew that her father had sent a message to the Preston residence immediately after breakfast on the day she told him of her plans. And as far as she knew, the Prestons hadn’t responded. Why were they still in Boston?
James appeared helpless as he stood off to the side while the two men confronted each other, and Sophia’s father came rushing from his office.
“Out of my way, sir. My business is with Byron Yancey. I should have you arrested for what you did to my son. My physician tells me Andrew’s nose will always be deformed. ”
“What I did?” Joseph stepped even close to Mr. Preston, and gave a short laugh. “Maybe you should teach your son some proper manners around a woman.”
Preston puffed out his chest, incoherent words sputtering from his mouth. Abruptly, his head snapped to Sophia’s father, who held up his hands. Whatever he had said was drowned out by the loud voices of Joseph and Lloyd Preston.
“What is the meaning of this, Yancey?” Lloyd shouted, facing her father. “I was half way to New York already when I received your message. Since when do you associate yourself with uneducated backwoodsmen who are a danger to society? I thought that was all in your past.” He pointed a finger at Joseph. “That uncivilized man almost killed my son.”
“And your son nearly raped Miss Yancey,” Joseph said, his words spoken with a deadly calm that sounded more menacing than if he had shouted. Sophia shrunk back at the crude word he used, and held on to the staircase banister for support. “As uncivilized as I might be, that’s not how a man shows a woman that he cares about her,” Joseph continued. “But then again, Andrew only planned to marry Sophie for financial reasons.”
Preston stared at him, his mouth wide open, sputtering like a fish gasping for air on dry land.
“Our business dealings are over, Lloyd,” Sophia’s father added, more forcefully than she’d ever heard him speak.
“Now see here, Byron,” Preston fumed.
Before Mr. Preston could say another word, Joseph closed the gap the older man had created between them, and stared him in the eyes. “I suggest you leave now, before my patience runs out. If you ever dare call Miss Yancey anything but a lady again, I’ll break more than just your nose.”
Preston stumbled backward, and Joseph followed him. He reached for the man’s arm, and turned him in the direction of the front door.
“Mr. Preston is leaving, James. Open the door for him,” he called to the stunned-looking butler, who complied without hesitation. Joseph shoved Mr. Preston out the door.
Sophia blinked back the tears of disbelief in her eyes. Even Lucy seemed at a loss for words, standing next to her. No one had ever defended her honor with such passion and conviction as this man, this rough-around-the-edges mountain man who was as out of place in her Boston home as a donkey in a barn full of thoroughbreds. His head slowly turned and he glanced up the staircase. Their eyes met. Sophia stood still, her gaze locked on his. Her knees went weak and breathing became impossible. She gripped the banister as if her life depended on it, and at that moment, Joseph Walker owned her heart.
Chapter Seven
Joseph leaned his head against the wooden crate and closed his eyes. He drew in a slow breath. The smell of straw and livestock mixed with the pungent odor of unwashed bodies, fried fish, and grease. It was no better than breathing in the soot of the steam locomotive he’d endured during the four days’ train ride from Boston to Cincinnati.
While Sophie and her maid traveled first class on the upper deck of this steamboat, he’d chosen to stay with the regular passengers on the cargo deck. He’d refused to let her pay for a first class train ticket for him, and he certainly wasn’t going to allow her to pay his fare on the riverboat, either. The way he was dressed, he would most likely be tossed overboard if he even made an appearance among the elite travelers.
The cargo deck was crowded with common folk who looked as if they could barely afford the fare to travel down the river. A child cried not far away, and men conversed in loud tones. Unable to block out the noise, Joseph pushed away from the crate and stepp
ed over a man lying on the ground. He squeezed between several other men milling about and reached the edge of the deck. The slight breeze and spray of river water on his face was refreshing.
After a short stop at one of the various river towns to take on more cargo and passengers, the boat was again heading down the river. He should really go check on his horse. He’d taken the gelding for a short ride to stretch the animal’s legs while the boat was docked. One of the cargo crewmen had offered to unsaddle and rub the horse down for two bits, and Joseph had agreed out of pity. The youth looked like he could use a good meal. He’d left him in charge of his animal, but not before issuing an explicit warning that all his belongings had better be accounted for later.
Joseph sighed and stared down the river. What the hell had he gotten himself into? With every mile the steamboat moved through the waters of the Ohio River, he questioned his sanity. A little over a week had passed since leaving Byron Yancey’s Boston home with Sophie and her chaperone in tow. He’d barely seen either one of the women except at stops along the train route. Since boarding the riverboat, he hadn’t so much as caught a glimpse of Sophie or Lucy. Their lavish lifestyle was going to come to an abrupt and unpleasant halt in two days when they would arrive in St. Louis.
What was he thinking, dragging two inexperienced women away from the city into uncharted Indian Territory? He was torn between his promise to Two Bears and simply abandoning this entire idea altogether. Sophie had surprised him when she’d asked him to take her back to the Tetons, but he couldn’t help but wonder if she was doing it more out of spite than curiosity. Then again, the fact that she agreed to go, and without Yancey along, might prove that she had a backbone after all.
The vision of Sophie standing at the top of the staircase in her father’s home on the morning of their departure flashed before his eyes. His pulse quickened, a familiar reaction each time that particular memory surfaced. And it had surfaced a lot over the course of the last week. A stare of disbelief, admiration, and something much deeper had burned in her gaze. He couldn’t get that look in her eyes out of his mind.
Joseph cursed under his breath. It had been a fleeting moment, and now he wondered if what he had read in the depths of her eyes was purely his imagination. Her maid, Lucy, had sauntered down the staircase, breaking the spell. She’d commandeered several servants to bring Sophie’s luggage to be loaded in the coach that would take them to the train depot.
“What is all this?” Joseph had asked as he watched trunk after trunk being hauled from the second floor, down the stairs and out the front door.
“Miss Sophia’s luggage,” Lucy had told him, looking at him as if he were daft.
“You can’t bring all this with you.” Joseph’s eyes shot from Sophie to Yancey. “Make her see reason, Mr. Yancey. You’ve been where we’re going. You know we can’t carry all these trunks with us.”
To Joseph’s surprise, Sophie spoke up. “You’re right, Mr. Walker. I should have overseen the packing more closely. Perhaps I could—”
“I’ve packed only the most basic necessities a lady requires, Mr. Walker,” Lucy interjected. Her glare would drive a weaker man into hiding. “I refuse to allow Miss Sophia to travel without a fully outfitted wardrobe. You forget that she isn’t some western trollop, and I plan to make sure that she retains some culture, especially since we’re headed into your god-forsaken, uncivilized wilderness.”
Joseph didn’t know whether to laugh or react in anger. He had to admire the woman for her loyalty. It didn’t solve his problem, however.
“I’m not packing all these frivolous items over hundreds of miles of mountains.” Joseph glowered at Lucy. If he backed down now, he’d lose complete control of this situation. It was bad enough that he had agreed to travel by train as far as Cincinnati, and then by steamboat down the Ohio. If it were up to him, they’d be traveling on horseback, just as he had done in coming here. Once they reached St. Louis, there were no more trains or steamboats. He hoped Byron Yancey had talked to Sophie and prepared her at least somewhat as to what lie ahead. This journey home was already causing delays, and he couldn’t afford to waste more time. He had to get back to the mountains before winter set in.
Sophie grabbed hold of her maid’s arm, but her soft doe eyes remained on him. Joseph groaned silently. Heat coursed through him. What the hell game was she playing? A few days ago she’d looked down her pert little nose at him. Now, it was almost as if . . . Joseph swallowed. He shook his head to drive the silly notion that she was attracted to him from his mind.
“Perhaps we can compromise,” Sophie said to Lucy. Her eyes turned to the maid. “Since there is no time to unpack everything right now, we could bring the trunks as far as St. Louis. From there, it might be easier to decide what clothing I will need for the remainder of the journey. We should listen to Mr. Walker.”
Lucy scoffed. Sophie shot him a hopeful glance, and Joseph couldn’t help but stare. The woman had a head on her shoulders after all. He was silently impressed with her quick thinking, and that she seemed so agreeable. Had he completely misjudged her from their initial encounter? Sophie had been full of surprises.
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Yancey chimed in. “I do believe the driver is waiting for us. It is time to get to the depot.”
After Sophie had said her goodbyes to the many members of Yancey’s household staff, she’d left through the front door on her father’s arm. Joseph moved to follow them out the door when Lucy stepped in front of him.
“I’m keeping a close eye on you, Mr. Walker,” she said in a hushed tone. She glared up at him, her jaw set firmly. Joseph raised his eyebrows. He waited to see if she’d elaborate.
Lucy glanced over her shoulder before she continued. “I’m not blind, Mr. Walker,” she hissed. “I see the way you look at Miss Sophia, and I’m warning you right now. Don’t get any ideas about her. She might be vulnerable after what Mr. Preston did to her, but I will do whatever is in my power to see that she comes back to Boston as pure as she is now.”
Joseph’s lips twitched. Keeping a poker face required all of his restraint. He cleared his throat. The woman was perceptive. Were his thoughts so transparent?
“Then you and I have a common goal, Miss Lucy,” he said, silently questioning the truth of his statement. His thoughts had wandered in the direction this woman was inferring on more than one occasion, even though it was a ridiculous notion. He clenched his jaw. Why the hell was he so attracted to Sophie? She was a spoiled little rich girl. He’d always thought Feather in the Wind was the sort of woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
When he met Feather in the Wind, he’d thought he’d found his perfect match. Young and in love, they had married in secret, but they couldn’t hide what they had done for long. The loyalty to her tribe finally forced her to leave him and return to her family. Her decision had prevented potential bloodshed, but the thought that she simply tossed away their marriage and had chosen to go back to her people still stung.
Joseph had no intention of making the same mistake again. Five years had healed the pain of giving up his first love, but after what happened with Feather in the Wind, getting involved with another woman who couldn’t share his way of life was not something he planned to do. He didn’t believe for a moment that Sophie would ever consider leaving Boston permanently. She was simply coming to meet her grandfather and learn about her birthplace. Certainly she would want to return to Boston by the following spring.
“Mr. Walker.” Lucy’s stern voice forced his mind back to the plump woman standing in front of him. “I carry a small pistol under my dress. Don’t believe for a moment that I can’t or won’t use it.”
Her warning couldn’t be any clearer. Joseph grinned. “If you ever feel the need to use your weapon, Miss Lucy, just make sure you aim straight and true.” He maneuvered his way around her wide body and out the front door, and chuckled. Yancey hugged Sophie close. They stood in a tight embrace before he helped her into the
carriage, and Joseph slowed his step to give them some privacy. His chest tightened, and his heart pounded just beneath the surface. The smile froze on his face. His advice to the maid might just backfire on him.
****
Joseph’s thoughts returned to the present. Several men close to him murmured, and one even whistled. He glanced around to see what had drawn their attention, and his eyebrows shot up. A raven-haired woman in a fancy blue dress picked her way carefully among the passengers. His pulse increased.
Joseph cursed under his breath. What the hell was she doing on the cargo deck? He hadn’t seen her since boarding the boat two days ago, and didn’t expect to see her again until they reached St. Louis. She might not know it, but she moved with the grace of a young deer. He imagined what she might look like in a simple buckskin dress, running through a meadow of spring flowers, her hair unbound and whipping in the wind.
He groaned. Desire unlike anything before seared through him. Whether dressed as a Boston socialite or a Bannock, she was a beautiful woman. She wasn’t for him, though. Somehow he had to get those crazy ideas out of his mind. He was glad that she had a chaperone. Lucy had hovered over Sophie like some starved vulture, and Joseph had no doubt she would make good on her threat to shoot at him if she even suspected him of casting inappropriate glances at her charge.
Joseph moved away from the edge of the deck. By the looks on some of the men’s faces, it might be a good idea to quickly find out why she was wandering among the lower class. Lucy was nowhere to be seen.
Sophie’s mouth widened in a smile when she saw him, and Joseph groaned again. She raised her gloved hand in a wave, when a sudden movement to her right caught her off guard. A young boy dressed in nothing but rags collided with her, sending her stumbling to the side.
Joseph lurched forward. Sophie was still too far away for him to help her should she fall. People had been known to tumble overboard on these boats. Even if she could swim, all those petticoats and yards of material she wore would drag her under water.
Teton Splendor Page 7
