So many things could happen in the next few days. If only there were some way to hurry the wagons. And get Aunt Agatha speaking to her again.
Please, God, keep Wolf safe until we can be married. She thought about that prayer and shook her head. God, please keep him safe for the rest of our lives. Now that was a real faith-stretching prayer. But asking God to change Aunt Agatha’s mind—that would take a miracle.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Fort Laramie
Would she never return to the fort?
‘‘Wolf, have you heard a word I said?’’ Rebeccah Jensen planted her hands on her hips and tapped her foot.
‘‘I believe so.’’ He turned back from staring out the window.
‘‘Well, I’m sure your coffee is cold by now. Here, I shall warm it up.’’ She extended a hand for his cup and saucer.
Instead of handing it to her, Wolf drained the cup and almost made a face. Cold coffee, ugh. And weak enough to be tea.
‘‘I warned you.’’ Rebeccah shook her head, rose, and poured him a refill. ‘‘Land sakes, you’re worse’n kids nearin’ recess.’’ Rebeccah had been a schoolteacher before she married and still carried fond memories of her children. Since then she’d pretty much figured out that men were only boys grown larger.
‘‘Sorry.’’ Wolf sipped the new cup and nodded his approval, although it could still stand some backbone. ‘‘Now, what was it you wanted my opinion on?’’ His father had taught him whiteman manners, along with those of the Sioux. One did not preclude the other.
‘‘I asked if you wanted to borrow my husband’s black suit for the wedding.’’
Wolf noted her discomposure and glanced down at the stained buckskin shirt he wore. He did have one shirt of what used to be white material. ‘‘I . . . I hadn’t thought of that. Thank you for reminding me.’’ Do I go buy something? Or is my money better spent for supplies? No question. ‘‘Yes, if you think it would fit me, I’d be more than pleased to borrow the captain’s suit.’’
‘‘It doesn’t get worn much out here, so I shall have Clara brush it up.’’ She held out the plate of cookies. ‘‘Have another. Now, regarding the food—’’
‘‘I thought we’d have the ceremony and then leave for the Chugwater.’’
Rebeccah shook her head. Her smile reminded Wolf of his mother’s, warm and full of love.
‘‘If you think we are goin’ to miss this chance for a shindig, you, sir, are sadly mistaken. There will be supper and dancing and gifts and . . .’’
Wolf held up a hand. ‘‘Whoa, slow down. When did all this come about?’’
‘‘When Jesselynn said she’d marry you. Now, how many weddings do you think we’ve had here at the fort?’’
Wolf shrugged. Surely she didn’t expect an answer.
‘‘Two in all the years we’ve been stationed here. We have far more funerals than weddings, so this is an opportunity for you and your new bride to get to know more of us here at the fort. Two days’ journey means we are neighbors, and neighbors do for each other. Captain Jensen says that when he leaves the military, he wants to establish a home right up the river from here. This valley and this land have snagged his heart, pure and simple.’’
Wolf kept one ear on the conversation and the other listening for the entry of a wagon train. He nodded. ‘‘Wyoming is a good land. Room here for both white man and Indians.’’
‘‘Well, be that as it may, your wedding is what we were discussing.’’ Rebeccah shook her head at Wolf ’s obvious restlessness. She clasped her hands in her lap and leaned forward. ‘‘May I make a suggestion, Mr. Torstead?’’ May I make ‘‘Wolf.’’
‘‘All right, Mr. Wolf.’’
He shook his head but didn’t stop her again.
‘‘Would it be all right if we women here at the fort just do what we think best?’’ At his nod and sigh of relief, she continued. ‘‘I know Jesselynn will not be disappointed. Nor will you.’’
‘‘Mrs. Jensen, I am deeply indebted to you for your thoughtfulness. I know that whatever you choose to do will be perfect and far beyond what we could have done.’’ He set his cup and saucer on the whatnot table, sketched a bow, and with a ‘‘Thank you, ma’am’’ hightailed it to the door as if a pack of howling predators were on his trail.
He heard her chuckle float behind him.
He would head out to find them but for Jesselynn’s admonition that this was something she had to do herself. Were they in trouble? Perhaps he should just ride out and see that they were all right. I don’t have to let them see me. The thought flowed into the action, and within minutes he’d saddled his horse and trotted away from the fort, heading west.
Lord, what do I do about Aunt Agatha? The cold is so deep I’m afraid of frostbite. Jesselynn had insisted on taking first watch. She rode around the circled wagons, far enough off so as not to disturb those sleeping. Even Patch was curled up under the wagon, right next to where her bedroll would lie as soon as Mr. Lyons—she still had trouble calling him Nathan—came out to relieve her. With the moon in the dark phase, she had no idea of the time.
Ahab stopped, his head high, ears pricked. Patch tore past them, heading for the eastern hill. Jesselynn froze, not even breathing, in order to hear what roused the animals. Nothing. Patch hadn’t even barked. She turned Ahab to follow where the dog had gone. Every few feet she stopped to listen. Was that Patch whining? He hadn’t barked. Her stomach tightened, as if wrapped in drying rawhide.
She loosened the tie-down on the pistol at her hip and drew it from the holster.
Had whatever or whoever was out there killed her dog? Her mouth dried. Her scalp drew tight. She stopped Ahab again to listen. He lifted his head, nostrils flared to read the breeze. His intake of breath sounded loud as a steam whistle in the stillness.
When she heard his nostrils flutter in a soundless nicker, she glanced over her shoulder. Nothing had changed. No one had left camp, at least not that she could tell. Surely they would have told her. One did not go sneaking out of camp. They might get shot on the return. A necessary trip did not take one so far from camp either.
Short of Ahab’s breathing, all was still, not even a cricket sang. Something was indeed amiss. Sure that someone was watching her, Jesselynn debated whether to rouse the camp, go get Meshach, or go look over the rise of the hill.
She’d just nudged Ahab forward when Patch came trotting up to her, tongue lolling, tail wagging. He glanced once over his shoulder, then sat by Ahab’s front feet.
‘‘So did you patrol the area and find nothing?’’
Patch yipped and sat to scratch a flea. She could hear his hind foot thumping on the grass. Ahab lowered his head and snatched a few mouthfuls of grass before she tightened the reins.
‘‘You can graze when I go to bed.’’ She turned him back to circle the camp again, no longer feeling that someone was watching her. It was indeed a puzzlement, as she told Nate Lyons when he caught his horse and rode out to meet her.
‘‘Ahab is trustworthy. I’ve never seen him give a false alarm.’’ Nate studied the hill she’d pointed out.
‘‘Whatever it was, he saw no danger. Patch neither. Had it been a rabbit, Patch would have barked and chased.’’ Jesselynn yawned, quicker than her hand could cover her mouth. ‘‘I’m going to bed. At least the crickets are singing again. Strange.’’
‘‘Which way was the breeze blowin’?’’
‘‘Not sure. Seems to kind of switch around at times. But both animals smelled something.’’ Jesselynn walked Ahab back to camp, removed his saddle and bridle, and tied him on a long line so he could graze outside the circle of wagons. Long as Nate was on guard, the horse was safe. She could get some sleep.
‘‘What do you think it might have been?’’ Jesselynn stood looking up at Meshach a few hours later. The sun had yet to rise above the horizon, but preparations to break camp were well under way.
‘‘Don’ know. I walked around, seen grass knocked down like someone or someth
in’ walk through dere, den lay down. Gone now.’’
‘‘Indian?’’
Meshach shrugged.
Jesselynn chewed on her bottom lip. She watched Aunt Agatha finish stirring the mush that had been simmering most of the night. Lord, what am I going to do?
‘‘Any suggestions?’’ She nodded toward the fire.
Meshach took off his hat, scratched his head, and using both hands, settled the hat back in place. ‘‘Sure wish I did. But Bible say love those who persecute you. You be blessed dat way.’’
‘‘What if she never comes around?’’
‘‘Never be long time.’’
‘‘Breakfast is ready.’’ Agatha straightened and kneaded her lower back with her fists.
Jesselynn knew that meant Agatha’s back was bothering her. Sometimes chewing on willow bark helped. With that thought in mind, she turned away from the circled wagons and headed to the creek. Willow twigs she could supply in abundance. She tore off a couple of branches and brought them back to camp. Tying the bundle to the hoop right behind where Agatha sat, Jesselynn returned to the campfire. After dishing up her bowl of mush, she took a seat on the wagon tongue. Even Thaddeus ate quietly, sending furtive glances at Agatha.
Jesselynn reached over and tickled his ribs. ‘‘Hey, boy.’’
He giggled and squirmed.
Agatha turned away, her mouth pursed like she’d just sucked on green plums.
‘‘I’ll try talkin’ with her later,’’ Jane Ellen whispered. ‘‘We’re all prayin’ for her. She’ll come around.’’
Mrs. McPhereson stopped right behind them and laid her hands on Jesselynn’s shoulders, then brushed one along her cheek.
The tender gesture said more than ten minutes of talk.
After Meshach and Daniel finished hitching up the oxen, Agatha crossed around behind the wagon to climb up, so she didn’t have to pass by her niece.
Mounting Ahab, Jesselynn swung out ahead of the wagons as they pulled into line.
In spite of Jesselynn’s prayers for a return to the former ease of companionship, Aunt Agatha spoke to everyone but her all the next day. The closer they drew to the fort, the more Jesselynn wanted to ride ahead, away from the dust and the creaking wagons, away from her aunt’s judging face and sniffs. Never before had she realized how effective a comment a sniff could be, a prolonged series of sniffs, to be exact.
While Jesselynn tried to work up a good mad, she understood how her aunt felt and what she believed. In the South, marriage between white and colored was not only a moral issue but a legal one as well. The law forbade intermarriage.
But was the law right? And was it biblical? Were those of white skin really better than the others? Didn’t the Bible say all are the same, male and female, slave and free, no matter the color of skin or hair or eyes? God, Father, how I wish I knew your Word better. I’ve heard the preaching for so many years that having slaves is right according to the Word—that the Bible says for slaves not to leave their masters. But the Bible also says we who are in Jesus are free.
So who’s right? And does it matter?
Jesselynn crossed her hands on Ahab’s withers, staring out over the valley below. Sod huts, smoke rising from a chimney, and grain bending in the breeze showed where someone had taken up the land to make it home. Sheets flapped on a clothesline.
She turned to watch their wagons start down the hill, angling so as not to let the wagons run over the oxen. Meshach and Benjamin had taken over the reins, and the women and children all walked, or rather the women walked and the children rolled down through the rich grass. Their shouts of laughter sang on the air, making her smile, especially when she saw Jane Ellen tumbling with the little ones.
If all of these folk decided to continue north with them, they would still be her family but no longer her responsibility alone. That thought brought a peace she hadn’t felt since leaving Twin Oaks. Perhaps Aunt Agatha would choose to remain at the fort.
Jesselynn glanced up. No, there was no cloud in the sky. The cloud came from within. ‘‘Father, I don’t want this cloud over my wedding. It should be a happy day for everyone.’’ But as she well knew, ‘‘should’’ and ‘‘is’’ were not always the same.
And worrying wasn’t what God wanted either. ‘‘So here it is, in your hands, and I will not think or worry on it again.’’ Ahab flicked his ears back and forth and pulled on the reins. He hated to be left behind. ‘‘Amen, so be it. Come on, son, let’s be going.’’
When they set up camp late that night, they were a quarter mile or so from the fort, with its lights in the windows, music and laughter, all the signs of civilization. Jesselynn planned on riding into the fort and finding Wolf as soon as the herd was set to grazing. She didn’t care if she had supper or not, the desire to see him ate at her insides. She had her head in one of the boxes looking for her clean shirt and the skirt she’d packed so long ago, when Thaddeus came running.
‘‘Jesse!’’ He jerked on her pant leg.
‘‘I know I put that thing back in here. Where is it?’’ She pushed aside her journal, ignoring the reminder of how long since she’d written anything.
‘‘Jesse!’’
‘‘Thaddeus Highwood, stop that. Can’t you see I’m busy?’’
‘‘But Mr. Wolf . . .’’
Jesselynn dropped the lid on her finger, yelped, stuck the wounded appendage in her mouth, and spun around.
‘‘Hello, Jesselynn.’’ The laughter in Wolf ’s dark eyes fueled her flurry.
‘‘Don’t you know it isn’t polite to sneak up on a body like that?’’ Blood hammered in her smashed finger. Thaddeus looked as if she’d smacked him. Aunt Agatha harrumphed loud enough to wake a hibernating bear. Wolf continued to smile as he swung off his horse in slow motion and, locking his gaze into hers, crossed the few feet to stand in front of her. There he stood, all six feet of well-muscled, broad-shouldered, painterlithe manhood, the man she’d been dreaming of for days, and now all she could think of was how much she wanted to smack him with a long board.
She pushed her hat back on her head, dusted off her britches, and pushed a small rock out of the way with the toe of her boot. He’s seen me all dressed up in forget-me-nots, and now look at me. ‘‘Why couldn’t you have waited?’’
She’s even more beautiful than I could picture. Wolf took another step forward. No, he shouldn’t be seen kissing her, but her lips, now caught in a pout, begged him to. Why are we waiting to get married? Why not tomorrow? I suppose women need time to prepare—even Jesselynn, who claims not to care about that sort of thing.
Her question penetrated his concentration on keeping from sweeping her into his arms. ‘‘Waited? Why?’’
‘‘Because . . . because . . .’’ She dropped her hands to her sides. Because I’m a mess, that’s why. She looked down at the source of the pressure on her leg and found Thaddeus staring up at her. He clung to her thigh, one finger in his mouth, staring from her to Wolf and back again. The puzzled look on his face banished her befuddlement like a breath blew away a dandelion puff. She reached down and swung her little brother up on her hip. She stuck out her other hand.
‘‘Welcome, Mr. Wolf. You’re just in time for supper.’’ Her fingers clamped around his gave all the greeting her mind and mouth couldn’t put into words.
What if Aunt Agatha treats him like she has me?
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘‘How’d she take your news?’’
Jesselynn wished Wolf hadn’t asked that. She’d been so careful to not allude to it, hoping she could pretend everything was all right.
Honesty, right? Lord, please keep him from being hurt. ‘‘Not too well.’’
‘‘I didn’t expect anything different. Will she go on to the Chugwater with us?’’
Jesselynn could feel her jaw drop. ‘‘You want her to?’’
‘‘Can you see her going on west with the Jespersons?’’ Was that a twinkle she saw in his eyes?
‘‘She coul
d stay at the fort.’’
‘‘What? And become a washerwoman or some such?’’ Wolf shook his head. ‘‘I knew what her feelings would be when I asked you to marry me. She can’t help it. She has always lived that way.’’
‘‘She can change. The rest of us have had to do a mighty lot of changing.’’ Her flat tone said as much as her words.
Wolf took Jesselynn’s elbow and pulled her behind the wagon so he could take her in his arms. ‘‘If you can ignore her actions, so can I.’’
Jesselynn laid her head against his chest. ‘‘I’ll try.’’ She looked up again. ‘‘Who said the Jespersons were going on west?’’
‘‘I heard them talking with Meshach. I think the woman would just as soon stay here, but he’s got a burr under his saddle to see Oregon. They’ll join up with the next train. I heard there’s one about four days out.’’
‘‘They could at least have told me.’’
The night before the wedding, Jesselynn woke gasping, fighting off a nightmare that threatened to strangle her. But when she tried to remember what it was, only nameless fears stirred her emotions. She crawled from under the wagon, wishing she had taken Rebeccah up on her offer of the guest bedroom.
Some insane sense of duty had kept her out here in the camp. Out of habit, she clamped her hat on her head and strolled to the perimeter of the circled wagons. Even here, within sight of the fort, she’d felt the necessity to do that. Horses had been stolen before and would be again. She preferred it not be her horses.
Ahab raised his head and nickered. She could hear him coming to greet her, his footfalls soft on the grazed grass.
‘‘All’s well, old son.’’ She stroked his nose when he hung his head over her shoulder. ‘‘What’s keeping you awake, hmm?’’ He snorted and rested his head weight on her shoulder. She scratched his cheek and rubbed up around his ears, all the while knowing what was keeping her awake.
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