But her relaxed state came to an abrupt end as she saw Jeb Hunter riding toward them with Patrick bouncing along behind. At her side, she could feel Molly straighten up on the seat, and Kerry found herself doing the same. She pulled reflexively on the brim of her hat.
“You have helpers along today, Kiernan, I see,” Jeb called out to her. His voice was much lighter than it had been around the campfire last night. The tone made him sound younger. His face looked younger, too, as he gave her one of his rare smiles. Kerry caught her breath at the difference in his expression.
“I certainly do,” she answered carefully, keeping her voice extra low. She hoped Polly and Molly wouldn’t pay attention to her sudden change in register. “And you have a helper of your own.”
Jeb turned around in the saddle to give Patrick a fond look. “He’d make a good guide himself one of these days.”
Kerry’s smile dropped as she said quickly, “Not likely. We’re going to be ranchers, remember? And Patrick’s going to do carpentry like our father.”
Jeb didn’t appear to notice the vehemence of her remark. “He’s got sharp eyes. He’s been pointing out things along the trail that I missed myself.”
Patrick was beaming at the praise. “It’s been great, Ker…Kiernan,” he exclaimed. “I wish I could ride every day.”
“You don’t want to be a bother to Captain Hunter, Patrick,” Kerry said softly.
“He’s no bother. I’ve enjoyed the company.” Jeb pulled his horse around and matched its stride to the slow plodding of the oxen. “I just brought him back because we’re stopping for lunch and I thought you might need his help. In fact, I thought I’d join you for the meal myself.”
Kerry’s gaze went to the wagon in front of them. She knew that the minute the wagons rolled to a halt, Scott would be back to get the noon meal for her as he had since her accident. But she couldn’t very well turn down the captain’s request for an invitation.
“Certainly, Captain Hunter,” she said trying to mask her misgivings. “You’re welcome to stay.”
Chapter Four
They rode along for another few minutes before the wagons in front started drawing to a halt one by one. “The head wagon must have reached Silver Creek,” Jeb explained. “I told them we’d stop there.”
Almost instantly the twins’ mother appeared to collect her girls. Kerry noticed that the polite smile Captain Hunter turned on Dorothy Burnett was not any different than the one he used with Frank Todd or the motherly Eulalie Todd or anyone else on the train. Scott, on the other hand, who joined them immediately, as Kerry had predicted, flashed the pretty blonde a charming grin and cocked his head in a greeting that showed appreciation of her as a young, attractive woman. Jeb Hunter didn’t seem to like women all that much, Kerry decided. Or perhaps he saw himself in such a lofty position on the train that he felt above flirting with a pretty girl. Of course, either way, it was a matter of indifference to her.
“I’ve brought lunch,” Scott said, hoisting a heavy iron kettle. “Boone’s finest molasses baked beans. A whole tin of them,” he added, looking from Kerry up on the wagon seat down to Dorothy and Jeb and Patrick, who had dismounted from Jeb’s horse. “Plenty to go around.”
His tone held no indication that he was annoyed by Jeb’s presence, but Kerry already knew him well enough to sense a certain tenseness in him that was not natural to the easygoing Scott. She didn’t analyze why she felt it was her job to be sure that he and Jeb Hunter would not antagonize each other. She had been responsible for taking care of the males in her own family for so many years, it just seemed to come as second nature. “Captain Hunter is going to stay for lunch,” she said, sending Scott a bright smile and silent thank-you for his forbearance. Her gesture was rewarded by an immediate warming of Scott’s expression.
Jeb watched the interplay between Kiernan and the affable prospector with renewed confusion. There was definitely a communication between the two young men that went a step beyond neighborly. If he hadn’t seen the unmistakable look in Scott’s eyes when he’d been greeting Dorothy Burnett, he’d be almost worried that Haskell had unnatural designs on the young Irishman. A silly notion, he decided. After all, he’d felt some kind of pull himself toward both boys—a protective, paternal instinct.
Nevertheless, he felt a bit awkward and out of place as the prospector assumed control of things as if he were part of the family. “Will you and the girls eat with us, Mrs. Burnett?” Scott asked Dorothy with another charming smile.
“Can we, Mama?” Polly asked as she scrambled down from the wagon.
“I suspect your papa will want us to eat back with him, honey. He missed not having his kittens with him this morning.”
The girls were obviously disappointed at the refusal, but neither one pouted or asked again to have their way. With good-natured smiles they waved goodbye to Kerry and followed their mother back to their own wagon.
Scott had set the kettle on the ground and was building a small fire to heat the beans. “You can light it now, Patrick,” he said, straightening up and brushing off his hands. Then he turned to the wagon where Kerry was still perched up on the seat. He put his foot up on the sideboard. “Let me help you down,” he said to her.
Kerry looked over at Jeb. “I can manage myself, now, Scott.”
Ignoring her protest, he hoisted himself toward her and lifted her off the seat. In a minute they were on the ground, but not before Scott had said in a low voice in her ear, “But I like helping you, sweetheart.”
No one else could possibly have heard him, but Kerry’s face flamed. It was the first time he had used such an endearment, and it occurred to her that he’d decided to use it to somehow stake a claim on her right in Jeb Hunter’s presence. The thought irritated her. She pushed away from him the minute he set her on the ground and limped over to the fire. “I’ll do that,” she snapped at Patrick, taking the box of matches from him and crouching down by the fire.
Her brother looked at her in surprise. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, concentrating on lighting the curling edges of the branches Scott had placed under the logs for tinder. She kept her head down, still feeling the heat in her cheeks. “You go fetch some water,” she told Patrick. “It’ll be time to move before we know it and we’ll still be sitting here hungry.”
With another doubtful look at his sister, Patrick grabbed the bucket that hung from one side of the wagon and headed toward the river. Jeb stood watching the exchange. “There’s no hurry,” he said. “The animals need a good long rest on a day this hot. We’ll start up again later this afternoon when it begins to cool down a bit”
His voice had taken on a comforting tone, almost like an adult dealing with a cranky child, and Kerry realized that she was sounding churlish. She was at a loss to know what had set her off so. Scott had had no business calling her sweetheart, but it wasn’t a capital offense. And the captain had done nothing to deserve her ill humor. She raised her head and smiled at him. “It was kind of you to take Patrick today. Quite a treat. He always wanted to ride in New York City, but of course there was very little opportunity.”
“A city’s not the best place for a boy to grow up,” Jeb answered, returning her smile. “He’ll like the West. And I enjoyed having him with me. He can ride with me anytime.”
Kerry chuckled. “You’d better not say that or you’ll never be rid of him, Captain. He’s none too happy sitting up on the wagon with me.”
“I mean it. Storm’s a big animal—it’s no problem to have Patrick along. You’re welcome to give it a try, too, when your ankle’s better.”
Kerry found herself drawn to Jeb Hunter’s rare smile. It transformed his face from the authoritative wagon train captain to a man who would take the time to give pleasure to a young boy. The fire caught and blazed with a sudden flare of heat. She backed away, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Scott was watching her exchange with the captain with a slight scowl.
With a sigh, she reached to
set the pot of beans on the fire. She felt a little like the jugglers she used to see sometimes on the streets of New York—trying to keep two quite different men happy. And she didn’t think it would get any better as they continued across the country. As much as she had hoped to make this trip without notice from anyone, the discovery of her secret, coupled with her accident, had provided her with a protector in Scott Haskell. And as much as she wanted to keep out of the way of their captain, she was already realizing that the long days on the trail became a little more interesting every time Jeb Hunter rode up to their wagon.
It had become the custom for Jeb and Patrick to ride together at least part of every day. The sight of the brawny wagon captain with the Irish lad bouncing along behind him on the big roan stallion had become a common sight up and down the train. And each day, Jeb found himself spending a little more time at the Gallivan wagon, staying for one more cup of coffee, listening to one more of Kiernan’s amusing tales of the scrappy life he and his brother had led back in New York City.
There was a special warmth between the two brothers that drew in their visitors, rather than excluding. Scott Haskell evidently noticed it, too. The aspiring gold hunter was often present at the Gallivan wagon when Jeb showed up there, and he never seemed overly happy at the wagon captain’s arrival, though Jeb wasn’t sure why. It should do no harm to have two men concerned with the boys’ welfare. Yet sometimes Jeb felt almost as if he and Haskell were rival suitors vying for the hand of a pretty girl.
Jeb became more fond of Patrick each day and more fascinated with the older boy. Kiernan’s ankle was almost healed by now, and he was again able to move around to the neighboring wagons at the camp each night. The young man always seemed to have an encouraging word for everyone. He’d sat for hours one night listening to Eulalie Todd’s reminiscences about St. Louis. And he regularly took the twins off for a walk or some other adventure to give Dorothy and John Burnett a few moments’ respite from their offspring’s constant activity. Jeb, himself, looked forward to his conversations with the young Irishman, whose questions about the trail and about what they could expect in California were intelligent and animated.
As he felt himself drawn to the Gallivan wagon for the fifth evening in a row, Jeb decided that the attraction must be that Kiernan Gallivan’s interest was flattering. He’d lived alone for so many years that he’d forgotten what it could be like to sit with someone and talk over his day.
As usual, Scott was also present at the Gallivan campfire when Jeb arrived, and all four Burnetts had joined them for some trail songs that were being enthusiastically led by Polly and Molly. Molly had gotten over her shyness with Patrick and now unabashedly made her fondness for the boy obvious to the entire group, always choosing the seat next to him and sitting as close as she dared. Even her sister’s occasional taunts on the subject had not dimmed her youthful infatuation.
Jeb accepted the cup of coffee Kiernan offered him and settled down to enjoy the companionship. He’d led six trains across the country, but he’d never before let himself get close to the wagon train members. He’d always told himself that it wasn’t good to get too close. It was too hard to be a leader to people who were your friends. And he’d preferred his loneliness. He didn’t want to see happy couples, families eagerly planning their promising futures together. He didn’t want to think about how he’d done that very same thing with Melanie.
“I hate to break up the gathering,” Jeb said loudly as the group finished up a long ballad. “But we have a tough day ahead of us tomorrow. It would be a good idea if we all got to sleep.” Tomorrow they would cross to the north side of the Kansas River, which they’d been following since they left Westport. It would be the first major test of the settlers’ stamina.
“Can I ride with you, Captain?” Patrick asked eagerly.
Jeb shook his head. “Sorry, Patrick. I’ll have to be helping folks across the river all day. I’m afraid Storm will have enough work without an extra passenger. Besides, I want both you and your brother in your wagon when we ford.”
“Do you expect problems with the crossing?” Kerry asked.
“Nothing in particular. With the dry weather holding, the river’s down. But crossing a river the size of the Kansas is always a tricky proposition. You’ll find out tomorrow why I insisted that you and your brother lighten up your load.”
Kerry swallowed down a lump of guilt. She and Patrick had packed and repacked their heavy supplies until they finally were able to jam them together in such a way as to leave a tiny bit of space for them to put bedrolls at night. But she knew that the wagon captain had no idea of just how full their wagon was. She thought for a minute about telling him, but changed her mind. After all, he’d said that the river was not as high as usual. And the four oxen they’d been given by the Boone store had proved to be reliable, if plodding, beasts. They’d make it across all right, she decided.
Patrick was watching her with an anxious expression as if he, too, had his mind on their overloaded wagon. She stood and went to stand behind him, putting her hands reassuringly on his shoulders. “It should be an exciting day, then,” she said in a deliberately cheery voice.
Patrick twisted his neck to look up at her. “Do you think…” he began doubtfully.
She dug her hands into his shoulders to stop his question. “I think everything’s going to be just fine,” she said.
The others around the fire were all getting to their feet John Burnett, a thin, serious man who said little but watched over his wife and two daughters with the care of a mother bear, reached to take Polly and Molly’s hands to walk with them in the darkness. “Is it safe for everyone to ride across in the wagons, Captain?” he asked. “Perhaps I should carry my girls across one by one.”
Jeb shook his head reassuringly. “As I said, the river’s low. As long as we keep order and everyone follows instructions, we should all get across safe and sound without any problems. Without even getting our feet wet”
John nodded his approval to Jeb, then said a formal good-night to Scott, Patrick and Kerry, before he turned to start back toward his wagon with Polly and Molly skipping along at his side.
“We’ll see everyone in the morning,” Dorothy added with a disarming smile that was in marked contrast to her husband’s stiffness.
Jeb waited a moment to see if Haskell would take his leave, but when the prospector seemed in no hurry to depart, he said his own good-nights and headed down the line of wagons.
Scott waited until he had disappeared in the darkness, then turned to Kerry. “I don’t like to think of you having to handle those animals across a river.”
“I’ve managed to handle them well enough across the prairie,” she answered with a little thrust of her full lip. “I don’t see how it will be so different.”
Scott took a step closer, then glanced over at Patrick, who had stood along with everyone else but had not moved away from the fire. “Patrick, my boy, why don’t you go give the animals a final check? Let me talk to your sister a minute.”
Patrick looked a little surprised to be dismissed in such a fashion, but then he gave a good-natured grin. “You can talk to her, but you can’t exactly do any sparking, can you? She’s a boy, remember? It wouldn’t look too good.”
“Patrick!” Kerry exclaimed. She didn’t know if she was more distressed by the knowledge that her baby brother would think about such things or that he might be right in his assumption that Scott’s request for time alone with her had romantic overtones.
“Well, it’s true, Kerry. He goes moony-eyed when he looks at you, just like Mickey Flanagan used to.”
Scott ran his hand over the bristly blond whiskers of his chin and looked as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or scold. “Go on, boy,” he said finally. “Nobody’s going to do any sparking here. I just need to talk to Kerry.”
Patrick skipped off to the back of the wagon and Scott turned to Kerry again. “Now don’t raise those independent hackles of yours at me again, la
ss, but neither you nor the boy has the strength to hold that team if it should run into trouble during the crossing. I’d like to take my rig across and then come back and ride across with you.”
Kerry realized that the offer, just like everything else Scott had done for them since their first day on the trail, was meant to be helpful. But once again she felt resentment over the assumption that she wouldn’t be able to do the job just because she was a woman. She’d promised her father that they would make his dream come true. And if she had to break her arms holding the team to do it, she would do so. “We’ll manage,” she said, her lips tight.
By now Scott knew better than to argue. “All right,” he said with a sigh. “But you be sure that Patrick’s sitting right up there with you to help out if you need it.”
“I don’t know where else he’d be if he wants to get across. He’s never learned how to swim.” She said the words lightly, but the faint misgiving she’d had when she thought about the weight of their load grew a bit stronger.
“If you change your mind, you know I’d be happy to help you.” Scott’s expression had changed in the dying firelight. All at once it looked as if he wanted to do some of the “sparking” Patrick had mentioned.
Kerry took a step back. “I won’t change my mind. Now we’d better get a good night’s sleep, as Captain Hunter suggested.”
He watched her for another long moment, then reached down and captured her hand. “All right,” he said softly, turning her hand in his and planting a kiss gently on the palm. “Sleep well, lass.”
Before Kerry could recover her voice, he had faded into the darkness.
The Kansas River flowed in an even, inexorable path across the prairie like molasses poured from a jug. Broad and tranquil most of the time, it woke up now and then to swirl around a bend, dancing over rocks and fallen tree trunks in a sudden spurt of energy, only to flatten out again on the other side.
Ana Seymour Page 6
