Disgusted, Kevin grabbed the girl's hand. “I said I'd look out for her."
As the small pair walked away, the adults distinctly heard Kevin muttering something about danged grown-ups.
Bridget just stared at Jacob. Her mouth open, she shook her head slowly. "Jacob, she's only goin' to the kitchen."
His gaze never left his daughter’s back. She looked so small walking hand in hand with the husky boy. "I know that," he finally said, "but I have to be careful with her. Have to make sure she isn't… hurt again."
Bridget sighed. His love for the girl was one of the reasons she found him so hard to ignore, but at the same time Bridget knew that he was sometimes too concerned. A child had to have a bit of leeway, a tiny bit of breathing room to explore its world.
"You can't protect her from pain, Jacob. No one can."
When the children disappeared up the stairs, he turned to face her. "I have to try."
"But –“
"Bridget, please." He held his hand up to stop her. "I have to do what I think is right for my daughter. She's my responsibility. It's my duty to see that nothing happens to her."
“I understand that, Jacob." She looked up into his eyes and saw no shadow of the passion-filled softness of the night before. Now there was only a grim determination, marked not only in his pale blue eyes but in the straight firmness of his lips and his jutting chin. It seemed that the tragedy of his wife's death had affected him as deeply as it had Jessica.
In an instant, Bridget's mind created images of the years ahead of the Fallons. Jacob, in his rigid attention to every detail of the child's life, would no doubt cause Jessica to grow up with little confidence in her own abilities. Oh, she would be loved, of that Bridget had no doubt, but at the same time she would be cosseted and protected and led by the hand until she could no more make a decision for herself than she could fly. With the best of intentions Jacob had already started down that path, and by the sound of him, anyone trying to interfere with his plans would do well to sleep with one eye open.
Ah, well, she told herself firmly, it's none of your affair. How the man raises his child is his business. He hasn't asked your opinion, m'girl, and there's no reason why he should. Who are you, after all, but a poor Irish girl he stumbled across on a too-long trip aboard a too-small ship? Besides, all too soon now, they'd be sayin' good-bye. No matter his wild offer of the night before, Bridget knew she couldn't stay with them. In an odd way, she also felt that a part of him had been hoping she'd say no.
"You're right, Jacob." She forced a smile. "She is your responsibility."
His body relaxed slightly and his lips moved in a halfhearted twist. "You never answered my question, Bridget. Am I welcome?"
Her heart flipped over in her chest as she looked up into his intent gaze. She knew what she should say. She knew exactly what to do. The inevitability of it all screamed at her with the force of the ship's steam whistle. They had to part. For the good of all of them. She knew it.
And then she heard herself saying, "Of course you're welcome, Jacob."
Chapter Eight
When the River Belle pulled into the bank at midday, Bridget stepped out of the kitchen to see what was happening.
"Ah, just stoppin' to take on more wood, is all," Tom grumbled, still rubbing the hand he'd burned on a hot bread pan.
He was right. Bridget saw that the youngest crewmen, the roustabouts, were already lowering the gangplank. On a rise of land just beyond the shoreline stood a mountain of stacked wood, where an impossibly tall, thin man waited.
“Who is that man there?" she asked.
Tom stepped out onto the deck, took one look, then spat a stream of tobacco juice over the railing to the river. "That there is Misery Drake."
"Misery?"
"Yup." He walked back to the kitchen, talking as he went. "Don't nobody know his right name. But he's all the time talkin' about a 'misery in his bones,' or a 'misery in his belly,' so folks just started in callin' him Misery."
She shook her head as she watched the roustabouts run down the gangplank, followed by at least ten armed men.
“Why are so many of the men goin' ashore?"
"Prob'ly guards. The boys'll carry on what wood we need, but the others are there to watch out for the Sioux." He looked up at her. "Indians round here ain't real pleased with all these boats headin' up into their country."
"Yes," she said with a shudder, "I remember." Then she turned to look at Tom, a quizzical look on her face. "If the Sioux are so fierce, how does Misery live alone in the middle of 'em?"
"Oh," he said smiling, "they come to a understandin' some years back. See, Misery, he takes on like he's near to dyin', but it ain't so. That man is as tough as an old boot. And about as fast with a gun as I've ever seen. He can track near as good as any Indian, too." He straightened up and looked at her. "Anyhow, a few years back, the Sioux kept sendin' their young men out to get Misery. Kinda a test of manhood. 'Cept none of 'em come back. Well, there ain't no foolish Sioux. They figure ol’ Misery's some sorta big medicine. Been leavin' him alone ever since. And he does the same for them."
Bridget stared out thoughtfully at the empty landscape. For miles in any direction the land was flat with a few rolling dips and gullies. Scattered bushes and a small grove of trees near the river were the only occupants of a wide open land. In the distance a long line of blue and purple shaded mountains jutted up into the sky. She could understand why the Indians were fighting so, desperately to keep it. It was a fine country, she told herself, strong and beautiful, but, to one used to crowds, so empty.
“Why don't you go on down yonder and stretch your legs on some dry land for a change? We ain't goin' nowhere for a while."
“Is it safe?"
"Shoot, you're as safe there as you would be here. Go on."
The chance to walk on ground again was too tempting to ignore. Besides, if worse came to worse, she was a fast runner. If she didn't go far from the boat, surely she would be fine. Hurriedly she pulled off her apron and moved for the stairs. Back on the main deck she spied Jacob, Jessica in tow, heading right for her.
"Bridget," he called, “would you look after Jessica for me while I go ashore with the other men?"
She took the little girl's hand and smiled. After spending most of the morning with the man, she was startled to find that her blood quickened as though she hadn't seen him in months.
"Surely I'll keep her with me." She looked up at Jacob. "But I'm goin' ashore as well."
His brows drew together. "What?"
"Oh, Tom said it would be safe enough. And I'm not goin' far." She squeezed Jessica's hand. "Just want to feel solid dirt beneath me feet for a change."
"Well…"
"Ah, Jacob." She cocked her head at him. "Surely you'll agree that Tom should know what he's talkin' about. He's made this trip many times, y'know."
"Yes, but –“
"No more buts. Jessie and me will be fine." She nodded toward the gangplank, where Kevin, his mother and a few other passengers were gathering to go ashore. "See? We won't be alone, either." Deliberately she started walking.
She hadn't gone more than a few steps when she turned and asked, "Why don't you come with us, Jacob?"
Indecision flashed across his face before he shook his head. "No. I have to stand guard with the others."
She snorted derisively. “They've got plenty of men with guns out there, man. One more won't be missed. Besides, with what Tom's told me about the man who lives here, I don't think we'll be seein' any Indians."
For a moment Bridget thought he was going to agree.
"I can't. It's every man's duty to stand watch when there's an Indian threat."
His mind was made up. She could tell that just by looking at him. His jaw was tight, his shoulders squared. He didn't have to be in uniform for her to tell that he'd been in someone's army.
Bridget's head moved slowly from side to side. "That's fine, Jacob. You do your duty to the boat when there's more than
enough already doin' it." She looked down at the little girl. "Let's go now, Jessie. We'll see what we can find, shall we?"
He stood alone and watched his daughter and the woman walk down the wide gangplank hand in hand. He still watched as they walked along the edge of the water, never straying far from the ship. As he left the boat to take his place with the other men on the rise above the river, his gaze continually sought out the auburn-haired woman who occupied far too many of his thoughts.
For more than an hour he watched from a distance as Bridget and Jessica waded barefoot in the water, splashing each other and laughing. He had to wonder what they were saying when they bent over a small stand of brush to investigate whatever lived in there. Jacob scowled, disgusted with himself, when the woman began to teach Jessica how to skip stones on the rapidly moving river.
His gaze followed Bridget's lithe movements. She ran along the shore holding Jessica's hand and laughing into the wind. Once, he caught a glimpse of her long, shapely legs as she lifted her skirt away from the water. Jacob shifted positions uneasily. He ran his hand up and down the length of the Henry rifle he carried and imagined that it was the smooth, warm flesh of Bridget O'Dell beneath his fingers. He couldn't seem to look away from her.
The sunlight on her hair made it gleam like the finest mahogany. The length of her neck, the swell of her breast, the carefree way she gave her attention completely to Jessica everything about the woman only served to whet his appetite for more.
An escalating argument between the River Belle's mud clerk and Misery Drake captured Jacob's attention. From the sound of it, Misery was demanding cash instead of the usual bartering with ax handles, flour, coffee, and the like. Though the young clerk didn't like it, there wasn’t much choice but to agree. It was either buy Misery Drake's wood or waste several hours while the crewmen dragged and wrestled the huge, twisted branches or snags from the river.
A steam whistle blasted out into the quiet, and the men standing guard turned as one to look. Another stern-wheeler was moving rapidly past the River Belle.
The young clerk groaned. "Ah, hell. That'll be the Night Star. We left two days ahead of her, and now she's caught us and passed."
"It's not the first ship we've seen," Jacob said.
“No” – the clerk frowned – “but it's the only ship that's captained by a man our captain hates. Oh, this'll put him in a mood for sure!" He turned to the roustabouts then. "All right! Let's get this wood on board. If we don't get the Belle movin' soon, the cap'n’s gonna be in the water hisself, pushin' her along!"
Jacob turned back to his view of the shore. He caught a vague echo of his daughter's newly discovered laughter that was quickly drowned out by yet another of Misery Drake's seemingly endless supply of complaints.
Finally, when the wood had been carried and stacked aboard ship, and the passengers, smiling and relaxed, had been recalled, the armed lookouts left the rise and returned to the River Belle. Jacob went directly to Bridget's side.
She straightened up after smoothing Jessie's hair. "Well, I'll be returnin' your daughter to you and gettin' back to work now." She looked down and grinned at the little blond. "We had a fine time, though, didn't we, Jessie darlin'?"
"Yes. Papa, we had fun," The little girl's eyes sparkled, there was a rosy blush on her cheeks, and the sash on her dainty pink dress hung limply.
"And you, Jacob?" Bridget looked up at him, a knowing smirk on her face. "Did you enjoy yourself today?"
"No, I did not." His voice was flat.
"Ah, well," she said as she started to walk away, “that is a shame. But at least you've the pleasure of knowin' that you've done your duty."
He didn't say anything.
"It's a good thing you did, too," she called out over her shoulder. "I've never seen so many Indians!"
She was baiting him, he knew, but there was enough truth in what she was saying that he couldn't think of a thing to say. She disappeared up the staircase before he could try. Perhaps she was right, he told himself. He certainly hadn't been needed on guard – there had been more than enough men to take care of the job. But doesn't she understand that a man must do his duty? If there had been an attack, every gun would have counted.
But there was no attack, he reminded himself as the ship's engines shuddered to life. There was only time missed with the daughter who'd so recently come back to him. He should have been there with her, splashing, exploring, laughing.
Jessica reached for his hand, and as her fingers closed around his, he glanced down. She no longer looked like a frightened doll. She was becoming a little girl again. Was he going to repeat the mistakes he'd made before? Would he involve himself so with duty that he would miss all of her shining moments, as he had that afternoon?
Silently, thoughtfully, Jacob led his daughter back to their cabin.
#
St. Louis
Damned Irish! He'd had enough of lying about in their taverns, listening to their never-ending sad love songs and cheerful ditties about wars and highwaymen. He was tired of whiskey-soaked breath blown in his face by drunks eager to earn another drink with useless bits of gossip.
He glanced out the dirty window at the black night. Nodding in satisfaction, Harry lifted his beer and took a long swallow. Wiping his mouth on his shirtsleeve, he set the mug back down, pushed away from the table, and stood. He had to make a call on another "lady." As he stomped across the room, he chuckled softly. He towered over most of the men in the crowded Kerry Patch saloon, and it pleased him when they hurried to get out of his way.
Once outside he quickly moved down the street toward the building he'd seen one of Flannagan's men visit only the night before. A quiet place with no close neighbors, it squatted at the end of an empty street near the levee. Inside waited the mousy girl, just steps away from the river.
Harry smiled and jammed his hands in his pockets against the night air.
#
Jacob started to speak but caught himself in time. Instead, he stood quietly in the kitchen's open doorway and studied Bridget and Jessica as they worked together over an immense mound of bread dough.
With their backs to him, the whispered hum of their conversation was too soft to be overheard, but he saw how his daughter leaned her head against Bridget's arm. Dismay swamped him momentarily as he wondered how Jessica would get along without Bridget's cheery presence. How would he get along?
He turned away, still unnoticed, and walked to the bow of the ship. Staring absently at the scenery rushing up to meet him, Jacob mentally reviewed each of his decisions concerning Bridget O'Dell.
At the time, every choice he'd made had seemed to be the right one, the logical one. He'd needed help with his child, and Jessica had responded to the woman. He chose to ignore the fact that he, too, had succumbed more than once to the Irish beauty.
But he'd made himself clear the very first time he'd asked for her assistance. He'd told her it was only temporary, that there would be no involvement with him, and that the entire situation would end once they reached Fort Benton.
Then why had nothing gone according to his plan? And why did the thought of reaching their destination fill him with regret?
He gripped the railing tightly. Over the past few weeks Bridget and Jessica had grown closer than he'd thought possible. The changes in his daughter were nothing short of miraculous. She was returning to the person she’d been before her mother's death. And there was no point in lying to himself – it was entirely due to Bridget O'Dell.
But what would happen when they reached Montana? Would Jessica retreat into silence when Bridget left them? Would the little girl blame him for depriving her of the woman she so obviously loved?
He slammed down his fist and turned to go back to the kitchen, but he stopped after only a few steps. What could he do? It was far too late now to try to keep them apart. And he couldn't compete for Jessica's love with a woman who gave her the warmth and tenderness of a mother for the first time in her young life.
&
nbsp; Jacob pulled his hat off, smacked it against his thighs in disgust, and turned back for the bow. Who was he trying to fool? It wasn't only thoughts of Jessica troubling him. The truth of the matter was, he'd become entirely too attached to Bridget himself.
Dammit, he thought, kicking at a coffee crate, none of this should have happened. He'd made plans, for God's sake! And a woman had no part in them.
Immediately the memory of Bridget's soft, pliant body pressed against his rushed into his brain. He felt again the hunger in her lips, the eager response to his touch.
He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep, shuddering breath. It had been far too long – longer than he cared to remember – since a woman had welcomed his touch. Deliberately he turned his thoughts aside.
Besides, it wasn't merely a physical need for the woman that had him so confounded. It was the woman herself. He'd never known a woman more outspoken. Or stubborn. Or tender. He wasn't blind. He'd seen sympathy in her eyes when she looked at him as well as Jessica. No doubt she thought him pining away for his wife. Huh! If she knew the truth about his feelings, she'd probably run in the opposite direction.
Then why not tell her? It's what you want, isn't it? he asked himself silently. He shook his head. No, you damned fool, you can't let her run off. And not just because of Jessica, either, but because she was the first breath of something real to touch you in more than five years. If you let her leave, nothing will be the same again.
But what more could he do? He'd already asked her to stay with them… pointed out how dangerous it was for her to be alone…
"Jacob?" He turned to face her, somehow not surprised that merely thinking of her could conjure her presence.
"Are you all right?" Bridget stepped closer. She reached out for his arm but stopped and drew it back before she touched him.
"Yes." He cleared his throat uneasily. He wished she'd touched him. "Fine. Where's Jessica?”
"In the kitchen with Tom. She's helping to ice a cake." Bridget smiled slowly. "But I’ve a feelin' she won't be eatin' much supper. There's more icin' in her than on the cake."
Mountain Dawn Page 10
