Chapter 4
Nick watched the horizon. Clear skies over the vibrant landscape brightened the land. Along the Missouri river, the rolling hills kept his line of sight to the tens of miles. Still, he saw far enough to notice the deep blue of distant storm clouds against the bright green of spring grass. On his other trips, the promises of spring, and the sun’s warmth filled him with anticipation of the frontier.
Not this time. Not after what he’d heard this morning at breakfast. Away from the women and children, the single men gossiped louder than old hens and cruder than a greenhorn’s sod house. His breakfast soured in his stomach when they’d laughed over the grunting noises heard from the Bartlett’s tent. He’d dumped the rest of his food into the fire and drained his coffee. The hot liquid distracted him enough to cool his anger as he left the campsite.
He shifted in the saddle, angry with himself and his reaction earlier in the morning. Nick knew he had no right to deny a married man his wife. Moreover, he knew his caring feelings toward Mrs. Bartlett exceeded common decency. The couple’s relationship was none of his business. Mrs. Bartlett didn’t need his protection when she already had a man. If he’d forgotten that, Sam reminded him of the fact this morning. He reminded himself of it again now for good measure.
In the valley, the wagons traveled alongside each other as much as possible. Still, not everyone could be in front. Most emigrants, worried about Indians attacking, let him and a few other men ride ahead as scouts. He snorted. They needed to be bothered about their own carelessness. People killed themselves by accident far more often. The idea of Lizzy meeting a similar fate raised the hair on the back of his neck. The metallic taste of fear tickled his tongue. “Damn it all to hell,” he cursed under his breath. Better to imagine Bartlett versus his wife. Even then, he couldn’t wish the man being mashed in two by a wagon wheel, trampled by cattle, or shooting himself by mistake.
“Hey, Nick.” Sam rode up beside him.
Startled out of his dark thoughts, Nick replied, “Yeah?”
“It’s about midday.” After his horse snorted a protest at the slower pace, Sam continued, “Let’s break for noon in a couple of miles. Give the youngest ones a rest.”
He glanced over at his brother. Even after a morning of riding at a good pace, the man looked crisp. Not for the first time did Nick wish he himself had been so blessed. Feeling the grime on his face, he raised an eyebrow. “Sounds fine to me.” Nick glanced sideways at him. “You want to say something else? Something I don’t want to hear?”
Sam stared ahead of them. “I’m afraid so.”
They rode on for a while until the silence struck Nick as funny. He laughed then said, “Get it over with. We’ve not got all day.”
“I want you to avoid Mrs. Bartlett as much as possible for the next few days.”
Nick’s temper rose in him like acid in an overfull stomach. Struggling inside with his anger, he studied the sky ahead of them. He finally felt calm enough to ask, “How badly did he hurt her?” He already dreaded the answer. After a few minutes, he knew his brother didn’t want to continue. “So,” Nick growled, “How bad is it?”
Keeping his voice low, Sam replied, “Not very, but enough so I don’t want you near her for a week.”
“A week?” he exclaimed. “It’ll take Lizzy that long to heal enough so I don’t beat the guts out of him for hurting her?”
Sam glared at him. “Yes, you know how black eyes are. It’ll take a while for the yellow to fade from,” he paused for emphasis, “Mrs. Bartlett’s face.”
Nick gritted his teeth with Sam’s accent on Lizzy’s title. Lizzy? He needed to quit thinking of her with such familiarly. Anyone who’d called another man’s wife by her given name would be asking for a fight. “You’d think Bartlett could keep from hitting her.”
“I agree.” Sam gestured, indicating up ahead. “Those rains are going to raise the Missouri. If they hold, we’ll have floods tonight.”
“Yep.” He’d have to ride alongside the river, helping when the wheels of various wagons bogged down in the mud.
“Chuck and I can take care of the back half, if you and Lawrence can corral the first.”
He struggled to keep the disappointment from his voice. “She’s in the latter group?”
Sam laughed, letting him know he’d failed. “The very latter.”
Nick snorted “Huh!” in response and shook his head. His transparency kept him from playing cards with Sam and using real money. No one else saw through him like his brother. “We’ll be along the Platte in a week.”
“I expect so. You’ll not need to see her then, either.”
The word need bothered Nick. While it was true he’d not wanted anyone since Sally, let alone harbored an interest in any one woman in particular, enjoying Mrs. Bartlett’s company didn’t mean he as much as needed her. Besides, people might think it strange if he kept a deliberate distance rather than talk with her as if she were any other woman. Nick grew more certain he must visit with Mrs. Bartlett to allay suspicion the longer he thought about it. He felt a smack on his arm and Sam turned his horse into Nick’s.
The younger brother scowled. “Nicholas, I know that expression. Wait until the Platte and keep peace in the camp.”
Nodding, he mustered his best, albeit transparent, poker face and pretended to agree. “You’re right. I can wait until the Platte. Maybe even to Laramie’s Peak just to ease your mind.”
Not convinced, Sam scowled at him. “Let’s stop for noon, and I’ll check for stragglers.” He rode off to the trailing people in their party.
Nick continued ahead. He waved and signaled to Lawrence to stop for mealtime. The ruddy-faced Scot galloped off to inform the southern travelers, while Nick began alerting the northern wagons. He much preferred his current position in the lead. Everyone else lagging behind helped him forget the crowds of people, letting him enjoy the solitude of the open country.
He dismounted and led his horse to the water, studying the bank of rainclouds inching ever closer. The Kaw Indians in this part of the area kept the game scarce. No one had seen anything worth hunting this morning, not even he and his men up front. The smell of broken vegetation and sound of Buck snuffling drew him from watching the weather. His animal chewed at the new grass, ignoring the river. “You’ll wish you’d taken a sip soon enough.”
While his horse ate, Nick’s thoughts drifted. He’d bet Bartlett had done nothing in town but drink last night. The man deserved a hangover biting him like a devil. He looked back at the various wagons. If Lizzy was lucky, her husband hadn’t gambled away what little they now owned. In helping Bartlett plan for the trip, he and Sam had learned Bartlett spent everything on the wagon, oxen, and supplies. But then, Nick had to concede, a lot of people did literally bet the farm on a better living in Oregon Territory.
In his opinion, Bartlett’s gamble on the west was a bad deal. He retrieved a canteen and some dried bison meat from a saddlebag. Nick sat to lunch and to watch the river flow past while his horse drank. He’d seen the farm that Lizzy had been forced to leave. The place needed a little extra care certainly. But, all the things he knew a woman could do herself had been done with love. The animals looked well fed, the garden tilled and ready for planting. His heart hurt for her loss. Nick had done what he could while there, but knew he’d never be able to do enough to replace the loss of her home.
Standing, he hoped to see her among everyone else at the river. Nick wanted to tell her a new garden waited for her in Oregon, wanted to say this sacrifice was worth everything she’d have to endure in the next six or so months, but knew he couldn’t give such a guarantee. Her husband planned to split off for California. Well, he thought, Sam will have to convince Bartlett to continue on to Oregon. Nick mounted his horse as Lawrence rode up to him.
“Mr. Sam wanted me to tell ye right away a lady was caught up under a wheel.”
Fear raced through his veins. Not Lizzy. Had his dreading an event turned it real? “How is
she?” Anger outlined the anxiety in him. If this was somehow her husband’s fault, he’d skin him alive.
Lawrence bowed his head, his usual happy demeanor gone. “Bad, real bad. Won’t last the day, I reckon.”
Nick stared down at the pommel of his saddle, willing himself to breathe. Forget Sam’s request of a week; he’d see her now, but first, to quiet his heart, he said, “Very well, she needs to be in a wagon and to be made as comfortable as possible in the meantime.”
Restless, Lawrence pushed back the brim of his hat. He blinked at the sudden sunshine in his eyes and pulled the hat back down over his brow. “They’re doin’ that now. Mr. Sam wanted me to first tell you the Calhoons want everyone to attend the Missus’ prayer service after dinner.”
The Calhoons? Nice family, but not the Bartletts. His hands shook as he lowered them to his thighs. Lizzy had not been injured. Nick wanted to give out a war whoop in joy and anguish at the same time. He hated like hell they’d lost someone already, but for now, Lizzy was safe. “I’ll be there this evening, then.” He frowned at Lawrence, adding, “Next time Samuel says tell me something first, make sure that something is the first thing you say. Understand?” Lawrence gave a nod and turned his horse to go back to the main group.
He squinted against the sun and gave the signal to the others to get moving. Stuff Sam’s week, Nick knew he must see her before then. He ambled along the river valley, inventing ways of accidently visiting with Lizzy. Time passed without his notice. A cloud bank hid the sun, cutting the heavy warmth. The sudden cool caught his attention and he heard the rapid staccato of hoof beats. He turned as Sam galloped towards him.
The younger man indicated the gust front and dust rising ahead of the coming wind. “We will need to stop for the night.”
“As soon as possible.” Dirt sandblasted him and flashes of lightning lit the insides of the clouds. The scent of rain hung in the chilly air. “This storm’s going to be bad.”
“Let’s get started.” With a kick to his horse’s flanks, Sam rode back to warn the last of the train.
By the time everyone stopped, the wind had grown fiercer, preventing anyone from starting a campfire. He and his men helped put up shelter as needed. Despite the rush, Nick managed to visit the woman who’d been injured. Her family had given her enough laudanum to help her sleep. He left with an offer to pray for her recovery.
After a sharp crack of thunder, water poured from the sky as if from a bucket, soaking him in an instant. He shivered and searched around for Sam, certain his more couth brother was already in his wagon.
He rode through the camp under the guise of making a final check on everyone, knowing he looked for Lizzy instead. Wincing at the thunder’s volume, he spotted their wagon and trotted over. Nick went to the slight opening in the oilcloth at the end. “You two all right in there?” A few moments passed with no answer. The couple had to be in their wagon. The storm raged too much for anyone to accomplish chores. Despite feeling rude, Nick peered inside the opening. He saw Bartlett lying down, one arm over his eyes and jaw slack. Lizzy sat opposite him, wrapped in a blanket, her eyes closed. She took off her sunbonnet and put a hand up to her face. He saw the bruises before her fingers hid them. Nick muttered a curse and when she glanced up at him in alarm, he stepped back with almost a stumble. Sam had been right; he hadn’t wanted to see the burst blood vessel in the white of her eye. He’d been hit like that in a fight once and knew how the blow must have hurt her.
His hands shook and he clenched his fists to make them stop. Nick took in a deep breath to calm himself, but anger still burned in the pit of his stomach. He worked to shake the feeling off as he would pain from a stubbed toe. He needed focus and a plan, neither being with him at the moment. For now, he could at least help keep her safe for the night. Nick knocked on the wagon.
“Yes?” she shouted over the din of the rain.
“We’ll have to stay here for the night, looks like,” Nick hollered back.
Mr. Bartlett bellowed from inside, “For the love of God, woman, be quiet!” He held his head in his hands. “Ow, ow, ow.”
Mrs. Bartlett pulled the sunbonnet even lower over her face and moved closer to the opening to talk. “I’d prefer to stay put tonight, anyway. It sounds terrifying out there.”
“It’s a little rough, sure.” Now so near her, he didn’t want to leave. Grabbing at any topic, he tried asking, “Is your husband all right?” Nick grinned, just shy of yelling, “He doesn’t sound very well.” Bartlett rewarded the efforts with a sickly groan at the noise.
She kept her head lowered so the brim of her hat covered her upper face. “He sounds better than he feels. He helped drain the tavern last night.”
Nick smirked, “So he’s paying for it again?”
She replied, “Sadly, yes.”
He leaned closer to make sure only she heard him, “I’m afraid tomorrow will see him well again.”
Lizzy tilted her head to give him a sidelong glance and a little smile. “I’m afraid you’re right.”
The color of her eyes captivated him. Nick forced himself to look away from their grey-green depths and checked on Bartlett. The man had wrapped himself in a blanket, cocooned like a worm in the dirt. Certain the man wasn’t watching, Nick put his hand under Lizzy’s chin, lifting her gaze to his. “If you need anything, Mrs. Bartlett,” he softly said, “please tell me.” He saw her shiver, amazed she could be chilled when he burned so warm himself.
“I’ll remember that, sir.” She took his hand from her chin as if to shake it like a man. “Thank you for the kind offer.”
He held her hand for too long, wanting to ease her trembles. “It’s a promise, ma’am.” Nick let go of her. “You need to wrap up in a blanket too. No sense in you getting sick so soon in the trip.”
Lizzy pulled the ends of her thick shawl closer together. “I wouldn’t mind warming up a little, but don’t worry, I’m very healthy. I’m not prone to the fever or hysterics.”
He tipped his hat at her. “Good! Keep it that way. Take care.” Through the small opening in the canvas door, he saw her reach for a blanket. Nick pulled the fabric closed for them.
As he turned to ride away, the large drops of rain hit him like pea-sized hailstones. He hurried the horse to his wagon, the only sort of dry shelter to be had. After tying off the animal, Nick climbed in. Sam held out a flask of whisky. “Is she better?”
Nick shrugged out of his wet buckskin jacket, hanging it on its hook. “I’m assuming Mrs. Calhoon is the same. I’ve not seen her since talking with you.” Taking the flask, he drank a couple of mouthfuls.
Sam’s laugh rang out, echoing off the oilcloth walls. “You’re such a poor liar! You know I mean the only she you’re not supposed to be near.”
He glared at Sam, handing him back the whisky. “Have you been talking with anyone?”
“No, I haven’t. I also can’t imagine anyone else suspects you’re a fool for her.” He took back his flask. “Except Mrs. Bartlett, of course. But then, the lady is looking for a hero to save her from that husband of hers.”
“That’s not me. I’m not any woman’s hero.” Nick took off his boots to put on his other pants. He hated Sam’s smug attitude, sitting there in clean, dry clothes.
Sam slipped a pack of cards out from one of the trunks. “You’d like to think so.” He paused while shuffling the deck. “Usually I’m the one on the white horse.” He shrugged, continuing. “This time, you’re the penny dreadful’s hero, saving the girl from certain doom.”
Nick pulled on one of his cotton under shirts. He’d read a few of those novels and didn’t identify with any of the larger than life heroes in them. “I’m not good at saving a woman from anything.”
His brother cut the deck and shuffled, adding, “You can’t continue to blame yourself for Sally.”
“I can, every day. I’m also not playing cards tonight.” He laid out his cover, rolling up a horse blanket for a pillow.
Sam nodded, dealing him
self a game of Solitaire. “That’s acceptable. You’ll lose too much playing anything against me tonight. Your mind’s in another wagon entirely.”
Nick ignored the jab and looked over Sam’s shoulder at the cards, unable to resist helping. He watched as his brother let the card tip to first one position, then another. He stifled the urge to tell him where to put it—the card and his observation. “My mind can’t be anywhere near her. I need to focus on getting the train to Oregon, not on some married woman.”
“Good. I’d prefer not to see you get into a fight on this trip.” The younger man waved the card above the spread in almost a divining motion. “Which is something I can guarantee will happen if you tell me what to do with this two of clubs.”
Grinning at Sam’s dirty look, Nick moved back and settled in for the night. A few flashes of light brightened the sky. The thunder still rumbled afterward, but softly in the distance. He noticed Sam had already put out the bigger bucket to catch all the rain possible. Storms tonight meant gritty coffee tomorrow if they used creek water. Nick fell asleep to the shuffle of the cards and steady drip of the rain.
Morning dawned cold and bright. The clouds had moved off during the night and a light frost covered the ground. The sun’s rays through the trees melted the slight ice with every yellow touch. Sam hunched over the campfire, coaxing a flame, so Nick grabbed the bucket hoping for enough water for coffee. Last night’s chores led Sam to put the container out too late for enough. He stifled a groan and with the coffee pot, headed for the river.
Only he, Sam, and their hired hands stirred. Last night’s rain must have kept everyone up late, he figured. Nick grinned. If he were a prankster, he’d yell “Indians!” and run through camp screaming like a woman. No one would ever sleep past daybreak again.
Lizzy’s brown calico caught his eye as he strolled to an embankment at the water’s edge. Nick grinned, easing his way down a sharp decline to the river bottoms. She’d help with the screaming woman part, if he could coax her into a practical joke. After sidestepping down, he paused to watch her, puzzled by how reluctant she seemed to approach the water.
She lifted her skirt a little before each step and then felt ahead with her toe extended as if checking for solid ground. Reassured, she stepped forward and began the process again. In this way, Lizzy edged closer to the river like a kid facing a whipping. He saw how she clenched and unclenched one hand, the other holding the pail in a white-knuckle grip. Lizzy was afraid of water, he knew and she had good reason to be after last night’s torrents. The levels had risen since dusk yesterday. Nick watched as she carefully eased herself down, dipping her bucket into the stream. Not wanting to startle her, he announced himself by whistling a tune.
She turned toward him, and his heart sank at seeing her eye. Her smile told Nick there’d been no new hurts last night at least.
“Good morning!” Lizzy blushed, staring at her feet and letting the loosely tied sunbonnet fall to cover her bruises.
“Good morning.” He went over, scooped up some water for coffee, and asked, “Is Bartlett starting a fire yet?’
Sighing, she replied, “I’m not sure. If I’d been thinking, I’d have started it before now.” She kept her face lowered as he approached.
“But you wanted to get done what you’d been dreading, right?” She glanced up at him, her eyebrows raised, and he smiled at her surprise. “You approach a river like I do a hot spring. It only takes once.”
“I’ve been told I’m too cautious at times.”
Nick climbed up the embankment, turning to reach a hand out to her, which she took. “A little concern can be a good thing.” He pulled her up like a five-pound bag of flour, her bonnet falling back with the motion. “The land can kill the careless.”
She nodded at him with a somber expression. “Mrs. Calhoon’s death proves it.”
Staring back, he didn’t let go of her hand at once. The day’s new sun gave her hair a golden chestnut glow and deepened the green in her eyes. He wanted to cup her face in his hands and kiss her lips until she smiled at him again. In a quiet voice, he admitted, “I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”
“Me too.” She slid her fingers from his. “After hearing what happened to her, I prefer being at the very back of the entire group.”
“You’ll change your mind in the great desert.” He knew she might worry about being seen alone with him. If he had any sense, he’d be concerned too. Nick started back to his own wagon and motioned for her to follow. “I’ve seen animals cough up blood and die just from inhaling the dust.”
“Good heavens!” Lizzy stopped, frowning at him. “How horrible! Is there some way to fix bandannas for them?”
He laughed. “Your oxen would look funny, but I suppose a mask could keep them alive if the animals would wear them.”
“They’d look like bandits.” She smiled at him. “I wonder why thieves don’t think to disguise their horses too?”
“Probably because I’ve never seen a horse on a wanted poster.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Thus, they don’t need bandannas.”
As they neared the campsite, he saw Sam rousing some of the lazier bodies, Bartlett being one of them. “I see your husband is still working on a fire,” Nick said in an effort to be diplomatic. “Would you like to use ours for your coffee and breakfast?”
“Yes, please.” She sighed. “Excuse me while I get supplies.”
He rushed to get coffee boiling, and biscuits and bacon cooking. By the time all three were done, Lizzy and Sam walked over to him. “Breakfast is ready.”
“So soon? I only brought water and coffee beans to start.” Lizzy looked from one brother to the other. “I’d better hurry and get ours cooked before we’re left behind.”
“Instead,” Sam said, “why don’t you get your utensils while your coffee boils? Nick can throw on more food.” He waited until she walked out of earshot before asking, “Will we have enough for noon, if need be?”
He nodded, “I’ll make up extra.”
Sam set out a wooden box for Lizzy’s seat and checked for her return. “Bartlett hadn’t even roused himself when I went to check on him. He’d also not gathered any firewood. She had tried herself, I saw, judging by the scrap and tinder collected.”
“After being on the ground last night, nothing could burn.”
“No, you’re right.” Sam held out his cup for Nick to pour the coffee. “I don’t usually mind the very tender footed in our group, but Bartlett is starting to anger me.”
The admission from Sam surprised him, making Nick admit, “You’re a better man than I am in this case. I was angry at first sight.”
“When you saw the bruise?” He stood, done with breakfast. “What happens in a marital bed is no one’s business but those two.”
He clenched his teeth to make himself say, “I know. I need to stay clear.” Easing to his feet, Nick took Sam’s eating supplies. “You can handle breakfast with those two while I handle cleaning.”
Sam grinned and saluted him. “Will do.”
Nick felt like a kid skipping school, only having to do the washing. Better that than playing nice with Bartlett. Every time he saw Lizzy’s eye, he wanted to hit her husband and ask if Bartlett liked the punch. Nick used the coarse river sand to scrub off the bacon grease. He’d heard some men argue their wives deserved a beating or had asked for one. He wondered if those same men would ever deserve or ask for a trampling from a buffalo.
A movement on the far side of the river valley caught his attention. Slowly rising from a crouch, he squinted to better see. An Indian on his pony hugged the opposite embankment. The man wore a bright red shirt, blue pair of pants, and what Nick thought was a yellow sash for a belt. He didn’t appear to wear war paint, convincing Nick the rider was a local farmer.
He headed back to the group, ready to get going. Nick laughed, spotting a row of children, various ages, staring at the Indian with large eyes. He knew some of the youngsters on this trip had nev
er seen a red man. They’d get their chance soon enough to see more red men, women, and children besides. He strode past them. “Come on, let’s get going. There’re more Indians where he came from.” This earned a yelp from each child as they ran for their parents. He laughed and went to saddle his horse.
The progress they made in the morning disappointed Nick. He looked back over the crisp wagon tops. The road they followed, usually hilly, had the added detriment of mud. Several times, the men on horseback stopped, tied the saddles’ pommels to the stuck cart, and helped the oxen as they pulled the wheels free from the drying clay. After each unexpected stall, the small company of fifteen wagons seemed like fifty.
When Sam rode up to him, Nick knew what he’d ask and said, “Yeah, keep rolling to the next camp. Soon as we get there, we’ll stop for the night.”
Sam nodded, turned his horse, and galloped to the rear of the party. Nick began at the front, telling the head of every group or family of their plans. Those who’d not packed lunch foods protested. He assured them of stopping as soon as they reached camp, no matter the time of day.
Even as he said this, Nick knew the land between here and there. Very shallow creek ravines proved unavoidable and took time to cross. Two wagons in the lead were already stuck in a deep stream. Before he could ride up to help free them, a third barreled down the hill. The wagon picked up speed on the slight decline to the water, at one point pushing the animals supposed to be pulling it.
The oxen crossed the water, breaking free of the yoke when the first two wheels of the wagon mired. The force threw the driver headfirst into the opposite embankment with some belongings tumbling out after him. His wife and two small children, all screaming, peered over the seat like prairie dogs in their homes. Only after seeing the father stand and shake his head free of dirt, Nick chuckled. The man was lucky the heavy rains turned the ground where he’d landed into mush. Otherwise, he’d have broken his neck.
Those around on horseback, no longer waiting for tragedy, went to work heaving various carts up onto dry land as needed. Nick helped each across, his stomach knotting in anticipation when they neared the end. He saw Lizzy walking alongside the wagon as Bartlett led the team.
Nick had a few minutes before the Bartlett’s turn, so he watched Lizzy. She still wore the ill-fitting brown paisley. He shifted in the saddle, impatient to give her the fabric purchased in town for her. There were empty hours between here and Fort Kearny to invent a story. He could ensure she had material for a new dress by then. The Bartlett’s readied for their crossing. As Lizzy approached, Nick noticed a limp but couldn’t tell which side she favored. Must be mud on her shoes, he concluded, riding up to the wagon.
After helping the Bartlett’s across, Nick led his horse up the other side, following the wagon as it joined the group.
Sam trotted over as Nick remounted and turned his horse toward the creek. “Do you suppose Mrs. Bartlett wants to stay here?”
Nick looked toward the bank and saw Lizzy there. They watched as she’d pace to a narrow place in the creek, then go to yet another narrow place. Her actions mirrored what he’d seen earlier, if a little more frantic. “Damn,” he swore under his breath.
Sighing, Sam shook his head. “I know. The girl doesn’t belong here, Nick. Our dear Mrs. Bartlett is afraid of water. You know as well as I she’s unfit for this journey.”
Knowing this argument’s path didn’t stop him from trying. “We’ve helped terrified people across worse than this. Mrs. Bartlett will be fine. I think you’re borrowing trouble.”
The younger man snorted a laugh. “I am? What will she do when a ferry overturns?” He indicated her, still pacing the bank. “You know as well as I what she is facing. Bartlett needs to be a decent sort and take her back home.”
Glaring at his brother, Nick retorted, “What home and what makes you think he’ll give up California for Lizzy?”
Sam stopped watching her to stare at him through accusing eyes. “I don’t suppose you are the one to convince Bartlett to do the right thing by ‘Lizzy.’”
He searched for an argument in vain. Nick knew what answer his brother expected of him. “You’re right. Her husband needs to send Mrs. Bartlett back to her family.”
“I’m glad you see reason. Now if we can just convince him to take her to whatever relatives he has.” Sam frowned at Nick. “Assuming he has relatives. Good lord! What if he was hatched?”
Nick appreciated him trying to lift the mood, even if it failed. “Not me. I won’t be convincing anyone if it means she leaves.”
Sam laughed. “I’ve owned mules more agreeable than you. Very well, let’s hope she survives to California.”
“Maybe not on your watch, but she’ll survive just fine on my mine,” Nick said through a clenched jaw.
The surly tone didn’t affect Sam’s grin. “Lawrence and Chuck are up ahead, so let’s get going. Help your lady across, and sometime between now and the Platte, have Bartlett teach her how to swim.” He turned to rejoin the others.
At his brother’s fading hoof beats, he looked at Lizzy, hoping she saw his smile from this distance when she glanced up at him. She returned his grin and his heart felt odd in his chest. Lizzy bit her lip, looked back at the creek, and took a couple of fast steps toward the water. He shook his head, amazed. Even scared to death, she was going to jump. She stopped just short of leaping, stepping back up the bank. He saw her steel herself and try again. Nick gritted his teeth, vowing to protect such a brave and beautiful woman from Bartlett’s fists.
Undeniable - Book One: The Oregon Trail Series Page 4
