Wagon Train Sweetheart (Journey West 2)

by Lacy Williams

  Sam had ceased struggling—maybe that was because she had finished rinsing the wound—and both his and Chris’s eyes were fixed on Nathan.

  “I’ve got to expel the pus,” she whispered to Nathan.

  He nodded. And kept talking. “I was at least a mile from the remote cabin I was staying in, and the snow came on so fast I knew there was no way I could make it back safely.”

  Emma used another clean washrag and her thumb to press against Sam’s wound. The boy flinched, but otherwise remained still.

  Bless you, Nathan, she thought. Both boys were so entranced by his story they’d almost forgotten she was working.

  “I ducked into this cave I’d found while I’d been exploring, and prepared to hole up until the snow stopped.”

  “Bet it was cold,” Chris said.

  Nathan nodded. “So cold I could barely stand it. The cave was small—a real tight fit for me—and everything was quiet. Snow was building up in the mouth of the cave, making it dark…”

  Emma thought she’d gotten the wound as clean as she could. But she didn’t want to wrap it, not yet. It had been wrapped so tightly before that she believed the wound needed to dry out.

  “I’m done, Sam,” she interrupted.

  Nathan and Chris both looked at her, surprise registering in their expressions.

  “Can you sit up for me?” she prodded.

  Nathan helped steady the boy as he struggled to sit up.

  “I’d like to leave it unwrapped until we have to get back into the wagon, all right?”

  “Then what happened?” Sam ignored her, directing his question at Nathan.

  Nathan seemed surprised by the boy’s interest. Chris hadn’t moved off, either.

  “Turns out I wasn’t alone in the cave. About midway through the storm, I started hearing scratching and snuffling. I’d seen wolverine tracks in the area and I thought the worst…”

  “What’s a wolverine?” Sam asked.

  Emma moved from her kneeling position on the blanket, picking up the washrags she’d used to spare Sarah from having to do it. She suspected there were more to Sarah’s stomach pains than simple discomfort. She guessed the baby was coming soon.

  And Sarah would have her baby out on the trail.

  Emma shuddered. She knew women gave birth on the trail, but how awful an ordeal.

  Nathan made as if to get up and help her, but Emma waved him back down.

  Chris was explaining what a wolverine looked like to his younger brother. “…and they’re real mean, ain’t they?”

  “I’ve seen a wolverine tangle with a black bear before and the wolverine chased the bigger bear out of his territory. All I could think was what would happen to me if a wolverine got ahold of me?”

  Anna and Ariella and Aaron came running up, skidding to a halt behind their brothers, careful not to jostle Sam.

  “What’re you talking about?” Anna demanded.

  “Mr. Nathan was in a cave with a snowstorm and there was some kind of animal…” Sam said.

  It was obvious in his tone and his wide eyes that he’d assigned Nathan a place in the story as hero.

  Good. Maybe it would do Nathan some good to see himself through different eyes than those he’d been around in the other caravan. He’d all but admitted to her that he’d kept to himself before joining the wagon train, hadn’t given folks a chance to know the real Nathan at all.

  Maybe being around the Harrisons, even for a short time, was a blessing for him.

  Maybe he could learn that not everyone saw him as he saw himself.

  “What happened?” Chris asked. “Was it a wolverine?”

  “Well, I was afraid to go out in the snow, thought I might freeze to death. So I got out my hunting knife and…” Nathan paused.

  Was he thinking of a way to make the story more child-friendly? Had he killed the animal?

  Apparently, he’d been pausing for dramatic effect. So much for his storytelling skills being rusty.

  “Nothing ever came out to get me,” he concluded.

  She released the breath she’d been holding.

  “Whatever it was must’ve smelled me and decided not to come out and challenge me—which means it probably wasn’t a wolverine because they are territorial. Maybe it was a fox. I’ll never know.”

  The children didn’t seem disappointed at the tame conclusion to the story.

  Anna said, “Tell us another!”

  And the others chimed their agreement.

  Nathan seemed stunned by their effusive words. He stood up, rubbing the back of his neck, a sign that Emma was coming to recognize meant he was uncomfortable or nervous.

  “I’ve got to help Miss Emma finish up. We’ve got to catch back up to our wagon train.”

  From the back corner of the wagon, she heard his words and the children’s disappointed cries, but her focus went to Sarah, who stood in the shade behind the wagon, clutching her stomach, face white and drawn with pain.

  Sarah looked up and their eyes met.

  “You’re in labor, aren’t you?” Emma asked.

  And Sarah nodded.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nathan heard Emma’s words as he left the children on the blanket and joined her near the wagon, but they didn’t really register until he saw the white-faced woman, bent and clutching the wagon sideboard as if she could barely stand straight.

  And then Sarah stood upright, color returning to her face as she released the breath she must’ve been holding.

  Chris joined them. “Ma?”

  “Can you fetch your father for me?” she asked.

  Chris must’ve recognized the serious tone of his ma’s voice because he scurried off toward the other wagons without another word.

  Emma went to Sarah, while he remained frozen in place. A baby. Born out here? Would she expect Emma to help with the birthing?

  And what of the other children?

  “It’ll be hours still,” Sarah said, gently refusing Emma’s offer to help her sit down. “Best thing is for me to keep moving until it’s time.”

  Emma turned to him, her brows creased, just as Harrison came hurrying up, Chris on his heels. “The baby’s coming?”

  Nathan turned Emma with a hand beneath her elbow, moved her several paces away from the wagon and the shade where the children rested, out into the piercingly bright sunlight.

  “We don’t have time to stay for a birthing,” he muttered. “It’s already late.”

  Afternoon sunshine warmed their shoulders, but the hours before nightfall would slip away too fast as they tried to catch up to the caravan.

  She looked up at him, her face not revealing disappointment in his declaration, but not revealing approval, either.

  “Let the other women in the caravan help,” he said. “Every hour that we delay, your family’s wagon train moves farther and farther ahead. If we want to catch up to them by nightfall, we should leave now.”

  There was something in her blue eyes that he couldn’t name. “I’m not worried about Sarah,” she said softly. “I’m worried about Sam. I’ve cleaned out his leg but if the infection doesn’t clear up, he could be in danger of amputation.”

  He shrugged helplessly. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about the boy—because somehow, strangely, he did care if the tyke worsened—but Ben had entrusted him with Emma’s care and he’d promised to return her by nightfall.

  “His ma will be indisposed for hours, maybe all night. And the girls aren’t old enough to take care of him the way he needs.”

  “Chris—”

  “Will probably be tasked with caring for the livestock and tending to chores.”

  He knew she was right, but he also knew how dangerous it was to continue on with the Harrisons. He should spirit h
er away this very moment.

  And every second spent with those kids, with their wide, innocent eyes that believed he was friendly and…good made him want to stay longer. Made him want to believe he could be those things, too.

  “We’ve got to get back to your family. The farther away the caravan gets, the more dangerous it will be for us to travel back to it alone.”

  It wasn’t fair, playing on her fears. He hated himself a little for attempting the manipulation.

  A shadow passed through her eyes, but she braved a smile up at him. “I know it isn’t ideal. But we came for Sam, to help him. I won’t leave until I’m certain his wound is healed.”

  He shook his head as she turned and returned to Harrison and Sarah.

  Something tugged at his trouser leg and he looked down to find Aaron wearing an endearing grin on his dirt-smeared face. “You stayin’? Come tell us another story.” The demand was spoken so sweetly, with such trust that Nathan would comply, that it felt as if someone had stuck a hot poker directly in his esophagus. Aaron took Nathan’s huge paw in both his hands and gave a tug back toward the other children on the blanket.

  “Not now, kid,” Nathan grumbled. He tugged his hand out of the kid’s grasp and stalked off, all the way into the woods, where maybe he could find a modicum of privacy.

  Why was she doing this to him?

  He knew why, and he couldn’t fault her. Emma had a compassionate heart. It was what had drawn her to Nathan in the first place. She hadn’t wanted him treated unfairly. Couldn’t bear for him not to have treatment when he’d been down with the measles.

  And now she wanted to take care of Sam.

  But he couldn’t sit and share a meal with the Harrisons. Seeing Emma with them, having them act so friendly toward him…

  It made him want things that he knew weren’t for him. A home.

  A family.

  Emma.

  She’d told him once before he could be forgiven, but even if that was true, he would never be good enough for her. She had Tristan McCullough waiting on her in Oregon. Someone who’d never done the things Nathan had done.

  Someone who was her match.

  Someone better.

  But the thought made his stomach churn until he thought he would be sick.

  * * *

  Emma waited for Nathan’s return all afternoon. The wagon train had moved on until the evening faded.

  Nathan had ridden alongside, far enough away to be a silhouette in the distance.

  She’d walked alongside the wagon with Sarah and the children, checking on Sam inside every so often.

  Had she pushed Nathan too far?

  She felt she needed to stay for Sam, to ensure he got the care he needed, if only for a short time.

  And she’d felt that Nathan needed the Harrisons. She’d seen the surprise and the poignant moment of joy in his quickly shuttered expression as the children had gathered around to hear his story.

  She cared about him. As a friend, as…more. If she could teach him that he didn’t have to be an outcast, always on the outside, then perhaps she would have given him something. It was all she could do.

  She’d felt his trembling when he’d said he’d thought it was her in the river.

  Maybe he did care. But something held him back.

  She kept her admiration for him as a secret wish, deep in her heart. Even if Nathan opened up, even if he wanted to be with her, there were still obstacles. Her brothers expected her to end up with Tristan McCullough. They still had mountains to cross before they reached the end of the trail.

  And before there was room for any secret wish, Nathan had to return to the caravan and her company.

  * * *

  The bugler called for a halt close to sundown.

  Nathan picketed Ben’s horse with the other animals and made his way through the busy caravan toward the Harrisons’ wagon. Several men nodded to him and one shouted a well done with a wave.

  Well done? What?

  Ah. He must be referring to the river rescue earlier. Nathan flushed, unused to the approval. But something inside made him meet their gazes and return their nods.

  As he was passing by, three men worked on a wagon. It looked as though they were replacing one of the wheels that had two broken spokes. Two of the men supported the front corner of the wagon while the third was removing a wheel from the axle. Another wheel, a good one, rested nearby, no doubt waiting to be placed on the axle.

  As Nathan watched, one of the men lost their footing and the wagon tipped.

  Reacting quickly, not really thinking, he stepped up behind the man—a stranger to him—and put his shoulder into the wagon’s sideboard. It steadied.

  Both men, with sweat beading on their foreheads, nodded their thanks.

  The broken wheel fell away and one of the men grunted, “About time, Rollins.”

  The man replacing the wheel kept working, tossing the broken wheel on the ground and picking up the new one.

  “C’mon,” the first man urged. “This is heavy.”

  “I’m goin’ as fast as I can manage,” the smith replied.

  Finally the wheel was in place and the bolts replaced. Nathan stood straight, relieved of the heavy burden. He squared his shoulders, working on the kinks from a long day in the saddle and the unexpected lifting.

  The man closest to him stuck out his hand. “You’re the one who jumped in after little Ariella Harrison. Brave thing you did.”

  Nathan shook his hand, words sticking behind his teeth. He should tell the man how it wasn’t brave if a body didn’t really think about it, how he’d only reacted and didn’t really deserve recognition.

  But he swallowed it all back.

  “Thanks for your help,” the second man said, also with a shake of his hand.

  Nathan continued on his way to find the Harrisons’ wagon, a little flummoxed by the whole transaction.

  He’d only seen a need and filled it, but the men had been thankful. And they’d praised him for saving Eight—Ariella.

  Why were things so different in this caravan than in the Hewitts’? Had Stillwell poisoned the other travelers against him?

  Nathan’s lip curled at the thought of Stillwell and his wrongful accusations. There was something, some motive deeper behind Stillwell’s presence in the wagon train, Nathan knew it. It didn’t make what the man had done to Nathan right, but that couldn’t be changed now.

  Or was the travelers’ reactions to Nathan his own fault? Had his standoffish behavior made him seem more suspicious to them?

  That thought put a rock in his belly. Could it be true? If it was, that meant he was the reason people looked down on him.

  He found the Harrisons’ wagon and caught sight of Emma’s honey-brown hair as she bent over one of the children, listening intently to what they were saying. Paying attention.

  His entire being quickened just at the sight of her.

  He was in too deep, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

  * * *

  Emma was relieved that the wagon master had called a halt a little before sundown. Sarah’s pains were getting closer together, she’d had to stop walking frequently as the discomfort turned to pain more and more.

  But now she’d disappeared into the family tent with Harrison helping to settle her.

  Nathan appeared with a nod and an inscrutable look, before moving to help Chris with the oxen.

  Emma helped Sam disembark from the wagon. Some of the residual pain had eased from the boy’s expression, to Emma’s relief.

  She settled him on a blanket not too near the fire pit, and kept the other children busy with small tasks, getting the fire built up, hauling buckets of water, finding clean linens and locating the baby gown and diapers that Sarah had packed in a specia
l satchel for just this night.

  The Harrisons shared their fire with a family of three, the Gearys. The forty-year-old couple and their nineteen-year-old daughter, Millie, greeted her pleasantly. The mother disappeared to help Sarah, which left Emma and Millie to watch over the children and prepare the evening meal.

  The children started to stir in their anticipation, wondering whether the new baby would be a boy or a girl and suggesting names that were getting louder and more absurd the longer it went on. Chris joined them, but Nathan remained out of sight, though she had a feeling he was nearby.

  When Anna’s animated antics almost resulted in a fall into the fire, Emma went looking for Nathan.

  He stood in the shadows behind the wagon. Alone, just as he’d been since he’d come into their caravan to drive for the Binghams. He watched her approach without speaking.

  But there was something in the expression on his face. A wish…

  Maybe the same wish that was in her heart.

  Stunned that he’d allowed her to see it, he who was usually so closed off, she swallowed hard.

  He’d revealed the truth after his swim in the river, and he couldn’t take it back. Things weren’t settled between them.

  But she wouldn’t acknowledge it, not now.

  “I need you, Nathan,” she said softly, reaching out a hand for him.

  He jolted, as if her words had physically touched him.

  “The children are restless. Come and tell a story. Please. At least until supper.”

  And he came.

  He settled near the fire, but far enough away to be out of her way. His surprise was evident in the vulnerable cast of his expression when Sam crawled into his lap and rested his back against Nathan’s chest.

  As she worked with Millie to cook the stew and some pan biscuits, he told of tracking a cougar on a weeklong hunt. Of the winter that another trapper had stolen furs out of Nathan’s traps until he’d figured out what was happening. Of losing a favorite horse and having to pack out a season’s worth of furs on foot.

  “Your beau is so brave, going on so many adventures,” Millie said softly at one point, as they began ladling the stew into bowls for the children. “And not bad to look at, either.”