Wagon Train Sweetheart (Journey West 2)

by Lacy Williams

  But he’d allowed weakness in himself, he’d wanted to give her what she wanted, wanted to be a part of the camaraderie with the Harrison family.

  And his weakness had put Emma in danger. If something happened to her, he would have failed her, just like he’d failed Beth.

  Imagining Emma’s body lying broken, all the life gone out of her, sent fear worse than he’d ever felt chilling through Nathan. The hairs rose all over his arms and down the back of his neck. His breath came in painful gasps.

  He couldn’t lose Emma.

  * * *

  Sitting close behind him on the horse, with her arms about his waist, Emma felt Nathan’s tension vibrating through his entire body as he hurried the horse through a copse of scrubby pine.

  She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the men and horses silhouetted on the far-off plateau. Were they armed? Dangerous? Would they attack?

  But beneath the fear was the reassurance that Nathan wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He would take care of her.

  She felt as if she stood on the edge of a precipice. One breath, one movement and she could fall in love with him. Watching him with the children last night, being beside him while she’d cared for Sam…hearing about what he’d gone through with his sister. All of it made her care about him more.

  He was a man of honor, whether he could see it or not.

  He kept the horse to a fast, steady walk, as the road flattened out into a plain now that they’d navigated the ravines.

  When he turned his head, she could see the tightness of his jaw, the bright intensity in his eye.

  Relief fluttered through her when she realized the Indians hadn’t moved.

  “They aren’t following us,” she told him.

  But the tension in him didn’t ease.

  “There could be another group somewhere up ahead,” he said quietly, and his voice held no warmth in it. His tone was flat, emotionless. Dead.

  Something was wrong.

  “Surely we can’t be far behind the wagon train.”

  She meant the words to be comforting, maybe to them both, but he still didn’t ease.

  “We’ll make it,” she said softly. Surely.

  He kept his face resolutely ahead.

  Where had the tender man from last night gone? Had he frightened himself, allowing himself to open up, sharing some of his hurt with her?

  Or was he really that worried that they would be attacked?

  If it was the latter, he needed his concentration, so she let him be and prayed she wasn’t allowing him to stew over their relationship.

  The sun had long passed its zenith when they came across signs that the wagon train had stopped for the noon meal.

  Some of the fires hadn’t fully been covered over and a forgotten tin plate and fork littered the ground near their feet.

  And there had been no further sign of Indians.

  Nathan brought the horse beneath the cover of trees and to the nearby creek, but he didn’t dismount, only let the animal have enough reins to reach the water.

  Emma’s back and legs were stiff from being in the saddle all day. Surely the horse could use a rest, too.

  “Can we stop for a bit?” she asked.

  Getting down and stretching sounded delightful.

  “It is too much of a risk,” Nathan said shortly.

  He was still upset. From earlier today or from last night?

  “Risk of what? We aren’t being followed.” She made her voice as cajoling as possible.

  “We don’t know that,” he returned.

  “Nathan, we haven’t seen hide nor hair of another soul all day.”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  Wasn’t he overreacting? She didn’t see any danger.

  And she needed a break.

  Before he could protest, she swung one leg over the horse’s back and slid free.

  She landed with a jolt, her left ankle taking the brunt of her weight and buckling at the sharp slice of pain. She stayed upright by sheer force of will, her legs wobbled terribly.

  “Emma! Give me your hand. Get back up here.”

  The horse must’ve taken offense at his abrupt, demanding tone because it neighed and sidestepped away.

  “It seems we both need a break,” she said.

  “Emma!” he barked, but she’d already turned and hobbled in the opposite direction.

  She kept her face averted even when she heard his boots hit the soft ground with a muted thud.

  She kept walking, even as he called out, “Emma. Get back on the horse.”

  There on the bank, she found a spot bare of brush, and she sat and then flopped back, lying flat on her back. She could see patches of blue sky interspersed among the tree branches that provided the shade.

  Until Nathan’s angry face interrupted her view.

  His eyes flashed fire, and his lip was curled slightly.

  He was angry.

  Well, so was she. Looking at him, she started to get good and riled. She could take a five-minute break if she needed it!

  “Get up,” he said, and his voice was more dangerous than she’d ever heard it. A shiver went down her spine even though she knew he would never hurt her.

  “No,” she responded calmly, though her insides were rioting. “I need a few moments off the back of that beast.”

  He leaned over her and gripped her upper arms, pulling her to a sitting position. She could feel that he was shaking, through his hands.

  “Nathan, how far could the caravan outdistance us in a few minutes? Surely it won’t hurt to allow the horse to rest, and us, as well.”

  “It isn’t about rest,” he said.

  He didn’t reach for her again, but he looked as if he might at any moment. His eyes positively burned.

  She looked around, gesturing with one hand. “We are completely alone. What danger are you afraid of?”

  “Everything,” he burst out, and this time he did reach for her.

  He wasn’t rough with her, lifting her by her upper arms. She stood up, because he gave her no choice.

  He was shaking badly, but she didn’t think he was angry.

  “The Indians could come after us. A wild animal could attack. You hurt yourself getting off the horse, didn’t you?” He didn’t wait for her to reply, but rushed on. “What if you get thrown? There are so many ways I could fail you…”

  “None of those things are up to you,” she cried, looking up to him, trying to express what she knew in her heart.

  “Nathan, you can’t take the blame for everything. Sometimes it isn’t your fault.”

  “And sometimes it is,” he replied fiercely.

  She knew exactly what he was referring to, exactly where his thoughts had gone. “Beth’s death was not your fault.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “I know that you tried to help her, Nathan, that your heart was in the right place. If anyone carries the blame, it was her husband.”

  His face crumpled, as if her words of absolution hurt. Maybe they did, because his guilt had controlled him for all these years.

  “Beth’s death wasn’t your fault,” she repeated.

  And because of the terrible, wild hurt on his face she reached up and placed her hands on his cheeks. The bristles of his unshaven jaw scraped her palms.

  “If something happened to me, it would not be your fault, either.”

  The terrible truth was, he could cause her harm. By breaking her heart. Because for all her good intentions, she was falling in love with Nathan.

  * * *

  Nathan wanted to deny Emma’s words. Looking down on her earnest expression, her blue eyes wide with hope and belief in him, the only response he could make was nonverbal.
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  He crushed her to him, his mouth seeking hers. She met his kiss sweetly, as if pouring her heart into his.

  And he had no more defenses against her. She’d destroyed all his walls, refused him his isolation, made him fall for her.

  He kissed her, trying to express everything he couldn’t verbalize. How much he admired her, how she’d changed him, made him better.

  How much he cared about her.

  When he broke away, breathless, and she held him tightly around the waist with her face pressed to his chest, all he could do was bury his own face in her fragrant hair and hold her.

  He was past the point of denying himself. He wanted a life with Emma. Whether she was too good for him or not, whether he deserved her or not, no longer mattered.

  He couldn’t deny himself any longer.

  He was starting to fall in love with her.

  But he held the words back by gritting his teeth together, locking his jaws together painfully.

  He had no right to her. He had no job when they got to Oregon, no future except what he hoped for with her. If he were a better man, he would make his declaration to her brother, swallow his pride and ask Hewitt if he would help Nathan get a start.

  How could he, when he had nothing to offer her except himself? He’d never amounted to much and still didn’t.

  He held her for longer than he intended. He would have kept on holding her for as long as she would allow but for the knowledge they were still alone out here without the protection afforded by the caravan.

  “We should go,” he finally said, his voice rusty with all the emotion crashing through him.

  She nodded. “I think I can bear getting back on the horse now.”

  They let each other go, him smiling in spite of their continued precarious situation.

  He didn’t let her go far; he kept her hand as they moved back the few paces to where he had tied off the horse to a tree branch.

  He wasn’t kidding himself. Things would change when they got back to the wagon train.

  They wouldn’t have time alone, not like this.

  Folks there still didn’t trust him, although now he wondered how much of that had been his fault, carrying a chip on his shoulder like he had when he’d come into the caravan.

  But if he could be the man Emma would be proud to stand next to… If he could ignore Stillwell’s suspicious nature and things other folks might say behind his back…

  Was there a chance he could prove himself worthy of Emma?

  Chapter Eighteen

  The sun was setting, illuminating the valleys and pine-covered mountain range, with the Powder River snaking its way through the landscape in the distance, when Nathan and Emma rode up to the company.

  The tentative hope that had grown in his chest—hope for a future with Emma—was quashed nearly before it had begun to take root, almost as soon as they rode into the camp.

  They’d caught sight of the snaking trail of white-capped wagons from the top of a rise just before sunset and Nathan had let out a whoop, a rare show of emotion that he almost immediately regretted until Emma had squeezed his waist with a joyful laugh.

  The caravan had apparently just circled up for the night, and there was a lot of movement near the horses. But from outside the circle, Nathan hadn’t been able to tell what was going on.

  If there was trouble, he might be needed. And he planned to make himself useful to the caravan. He swallowed. Make friends.

  He saw Ben’s light brown head and shoulders above the other men near the horses and saw the moment when Ben looked up and recognized him. Ben called out to the other men, though Nathan couldn’t hear what he said, and started toward them, followed by another man that Nathan didn’t recognize.

  “Emma! I’m so thankful you’re all right.”

  Ben met them at the horse’s shoulder and reached up for his sister. “What happened? We expected you back much earlier.”

  He brought Emma to the ground and embraced her while a handsome fellow followed close behind, as if he had a right to be there. Nearly as tall as Nathan with reddish-brown hair and green eyes, the man was well-built and handsome. And watching Emma with a proprietary gaze.

  “It’s a long story,” Emma said, glancing over her shoulder at Nathan, her eyes shining. She didn’t realize something was happening, didn’t even see the man standing near her brother.

  Her serene joy didn’t stop the awful feeling in his gut.

  “The little boy was worse off than we thought—and then his mother went into labor…”

  Ben chuckled. “And of course you had to stay on and make sure everyone was all right.”

  He still had her tucked against him and turned her in one smooth move to face the man at his side.

  Nathan dismounted, boots hitting the ground at the same time Ben’s words pummeled him.

  “This is Tristan McCullough.”

  Nathan heard her faint reply. “Tristan?”

  The ruddy man grinned widely at her, and as Nathan couldn’t tear his eyes from the tableau, saw how handsome the smile made the other man.

  Nathan swallowed, the pain in his chest growing stronger, radiating out in waves.

  “This part of the Blue Mountains can be treacherous in the best of times. I’ve come out to assist the wagon train—and to meet you.”

  “Umm, well, I—”

  Nathan couldn’t see her face over Hewitt’s shoulders, but their feet carried them away from him.

  And she went, with Ben’s hand at her back.

  His breath hitched, and everything stilled inside him.

  They left him standing with the horse.

  Hurt, along with despair, ratcheted through him, erasing the hope and warmth that had filled him just hours ago when he’d held Emma in his arms.

  Things were still the same for him. He was alone.

  And Emma had just walked away, too.

  He wanted to hit something. Emotions roiled through him.

  But he still had the horse to take care of.

  Shaking with the force of his hurt and disappointment, he took the horse by its halter and led it over to where the rest of the animals were gathered and began unsaddling it.

  The familiar motions calmed him somewhat, although they didn’t erase the sting of disappointment still reverberating through him.

  Hadn’t he promised himself he would be a man that Emma could be proud to be with?

  Did his promise hinge on Emma’s desire to be with him, or was he that man?

  He could still make the effort, attempt to make friends with those in the wagon train. Prove Stillwell wrong.

  Only the success would be empty without Emma at his side.

  He didn’t know if he could do it without her.

  Just one glimpse was enough to know what kind of man McCullough was. He was handsome and his fine clothes spoke of a job, a life already made in Oregon. What could Nathan offer her? A life of work and drudgery, just trying to survive.

  How could he have even thought of asking that of her?

  He didn’t know where to go—he didn’t want to return to the Hewitts’ campfire and watch McCullough court Emma.

  But he had nowhere else to go.

  He checked on Clara, who had already turned out the Morrisons’ oxen and grumbled a welcome.

  “I guess you saw who showed up,” she said in a grudging show of solidarity.

  Nathan worked to keep any expression off his face. Had he gone so soft by being with Emma that even Clara could see his upset?

  “You know anybody who needs help?” He surprised them both with the words. He chewed on them—they left a bad taste in his mouth. Her eyebrows had disappeared under her hat and he was hot all over.

  “Hauling water from the creek? Injur
ed animal needs doctoring?” The words tasted like ash in his mouth but he soldiered on.

  Realization passed over her face. He looked away, not wanting to see pity, not if she knew McCullough would win Emma.

  “The Davies family,” she said softly. “I don’t really know ’em, but I overheard the father got a lucky shot and took out a deer late this afternoon—the family needs the meat—but I doubt he knows a thing about skinning it.”

  He nodded.

  It wasn’t where he wanted to be—with Emma—but he couldn’t face being alone and wouldn’t mope.

  If any time was for action, it was now.

  * * *

  Emma was bundled along back to the family campsite, sandwiched between her brother and Tristan McCullough.

  Tristan McCullough. Who had come to meet the wagon train so they could get to know each other.

  Her heart beat in her ears and throat, blocking out other sounds and making her catch only snatches of her brother’s conversation with Tristan.

  Ben approved. His prideful gaze flicked in her direction, but she couldn’t follow the conversation the men were having over her head. Something about the route they would travel tomorrow. She could barely register their words with the thoughts circling through her mind in a panicked whirl.

  Her pulse raced through her veins. She threw a glance over her shoulder.

  Where had Nathan gone? Had he simply walked off and left her with…her brother. Why would he have inserted himself into the conversation, demanded he be allowed to walk Emma back to the family wagon?

  She was the one who should have said stop and I’d like to wait for Nathan to accompany us.

  Again, her shyness, her inability to speak up for herself, had left the man she cared about behind.

  Did Nathan think she’d been happy to see Tristan? After what he’d shared with her over the past twenty-four hours, they’d become close. Was he angry, hurt?

  She didn’t want to meet Tristan, didn’t want to get to know him.

  She didn’t have a choice, as Ben stopped several paces off from their camp. When she would’ve kept walking, he tugged gently at her elbow to make her stop, as well.