THE Prairie DREAMS Trilogy

by Susan Page Davis

  Anne set her jaw. “Then we’d best be going.” She looked back toward the ferry slip. The boat had shoved off and was a third of the way back across the river. On the far shore, a horseman already waited for it.

  They rode along for a half hour, saying little except for Anne’s occasional exclamations over the lovely scenery and Dan’s fretful observations on the clouds rolling in.

  As they approached a stream, they halted their horses at the edge and stared at the scene before them. A log bridge decked with sturdy planks appeared to have fallen into the creek on the far end of the span.

  “That’s odd,” Dan said. “The ferryman didn’t say anything about a bridge being out.”

  “Yes.” Anne pondered the logistics of it. “I’m no expert, but if it was washed out, wouldn’t someone in Scottsburg have told us there was flooding?”

  “Yes, and it wouldn’t have gone down this quickly.” Dan looked upstream and down. “I suppose we’ll have to go along that path and see if there’s a ford nearby.”

  They turned their horses onto the narrow path along the creek bank. Twenty minutes later, Dan found a spot where they could descend to the streambed and cross safely. The water was only a few inches deep, though it flowed swiftly. On the other side, they made their way back to their path and at last came to the far end of the bridge.

  Dan dismounted and examined the supports. “It looks as though someone sawed right through the beams here.”

  Millie got up earlier than she wanted to. She had things to do if she intended to maintain the lifestyle she was growing accustomed to until she felt confident of asking David for a small loan without offending him.

  The mercantile, perhaps. There were several small shops in town, but down near the steamer dock a large establishment catered to the miners and farmers. She’d go there first—that or a place where she could get breakfast for less than the hotel’s exorbitant prices. She hurried down the street, wearing her calico dress and wool coat. She didn’t want to look too prosperous this morning, or to stand out in any way, though most likely an auburn-haired woman men seemed to find handsome would not go unnoticed. With that in mind, she’d put her hair up and added a hat.

  She found a bakery where several men were lined up to get rolls and pastry. She got in line. They all eyed her surreptitiously. This wouldn’t do. She needed to go unwatched, if only for a few seconds. She left the line and gazed at the cakes and bread loaves in the case near the window, pretending to have trouble making her choice. When the line was down to one man, she stood behind him.

  “There you go.” The baker handed his customer a brown paper parcel, and the man gave him a few coins.

  Millie watched closely, but no change was handed back. Her disappointment hit a new low. The smell of the baked goods had her stomach rolling, and she’d hoped for a bun or two. She had only a few pennies left in her pocket.

  “Help you, ma’am?” the baker asked.

  “Oh, I—no, thank you. I changed my mind.” She scurried out the door and stood panting on the sidewalk. It would be easier to pick a pocket, but she hated doing that.

  “Morning.”

  She whirled toward the voice. A tall, thin man with a dark mustache nodded to her from where he leaned against the wall of the bakery.

  She nodded and turned away.

  “Didn’t I see you with David Stone last night?”

  Millie’s heart lurched. She looked about, but no one else seemed to have heard. She eyed the man closely. The smoker from the dock? That must be it. She took one step closer.

  “You know him?”

  “Not personally.”

  “What is your interest in him?” she asked.

  The man opened his jacket and reached into an inner pocket, coming out with a cigarette. “What’s yours?”

  Millie’s heart paused and went on, faster. “None of your business. Good day.” She turned away, but he leaped to her side and fell into step with her.

  “On the contrary, I think we should have breakfast together and discuss it.”

  She eyed him askance. What was his game? Still, breakfast without having it added to the hotel bill…

  “Are you buying?”

  He smiled. “Of course.”

  CHAPTER 13

  By noon Anne was certain. They were hopelessly lost in the rolling hills, and the temperature had dropped at least ten degrees since they left the ferry and detoured to avoid the damaged bridge. The clouds tightened overhead, obscuring the sun and threatening another bout of severe weather.

  “Dan?” She urged Bailey forward and tried again, calling toward his rigid back, “Daniel!”

  He turned in the saddle, a worried frown not hidden quickly enough.

  “Perhaps we should go back and seek better directions.”

  Dan wheeled Star around and rode back to her. He stopped and eyed her sadly. “I’m afraid it’s too late. Anne, I’m sorry, but I’ve no idea how to get back to Scottsburg.”

  They sat for a minute, looking around. The trail they’d been following had petered out, and Dan had tried to find his way back to it, but Anne didn’t recognize anything she could see now. The wind snaked between the hillsides, and the bushes shuddered. A clap of thunder made the horses jump.

  “I’m afraid we’re in for it,” Dan said.

  “Should we go downhill until we find a stream?” she asked. “They’ll all flow into the Umpqua eventually, won’t they?”

  “I…suppose so.” He looked so contrite that she wanted to comfort him.

  “It’s as much my fault as yours,” she said. “We probably went the wrong way back at that fork where I said to go right.”

  “Well, someone ought to mark these trails.” Dan winced. “I’m sorry, that sounded rather petty, didn’t it? I’m not usually a whiner.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  The clouds let loose, and the rain dumped on them in huge drops so thick they might have been poured from a giant vat.

  “Quick! Get to the tree line,” Dan shouted.

  Star bounded away. Anne loosened her reins, and Bailey cantered after him.

  When they reached the verge of the pines, Dan jumped down. He helped Anne alight and then walked between the trees, pulling Star behind him, shoving branches aside.

  When they were well out of the open, he dropped Star’s reins and came back to help Anne.

  “Here, bring Bailey up near Star. I think they’ll stay together. We’ll get into the tightest thicket we can find and sit this out.”

  “Shouldn’t we tie them up?” Anne asked.

  “They ought to stay—they’re both well trained. And if you tie them up and the thunder scares them, they’ll likely break whatever you tie them with. We’d have to unbridle them and put the halters and lead ropes on to make them completely secure.”

  “All right.” Anne could see that Dan was near his limit of patience, which was considerable. Still feeling guilty for losing the trail, no doubt. She let the reins fall.

  Dan fussed with the knots on her saddle strings. “You’ll want the cape now.” He fumbled at the rawhide strings but couldn’t untie them. “Bother.” He shoved his hand in his pocket and came out with a folding knife.

  “No, wait,” Anne said. “Let me. I have fingernails.” She didn’t want to return Dulcie’s saddle to her damaged. It took her a couple of minutes, but at last she got the knots loose. The rain continued to pelt them. Though the fir trees slowed it down, she would still be soaked again in a matter of minutes.

  Dan grabbed the cape and shook it out, then wrapped it around her shoulders. “Come on!” He seized her hand and yanked her away from the horses.

  “I thought I saw a big cedar over there.” Anne pointed, and Dan veered the way she indicated. They crashed through buck brush and around firs. At last she spotted the down-slanting branches of an incense cedar, with dark, flat needles making a canopy near the ground.

  “Under there,” Dan said.

  Anne looked back. “I can’t s
ee the horses.”

  Dan hesitated and craned his neck, looking. “Do you want me to bring them closer?”

  A lightning bolt cracked and struck a tall fir tree not far away. The top splintered and crashed to earth. Immediately, thunder boomed so loud Anne’s ears throbbed. She clapped her hands over them.

  “No!”

  “Then get under cover.”

  She hauled in a deep breath and dove under the lowest branches. The cape tangled about her, and she had to wriggle about to adjust it. She found she was almost able to sit up in the dim hideaway. Dan rolled in and fumbled about until he half-sat, half-lay on his back beside her. Neither of them spoke as the rain lashed the forest and the thunder rumbled, now distant, now frighteningly close. Anne drew up her knees and rested her head on them, closing her eyes.

  After several minutes, the rain seemed to slacken.

  “Anne, can you ever forgive me?” Dan asked.

  “There is nothing to forgive. I forced you to bring me on this expedition.” She raised her head and listened. “I do worry about the horses, though.”

  Dan sat up. “I’ll go check on them.”

  “Please take this marvelous cape.” She unfastened the button at her throat.

  “Oh, I couldn’t.”

  “You must. I shall come with you if you don’t.”

  He chuckled and accepted it from her. “Don’t know as I can put it on in this small space.” He crawled outside, and Anne shielded her face as the swaying branches released a shower of droplets.

  Dan was gone a good ten minutes, and the rain picked up again. She was thankful for what shelter she had, but her habit was damp through, and her feet were like ice. She began to fret about Dan and wondered how far he’d had to go to find their mounts.

  After one especially loud crash-boom of thunder, the branch that formed their doorway lifted and Dan crawled in, hauling the soaked cape behind him.

  “They’ve worked their way down in a draw, but I think they’ll be all right. The wind is probably milder down there.”

  “How far away are they?” Anne asked.

  “Not that far. It just took me a few minutes to pick up their trail and follow them.”

  “Dan, you’re shivering.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Here, let’s not get grumpy.”

  “I’m sorry.” He ran a hand over his face and sighed. “Anne, I’ve let you down.”

  “No, you haven’t.”

  “Well, we differ in opinion on that. But I’ve got to get you back to Mrs. Zinberg’s before dark. What would you say to striking out as soon as the lightning stops?”

  Another flash punctuated his words, and they both waited for the thunder. It came just seconds later. Anne looked over at Dan. She could hear his teeth chattering.

  She reached out for the edge of the cape. “Look, the outside of this is wet, but the inside feels pretty dry. What if we drape it over us, like a traveling robe? You need to warm up a little, Dan. I’m afraid you’ll go hypothermic—is that the word?”

  “I don’t know, but I do feel as though I might freeze to death. I’ve got the lucifers in my pocket. If I thought we could build a fire….”

  “Well, come closer.”

  He didn’t move.

  “This is no time to be shy,” Anne said.

  Dan unbuttoned his jacket and slid over next to her. He folded back the side of his coat nearest her. She leaned closer and felt his warmth.

  “Pull this cape up over your shoulder and put your arm around me.”

  “Anne—”

  “Oh hush. It has nothing to do with—with anything other than survival.” Her face flamed, but in the semidarkness, he wouldn’t see that, and it actually felt good to have one part of her warm. She peeled off her soggy gloves and set them on the ground next to the tree trunk.

  Hesitantly, Dan raised his arm and enfolded her.

  “I fear my habit is so damp I won’t be much help to you.”

  “No,” Dan said in a strangled voice. “You’re warm.”

  “Good.” She very daringly slid her arm around his middle and laid her head against his chest. The pounding of his galloping heart rivaled the thrumming of the rain.

  They sat in silence for a long time. Dan stopped shivering. Perhaps ten minutes later, his chin came down and rested gently on the top of her head.

  Anne wondered if he was asleep. His pulse was still quite rapid, and she decided he wasn’t. She’d told herself this was necessary, but now she wondered if he’d been right to object. Was she leading him on? She wished Elise was here to advise her. Dan was an honorable man, and she’d intended no harm. He was so warm and comfortable now, and his strong arm about her lulled her into thinking everything would be all right.

  Some time later, Dan stirred and Anne jerked awake.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “The rain has slacked. It’s still very gray out, though. I wonder if the sun won’t set early today. I’d best go for the horses.”

  “Let me come. I need to stretch my legs.”

  “All right, but you must put the cape on.”

  By the time they’d crawled out of their den, the front of Anne’s habit was drenched again. She said nothing about her discomfort and donned the black cape.

  “This way.” Dan reached for her hand.

  “Oh, I left my gloves in there.”

  “I’ll get them.” He dove into the hideaway again and thrashed about a bit, then appeared at the opening. “Here you go.”

  Anne tried to pull the sodden gloves on, but they resisted, so she shoved them into the pocket of her skirt.

  They trudged through the woods in twilight until they came to a steep-sided ravine.

  “Hold my hand,” Dan said.

  They slipped and slid down the incline.

  “Where are they?” Anne looked all around, but saw no sign of the horses.

  “They can’t have gone far. I expect they went downhill.” Dan pointed in the direction the ground sloped.

  “Daniel?”

  “Yes?”

  “What will we do if we can’t find them?”

  “Please don’t talk that way, Anne.”

  “All right.”

  Dan set out with a determined stride, and she followed, but she soon lagged behind him. She shoved through some underbrush, and a rope of vine maple snagged her shoe. She went down, floundering in the bushes. As she struggled to rise, she thought she heard a horse’s snort, up the slope a bit to her left. She squinted into the darkness.

  White patches. It had to be Star.

  “Dan!”

  “What is it?” He was fifty yards or more away.

  “I think I’ve found them.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Here.” She tried to spot the white blotches again and began to labor up the side of the ravine.

  A dark apparition darted from behind a tree between her and the place where she’d seen the horse.

  Anne shrieked and fell back. “Daniel!”

  The figure raised an arm over its head. “Horse mine!”

  “I don’t get it,” Millie said. “What is it you want with David Stone?”

  Peterson smiled and shook his head. “It’s a business matter.”

  She sipped her tea. If she was going to spend a lot of time with an Englishman, she needed to learn to like tea. She’d eaten an enormous breakfast and managed to sneak a biscuit into her handbag while Peterson had left the table to get an ashtray. She didn’t like him. At least not yet. She didn’t trust his dark, calculating eyes and his thin, black mustache. But he held a certain fascination. Intelligent men always drew her. What exactly made him tick?

  “Well, it’s a business matter for me, too. I can’t do anything to make David upset with me or to cause him to think poorly of me.”

  “Oh, I guarantee he won’t think anything of the sort after I see him.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. Did Peterson know about this inheritance thing Anne Ston
e had mentioned? That must be it. He was going to tell David about the estate. She wasn’t ready for that. Earning David’s trust and admiration before he knew he was a rich man—well, a richer man—was crucial to Millie’s plan. He had to believe she’d loved him before she knew about his finances.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “What’s in it for me?”

  He drew on his cigarette and blew out the smoke. “Money, of course.”

  She frowned. He would offer that—the one thing she was desperate for just now. Unfortunately, to carry out her plan to set herself up for life, she needed cash enough to make a show of not caring about money.

  “How much?”

  “Twenty.”

  She let out a grim chuckle. “You’re dreaming.”

  “Fifty then.”

  “Why don’t you just walk up to him in the hotel lobby and tell him you want to speak to him?”

  “It’s important that we have privacy when I confer with him.”

  “Ah.” She frowned and reached for her cup again. Seemed to her, Peterson could just tell David he needed to speak to him in private, but she didn’t suggest that. For some reason he didn’t want David to know he was here before the meeting took place. Sounded fishy. Still, she didn’t want to talk her way out of this deal before she decided she didn’t want it.

  “How do I know that what you say to him won’t be detrimental to me and my cause?”

  He smiled. “And what exactly is your cause, Mrs. Evans?”

  She gazed across the table at him. Frankness might be the best order of business—cut through all the chitchat.

  “I want to marry him.”

  Peterson’s mustache twitched. “I see.” He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip.

  Millie plunged ahead, hoping she hadn’t ruined her plans as well as his. “Does that affect your business with him?”

  Peterson’s eyes narrowed to slits, and he set the cup down precisely in the middle of the saucer. “Not a bit.”

  “Tell me exactly what you want me to do.”

  “Take him away from the hotel—somewhere out in the open. The evening would be best.”