THE Prairie DREAMS Trilogy

by Susan Page Davis

  Eb inhaled slowly through his nose. “Our herd.”

  “Yes. When he said that about Indians…” She frowned and nodded slowly. “Yes, I’m certain that is what he said. They would leave evidence, and we would blame the Indians.”

  He huffed out his breath. “We’ll increase our guard tonight.”

  “A wise precaution, I’d say.”

  “Yes. But will it be enough?” Eb took a few steps away from the adobe building, and Miss Finster walked with him, her face anxious. “What would his thieving ways have to do with Miss Stone?” he asked. “Why bother to fool her into thinking her uncle died here if he didn’t? And if he did, why go to the trouble of carving the name on the cross all of a sudden?”

  “And why would Mr. Hoyle say David continued with his company to the cutoff for Oregon? He seemed to remember Mr. Stone perfectly. I believe he liked him, and it sounded as though they got to be friends. I don’t think he was mistaken.”

  Eb nodded. “Ted Hoyle’s a sharp customer. He wouldn’t have told you all that if it wasn’t true.”

  “What can we do, then? Is there any way to prove whether or not that is truly David Stone’s grave?”

  “Short of digging him up, I don’t see how. And even that might not prove anything. Could be someone’s buried there, and they stuck the marker with Stone’s name on it over the remains. Unless there was something in the grave that would positively identify the body…” He shook his head. “Not worth distressing Miss Stone further, I’m thinking.”

  “But if the grave were empty…” Miss Finster looked up at him so hopefully Eb wanted it to be true and to prove it to her instantly.

  “I doubt Schwartz would chance it. And he had plenty of old graves to choose from.”

  “I suppose you’re right. But I have another question.”

  Eb’s heart stirred, and not only for Miss Stone’s predicament. For some ridiculous reason, he wondered how many becoming hats Miss Finster had in her wagon. “Yes, ma’am?” he managed.

  “If Schwartz is lying, how did he know about David Stone?”

  “That’s easy. Miss Stone told him herself when she went into the trading post this morning. She showed him that portrait of her uncle that she carries around in her handbag.”

  Miss Finster nodded. “I’m sure she did. She inquires of everyone we meet. But still…assuming Schwartz thought quickly and concocted this story of David’s illness while she stood there, do you think he’d have time to prepare the grave marker?”

  Eb scratched his chin. “It took more than an hour for me to take her back to camp, get the horses ready, and fetch you two back here. He or one of his men could have done it in that amount of time. I think the shavings prove it was done recently. Very recently. And it points to someone standing there in the cemetery to do the carving, not preparing the cross in the barn or someplace else. A quick job on a marker that was already in place, if you ask me.”

  “I suppose you’re right. But I still wonder if he only learned it when Anne inquired.”

  “He’s shrewd. When a company of people comes to his store, he’ll spot someone who might be easy to trick, and then he’ll figure how to get that person’s money. I was in the post when Miss Stone asked about her uncle. She reacted so strongly—he might have conceived the whole plan right then and there.”

  “How did he react to her distress?”

  Eb shrugged. “He seemed concerned, but I wasn’t really watching him closely. Maybe I should have, but I was more worried about her. Mrs. Harkness and I took her outside for some fresh air, and Miss Stone asked me to take her back to the wagons so she could tell you.”

  “Here they come.” Miss Finster moved her chin just a bit in the direction of the trading post.

  Eb waited until Rob and Miss Stone reached them. “What happened in there?”

  “Not much,” Rob said. “Schwartz refused to pay Miss Stone anything. I asked if he’d sign a statement saying David Stone had died here and when, but he wouldn’t. He said he didn’t personally witness the death, and he didn’t want to get in trouble.”

  Eb grimaced. “Getting awfully honest all of sudden, isn’t he?”

  “Seems like it. Finally he offered Miss Stone a few groceries,” Rob said.

  “I wasn’t sure I wanted to take them.” Miss Stone’s pert chin rose in defiance. “Wouldn’t that be like admitting he’s telling the truth?”

  Rob smiled. “I told him she’d think on it, and we’d come back later if she wanted the things.”

  “How much did he offer?”

  “Ten dollars’ worth of goods, but at his prices that wouldn’t amount to much.”

  “Elise, he wants a dollar a pound for flour. And they have a few fresh eggs—at two dollars apiece. Can you imagine?” The young woman’s brown eyes fairly sparked.

  “No, I can’t,” Miss Finster said. “Shall we go back to camp?”

  Elise tossed and turned that night, hearing the guards every time they passed the tent on their rounds. Rob and Eb had met with the men of the company and told them they suspected the camp might be raided, emphasizing the need for watchfulness. They’d tightened the wagon circle before sunset and made certain every mule, ox, milk cow, and saddle horse was safe inside. Because of the tight quarters and shortage of grass, the animals were fretful all night. Frequent bouts of kicking, squealing, braying, and snorting kept the travelers in a restless, intermittent doze.

  An hour before dawn the camp began to quicken. The guards woke the men who were to relieve them.

  “Mr. Whistler insisted on keeping a double guard while we break camp,” Anne remarked as she led Chick over to be harnessed. “So far everything is going smoothly.”

  “Yes, almost too well,” Elise said. “Maybe there was no danger after all.”

  “Or maybe they saw our vigilance and decided not to risk a raid.”

  As they worked together to get the mules harnessed, Eb rode up on Pink and dismounted near them.

  “You ladies all right this morning? Need anything?”

  “We’re fine, thank you,” Elise said. She was glad they had the wheelers already hitched and were nearly done with the leaders. “We’ll be ready to pull out in five minutes.”

  “Great. We’re not far from where the Sweetwater flows into the Platte. I think you’ll find the change in terrain pleasant, but we will be climbing steadily now.” Eb cast an appraising eye over their two near mules. “Your team looks in pretty good shape. Better than some.”

  “Thank you,” Elise said. “We pamper them a bit, I’m told, but I think men and animals work better when they’re well fed.”

  He smiled. “You’ve done well. A lot of folks have run out of grain.”

  Anne’s head popped up over Blackie’s back, from where she’d been fastening a buckle on the other side. “We determined at the outset to bring plenty of oats for them. I can’t stand to see a hungry animal.”

  Elise said, “She’d pick up stray cats, too, if there were any out here.”

  Eb chuckled and laid a hand on Chick’s withers. “I don’t know how you ladies do it, but you have the smartest wardrobes and the fittest livestock of the company.”

  “Thank you.” Elise dropped her voice. “I guess we worried for nothing yesterday.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Eb said. “We’ll keep a double guard again tonight.”

  “You think they might follow us, then?” Elise glanced Anne’s way, but she was busy with Blackie’s harness.

  “You may have mistaken their intentions,” Eb conceded. “But Rob and I would rather be safe than sorry.”

  “I admit I’ll feel better when we have another day’s journey between us and Herr Schwartz.”

  “Yes. This morning I’ll ride ahead and scout our stopping place for nooning, and after that I’ll scout our back trail, rather than farther ahead of us.”

  “Probably wise.”

  Eb smiled at her. “Don’t fret, Miss Finster. We’ll soon be out of Schwartz’s territory.�
�

  Beyond the river, the banks rose in bluffs that cut off their view, but on the other side, they could see a fair distance. The mountains loomed, snowcapped and daunting. Every time Elise surveyed the rugged peaks, her chest ached. Nothing like this could be found in England. She must encourage Anne to make more drawings. Since Thomas left them and their labor had increased, Anne hadn’t taken out her sketchbook.

  “If you hadn’t told me we can cross this mountain range fairly easily, I’d never believe it,” Elise said.

  Eb grimaced slightly. “I didn’t mean to give you the impression that it will be simple. It’s a rough road, and up north in the Oregon Territory it can be even rougher. But a lot of people have gone before us and improved the road. I think you and Miss Stone will do just fine. Mrs. Harkness, on the other hand, may have to part with some furniture and books.”

  Elise drove most of the morning, with Anne beside her on the seat. Rob had warned all of the travelers to stay close together.

  “We don’t want any stragglers today. I’ll have the drovers keep the herd of loose stock within sight of the last wagons, too.”

  The herdsmen wouldn’t like that. They ate enough dust when they kept the animals back half a mile or so. But for one day, they could stand it, Elise supposed.

  Everyone seemed a little on edge. Abe Leonard barked at his oxen more sharply than usual, and the Adams brothers hadn’t stopped by to offer their assistance in the morning. When her son-in-law didn’t bring water quickly enough, Mrs. Legity had railed at him so loudly that the entire camp heard every word.

  Elise fretted at the slowness of their pace. Her mules could outdistance the ox teams in short order, but they had to keep their place in line. Where the terrain allowed it, they could spread out in several columns, but when they had to go single file, they still had to resume their assigned position.

  They rode the two miles to the trading post and crawled past it at the oxen’s gait. A few people stopped to buy one or two items they’d decided they needed no matter what the price, but most of the wagons plodded steadily on.

  After another hour on the trail, Elise handed the reins to Anne and got out her knitting bag. She was determined to master Rebecca Harkness’s sock pattern before they reached Oregon, and her third attempt looked promising.

  She peeled off her gloves. Already her hands were sweating. This would be a searing hot day unless she was mistaken. She patted her forehead with a handkerchief and picked up her partly made sock.

  “Do you think we’re doing the right thing?” Anne asked a minute later.

  Elise stopped stitching and looked over at her. Anne’s wide-brimmed hat shadowed her sober face.

  “How do you mean that?”

  Anne gave a half shrug, keeping her gloved hands and the lines steady. “Going on.”

  “As opposed to turning back?” Elise asked.

  “Yes. I can’t help thinking that perhaps Uncle David is buried back there at Schwartzburg, and we’re going farther and farther from him and home.”

  “Herr Schwartz was lying. We all agreed on that.”

  “Yes, but what if he wasn’t lying about all of it? What if the grave part is real?” Anne looked at her anxiously.

  “I don’t see how it can be,” Elise said. “And I don’t trust that man any further than I could throw an ox. You must keep your faith strong. God will bring this odyssey to the conclusion that pleases Him, and I trust Him.”

  “I know you’re right. And with that aside, part of me keeps saying, ‘We can’t leave the wagon train now.’ Tearing ourselves away from this company would be traumatic, don’t you think?”

  “Well, yes.” Elise began to knit again. “It’s come to seem a bit like a family, hasn’t it? But we’ll all part when we reach Oregon.”

  “Oh, I know that day is coming. But it seems to me we’ve got unfinished business now, beyond finding Uncle David.”

  “Whatever are you talking about?”

  Anne smiled. “This is as much about your future as it is about mine.”

  “Dear Anne, I’m sure we can build a future together, whatever happens.”

  “That’s not the future I’m talking about.”

  “Then whatever are you talking about?”

  “Why, you and Mr. Bentley of course.”

  The blood rushed to Elise’s cheeks, and she put her hands to her face. “Oh dear.”

  “Yes,” Anne said. “You care for him.”

  “You know me so well, I can’t deny it. I suppose I do care, but that doesn’t mean anything will ever come of it.” Elise lowered her hands and stared piteously at Anne. “He’s not at all what I imagined in a…in a husband.”

  “No, I expect not. Yet doesn’t he embody everything a woman desires? Everything she needs in a man?”

  Elise’s embarrassment climbed even higher at Anne’s intimate, wistful tone.

  “Please, I…”

  “What? You mean to say you don’t think about it?”

  “About what?”

  “Marrying him of course.”

  “No. Yes. I mean, it’s out of the question.”

  “That depends on what the question is.”

  They rode in silence for several minutes.

  “Besides,” Elise said, as though their conversation had not lapsed. “I wouldn’t leave you now. Not when you need me so much.”

  “Thank you, my dear friend. But once this journey is over—when we’ve found Uncle David—though I love you, I shan’t need you so much. If an opportunity arose…”

  Elise shook her head. “Put that notion aside, my dear. Eb Bentley has shown no indication of such a possibility. He’s an independent man. I’ve heard him mention his ranch in Oregon, and he wants to get back to it and stock it with cattle. He never intends to leave Oregon again.”

  “That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t take a wife to share that life with him.”

  “I have no hope of it. Just because a man treats you civilly doesn’t mean he has matrimonial designs on you.”

  “Mr. Whistler has a wife, you know.”

  “I’ve heard him mention her.”

  “Yes, and he thinks his best friend would be much happier if he had one, too. He told me so.” Anne drove along placidly, adjusting the reins when needed and calling to the mules now and then. Elise knit half a sock while her thoughts soared over the plains to Oregon.

  CHAPTER 21

  Eb rode slowly back to meet the wagon train. It was too hot to ask Pink to go any faster. He would switch his saddle over after eating and ride Speck this afternoon. He spotted the dust of the train long before he could see the lead wagons. They’d only made about four miles. He hated to suggest it to Rob, but if they took a long nooning, the animals would be fresher in the evening, when the sun headed down and the earth cooled.

  Rob rode up to the head of the column to meet him.

  “Everything quiet?” Eb asked.

  “So far.”

  Eb turned Pink and rode alongside Rob, heading west again. It was the best way to let Rob catch him up on the train’s progress that morning without being overheard by any of the others.

  “You still planning to ride back to Schwartzburg when we stop?” Rob asked.

  “I don’t suppose it would do any good.”

  Rob turned in the saddle and looked back through the sea of dust, at the long line of wagons. “I don’t like the idea of you going back.”

  “It’ll only be four or five miles.”

  “I know. But you’re likely to get in a tight spot if you go nosing around.”

  “Nah,” Eb said. “There’s another wagon train close behind us. Likely they’ll reach Schwartzburg today. I can mingle with their people.”

  “Yes, but if Schwartz spots you, he’ll figure something’s up. I think you should stay clear of the place.”

  “All right, I won’t go. But I’d still like to scout the trail behind us a ways.”

  “If you think it will help. We’ve an invitation to eat supp
er tonight with Miss Finster and Miss Stone if we’ve a mind to.”

  “I was thinking we ought to take a long nooning and move on in the evening. Let the stock rest while it’s hottest and move out once the sun’s mostly down.”

  Rob nodded. “I expect that would be a good plan today. I hoped we’d be farther from Schwartzburg when we stopped though.”

  “So did I.” Eb looked ahead at the road he’d ridden that morning. “It’s almost two miles to the spot where I thought we’d stop. Think they can go on that long?”

  “Probably. Binchley’s got an ox that’s about done in. He really should have traded with Schwartz, but he said he didn’t have enough cash.”

  Eb sighed. “We’ll probably get some tough, stringy beef tomorrow.”

  “Yeah. Well, we may as well push on. You talking about that spot with the trees and grass down in the bottom?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “They’ll make it that far. Especially if we tell everybody we’ll take a long rest once we get there.”

  “All right. It’s a good spot to water the livestock after folks draw the water they want to use.”

  “I remember it. Let’s spread the word.” Rob turned Bailey around but paused. “Shall I tell the ladies we’ll eat supper with them?”

  “Do you want to?” Eb asked.

  “Of course. They’re not the best cooks on the train, but the company can’t be beat. And it’ll give you a good chance to get better acquainted with Miss Finster’s sterling qualities.”

  “Oh, you know so much about her?” Eb eyed his friend skeptically.

  “I know it’s time you got married again, and I haven’t seen a prospect as pleasing for many a year.”

  “Get off that hobby horse, Rob.”

  “Not until you’re married.”

  Rob urged Bailey into a trot. They rode back to the wagons, and Rob told the first driver to stop when he got to the place Eb had described. Together they rode back along the lines, telling families to expect a long nooning. Most of the people expressed gratitude.

  Eb smiled when he came in sight of the Englishwomen’s wagon. Miss Stone sat straight as a flagpole on the seat, holding the lines like they were made of spun sugar. Miss Finster sat beside her, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat with a cluster of pheasant feathers and knitting away lickety-split. They made a charming picture of both competence and domesticity—and beauty, though Eb wasn’t much to comment on that, especially with Rob watching like a hawk for something to tease him about.