She would be too embarrassed to attend without Nathan at her side, especially since her siblings and Abby knew about the invitation. Maybe she should just go to bed…
No.
He’d said he would come, and one thing she was learning about Nathan was that he kept his word. And he never said no to her.
His cough had improved, though it still occasionally caught him unaware in a fit. Had he possibly fallen ill again?
She set out to find him. She checked the Binghams’ wagon first, knowing he usually slept nearby. She called out softly, but only Scamp appeared with a small woof of welcome. No Nathan.
At the edge of their wagon, she peered out into the darkness beyond the circled caravan. She couldn’t go traipsing out in the wilderness to find him, not alone.
Then she thought she heard a deep voice from out in the darkness.
“Nathan?” she called softly. If it wasn’t Nathan, she didn’t want to attract notice.
Something moved out in the shadows beyond the wagons. Grasses rustled.
And then a darker shadow separated from the night, moving closer to where she stood. She made out a head and shoulders and her stomach jumped once in fear. Was it…?
“Nathan?” she asked again.
“It’s me,” came his familiar voice. “I need help.”
Her pulse quickened. Something was wrong. She took a step toward him, and her movement allowed firelight from the camp behind her to spill out into the darkness. He was carrying something.
Someone.
As he neared her, flickering light illuminated Clara’s pale face as Nathan supported her in his arms.
“Clara!” Worry for her friend sent her rushing forward, and the name spilled from her lips without thinking. “I mean—Clarence,” she amended as she drew near to Nathan.
“It’s a little late for pretense,” Nathan said. “I know about the ruse.”
“Put me down,” Clara murmured. Perhaps the demand would have been stronger if Clara had been able to do more than toss her head from side to side.
The fact that she was allowing Nathan to carry her must mean Emma’s friend was ill indeed.
“What happened?” Emma asked.
“Help me get her to her campsite.”
“I’m fine,” Clara muttered. But her eyes remained closed.
Emma and Nathan shared a look over the other woman’s head. She was obviously in no condition to walk.
Emma started to lead Nathan toward the opening between two wagons but froze when Clara cried out, “Not that way!”
Then she did start to struggle against Nathan’s hold. He shifted her in his arms. Emma knew his burden couldn’t be light, not with Clara being as far along as she was.
“She won’t want to be seen like this,” he muttered. “Been fighting me the whole way.”
Ah. They were supposed to sneak Clara to her tent. Emma counted it a blessing that many of the people from the nearby wagons had gone to attend the music playing.
“I don’t want to attract attention!” Clara’s bellyaching had become louder now.
“Your loud complaints are sure to do so,” Nathan retorted.
After looking around carefully, Emma changed course and made her way carefully around the outer ring of wagons, picking her way slowly through the grasses.
“I was washing up,” Nathan said, his voice coming out of the darkness behind her. “For the…” He trailed off. The music. “And I was on my way back and found her down by the spring. Looked like she’d been pretty sick before I found her.”
“Clara! Why didn’t you come to me for help?” Emma drew up near the Morrisons’ wagon and peeked through the break in the wagons. There was no one around.
“I’ll be fine in the morning,” the prone woman said. “It’s just the baby.”
“You shouldn’t be pushing yourself so hard,” Emma returned. “The lack of proper nutrition out here isn’t helping,” she muttered beneath her breath.
Nathan came alongside her just in front of Clara’s tent. His grim smile told her he must have heard her words. And was likely remembering her many complaints and fears about life on the trail.
Emma threw back the tent flap and Nathan knelt with some difficulty, laying Clara atop the bedroll inside.
“Go away!” Clara barked.
He was quick to back away, giving them a modicum of privacy as Emma helped loosen her friend’s clothing.
Emma touched her wrist to Clara’s forehead, but the other woman was cool to the touch. No fever. That was a blessing.
Clara turned her head sharply to the side, avoiding looking at Emma. “You, too. Go on, now.”
“I’ll fetch some water,” Nathan said from behind Emma, outside the tent.
“I’ll stay with you,” Emma told Clara. “I’m concerned that you’re still having morning sickness so late in the pregnancy.” She was scared for her friend. What if Clara had contracted something else? Dysentery? Or cholera?
“Morning, noon and night sickness,” the other woman said, voice raspy. “My mama said she was the same way. I’ll be all right.”
Emma pulled a blanket up over her friend. “Regardless, I’ll stay.”
“No,” Clara said, a soft vehemence in the words. “Go on to listen to the music, like you planned. I’ll be fine. I just need some sleep, is all.”
Worry for her friend had Emma taking a breath in preparation to argue, but a soft touch on her shoulder stopped her.
Nathan. He stood at her elbow with a tin cup in his large hand.
She took it with a grateful smile and put it on the ground inside the tent, next to Clara.
Her friend’s eyes had already closed, but tears showed silver on her cheeks. Was she missing her husband? Afraid, out on the trail alone?
How could Emma go and have fun, knowing Clara was alone in her tent? She couldn’t.
“Go,” Clara whispered. “Please.” But then she gripped Emma’s wrist, hard. “Wait. Will he tell?”
Emma didn’t follow the change in conversation immediately and had to run over Clara’s words in her mind again before she understood. Her friend was asking if Nathan would reveal her deception.
“I don’t think so,” Emma whispered. “He’s trustworthy.”
“You’ve got to make him promise,” Clara demanded, slightly stronger now, or maybe just her fear made her voice rise.
Emma didn’t want her friend’s upset making her discomfort worse. “Fine,” she agreed.
It took a span of several minutes and an unkind word from Clara to get Emma to leave the tent. She and Nathan moved several paces away, but still within seeing distance of the tent. Emma stood with her hands on her hips.
“She’s so stubborn,” Emma grumbled under her breath.
Nathan’s eyebrows went up and Emma wrinkled her nose at him.
“I’m only trying to help,” she argued softly, though he hadn’t said a word.
“Maybe she doesn’t want help, not tonight.” There was something dark in his eyes as he said the words.
She had to concede. He was right. She couldn’t help her friend if Clara refused.
She lowered her shoulders, let her head fall. She rubbed her forehead, where tension seemed to gather.
“Do you still want to go to your music thing?” he asked, his voice low. “I’ll walk you over.”
She’d almost forgotten her impatience and anticipation from before. If she didn’t show up, her siblings and Abby might ask questions. Questions that she didn’t need, because she wouldn’t lie to them.
“We should go.”
He blew out an extended breath but didn’t argue with her. Small blessings.
They picked their way carefully through the campsites now that it had gone dark. His ha
nd steadied her beneath her elbow—his presence beside her was a comfort. What would have happened to Clara if he hadn’t been there, hadn’t discovered her? Would her friend have suffered alone in the darkness all night?
How long would it have been until someone realized she wasn’t with the others in the morning? Emma was so grateful for Nathan that she squeezed his hand where it rested beneath her arm.
She knew the music could go on long into the night. It was a way for the travelers to express that they could get back to doing things they enjoyed, like socials and dances, once this ordeal was over. A way to relieve some of the drudgery of the constant walking and driving.
“I’m guessing your family doesn’t know about…is it Clara?”
“It is. I suppose there wasn’t time for formal introductions when you found her,” Emma responded. “And no, I’m the only one who knows her true identity. And her condition.”
The first trickle of music, a fiddle, reached their ears as they continued toward the sound. Clara’s demand that Emma make Nathan promise to keep her secret bounced through her mind.
“I had my suspicions even before this,” he admitted.
She’d worried that others would be able to see through the baggy clothes and the feminine motions that Clara hadn’t been able to totally do away with. Clara had managed so far. And Nathan was more observant than others.
“Will you keep Clara’s secret?”
He exhaled sharply, the sound almost a snort. “Who would I tell? Although if folks knew about it, they might help her.”
Sudden apprehension went through her. “Or they might throw her out of the train. At least, that’s what she has told me she fears.”
He shook his head. “I can’t see your brother letting that happen to a woman alone.”
She stopped, surprising him, and he missed a step. She turned toward him, put her hand on his forearm. “Ben is just one of many. You know how some of the men can be swayed.”
His jaw tightened and she had to wonder if he was thinking of the time he’d been judged by the committee.
“Please, Nathan.” She hadn’t meant for her voice to have such an edge of emotion, but it was there in the huskiness.
He nodded, and she knew she could trust his word.
Music and voices from behind her reminded her they weren’t in a private place. If they wanted to avoid suspicion, they would do well to join the others.
He seemed to realize it, too, because he muttered, “Come on,” and ushered her forward.
A crowd had gathered, listening to the fiddle, guitar and harmonica play in harmony.
She saw Ben, Abby and Rachel sitting on a spread blanket toward the front of the gathered crowd. The Littletons were nearby, the baby attempting to crawl out of Sally’s lap. Grant and Amos Sinclair whooped and danced not far away, drawing attention to themselves.
Emma knew that Nathan wouldn’t want folks to see them making their way up to join her siblings.
He already seemed uncomfortable, the tense set of his shoulders betraying the emotion.
“Let’s stand back here,” she said. “I can hear just fine.”
He nodded, but his expression didn’t lift.
The stars unfolded above them like a blanket of diamonds in the sky. The mountains rose on both sides of their camp, majestic even in the darkness, their darker, inky blackness obscuring the night sky to the heights.
She lost herself in the music for several moments, conscious of the man beside her, of the way her shoulder brushed his biceps. Then he took a half step away and she became distracted from her enjoyment of the music.
She considered their friendship settled, but why had he drawn away? Did he not want to be here? With her?
The thought made her stomach ache.
She was starting to feel more than friendship for Nathan. Watching his bumbling, gentle ways with the children, seeing how he’d helped Clara without judging her for her deception… She was starting to admire him.
His hand beneath her elbow distracted her from the music and a low voice—not Nathan’s—broke her concentration entirely.
“What are you doing here, Reed?”
She recognized the voice as James Stillwell’s, but couldn’t see the man past Nathan’s broad shoulders. He had surreptitiously shifted her behind him, out of the other man’s line of sight, though several other folks could easily see her if they turned away from the music.
“I ain’t looking for trouble,” Nathan replied. His hand remained on her elbow, as if willing her to stay out of it.
Maybe that was a blessing because her mouth had gone as dry as the desert plains they’d traveled through weeks ago.
“Funny how it seems to follow you around.” Stillwell’s voice had risen and heads turned toward them.
Nathan shifted again, still blocking her from curious eyes.
Protecting her.
Part of her wanted, desperately, to step to the side and demand Stillwell treat Nathan with common decency.
But her legs were shaking with the thought of how many people would be watching her if she did. She could imagine their eyes boring into her.
And her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth.
Someone from the crowd muttered, but she couldn’t see who.
“Why don’t you just get along.” Stillwell didn’t speak overly loudly, but his voice carried enough menace that heads turned toward them. “No one wants you here.”
I do. Emma wanted to shout the words, but she was frozen from head to toe.
How had this happened? She’d had the best intentions bringing Nathan for an evening to relax and enjoy the music.
“What’s going on?” Ben’s welcome voice joined the group.
Abby and Rachel crowded around and Nathan let go of her arm.
Cold rushed in where the warmth of his hand had been.
With her heart pounding in her ears, she had never been so glad to see her brother.
“What’s going on?” Ben asked again, putting himself between Stillwell and Nathan.
“Just a little conversation, Hewitt.”
Nathan turned halfway to her. Fear of being the center of attention still held her immobile, and the apology stuck in her throat. She’d wanted to stand up for him. Wanted it so badly. Tried to convey it in her gaze.
His eyes were unreadable, black in the semidarkness.
“Nathan,” she started to whisper, but he was already gone, abandoning her to Ben’s, Abby’s and Rachel’s company.
Rachel sidled up to her, and must’ve seen the upset in her expression.
“I was done listening, anyway.” She pulled Emma away and through the darkness toward their wagon as Ben began to argue with Stillwell in low tones.
“What happened?” Rachel asked.
Emma had to swallow tears that blocked her throat before she could speak. “We were listening to the music and Mr. Stillwell started making trouble for Nathan.”
Why had he done so? As far as she knew, Nathan hadn’t done anything to the other man.
Rachel huffed. “Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know. Nathan mentioned something before about Stillwell holding a grudge… I should’ve defended him!” she burst out. “My voice caught in my throat, and there were people watching…”
Rachel put a hand to Emma’s arm. “It’s all right—”
But Emma wasn’t to be appeased. “It’s not all right. I’m Nathan’s friend and I let my shyness get in the way of defending him.”
Her steam expelled, there was only a strange emptiness left inside.
She felt more than friendship for Nathan. Her protectiveness proved it.
Rachel was silent at her side.
“I’ve let myself get too attached,” Emma adm
itted to Rachel.
“That’s not a bad thing,” her sister said.
Except for the man her brothers thought she should marry.
“But what of Tristan?”
Rachel shrugged. “You’ve never even met the man.”
“But Gray thinks—”
“Do you really want Grayson in charge of your courtships? We haven’t seen him since he went West. He might think he knows what’s best for you, but does he really?”
Emma shook her head; she just didn’t know.
Rachel was the outspoken one. She could get away with not deferring to their older brothers. Emma had never made a practice of standing up for herself. What was she to do?
Her protectiveness for Nathan had surged so strongly—how had she come to care about him so much in such a short time?
Rachel squeezed her arm where they were linked together. “Don’t be afraid to explore where things could go with your Nathan. Your friendship has grown. I’ve seen you stop worrying so much about every possible danger because you’ve been counting the minutes until you can see him again.”
She’d noticed all of that? Had her sister noticed Emma’s despair over the journey, as well? Her approval of Nathan warmed Emma, but she remained unsure of the right course of action. She’d believed being Nathan’s friend had been a purpose, small though it was.
Would Nathan even want to be her friend anymore after she hadn’t come to his defense?
Chapter Eleven
The morning after the fiasco with Stillwell, Nathan sat immobile in the early-morning stillness. Ben had woken him early for watch duty and that was fine with him. He’d been unable to sleep for most of the night.
Dawn hadn’t broken yet, but fingers of fog stretched over the valley, obscuring where he knew the river to be. His nose and ears were cold, but he still didn’t move.
The worst thing that could’ve happened last night had happened. Emma had almost been touched by her association with him.
He’d sensed her shrinking behind him once Stillwell had started spouting his vileness.
He hadn’t blamed her for not wanting to be seen once heads had started turning, but it had still cut him deeply.
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