Ana Seymour

by Jeb Hunters Bride

  Kerry bit her lip. She hoped Dorothy’s words were a figure of speech. She’d hate to think that her friend or anyone else on the train knew that she and Jeb had become lovers. It was humiliating enough that she knew how thoroughly he had rejected her. “We’re just not getting along that well at the moment.”

  “A lover’s squabble,” Dorothy confirmed with a nod of her head. “Don’t worry. You’ll work it out. That is if these hotheads don’t have their way and replace him.”

  “It wouldn’t really come to that, would it?”

  The wagons were slowing to a halt as the lead wagon stopped for the noon break at Jeb’s instructions. “I don’t know,” Dorothy said, sounding worried. “If you don’t want to talk with him about it, maybe we should both go now and see what Eulalie has to say.”

  Kerry felt a surge of relief. Soft-spoken, strong, kind Eulalie would know what to do.

  “I think you should talk to him, Kerry,” Eulalie suggested. “I believe he’s developed a fondness for you.”

  “Aha! What did I tell you?” Dorothy clapped her hands together in delight to hear her suspicions shared by the older woman.

  Kerry felt the sweat beading on her upper lip, and realized that it wasn’t only from the intense heat of the noon sun. It appeared that there was no help for it. She’d have to confront Jeb. They would both have to move beyond their own personal discomfort with each other and think about the good of the train. “What should I say to him?”

  “Just warn him. Let him know how people are talking.” Eulalie urged.

  “Wouldn’t it be better from Frank? After all, he’s supposed to be the people’s representative.”

  “Frank’s so angry with everyone that he can’t even see the thing straight. He says he won’t dignify all this blamed fool talk by bothering the captain about it”

  “So it’s up to me?” Kerry felt the beginnings of that now familiar weakness in her stomach.

  “Go to him, Kerry,” Dorothy said gently. “Ask him what he’d like us to do to stop this nonsense.”

  “I’ll give it a try.” She looked at the hopeful faces of her two friends. “But I have to tell you that there’s a possibility that Jeb Hunter won’t want to hear a word that I have to say.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  She would have preferred to get the meeting over with, but Jeb had kept the nooning short, as was his custom lately while they were traveling through what he called the heart of the Indian country. He’d been pushing to cover a few extra miles for several days now, which merely added to the grumbling among the emigrants. The short noon breaks, the long days, the extra patrols—all of it seemed unnecessary when they continued to go mile after mile without any evidence of the presence of even friendly Indians, much less hostile ones.

  Kerry had had to climb back up on her wagon as the line began to roll again, and Patrick had joined her with the news that he wouldn’t be riding with Jeb that afternoon as the wagon master would be doing some scouting out ahead of the train.

  So she’d had a full afternoon to contemplate their encounter, and by the time evening came, she’d decided that she was overreacting to what was really a very simple task. She and Jeb had made love. There was nothing that could be done to change that. But they were two adults, and they could certainly move beyond their personal difficulties to deal dispassionately with the situation at hand. She wouldn’t even bring up their last private meeting. She wouldn’t even think about it, she resolved, as she put away the supper dishes and prepared to walk to the Todds’ wagon to find him.

  “Eulalie said you wanted to speak with me.”

  His voice made her drop the tin plate she was holding. It fell to the ground with a clatter and rolled toward Jeb. He leaned over to pick it up and asked with a twisted smile, “Throwing dishes at me already?”

  Her-hand fluttered at her throat. This was not the calm and collected way she had wanted to greet him. “You startled me,” she explained unnecessarily.

  His half smile stayed in place. “I’m sorry. But then, you must be getting tired of my apologies by now. I should probably stop making them.”

  She took the plate from his hand and put it back in the provision box, slamming the cover. “There’s no need for apologies. You’ve done nothing to offend me.”

  “Except take your virginity while you were under the false impression that I was doing so with the idea of marrying you.”

  Kerry looked around, checking to be sure that Patrick was not within earshot. Jeb was being careless bringing up the subject here where anyone might come along to hear them. She sensed an anger simmering beneath the surface of his bland expression that made him uncharacteristically blunt and heedless.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “What could be wrong? I’m leading a group of wagons through the most dangerous part of the Overland Trail. It’s possible we’re being watched by a Sioux war party this very minute. We have no water to drink. And now I find that my settlers have decided that it’s no longer important for them to follow my orders. To top it off, I’ve thrown away every principle I ever had to commit a total breach of trust and perhaps ruin the life of one of the women on my train.”

  “That would be me?” Kerry asked.

  “That would be you,” he confirmed. The anger now showed clearly on his face, and once again Kerry realized that it was directed almost entirely toward himself.

  She decided to leave the personal issue alone for the moment and stick with the problem of the dissatisfied members of the train. “So you know about the grumbling among the settlers?”

  Jeb nodded. “Frank’s filled me in. Plus most of the disgruntled members have not been too particular about keeping their feelings a secret.”

  “Well, I want you to know not everyone feels like that.”

  Jeb’s expression lightened for a moment. “Thank you,” he said. “You have more reason to dislike me than anyone.”

  “I don’t think anyone dislikes you, Jeb, though sometimes you do seem a little…hard. You could make more of an effort to be friendly, to joke with people.”

  “I’m not exactly a funny guy, Kerry.”

  “I don’t mean that. We need a leader, not an entertainer.” “They should just let me lead then, and stop complaining.”

  “Yes, you’re right. I don’t know what’s the matter with some of these people.”

  Jeb turned and went over to crouch down next to their dwindling campfire. Absently, he began building it up again with the wood that was stacked next to it. Kerry had been going to let it die for the night now that supper was finished, but she sensed that he needed something to do, so she didn’t comment. After a few moments, he said in a dispirited voice, “I know what’s the matter with them. It happens every trip about this time. The prairie madness, we call it. Everyone goes a little crazy. But crazy people can be dangerous, and it’s my job to protect them from their own foolishness.”

  “What are you going to do?” She walked over and went down on her knees next to him by the fire.

  “Well, for one thing, I’m going to tell Whitcomb and Blue to take their beaver traps and skedaddle. I don’t need them undermining every word I say.”

  “They seemed like such agreeable old gents.”

  “Oh, I think they are. It’s just that they’re mountain men. They have their own way of looking at life. Climb one taller mountain, kill one bigger bear and, most important, always have one better story than the next guy.”

  Kerry sat back, crossing her legs to keep them out of the way of the fire. She was pleased that Jeb was talking with her in this way, opening up a little. He seemed to carry so much bottled up inside him. “Do you think they’re the ones causing the problems, then?” she asked.

  Jeb moved to a sitting position beside her. “No, not particularly. I’m sure they have no idea of the damage they could be doing to these people. They’re loners. They go where they please, when they please—camp when they’re tired, knowing that they can always liv
e off the land if their supplies run out. They’ve never had the responsibility for getting fifty wagons full of women and children across half a continent.”

  “Like you do.”

  “Yes, like I do.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose and then his forehead.

  “Does your head hurt?”

  He nodded. “It’s something I live with. My headaches seem to take pleasure in coming on just when everything else is going haywire.”

  “Don’t you have powders or something?”

  “No. I just live with it.”

  Men, Kerry thought with exasperation. Her father had been the same way, never wanting to admit that anything could be wrong with him. She’d thought more than once that it was probable that he’d felt pain in his heart before the attack that killed him and had just never said anything to them about it. But as she watched Jeb continue to rub his forehead with two tanned fingers, she realized that Jeb’s reaction to his headache went beyond typical male ego. It was almost as if he welcomed the pain. Another piece of his penance.

  She jumped to her feet and went back to the wagon to rummage in a pack that included medicinal supplies from the Boone store. She found one of the headache powders and mixed it in a cup with some of the fresh water that the men of the water brigade had brought to each wagon.

  “Drink this,” she said, returning to the fire and handing it to him.

  He looked at the cup as if it were poison.

  “It’s spring water,” she assured him. “I’m not disobeying your orders about the river.”

  “You seem to be the exception, then,” he said, gulping the drink down in three big swallows. “This tastes awful,” he added, making a rasping sound with his throat.

  Kerry laughed. “Don’t be a baby. Just finish your medicine like a good boy.”

  “I finished it.” He handed the cup back to her, then added grudgingly, “Thank you.”

  The whole exchange made Kerry feel tender and a little sad. Jeb Hunter was so set on protecting and taking care of his flock. But who took care of him? He didn’t seem to think that he deserved to be cared for.

  “Would you like a cold cloth?” She asked. Without thinking, she leaned toward him and pressed her cool fingers against his forehead. He gave a murmur of approval as he tipped back his head and closed his eyes.

  “That feels better than a cold cloth,” he said softly.

  Her fingers soon took on the heat of his skin so she exchanged them for the fingers of her left hand, and let her right move to his temple to make gentle circles. “A cloth would be cooler,” she said.

  “You smell good. Lavender or something.”

  Kerry knelt beside him, continuing her gentle massage. “My soap. It only takes up a little space,” she added quickly.

  Jeb opened his eyes. The anger was entirely gone from them and much of the pain. He regarded her with gentle amusement. “I’m not going to tell you to leave your soap behind, Kerry. I’m not that much of an ogre. Especially not when it makes you smell like an English garden.”

  She blushed. “An Irish garden, you’d better say. Papa said the same thing when he gave it to me. He said my mother always used it”

  Slowly he reached his hands up and pulled hers away from his head. “I think that had better be enough.”

  “Are you feeling better?”

  He gave a rueful chuckle. “My head is.”

  Kerry sat back on her haunches. His meaning was obvious. “Should I be the one to apologize now?” she asked.

  He studied her in the firelight. “Apologize for making my blood race every time I get near you? I hardly think it’s anything you can help, sweetheart. It’s just something I’m going to have to learn to live with over these next few weeks.”

  “Until you can be rid of me.”

  “Well, yes, to be blunt. Until I can see you safely to your destination, which is what you and all these people hired me to do. And which is what I’m going to do, whether they want me to or not.”

  His voice became stronger as they moved back to a topic that was safer than the more personal ones. Kerry let her hands drop back into her lap. At the moment, Jeb was right, the welfare of the train was more important than any feelings between the two of them. Whether they would be able to keep that resolve through the weeks they still had of traveling closely together was another question.

  “The Todds, the Burnetts, Samuel Hamilton and several of the others are on your side. We are, too, of course,” she told him.

  “What about your friend Haskell?”

  Kerry hesitated. “I think Scott has enough sense to do the right thing in the end. He doesn’t like you much, though,” she admitted.

  “I wonder why,” Jeb said dryly.

  Kerry shrugged. If he didn’t want to deal with his own feelings for her, she wasn’t about to discuss Scott’s. “Is there something you want us to do—to persuade the others?”

  Jeb leaned back on his hands. “If they would just hang on for a few more days, we’ll be starting to go up in elevation and we’ll hit the Sweetwater River, where we’ll have as much fresh water as we need without leaving camp.”

  “You have to tell them that, Jeb.”

  “They don’t even want to listen to me anymore. They’re too busy listening to Foxy’s boasting.”

  “We’ll just have to make them listen, then,” Kerry said firmly.

  Jeb sat watching her with a look of admiration. “You don’t give up, woman, do you?”

  “That shouldn’t surprise you. There are a lot of women on this train who don’t give up. You found that out for yourself back in Fort Kearney.”

  Jeb rubbed his chin. “Yes, I did.”

  “You might want to remember that every now and then. Men might have the brawn to go out and wrestle with this West of yours, but women can have something even more important—the will.”

  His eyes darkened in memory. “Having a strong will doesn’t always save you from disaster.”

  “Brawn doesn’t either.”

  Jeb fell silent. The rare times that he wanted to give himself a little break from his guilt, he’d admitted deep down that if he’d been at his cabin with Melly when the renegades came, there would probably have been little he could do against them. Most likely he would have died alongside her. Kerry was right. Sometimes neither physical nor mental strength could prevent evil things from happening.

  “You’re quite a woman, Kerry Gallivan,” he said finally. Then on a sudden impulse that overruled his best resolutions, he leaned over and kissed her. It was meant to be a kiss of gratitude for her support, but the moment their lips touched, it blazed into something more. Once again, the heat between them was instantaneous and devastating, blotting every sane thought from his mind.

  He reached for her, his hands finding her slender arms and then cupping themselves around her neck to hold her steady as his lips and tongue plundered her mouth.

  “I’m sorry to have to interrupt.” Scott’s voice was harsher than Kerry had ever heard it before. And beneath the harshness was something else that had her sitting up straight in alarm.

  Jeb rolled to his feet. “What’s on your mind, Haskell?” His tone was not friendly.

  “One of my mules is missing…”

  “Did you tether them securely…?” Jeb interrupted, but Scott continued angrily.

  “One of my mules is missing and so are Patrick and the twins.”

  Kerry’s face went white. “Patrick was just here for supper a few minutes ago.”

  Scott looked from her to Jeb, his face stony. “More than a few minutes, I’d say. It appears that you may have lost track of time.”

  Kerry ignored his accusing tone. “Why do you say they’re missing?”

  “Dorothy and John say Patrick took the girls right after supper, over an hour ago. They’ve searched up and down the train and can’t find a trace of them.”

  “Patrick wouldn’t go off by himself. He knew how upset Jeb was the other night when the three of us went out.�
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  “Did either of the two of you ever take the time to explain to him why he shouldn’t ride away from the train?” Scott asked them.

  Kerry felt sick to her stomach. “Well, he knows about the Indians. Everyone’s been talking about it”

  “Yes, everyone’s been talking about it, and Foxy and Daniel have been busy reassuring everyone that there’s nothing to worry about,” Jeb pointed out. He walked briskly toward Scott “I’m sure the children have heard that, too. Where are your animals, Haskell? I want to take a look.”

  Kerry followed the two men to the other side of the wagon where five of Scott’s six-mule team grazed quietly in the darkness. Please let it be a mistake, she prayed silently. She looked along the line of wagons, willing Patrick to come running up with a twin on each hand. What had Jeb just said? A strong will doesn’t always prevent tragedy.

  “Bring a lantern over here,” Jeb said curtly to Scott.

  Kerry stood to one side as Scott brought the light and held it aloft while Jeb studied the ground. “I don’t see any signs of other riders,” Jeb said finally.

  “Other riders?” Scott asked.

  “Indians. It doesn’t appear that they were taken away by anyone.”

  “If Indians had been here, we would have seen them. There’s no way they could just ride in and snatch them right from under everyone’s nose,” Scott said, sounding as if he thought the wagon master was crazy.

  Jeb straightened up and gave Scott a withering glance. “They could snatch your hat right off your head without you ever seeing them, if they’d a mind to. But it looks as if these youngsters have just taken off by themselves.”

  “I can’t believe Patrick would go off in the dark,” Kerry said again, her voice cracking.

  Jeb made a movement toward her, but stopped as Scott stepped back and put an arm around her. “We’ll find them, lass,” he said, pulling her against him.

  Jeb watched for a minute in silence as she buried her head in the prospector’s comforting shoulder. Scott’s strong, blacksmith fingers sifted through her short hair. Then Jeb turned to go raise men for a search party.