Hannah Alexander

by Keeping Faith

  “He has a prosperous plantation, which enables him to make the money to get by with inhumane activities.” Joseph took Victoria by the elbow, and though he wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her, he knew better than to push her too far. He guided her forward and out of the shadows into the sunlight again. “I’ve heard fellow trappers report that the man treats his captives like grasshoppers in a field, and he has enough income through extortion that he can afford to lose a slave or two every month. He does it for the sport, sets them free in a forest and chases them down with his dogs, promising freedom if they can reach the edge of the plantation before he catches them.”

  Victoria gasped. Her steps slowed. “The law allows this?”

  “He owns the law in that area.”

  “I believe he’s connected to Thames.”

  “More reason for you to avoid that silver-tailed skunk. I’m not excusing Southern plantation owners for using slaves, but he could at least have the good sense to keep his slaves cared for in order to yield good crops.”

  “Spoken like the son of a plantation man.” She touched Joseph’s arm. “Before you arrived in St. Louis last month, one of Duncan’s neighbors was mysteriously killed and his crops burned.”

  “You suspect Duncan?” Joseph asked.

  “Everyone does.”

  “Was the neighbor an abolitionist?”

  “No, he had slaves of his own.” She dropped her hand to her side and gave a soft sigh. “Everyone around us seems so corrupt. Do you think we even have a chance to make a change toward integrity in this country?”

  He knew what she was thinking. Had he been the one planning to break away from the wagon train and travel north to help protect the innocents, he wouldn’t allow anyone to talk him out of it, either.

  Joseph caught the scent of smoke and looked up to see the camp as they drew closer to it. “Do you think the Reichs are the kind of people to make a difference?”

  “With all those smart young boys? Most definitely.”

  “Deacon and Mrs. Fritz?”

  “Oh, yes. You made good choices, Joseph. Except maybe for that young blond-haired scoundrel who refuses to respect the wisdom of older men.”

  “Buster’s father was once as wild as his son is now, wouldn’t listen to a word of advice, so he had to learn the hard way. But what he learned toughened him up for life. Buster’s already learned some awfully painful lessons. If I didn’t think he had a future I would never have taken him on.”

  “I would think one troublemaker per wagon train would be enough for you.” She shrugged. “Though I realize I can also stir things up from time to time.”

  He grinned and shook his head. “I’m not going to argue, but you do make up for it.” She obviously didn’t take offense. “You get enough clear-thinking folk together and you’ll have a chance for change,” he continued. “Those clear-thinking folk will have a good influence on that one wild young man.”

  “How many wagon trains did you say you’d led to Kansas Territory?” she asked.

  “This one makes five,” Joseph said.

  “So the town is already a good size.”

  “We started work on it the day my first wagon train camped on the chosen ground.” He recalled the pride and sense of excitement he’d felt then. “We settled far enough east that we have trees for wood to build, so no one is living in a sod house. Every family has a home built by the community. We have over five hundred souls living there now, and we’re growing every day with young families and wiser folk to guide the way.” How he would love to have his own family someday with this beautiful, determined, compassionate woman by his side.

  “Are you far enough away from the border to avoid ruffians?”

  “I hope so. When we settled that land, the political climate wasn’t as hostile as it is now. We can pray we’ll be overlooked by troublemakers, but the people are building a border of our own around the town property, as well as a protected tower should we need to keep watch.”

  “Like a fort?”

  “Exactly. A fort in a protected valley.” He thought about Otto Duncan’s murdered neighbor. “What happened to the slaves of the murdered plantation owner?”

  “They were hidden away.”

  “By whom?”

  “Francine and Buck Frasier may have had something to do with leading them away from harm,” she said. “They have a lot of friends in Missouri. If I know them, they did all they could to help the homeless find shelter.”

  “No wonder you became friends with them. You’re an amazing woman, Victoria Fenway.”

  She stopped walking and looked up at him. Moisture filmed those priceless blue eyes. “You approve?”

  “How could I not approve of what’s in your heart? It’s pure and good. If you were to manage to help John’s son and daughter-in-law escape, what if the free-soil vote doesn’t go our way in Kansas?”

  “Then we’ll continue west until we find a place of safety. When this is over they will have their freedom.”

  Joseph removed his hat and brushed at his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. He sighed and replaced the hat as he gazed around at the people tending the wagons and livestock, the men placing more large chunks of freshly dressed venison over the bonfire. It would be hours before dinner, but the scent of roasting meat made him hungry now.

  He glanced down at Victoria and could guess her thoughts by the direction of her gaze and the way she nibbled at her lower lips. What would happen to all these good folk if someone like Duncan or the border ruffians got hold of them, especially if they found out she was working against the ruffians?

  “Victoria, do you have any way to fake slave ownership should you be stopped with John’s family in your company?”

  “I’ll have what I need. Buck and Francine don’t have papers, which is why they’re in a dangerous situation. I brought a stack of blank sale bills for livestock and slaves that Matthew had printed by a friend of his in the newspaper office. Until I can provide those, however, Jolly Mill, with those roving ruffians, is a bad place for all.”

  The thought gave him a chill.

  * * *

  Victoria looked up at Joseph in time to see him grimace. She loved the fact that he was too much of a gentleman to remark often on her bullheadedness.

  “We could send scouts with you to check out the town,” Joseph said. “See what kind of activity is taking place there now. It is, after all, a good place to stop and resupply. It’s our usual passage, with a good route straight into the Kansas Territory.”

  She gave a soft sigh. Why had she allowed herself to be convinced he would let her follow through on her plans? “Joseph, no. You can’t get our people involved in a border skirmish.”

  He nodded as if in agreement, and she relaxed. For a moment she’d thought he was serious. Taking everyone that direction would add days to her travel—and she could not afford the time. After spotting Thames’s track, she’d grown more restless as time went on. Though she’d feel ever so much safer riding into town with the knowledge that backup was on the way, that would be selfish.

  Joseph gave her a sidewise grin. “I could send McDonald down around Elk River to meet with the other wagons due to join up with us there. They can meet the rest of us in Neosho.”

  “Isn’t it just as dangerous there?”

  “We have a field above town where we meet. It’s surrounded by thick forests and the land that’s there is farmed by other abolitionists.”

  She bit the tip of her tongue. He’d been thinking things through for a while, apparently. “When you and McDonald were redoing our route, you decided not to go as far north as Neosho.”

  “That was days ago. We’re staying off the busiest trails, but see that creek over there? Shoal Creek goes all the way to Neosho.”

  “How do you know? Have you followed it?”

  “My scout has. That’s where a good scout earns his keep. So don’t go telling me how to captain my wagon train.” He said the words lightly, as if teasin
g.

  “I won’t, if you won’t try telling me which way to guide my horse.” Her tone matched his.

  He paused, his steps slowing. “But that’s my job.”

  She looked away. Better to back down than to dare him to get drastic.

  Though she prided herself in her ability to keep a professional facade with her patients, she’d been unable to maintain that same countenance with Joseph these past few days. Could he feel her fear? These insights of his must change, and quickly. So must her weakness when it came to men with equal measures of strength and kindness in their hearts.

  She had a task to perform that trumped any other, and as an overwhelming desire grew in her to accept his aid, she rejected it. Joseph was the last person she would ever wish to endanger. “Excuse me, Joseph, but I have packing to do. I’d best get to it.”

  * * *

  Joseph watched and appreciated the beautiful Dr. Victoria Fenway as she marched away, head high, hair the color of a golden sunrise that continued to escape her chignon. It drifted across the black material that covered her shoulders, and he noted that those shoulders had begun to slump once more. Her head slowly bowed and the starch left her almost as quickly as it had stiffened her spine not a moment ago.

  Dr. Matthew Fenway had been a blessed man to have a woman like her who was faithful to his memory long after his body had been planted in the earth. She remained the picture of despondency as she walked to the wagon she shared with the Ladues—now with only Heidi.

  Her determination to save her patients this past week would have earned Joseph’s unceasing respect if she hadn’t already done so. He knew it took a stubborn spirit to fight death and win, and she needed that strong spirit to keep her going, particularly since she had some obvious qualms with the Almighty.

  What concerned him was where her strong spirit might take her and how much danger she might find there.

  He watched as she climbed into the back of the wagon, her hair finally falling completely from its twist and waving in the brilliant afternoon sunlight—a lovely vision of the sunrise encircling her shoulders right here in the middle of the afternoon. She disappeared beneath the oiled canvas of the wagon cover.

  “We could make a few miles this afternoon,” Zeke McDonald’s voice rattled from behind.

  Joseph turned and raised his eyebrows at his redheaded, scruffy-faced scout.

  “There’s an easy crossing in the shallows only about fifteen feet up from the old trail,” the tall man continued. “We can be on our way, collect our other wagons down along the Arkansas border, and be riding across the wild prairie in a couple of weeks. Kansas is gettin’ closer all the time.”

  “Any word of the ruffians in these parts?” Joseph asked.

  “Not so much through Indian Territory right now. That’s our plan.” McDonald squinted at Joseph. “Isn’t it?”

  Joseph kicked at a rock. “What’s along the trail from Springfield these days?”

  McDonald shook his head and grunted. He glanced toward the Ladue wagon. “Got to you, has she?”

  “Did she mention to you she was leaving the wagon train?”

  “Luella Ladue said something to me about it a few days back, but since our doc’s made a few calls along the trail, I figured she’d just catch up with us the way she has before.” There was heaviness in McDonald’s voice when he said Luella’s name. He and the widow had formed a friendship these past couple of weeks.

  Joseph felt badly for him. As his thoughts once again rested on Victoria, she stepped from the wagon and glanced in his direction, then toward Heidi.

  “I think we’ll wait until morning,” Joseph said. “Give the girl some time to say goodbye.”

  McDonald released a quick breath. “Thought you’d see it that way. Looks like we’ll have some clear weather for at least a couple of days. If you want, I can ride up to see what kind of travel we might have to the Jolly Trail. It’d be easier for the rest of you to go there and rest while I round up the others—that is, if there’s no troublemakers around.”

  Joseph nodded. “Ask folks in the area, but be careful. There are likely to be problems.”

  “Not a lot of slave owners in these parts. Not a lot of anything, what with the rocky farmland.”

  “You know as well as I do that the ruffians are watching for anyone who might be headed toward the state line.”

  “You’re right. Indian Territory has the safest route.” McDonald grunted. “Plan to leave the doctor behind, do you?”

  Joseph inhaled a lungful of bonfire smoke, choked, and coughed it away.

  The scout chuckled. “I could trail behind her, let you go on without me.”

  “We need you more than ever right now.”

  “I’ve never seen you have trouble with a decision.”

  Joseph nodded. “Last time was ten years ago.”

  “The doc’s got a mind of her own.” McDonald lifted his hat and scratched his head. “There’s good folk in Jolly. They’ve got a church with regular services. We could resupply there and give our sick ones more time to heal. If it’s safe, that is.”

  “If it’s safe. Probably isn’t.”

  “And if it ain’t?”

  “Then I’ll have a harder decision to make.”

  McDonald grunted, his eyes matching the calm water that reflected the clear Missouri sky. “I’d better ride up a ways and see if there’s a chance we’ll get across without being spotted, then.”

  “Thanks, my friend.” Joseph was grateful for a good scout to depend on, who even seemed to understand this sudden wish to change all their plans for the sake of one woman.

  But Joseph did have a responsibility to many more than one woman.

  He shook his head as Victoria stepped down from the Ladue wagon, hair now drawn behind her in a braid. The women who traveled this route were brave, strong and determined, or they often didn’t survive. Their courage paled in comparison to Victoria’s. Or perhaps that was his heart talking.

  As McDonald rode away, the soft ground muffled the sound of horse hooves. Joseph looked around for Buster and Gray Johnston. Victoria was right about Buster being a nuisance, maybe even a menace at his age. He was headstrong and seldom thought before he acted, but if his younger brother could corral him, the two boys may become more than water carriers and weight bearers.

  Despite their efforts to make amends for their earlier actions, Victoria still trusted neither of them, and many of the others with the wagon train had followed her lead now that the much-loved Ladue mother and son were buried. If not for the fact that Buster would probably get himself killed if left in the wilderness alone, Joseph would have sent him back home and let his daddy work some sense into him. The boys were hard workers, for sure, but Buster’s muscles didn’t extend to his brains. Yet.

  At the moment, sixteen-year-old Gray stood near the graves with his hat in his hands, head bowed. Gray was wise enough to be aware of his older brother’s failings. The younger brother was the more intelligent and discerning by far, but he obviously admired his elder brother and had little control over Buster’s unreserved personality.

  Buster stood beside the bonfire, poking a stick into the wood to stir up a better flame. Every few seconds he gawked toward the Ladue wagon. The young man had obviously caught sight of Victoria. He’d accidentally allowed a fire to burn nearly out of control one day because his attention was drawn to the good doctor.

  For that reason alone, Joseph was tempted even now to send the young rooster back to his papa.

  Joseph caught Gray’s attention and gestured to him. The young man immediately put his hat on and came forward. “Yessir?”

  “You realize, don’t you, that secrecy on this trip is one of the many things that will keep the people safe?”

  “Yes, I do, Captain. I haven’t spoke to no strangers, and I’ve made sure Buster hasn’t, either.”

  “You couldn’t have been with your brother every second.”

  “I stay pretty close when we’re around ot
hers, but he’s kind of shy around new people, anyways.”

  Though Joseph had once trusted their father, Walter, with his life, he wouldn’t trust a feral pig to Buster Johnston. Not yet, anyway. Still, he’d promised Walter he’d watch out for them. Time to put a bit of a scare into the one with a brain.

  “Son, we’re getting closer to the border between Missouri and the Kansas Territory. I hope you know what that means.”

  Gray glanced over his shoulder toward his brother. “Yessir. We both know. Angry slavers ready to stop us from crossing. Our daddy drilled it into us. We lost our rifles in the creek, which is a shame, because Buster’s the best shot in the county.”

  “We’re not in your county anymore.”

  Gray sighed. “You know I can’t do much with him, Captain. Papa said Ma always pampered him too much while Papa was out trapping or scouting. Then Ma died and something in Buster kind of went wild.”

  Joseph knew all this. He knew Walter had hoped they’d toughen up in Kansas. “We’ll see. Time’s always the great separator between the men and the boys, and if boys stay boys, they may never make it to manhood.” Joseph leaned closer so Gray would hear him well. “That means they could do something foolish and die.”

  Gray winced. “Yessir.”

  “Now, you and Buster stop making eyes at Miss Ladue and Dr. Fenway and get serious about rustling up some weapons next time we come to a trading post. You can work a little harder and maybe earn some money to pay for them. You say Buster’s a good shot.”

  Gray’s expression lightened. “A deadeye.”

  “He’d better be. And so had you. I chose our traveling companions for their wisdom and abilities. You and Buster are hanging by a half-torn spiderweb.”

  “Yessir.” Gray’s face reddened until it clashed against the lightest blond strands of his hair. “But I’m not moonin’ over Heidi Ladue. I just feel she’s...well...my responsibility, seein’ as it was me who listened to my brother and believed the water was safe to cross. She needs someone to take care of her.”

  “Heidi is going to be cared for by others. You attend to your chores.” Joseph turned with a nod, dismissing him. At least the water west of here was pure, and McDonald didn’t report any bad weather brewing. Still, Joseph felt in his bones that there were more storms of another kind heading their way.