The thought made her stomach plunge and she steadied herself with a firm internal rap. She needed a friend. Nathan needed a friend.
And until he told her outright to leave him alone, she would be that friend for him.
“Is there anything wrong? We stopped early,” she asked Ben as she approached where he was unharnessing the oxen. The wagons had circled a ways off from a beautiful, sparkling stream. It was the only beautiful thing in this barren, sandy stretch of land beneath the clear blue sky.
“The animals are exhausted. That’s all.”
“We’re all exhausted,” she said and he smiled, but was obviously distracted by his task.
Her stomach demanded food and she rounded the wagon, meeting Nathan as he clambered down from the wagon bed. And Rachel, who approached from another direction, having been visiting with a friend near another wagon during the morning hours.
“Are you hungry?”
She included both of them in her query, but Nathan ducked around the side of the wagon and disappeared.
She pulled a face at the spot where he’d gone and Rachel laughed. “Can I take it the man isn’t following your nurse’s orders as closely as you would like?”
Emma shrugged, unwilling to admit to her sister that it was friendship and not her doctoring that was causing the conflict between them. “He’s been in the wagon for four days. You’d be anxious to stretch your legs, too,” was all she said.
“Did I hear correctly that we’re stopping for the day?”
Emma nodded, distracted. She was on a mission to find food. Where were the biscuits left from this morning’s breakfast? She rifled through the open crate where she thought they would be. She muttered to herself.
“Do you think Mr. Reed will go back to eating alone?”
“What?” Emma said, still with her mind only half on her sister’s conversation. “Why would he?”
“He doesn’t seem to like us much. With his glares and foul temperament, I can imagine you’ll be excited to be rid of him after we reach the Oregon Territory. He’s horrid.”
This time Emma bumped her head she turned to Rachel so quickly. “Nathan is not horrid!”
Rachel’s brows went up. “Nathan, is it?”
Emma’s chin hiked up. “We’re friends, of a sort. He might be prickly, but he’s never been rude to me. I think he’s just lonely.”
One corner of Rachel’s mouth twitched and Emma instantly understood her sister had been baiting her.
Emma’s reaction was telling. Maybe too much so.
She put her hands against suddenly hot cheeks. “We’re just friends,” she said with some vehemence. Her heart pounded against her sternum.
“I know,” Rachel said simply. “I actually think Mr. Reed—Nathan,” she amended with a waggle of her eyebrows, “is good for you. You don’t seem uncomfortable with him. Or Clarence, either. Perhaps the trip is what has made the difference for you. Getting away from the memories,” she suggested.
The mention of Clarence had given Emma pause. She wasn’t good at hiding things from Rachel, but had so far been able to keep Clara’s secret. But Rachel’s blithe statement that the trip had been good for her had her clamping her jaw shut at the same time she forced a smile.
She would never tell Rachel that she hadn’t wanted to go West, that every day brought new fears.
And she was so tired of walking.
But she didn’t have to think of some way to distract Rachel from the mention of Clarence. Her sister wasn’t done yet. “I suppose Tristan McCullough will be glad of the changes, as well.”
Rachel’s casual statement held Emma frozen in place.
Tristan.
She hadn’t thought of him or their possible match since the last time Rachel had spoken of him. That had been days ago. Had she been so wrapped up in her concerns about Nathan that she’d behaved inappropriately?
“You don’t think Mr. McCullough would find fault with my behavior, do you?” she asked after a pause.
“How could he?” Rachel returned. “If you are only friends?”
Emma’s mind spun as she gathered some eggs they’d traded for from another traveler and reached for the biscuits that had been left from breakfast. Not there.
Had Rachel meant to warn her about her behavior, her friendship with Nathan?
Rachel was so outspoken that Emma couldn’t imagine her giving such a veiled warning.
But the warning had been imparted just the same.
Grayson and Ben thought the match would be good for Emma. She’d given her word to consider the match.
Her heart had been with the orphans back home. She still wondered if God was sending her to the McCullough family. Was this to be her new purpose?
She didn’t know. And thinking about it tied her stomach in knots.
She had given her word. And so she must be careful of her actions with Nathan. If she did decide to go through with a courtship and marriage with Tristan McCullough, her actions must be blameless.
Then as she boosted herself in the wagon to look further for the leftover biscuits, she saw the most unexpected thing.
Several bundles of rope, neatly coiled, arranged in an orderly row.
* * *
Nathan didn’t know where he was going, only knew he had to get away from the wagon. And Emma.
Nearby, a wide swath of trees broke up the emptiness of the plain and he aimed to reach its privacy. But he’d barely rounded the empty yoke when Ben called out to him. “The committee wants to see you.”
Nathan’s hackles went up. What did they want with him now? To make more accusations against him? He couldn’t remember…hadn’t Ben said something about Nathan being cleared of the accusations against him? He’d been so violently ill those first days that his memories were a muddle.
But there was no escaping, not with Ben waiting expectantly a few feet away.
Nathan fell into step with the other man as they moved through the chaotic mass of women readying cookfires, men mending belongings and children running through. His stomach was tight but he forced his hands to hang loose at his sides. Better not to show a reaction.
This, this was the reason he distanced himself from Emma’s friendship. Because if she was friends with him, she would be touched by the judgmental attitudes against him. And even though he recognized that he deserved it, she didn’t.
The men had gathered outside the circle of wagons, already closed off in a tight-knit group. Would they push Nathan into the center?
His gut twisted even tighter.
Ben walked right into the circle, and it opened for him. Nathan hung back, until Ben jerked his chin, indicating Nathan should join him.
The sun beat down on his head and shoulders as he moved into their circle. Next to him, Ernie Jones shifted uncomfortably. Jones wasn’t a committeeman, but perhaps he’d been asked here since he was the one who’d brought the accusation against Nathan.
No one seemed to want to speak. No one seemed to want to meet his eyes. The grass smelled sweet, but this situation stank.
Finally, the preacher cleared his throat. “It seems I owe you an apology for my accusation against you.”
Nathan was so shocked by the man’s words that he was sure his mouth dropped open. An apology?
But the other men still weren’t speaking, or looking at him. What was this?
“I still don’t trust him,” Stillwell muttered from a few paces away.
Ernie Jones lifted his chin and said belligerently, “Just because he don’t have them hair combs on him don’t mean he didn’t take them.”
Nathan tensed at their suspicion and dislike, though he tried not to show any reaction. The glaring sunlight—or maybe the tension in the gathering—shoved pinpricks of pain behind Nathan’s eyes.
“How do we know your sister wasn’t just covering for him?” Ernie demanded.
“Watch what you say about Miss Hewitt,” he snapped, surprised at himself even as the words flew out of his mouth.
“She could’ve fallen prey to his charms,” Stillwell added, turning to the men next to him. They didn’t appear to know whether to nod and agree or what to believe, most of them wearing uncertain expressions.
Nathan snorted. He exchanged a serious glance with Ben. What charms? He had none to speak of.
Ben cleared his throat and the rumbling men around him went silent, including Stillwell. “You’ll want to remember that’s my sister you’re speaking of. She’s a woman of integrity, her character is impeccable. Many of your wives would tell you the same, as she’s doctored your children back to health.”
Several of the men looked down or away, chagrined expressions on their faces. Good for Ben. No one should be allowed to speak badly of Emma. She was too pure, too good.
Jones spat on the ground. “He’s been lazing about in the wagon, taking charity instead of driving. Eating your supplies.” He pointed at Ben, as if all those things were Ben’s fault.
Nathan inhaled, but kept his mouth wired shut. He didn’t have to defend himself, though he wanted to argue he’d been so sick he hadn’t been able to sit upright.
“I still say we should still throw him out of the caravan,” Jones said.
Nathan forced the breath out of his nose in a long exhale, a low ache still remaining from the sickness. Anger boiled beneath his breastbone.
He’d driven Mr. Bingham’s oxen nearly halfway to their destination. He was planning on the payment Bingham had promised to make a new start for himself. Counting on it.
He had to get to the Oregon Territory.
And he didn’t owe them any explanation. “I’ll drive the oxen tomorrow,” he said.
Stillwell opened his mouth again and Nathan braced for the next argument as to why he couldn’t be trusted, but Ben spoke, cutting off anything the other man might’ve said.
“We called this meeting to let Mr. Reed know he’s been cleared of all charges. He’s as innocent as you and me, unless proven otherwise.”
Stillwell’s face went crimson, but he remained silent, as did the blustery Ernie Jones, for once.
“Anyone else like to apologize for our unfounded accusations?” Ben asked.
The group remained dead silent. Unsurprising, but Nathan felt a pinch in his gut.
Or maybe it was because Ben had stood up for him. Nathan couldn’t believe the other man had done it. How long had it been since someone else had stuck their neck out for him? Long enough that he didn’t remember it.
He stood frozen as the group dispersed, most of the men avoiding his gaze, though Ernie Jones glared at him as he passed.
Ben stood at his side, tall as the stone landmark they’d passed a week ago.
When they were the only ones left, Nathan cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
The words felt rusty on his tongue, uncomfortable enough to make him want to shift his feet, though he didn’t show the sign of weakness.
Ben’s brow creased as he watched the other men disappear into the circle of wagons. “Emma was right,” he said under his breath.
Nathan waited, and Ben’s gaze came to meet his. “She said all along you hadn’t been treated fairly when you were accused. But I was too distracted by all their blustering to see it.”
“So that…was for Emma?”
“That was because I believe a man deserves a fair chance.” Ben clapped him on the shoulder, as if they had somehow become friends. “And because you defended my sister.”
Nathan didn’t know how to respond.
“I’ve got to check on Abby and her father. I’ll see you back at the campfire?”
The other man held Nathan’s gaze expectantly, until finally Nathan gave in with a nod.
He stood, alone in the bright afternoon sun, outside the circle of wagons. On one side of the wagons, the landscape was brown and sandy, with the sparkling river in the distance. On the other side, wild sage and the woodsy area beckoned. A hint of frost, the barest bite of cold remaining in the air even though the afternoon had warmed.
He felt a stirring of some emotion he couldn’t name. Maybe hope.
Emma wanted to befriend him. Ben had stood up for him.
Was it possible he didn’t have to live in such deep isolation? Could he have friends? If he could find a way to keep a careful distance. They couldn’t be bosom friends, but perhaps he could share their campfire until they arrived in the Oregon Territory.
And he wouldn’t be so lonely.
He started toward the wagons, unsure of whether he would to go find Emma or see if he could assist the Binghams, but before he’d reached the ring of conveyances, a tall shadow separated from the near wagon.
Stillwell.
Nathan’s hands curled into fists, but the other man didn’t approach, just stood still and silent, watching Nathan.
Like many of the other men, he wore a weapon at his waist and his hand rested at his hip, just above the butt of the pistol. A threat?
Nathan knew that trying to talk to the other man was liable to get him into trouble. Stillwell clearly didn’t trust him, even after Ben’s assurances to the committee.
Turning, Nathan stalked off, rounding the outer edge of the wagons. His mind spun as he hurried around the tightly circled camp. Around the campfires, there was chatter and noise, sounds of families together, pans rattling, singing, whistling, the bark of a dog.
But out here, there was only him. No noise, no laughter. No one but him.
The pride and hope he’d felt moments ago after Ben’s actions had shriveled away. Though Emma and her brother and the Littletons had been kind to Nathan, how could he forget that most other folks in the caravan saw him the same way Stillwell did?
A criminal. A threat. Someone to be avoided or gotten rid of.
Most folks saw him for what he was.
Not Emma.
He should stay away from her. Surely after a couple of days apart, she’d forget him completely.
But he kind of liked the man he’d seen through her eyes. Someone who could have a second chance.
Maybe he didn’t deserve a second chance, not after he’d failed Beth all those years ago.
But Emma said he could be forgiven. Her words had stuck with him all these days and still wouldn’t leave him alone
He retrieved his satchel from the wagon, holding his breath in hopes that no one would notice him. Scamp did, the little mutt following as Nathan snuck away from the campsite toward the distant river.
He followed its edge far enough that he lost sight of the caravan, until he couldn’t hear it anymore. The dog ranged in front of Nathan, following unseen trails left by some other animal, rustling in the rushes at the water’s edge, then up into the brown grasses farther up the creek bed.
The water was beautiful and clear, spreading wide over its pebble-covered bottom. Fish darted in the water, and if he had a pole, he could have brought Emma something fresh for supper.
But that wasn’t his purpose right at the moment. He needed washing up. Badly. The stench of sickness still clung to him. He didn’t have a spare shirt, and so he took his off and scrubbed it as best he could, and laid it out over a boulder to dry in the sun.
Then he dunked himself, the icy water cool and refreshing. Scamp followed him into the water up to his chest, but refused to swim, even when Nathan beckoned him into the water.
All the while, his thoughts spun.
He knew the safer way would be to reject the tenta
tive friendship Emma and Ben had extended to him.
But a part of him wanted to accept what they offered. Even though he knew they would eventually dismiss him. Everyone left him. He’d grown to expect it.
He still hadn’t made up his mind what to do, but he used his straightedge to shave off the disreputable beard he’d grown over the past months. It hadn’t mattered when he’d been content to stay on the fringes. Maybe he shouldn’t have let it go until now.
Finally, he sat on the rocks, near his shirt for a long while, pondering. The sun beat down on his head and water trickled from his wet hair down his back. The dog lay out on his side on the riverbank, content to be warmed in the sun.
He knew what he wanted. He wanted the tentative friendships he’d formed. But he also knew that wanting was dangerous. A body didn’t always get what they wanted, or sometimes it was taken from them, like Beth had been.
But was he going to let Stillwell’s mistrust scare him off, when Emma and Ben had offered their friendship?
Finally, the sun began to wane in the sky. The dog roused, shaking out his fur and looking over his shoulder at Nathan as if to ask, Shouldn’t we be going back now?
Nathan shook himself from his immobile state. He donned his shirt. It was mostly dry and smelled of the sun-drenched boulder. A major improvement.
How had Emma stood being cooped up in the wagon bed with him stinking like that?
He returned to the camp just as the shadows began to lengthen. Just behind the Hewitts’ wagon, he hesitated, breath caught hard in his chest. Could he really do this?
Several female voices chattered. Every once in a while he picked up Emma’s distinct, sweet tones.
And then a ruckus erupted. A chorus of high-pitched children’s voices joined the women’s.
He couldn’t resist a peek around the wagon. A ragtag bunch of children crowded around the Emma, Rachel and Abby, taking over their entire campfire.
Emma looked up, her gaze landing right on him. Her blue eyes smiled even before her lips parted in a welcoming grin.
She waved him toward her, as if inviting him to join their group.
He rose on the balls of his feet, and the moment lengthened, laden with anticipation.
Wagon Train Sweetheart (Journey West 2) Page 8
