“A little stargazing?” she asked.
“Perfect.” He flicked his cigarette over the ashtray.
“And you’ll just…materialize and tell him what you want to tell him?”
“Something like that.”
“Why didn’t you approach us last night? You saw us out walking.”
“I had to be sure of my man. Now I am.”
Millie leaned back and surveyed Peterson. He was too clever by half. She smiled. “The thing is I’m not sure that your business won’t affect mine. Could you wait a day or two?”
“I hardly think so.”
She sipped her tea again, thinking about it. Peterson was a man who played his cards close to the vest. He wasn’t going to spill everything to her. But if she let on that she already knew his business, maybe she’d learn something.
“Is this about the business in England?”
His eyebrows rose.
“You know,” she said in a cajoling tone. “The family business.”
He gazed at her thoughtfully. “I’ve never been to England. What’s going on over there?”
Millie clamped her jaws together. She was a fool. Now he’d suspect something. But if he wasn’t here about that, what did he want?
This whole thing with David could explode in her face. If that happened, she’d need means to get away quickly.
“I’ll need a hundred,” she said. “In advance.”
“Did you get a good look at him?” Dan held Anne by her arms and forced her to meet his gaze. “Was there only one?”
“Y–yes. He had garish black-and-red paint on his face, and—and feathers in his hair.”
“What was he wearing?”
“A buckskin jacket and—oh, I don’t know. Some sort of trousers.”
“But there was only one Indian?”
Anne’s teeth chattered as she nodded. “Oh Daniel, what will we do? He’s stolen our horses.”
Dan looked up the slope. He couldn’t leave Anne here alone and run after the fellow. The Indian might have friends nearby. Dan had seen nothing but had heard faint hoofbeats retreating as he ran to Anne’s side. He had to make a decision, and he only had one chance to make the right one.
“We walk the way we were going to go when we had the horses—downstream. Come on.” He turned her away from where she’d encountered the savage and put his arm firmly about her waist.
“We c–can’t just abandon Star and Bailey. Dan, I promised Rob I’d bring Bailey back in good shape.”
He kept walking and pushed her along with him. “What do you suggest? We can’t go and fight a savage for them.”
“But—all our things are on the saddles.”
Dan took two deep breaths before he answered. He tried to make his voice cheerful. “Not all. Only a few things, really. Most of our stuff is at Mrs. Zinberg’s.”
Anne planted both feet solidly, and he had to stop walking. “Those horses and the saddles are the most valuable things we have right now. How can I repay Rob and Dulcie? Dan, my money is nearly gone until January. That’s another six weeks. More than that.” Tears flowed down her cheeks, joining the drops of mist that gathered there.
“Anne, dearest, you mustn’t.”
“Mustn’t what?”
“Distress yourself. Rob and Dulcie will understand. The critical thing right now is finding shelter before dark. We can’t stay out here all night.”
Anne looked around, shivering. “N–no. We can’t.” She looked up at him, and for a moment he thought she’d regained control of herself. But her face crumpled, and she let out a sob. “Oh Daniel.”
He folded her in his arms, and they stood in the darkening ravine. The rain spattered down gently on his hat and her cape and the trees. Would it turn into a violent downpour again? If he didn’t find shelter for Anne soon, she might collapse.
She was a plucky girl. She’d sailed the Atlantic for her uncle and crossed the Rockies for him. She’d even faced down some unscrupulous men. But Lady Anne Stone seemed to have her limits. That came almost as a relief to Dan. Perhaps she wasn’t impossibly above him, after all.
He held her a minute longer, thinking of their options, but he couldn’t see a better plan than the one he’d stated. And every moment they waited, the darker it got. Could it possibly be that late in the afternoon?
“Anne, dearest, listen to me.”
She gulped a few more shallow breaths then straightened slightly. “What is it, Daniel?”
“We can’t go after that Indian and get the horses back. He’s gone. I’m sorry about that, but we need to get started. We can’t stay here, so we have to walk. Come. We’ll follow the ravine.”
“All right.” She hiccupped. “I’m not sure how far I can walk, but I’ll try.”
She staggered along, and Dan held her up, willing her to keep going. The rain soaked them. Questions hammered him. Should he look for another sheltered spot? Should he stop and try to build a fire? How could he have been so stupid as to leave the horses unattended, with all their gear, including his rifle? The prospect of being out all night with temperatures in the hills plunging even lower—possibly below freezing—kept him moving.
Anne’s steps dragged. Dan uttered the same phrases over and over. “We can do it. Don’t give up. Come on. A little farther.”
After perhaps an hour, they struggled down a rocky incline to the bank of a small stream. The ground was muddy in the bottom, so they had to stay up the slope a little ways, which made for awkward footing. Anne leaned into him, and Dan walked on the downhill side. They followed the rippling water, and around each bend he expected the view to open up and to spot a town, or at least a house or two. This brook had to dump into a larger waterway soon, didn’t it?
The stream curved and wound through the woods, never seeming to widen. The shadows multiplied and darkened. Dan’s mutterings began to sound nonsensical to him. Anne staggered and fell.
Dan stopped on a bed of orange pine needles and caught his breath. Anne sat crumpled with her dark cape and muddy blue skirt spread around her. He leaned over her.
“Come, Anne. We have to keep going.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Come on.” He tugged on her arm, but she pulled away.
“Just leave me, Dan. You can go faster without me. I’ll wait here for you to come back with help.”
“No. I can’t do that. What if the Indian came back?” He pulled at her hand, but it slipped out of his and fell to her side.
Anne looked up at him with a stricken expression. “He said, ‘Horse is mine.’ What if he only took one of them, Daniel?”
Daniel huffed out a breath. Maybe he should have gone up the hill and followed the thief. It was too late now, though. Anne wouldn’t last going all the way back there, and he surely wouldn’t desert her out here in the wilderness. He’d made a mess of things. Her reputation was no longer a high priority, and when it came down to it, neither was finding her uncle. He needed to get her back to Scottsburg alive.
“Anne, I’m not leaving you.”
CHAPTER 14
Anne stared up at Dan. Rain pelted her. It hit his hat and collected on the crown. When he leaned toward her, a stream of water ran off the brim and onto the ground between them.
What was it he’d said? She only wanted to rest. If they couldn’t get out of this icy rain, she would pull her cape around her and roll up right here on the ground and not move until…sometime.
“Anne!” He prodded her shoulder.
She rolled away from him.
“Anne Stone! Shame on you! You’re not a child. You know full well that I can’t carry you, but I’ll try if you don’t get on your feet and walk.”
“I can’t.”
Dan’s face hardened. “Your father would be mortified if he could see you now. Didn’t he teach you to have more grit than that?”
She opened her eyes just enough so she could see him beneath her lashes. Dan had never talked like that before. He was the perpetual
gentleman. Night was falling, and his face showed up pale in the dim light. He was worried, not angry. Worried about her. She opened her mouth but nothing came out.
“All right, I’ll carry you then.” He stooped and clamped an arm around her back, pushing the cape in and groping for her waist. When his other hand touched her thigh through her skirts, she jumped away from him.
“What? Stop!”
“You won’t walk, so I have to carry you.”
“No, wait.” She held out her hands in protest. “Give me a m–minute.”
“You’ve had a minute. Come on, Anne. It’s getting colder. You get on your feet, or I’ll throw you over my shoulder. Which is it?”
She exhaled heavily and reached for his hand. Dan pulled her up.
“Good girl. Let’s go.”
He propelled her onward, along the bank of the stream. She trudged beside him, moving slowly. Her legs were stiff, and her feet were going numb, but she didn’t dare stop. Something in his gray eyes and rock-firm voice had told her that he would make good on his threat. Dan would pack her home or die trying.
The stream wound downward, around a bluff. Dan was walking in water, lurching a little as he pulled her along. The rain pounded harder, and Anne kept her head down. She could barely see her feet in the darkness.
“I smell smoke.”
She stopped and raised her chin. “What?” She turned her head and stared stupidly at Dan.
“Wood smoke. Someone’s got a fire going. Come on.” He squeezed her hand and dragged her forward.
Anne tried to hasten her steps, but her legs wouldn’t obey her brain. They staggered onward until they rounded the bluff. Dan gave a whoop.
“Look! A cabin!”
Anne could smell the smoke now. She squinted where he pointed, and sure enough, a sliver of light came through the trees.
“Jump up.”
“What?”
Dan positioned his arms. “Jump up and let me carry you across the creek. The cabin’s on the other side.”
“I can walk.”
“I don’t want you to get your feet any wetter. Come on. Let me.”
He stooped, and she reluctantly put her arm around his neck. It felt heavy in the wet, freezing garments. Dan found strength somewhere to lift her and lurch across the stream. She feared he would drop her the way he had a week ago when they crossed the Long Tom, but he made it without stumbling. On the other side, he set her down on a rock and tottered up the bank. At last they stood at the door of a crude log cabin.
“Anybody home?” Dan called. He pounded two weary thuds on the door.
From within came a cautious voice.
“Who wants to know?”
David hurried up the steps to the post office and pushed open the door.
“Mr. Stone! Good afternoon.” The postmaster whirled around to search the rack of pigeonholes behind him.
“Thank you,” David said. “I guess you know what I want.”
“Ha. If I could give people what they want every day, I’d be a very popular man.” The postmaster turned and handed him an envelope. “That’s it this time.”
“Hmm.” David took it. Nothing from Sam Hastings, but he’d asked Sam to send him a note every week to tell him how things were going at the farm. He’d been here a month, but he’d had no word from Sam.
“Someone was in here yesterday, asking for you.”
“Oh?” David asked absently as he scanned the envelope. “If they come in again, tell them I’m staying at the Miner’s Hotel.”
“I’ll do that.”
He tucked the letter in his pocket and went outside. Must be an assay report on the ore samples he’d sent to San Francisco. He would wait and open it in his room. Now for some shaving soap, and then he’d stop in the stable to check on Captain. Or perhaps he’d go there first and take a look at the letter in the stable, away from prying eyes. Its contents might make a difference on his timetable. If the yield from his claim looked promising, he’d stay to put things in motion. If not, he might just sell out now and go back to Eugene. He had an idea he might invest in a stagecoach line between Eugene and Oregon City.
Of course, there was Charlotte Evans. He wouldn’t mind seeing her again tonight. He hadn’t figured her out yet. Her auburn hair and green eyes had attracted him straightaway, and she’d come to dinner gowned like a duchess. She was hands-down the prettiest woman in Scottsburg, but she lacked a high-gloss polish.
For the frontier, her manners were passable, and he wouldn’t ordinarily demand more than that. In fact, the woman he’d almost married in Missouri came from an unpretentious background. He’d never told her about his own pedigree. She’d loved him—or so he’d thought—and he had been ready to settle down. He wouldn’t ask more of someone else, and yet…
Charlotte implied somehow that she was a tad above her neighbors. She wasn’t snooty exactly, and he hadn’t seen yet how she acted around other women. He had seen the way she held herself when she knew men were watching her.
Maybe seeing her in the company of other women was a good idea. He wished he had friends here in town—besides miners and dockhands—and someone was throwing a party. He could tell a lot about a woman from the way she carried herself at a social event.
He’d seen a couple checking in to the hotel last night when he’d gone downstairs to ask for some hot water. Perhaps he could “run into” the man in the lobby, and later in the dining room, he could introduce Charlotte. It seemed like a decent plan, and he became more aware of the people around him as he hurried down the street. He saw a few women, but most were hardened frontier wives. None that could hold a candle to Charlotte.
He frowned as he entered the dim stable. Whom did he think he was kidding? Would he dangle after Charlotte Evans if he met her in London? If he stood her beside Elizabeth Stone, his brother’s wife, or even her lady’s maid, Elise Finster, Charlotte wouldn’t measure up. And if he were honest, she wasn’t a woman he would consider taking home to Mother, if Mother were still on this earth. Charlotte had that worldly wise edge, like a woman who knew what was what but wanted him to believe she was innocent. When he was with her, that trait was easy to overlook. Should he be watching his back?
Dan had never been so glad to hear a crotchety old man’s voice before.
“My name is Daniel Adams, and I’ve got a lady with me. Our horses were stolen, and we’re lost. Can you help us, please?”
After a pause, the old-timer called, “Are you lyin’?”
Dan pulled back and stared at the crude door. “No, I’m not lying. Why would I do that? We’re freezing to death out here!”
“Let me hear the lady.”
Dan looked at Anne. She blinked up at him, her lips trembling. “What does he want?”
“Tell him your name. You can do it.”
“I’m Anne Stone. Please, sir. We’re like to die out here.”
A thud came from within, and the door creaked open. Dan stood eye-to-eye with an elderly man whose flowing white beard resembled a frozen waterfall. His alert blue eyes peered at them from beneath white tufts of eyebrows.
“Well, lookee there. I’ve never had a lady grace my hearth before. Come in, missus. Do enter and be welcome.” He stood back.
Dan grasped Anne’s elbow firmly. “In you go.” He gave her a little boost as she levered herself up the step and over the threshold. The old man slammed the door behind them and dropped the bar in place. The heat coming from a blazing fire shocked Dan.
He pulled off his gloves and turned to unfasten the hood of Anne’s cape. He threw it back, revealing her porcelain face and the ridiculous blue velvet hat that had no business out here in the forest.
“Mm, mm,” said the old man. “Ain’t she just the purtiest? To what do I owe this honor?”
“It’s like I said,” Dan replied. “An Indian stole our horses, and—”
“Are you sure?” The old man’s eyebrows sprang higher.
“Well, I didn’t get a good look at him, but
he scared Miss Stone half to death.”
“Miss Stone?” The codger peered at Anne. “You kin to that English feller up the mountain?”
“I suppose I am,” Anne said. “Do you know David?”
“Know him? I’ve shared a beaver tail with him.” He held out a hand to Anne. “Here, missy, come right over to the fire. You look cold enough to skate on.”
Dan unbuttoned his coat with aching fingers. “Sir, we’re much obliged. I think we’d have been in serious trouble if we’d had to stay out all night in this cold rain.”
“Name’s Pogue—Harlan Pogue, but folks call me Whitey.” He stroked his luxuriant beard and winked at Anne. “They used to call me Blackie when I was younger. Can’t figure that out.”
Anne smiled and held her hands toward the fire. “Well, Mr. Pogue, Daniel is right. I believe we owe you our lives.”
“Whitey, I told ya. Look at you. Shaking all over.” The old man dragged a short bench over. “Sit yourself down.”
While Dan removed his wraps and helped Anne get off her cape, coat, hat, and muffler, Whitey bustled about. He filled his coffeepot, threw more wood on the fire, and straightened the blankets on his bunk.
“There now, folks, in a few minutes we’ll have some hot coffee for ya. Can’t say as I’ve got any fancy eats, but there’s some cornmeal porridge I can slice and fry with side meat.”
“You don’t have to feed us,” Dan said.
“Oh? You got vittles?”
“Well, no. I’m afraid our supplies went with our horses.”
“There you go. We’ll have us some porridge and side meat after a bit.” Whitey peered at Anne’s face, frowning. “You feeling better, missy?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.” The color was returning to Anne’s face.
“That’s good.” Whitey plopped down on the edge of his bunk. “I don’t got any dry clothes I could offer you.”
“We’ll be fine,” Dan said. His trousers were drying out, and his boots began to steam. He drew his feet back from the fire. He suspected Anne’s heavy skirts and petticoats would take longer.
“This horse thief,” Whitey said. “What exactly did he look like?”
THE Prairie DREAMS Trilogy Page 48
