Undeniable - Book One: The Oregon Trail Series

by Laura Stapleton

  Chapter 5

  Beth looked at the muddy water, clenching then releasing her hands. Even though she couldn’t see the bottom due to silt the passing wheels churned, the water appeared to be only a couple of feet deep. Pacing back to the only other narrow point, she trembled. If she hiked her skirt, could she jump the gap? What if she fell backwards into the water? She couldn’t breathe from the fear of such a thing. Maybe some rocks stuck out in the middle and she could step from one to the other. Beth shook her head, deciding to look downstream for an even narrower place. She walked until the stream curved, not seeing any islands to hop onto.

  “I have to get across,” Beth muttered, frustrated with her fears. She went two and fro, mulling over which spot would be easiest to jump over. Though none of the currents flowed swiftly enough to overturn wagons, the force might pull her under and downstream. Tumbling with her head under the water like before didn’t bear thinking of again. She gripped her hands to stop their shaking, her heart pounding as if trying to beat out of her chest.

  Dag had gone ahead, angry at her dithering. Glancing up to check their progress, she saw the last wagon leaving the ditch. Watching how the men scrambled to get up the incline, she noticed Nicholas hanging back. Once the last few stragglers resumed the journey, he started towards her. “Oh dear,” she murmured, ashamed. She needed to get across before he chastised her. So Beth took a deep breath and a couple of steps backwards, steeling herself to jump.

  “Ma’am?” Nicholas’s horse splashed as he rode over to her. “You need help crossing?”

  “I shouldn’t.”

  “Sure you should. No lady wants to get her shoes wet if she can help it.” He held out his hand. “Hop up here, and I’ll carry you across.”

  After wiping her sweaty left palm on her hip, she took his hand. She put her left foot in a stirrup he held out for her with his toe. He pulled her up with such force, she couldn’t help but swing her right leg over the horse.

  Seated astride that way, the position surprised her, and Beth looked behind to check how her dress fell. She laughed and tapped Nicholas on the shoulder. “Look, your horse looks very nice in brown.”

  He turned, seeing the skirt covering the horse’s behind, and laughed. “She looks beautiful. If mares wore dresses, there’d be more colts and fillies in the world.”

  She chuckled at his joke then stopped, aware of her hands at his waist. He still looked at her, into her eyes, and her smile faded when his did. The same feeling of desire hit as it had when he helped her up the embankment earlier in the morning. Nicolas had such long lashes, but in a masculine face like his, they didn’t seem out of place. Suddenly shy, she glanced down his nose to his mouth and the dark shadow of his beard. “We should get going.”

  “We should.” He tapped the horse with his heel. “The others won’t be waiting on us.”

  “All our food is rolling away even now.” She had the odd feeling she’d disappointed him.

  “Very good priorities, I see.” He turned, urging the horse into a faster walk.

  “One can live on only peace and quiet for a short time before the stomach objects.”

  “That’s a good point.” They continued for a little while before he added, “You’re a smart woman to put the supplies first. You seem practical too. Maybe Sam and I should have consulted with you instead of Bartlett on what to pack for the trip.”

  Laughing, she retorted, “If I’d been the leader of us both, this whole fiasco wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Fiasco?”

  She looked at the back of his head. “Yes. The word describes my situation perfectly.” So close to him, Beth saw silver glints among the black hair. He must be somewhat near her age. Peering over Nicholas’s shoulder, she saw them draw closer to the wagon train. She gripped the back of his saddle, the cantle, reluctant to reach the others just yet, if ever. Beth examined how his torso tapered from wide shoulders to narrow waist. She longed to wrap her arms around him, to feel if he were in as good a shape she imagined him to be. A frustrated sigh escaped her.

  “You sound impatient to get to your wagon.” He turned his profile to her. “Don’t fret; we’ll be there soon.”

  An urge to lean against him and kiss his lips gripped her stronger than she’d ever expected. Seeing him in profile, feeling the warmth of him, Beth gasped, “I don’t want to get there.”

  Nicholas stopped the horse, facing her as much as he could. “What?”

  Heavens, what had she done now? Beth swallowed, afraid to say anything he might tell Dag. He looked intently at her, with some shock but no censor. Every time Beth stared into his eyes like this, she liked them more than the prior time. She couldn’t stop trembling, trying to say something less true to her heart. “I, um, I don’t want to not care.” No, that wasn’t she meant, but what else could hide her meaning and still sound similar?

  When he smiled, his entire face beamed. He spoke in a low voice. “You, my dear, said you don’t want to get there.”

  She put her hand on his shoulder, scared of what he’d now say to everyone else. “Please, I didn’t mean anything by it.” Beth bit her lip and then added, “I only meant riding a horse is preferable to walking.”

  He watched as the last wagon disappeared into a copse of trees. Nicholas cupped his hand and pressed the back of his fingers against her bruised temple. “I’m sure I know what you meant, Lizzy.”

  “Lizzy?” Even though his hand felt cool and soothing to her injured eye, him using her sister’s name infuriated Beth. Shock at the familiarity mixed with the anger over the name filled her. She struggled to keep the hate from her voice, but couldn’t. “I never want you to call me that again. I don’t consider it my name.”

  He lowered his arm at Beth’s tone, aware he’d angered her somehow. “I understand, Mrs. Bartlett. Please forgive me.” His eyes narrowed as he faced ahead. “We need to get moving.” Nicholas kicked the horse into a slow gallop, the fastest the terrain allowed.

  The speed unnerved her, causing Beth to wrap her arms around his waist. Her breath caught as her torso came into full contact with his. His shirt hid a lean blacksmith’s build. Beth struggled to not just melt into him. She could much easier pretend to be Nicholas’s wife than she ever could Daggart’s. Even on his best behavior, Dag couldn’t compete with this man. She wanted to wrap her limbs around Nicholas Granville like a sweet pea vine wrapped around a trellis. The very idea left her short of breath.

  He slowed the horse as they reached the end of the train. With that, she let go of him. Seeing the hard grit of his teeth, Beth couldn’t let the prior incident pass by unexplained. She didn’t want him angry with her too. “You don’t and can’t understand at all why I don’t like you in particular calling me Lizzy.”

  Nicholas helped her down, and then dismounted. “I can’t understand, you say? Try me.”

  She looked around them, seeing if her husband lurked nearby to overhear her confession. “I can’t say without there being trouble.” Beth stumbled, smiling when he grabbed her hand to support her. Being off the horse and on her own two feet reminded her of how much her blisters hurt. She’d have to find a way to stay off of her feet and ease out the aches.

  Squinting at her, a thin trace of sarcasm sounded in his question. “So do you prefer being addressed as Mrs. Bartlett from me, but prefer ‘my dear’ from my brother, then?”

  Beth heard her married name from Nicholas and shuddered. She looked away towards the camp and spotted Daggart’s blue check shirt. He saw them, and while well out of earshot, he’d be close enough soon enough. Her palms still damp from holding Nicholas so close, her face burned. Rubbing her hands dry against her skirt, she absently said, “Yes, I prefer it, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Mrs. Bartlett.”

  The sarcasm in his voice jolted her out of her preoccupation with her aching feet, sweaty palms, and approaching husband. “I’m sorry. What did you say before?” she asked as he led his horse to the right, away from her. H
e had mentioned something about his brother—my dear, no, my dear from his brother. Now she understood his apparent irritation. “Oh my goodness, Mr. Granville, no, I need to clarify! May I quickly tell you something in strictest confidence?”

  He nodded an assent, and motioning him to follow her, she led him towards the leftmost wagons. She grit her teeth against the blisters rubbed raw by Lizzy’s shoes. Once somewhat secluded, Beth checked to ensure they were alone and not overheard. Standing next to him, both facing the wagons to watch for anyone approaching, she leaned closer. Touching arm to arm she told Nicholas, “My name is Elizabeth Ann, not Elizabeth Louise. I can’t tell you why, but Daggart insists on me being Lizzy Lou instead of Beth Ann.” She glanced at him, feeling shy when seeing his eyes examining her face. The anger sharpening his features had softened as he listened. ”My preference is for Beth, but I have no choice in this matter.”

  He studied her for a moment before saying, “Your explanation clouds more than it clears, but if you prefer Elizabeth Ann, maybe I can use Beth Ann when we’re alone?”

  No one had called Beth by her own name in such a long time. Now to hear it from Nicholas left her shaky inside. “When we’re alone?” she whispered and looked around for others in their group. They had been alone together for too long already. And yet, the entire time seemed but a second to her. Every moment with him felt right, like she’d found her true place in life. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

  He grinned, “Good, because I like Beth anyway. It suits you better.” Nicholas gestured towards the wagon party disappearing from view over the next hill. “Much as I like chatting with you, ma’am, we need to get back soon or we’re both in trouble for skipping chores.”

  “Oh! Of course.” She followed, catching up with his long strides when he paused for her. They brushed arms as they neared the group. The contact tingled along her skin, and she glanced up at him. Beth didn’t want to be Daggart’s human pack mule in California; she wanted to be Nicholas’s wife instead. The betraying thought shook her. She stumbled, her knees too unsteady to continue.

  He grabbed her arm to support her. “Are you all right?” Concern laced his voice.

  Samuel galloped up to them, the grass muffling the hoof beats. “There you two are. You saved me from launching a search party.” He dismounted upon seeing Beth falter. “Mrs. Bartlett?” He glanced at Nicholas. “Nick? Is she all right?”

  Nicholas put his palm to her cheek and forehead, checking for fever. “I don’t know. We were walking; she stopped and turned white.”

  The fuss embarrassed her, and she refused to draw a crowd. Working up a reassuring smile, she said, “I’m fine.” Goodness, Samuel was handsome too and seemed as fresh as morning glories. She smiled, knowing why all the girls fussed over him. In an effort to reassure the two men, she added, “We have a jar of rain water in the wagon. I’m sure it’s thirst causing all this. After a little drink I’ll be right as, well, right as rain.”

  “Ma’am?” Sam began.

  “Yes, Mr. Granville?”

  He returned her smile. “While we’re in the woods, your husband will want to pick up a couple day’s firewood. Just enough until we find buffalo chips.”

  “Oh.” She wrinkled her nose, imagining the spring flower smell of today being replaced by the odor of burning chips.

  He laughed. “Now, it’s not as bad as all that. They burn clean.”

  Not quite convinced, Beth stated before censoring herself, “I’d prefer hickory or oak over anything out of a buffalo’s end.”

  Samuel laughed at her forthrightness. “All of us do, myself included.” He tipped his hat before swinging back onto his horse and riding to the front.

  He gave her forehead one last check before letting his hand fall. “Mrs. Bartlett.”

  “Mr. Granville.” Beth watched as he echoed Sam and rode to the front of their group. She saw her wagon and tried to take steps without limping as best as she could in that direction. Once she reached their cart, she could hold on to the back, letting it hide just how much her feet hurt. If little children could run and play during this trip, she could at least walk.

  She sighed. The daily routine already loomed menacing ahead due to her feet. She tried and failed to motivate herself into wandering around while looking for the rare stick of firewood.

  Daggart came around their wagon, startling her. “What’d they want? Where were you earlier anyway?”

  “He wanted to encourage us to gather firewood now before reaching the plains.” After the freedom of gazing at Nicholas most of the afternoon, having to see Daggart’s fleshy, pasty face now disappointed.

  He grunted, frowning at her. “You’d better get started gathering, then.”

  “I will,” she nodded, reaching for the water jar he held. “I’d like a drink first.”

  “After me. I’ve been walking, not riding a fancy pants horse.” He unscrewed the cap and drank deeply.

  Seeing the water drain almost dry, she cleared her throat. “Dag, please.”

  He handed her the nearly empty jar. “You can have the rest.”

  Before she could help herself, Beth retorted, “Thank you.” She put a hand to her mouth. Through her fingers, she added, “I appreciate it.”

  Giving her a mean stare, he strolled up to the oxen. She swallowed all the water, careful not to drink from where his lips had touched. Beth placed the jar and its lid back in the wagon before beginning the hunt for dinner’s firewood.

  Beth tried to encourage herself to search for this evening’s fuel by making a game of finding new flowers and new types of birds. It didn’t work. She’d rather eat a cold dinner of dried fruit than walk any more than necessary in these horrible shoes. She resented Daggart for burning her larger pair when he’d caught her secretly wearing them. Her efforts in modifying Lizzie’s shoes to fit her own feet had been a disaster. Too loose in some spots, too tight in others, Beth sighed. Creating new footwear from wood and knitted wool would be better than these she wore.

  She glanced up from the ground to look at everyone else. The wagons crashed through the woods, some needing an extra pull from those on horseback. Some families had two wagons to themselves. Beth imagined having so much as well, full of animals and plants to start a farm in California.

  So lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the unfiltered sunlight until a few yards had passed. She blinked, amazed at the emptiness. A few tree-lined creeks broke up the background of rolling hills. The blue sky dominated the landscape. Beth had never seen so much space in one area. Clear hilltops and open valleys were one thing, this vastness something else. The open prairie overwhelmed her. Insects buzzed and birds sang love songs to each other. Wildflowers swayed in the breeze, their scent adding to the torn grass smell left behind by the wagon train’s wheels. She stopped, looking ahead, then back at the dense forest behind them. The blossomed redbuds and wild dogwoods gave red and white bursts of color against the bright spring green trees. She wanted to go back to her farm, to the safe canopy of the forest and the enclosed fields of home.

  She saw Samuel ride out from the underbrush. Beth tried to smile a greeting as he and Lawrence trotted up to her.

  “I’ve seen that expression before, mostly on a filly before she bolts for home.” Samuel asked his hired hand, “Don’t you agree?”

  Lawrence grinned. “I wondered why she looked so familiar.”

  Squinting, Beth put her hands on her hips and playfully demanded, “Now, tell me how I compare to a horse.”

  Putting his hat on his chest, Lawrence replied, “Why ma’am, only in ways that are the best of the finest mare ever born.”

  She laughed and glanced at Samuel. “Has he been taking charm lessons from you?”

  “Not at all. Every man in this outfit has been instructed to treat every woman with respect. I can’t help it if other men’s rude behavior makes us seem charming.” He put his hat on his chest as Lawrence had.

  Beth laughed at their crude attempt of innoce
nce. “I’m sure. Hopefully the other gals buy what you’re selling.”

  The two put their hats back on and grinned at each other. Lawrence started a retort, “They always put—”

  Beth raised her chin and a hand to stop him. “No, don’t say it. I misspoke. Polite ladies, even those comparable to horses, don’t discuss the selling of anything.”

  Both men chuckled until something ahead caught Lawrence’s attention. He looked to Samuel for permission, who nodded. The hired hand tipped his hat at her before riding off to the front. Beth turned to see him go, catching sight of Daggart talking with Nicholas.

  “You’re right, ladies don’t.” He glanced up and past her head, distracted. “I wouldn’t expect you to ever discuss selling.”

  She heard hoof beats behind, and suspecting Nicholas, resisted the urge to turn around. “Thank you.”

  “Mr. Lawrence had it partially correct. The only possible way you could compare to a horse is if the mare were the finest Arabian.” He wore an ornery expression. “Isn’t that right, Nick?”

  “We can discuss what you mean by that later. Right now, I’d like to get to camp before dark. There are no stragglers?”

  “No one save the Bartletts.”

  “I’ve spoken to Bartlett about his lagging behind.”

  Beth felt uneasy. Judging by their expressions, more went unsaid between the men. Had she held back the camp due to her wanderings? If Nicholas spoke to her husband about the delay, Daggart would ensure she’d hear about it that evening. She glanced toward their wagon, now further ahead. The two men might see how tender her feet were as she started walking if she limped. She took a deep breath, determined to ignore the pain, and strode to catch up with her husband.

  Dag gave her a surly glance as she walked beside him. “The captains talk to you, yet?” he asked.

  His face scrunched more than usual, she noticed and wondered how to respond. Better with a short answer to pull more information from him. “A little, yes.”

  “They told me, Nick did, to keep you in line.”

  She doubted Nicholas would be so blunt but kept quiet, waiting for Daggart to continue. When he didn’t elaborate, Beth asked, “Did either of the captains have any other observations?”

  “He also said if you didn’t keep up, I’d have to tie you to the wagon like Erleen.”

  Beth laughed at the image in her mind of both she and Erleen being led on a rope. She looked at the man’s face and saw by his expression that he lied. Or at least told a half-truth. Calling his bluff, she teased, “You’re right, if I don’t, you’ll have to tie me up like our poor cow.”

  He blinked in surprise. “Yeah, so, stay with the wagon.”

  Chuck came up to the couple, leading them to their place in the circle. Beth looked at the sun, still rather far from setting. “Did one of the Granvilles say anything about why we’re on a hill and already circling the wagons?”

  “No. They didn’t have to.” Dag unhooked the oxen from their yoke, leading them away to a nearby creek. “You saw the Indians we’ve already passed. You can’t trust them, even the tamed ones. They’d as soon scalp you as look at you.”

  Beth had only seen the one this morning while getting water for coffee. Unless very well concealed, he’d had no weapon. He certainly didn’t have a bow and arrow strapped to his back as she’d read about in the newspaper.

  “Get Erleen to the water.” He spotted some of the hands riding by, and as they drew nearer, his voice grew louder. “You’ll want to milk her afterward, get us some water for tomorrow, and start my supper, woman.”

  One of the men, Chuck, tipped his hat and winked as he rode by them. Dag scowled at her. “Stop flirting with the men, Lizzy Lou, and get busy. We don’t have all night.”

  She wanted to defend herself, but past arguments had taught her a lesson. Beth reached into the back of the wagon, grabbed the bucket, and untied Erleen to lead her to the creek. The cow drank with deep slurps while Beth rinsed the day’s dust from the pail. Children splashed downstream, playing and yelling. The noise didn't seem to bother her cow, and Beth led her up the bank to where new grass grew through the old from last fall.

  One of the younger children wandered over to her. Beth glanced at the little girl whose eyes widened. "What happened to your eye?” she asked.

  "My eye?” Beth’s cheeks burned as she realized how casual she’d been in revealing her bruises. Most times around everyone else, the sunbonnet hid the purple as it faded to yellow. The hat restricted her vision so much she hated wearing it and she’d forgotten the need to do so what with the distraction of Erleen and the water.

  The girl pointed at Beth’s face. "It's not pretty.”

  "No, it's not.” Beth felt compelled to add, “A branch hit me while we went through the big woods.”

  "A branch?” The child stood there, staring at her. Then, she leaned forward to get a better look at the bruise. “Did it hurt?"

  Beth smiled at the small girl’s grown up and serious tone. "Very much, but it’s getting better every day.” She didn't like having to tell a lie to the child. The adults possessed too many manners to ask, or else they knew the truth without questioning her.

  The little one nodded and turned when hearing one of the others yell for her. “Goodbye, ma’am!” she said and scampered away.

  Beth settled in, facing west, to watch her cow eat and the sun set. Erleen pulled eagerly at the new grass. They'd not had time today to loiter, and she felt sure the cow must have longed to graze a few times. Various animal trails in the woods or valleys called to Beth as well. She wanted to follow them, if only to see where they led. After trying to wiggle her toes, she considered taking off Lizzy’s shoes but decided against doing so. She figured putting them back on after a rest would have her too used to the relief. Better to wait until after dinner and take them off for the night.

  With the cow having such a good nature, Beth milked her as the animal ate. She stood once Erleen had her fill of dinner and scooped up the bucket. Campfires dotted the land in the early evening light. The air hung heavy with the cooling of the day and scent of food. Walking up to the wagons, she had hoped Daggart started their campfire for dinner but no welcoming light glowed. She tied Erleen for the night and emptied the milk into a glass jar and sealed it with a lid. While fetching water, she kept a look out for her husband.

  In the fading light of dusk, the creek appeared more sinister to her. She peered, trying to find the bottom, but the inky darkness of the liquid prevented her. Beth took a couple of deep breaths to keep calm. She reassured her fears, asserting she wasn’t getting her shoes wet, just the bucket. Bending down a little, she strained to tip some water into the container to rinse off the milk. Beth cleaned out the bucket a little at a time. Finally, knowing she stalled the inevitable, she leaned further over, scooping as much as possible in one try. Satisfied with the heft of the bucket, she went back to camp. If lucky, she’d not need to get near the stream again this evening.

  Their small campfire welcomed her. The near full moon hadn’t risen yet. The people in camp played music, sang, and talked around their own temporary hearths. Beth supposed Dag had started the fire since his bedroll lay nearby. She put the water bucket on the fire to start boiling and searched their stores for dinner fixings.

  Dag came around the wagon’s end, stopping in his tracks upon seeing her. “You ain’t cooked us anything yet?”

  “Not yet, but dinner won’t take long.” She hated being late with his food.

  “What is the damned hold up?” He kicked his bedroll out of the circle of light. Dag then stomped off to retrieve it while complaining, “First, we can’t stop for nothin’ until nearly tomorrow. Now you’ve been lyin’ around all evening, not cookin’ anythin’ to eat. I’m hungry and I deserve a hot meal.”

  Beth clenched her jaw, not willing to argue with him. Any sort of discussion would anger him into violence, especially when he was hungry. In silence, she set up the bacon frying in the pan and mi
xed the cornbread. Beth didn’t figure the cornbread could be as tasty cooked over the fire as in an oven, but it was his favorite and would quiet Daggart for now. When he settled down on his retrieved bedroll, she asked, “Were you able to hunt today?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t think anyone did.” She left the food to take the boiling water from the fire. Beth took his cup from the wagon and filled it with the fresh milk. “Are you going to set up our tent?”

  “No. No one else is, either. There ain’t no rain in the air, and it’s warm out tonight.”

  After eating, Daggart spread out on his makeshift bed. Beth stifled a sigh while eating what remained of the food. She felt like to going sleep at the moment too, but poured cooled water into a jar for tomorrow and capped it. Dishes went into the bucket for later washing.

  Daggart stirred when the metal and glass clanged. “Stop it, Lizzy. I’m trying to sleep.”

  She set the bucket down by the wagon wheel, unwilling to irritate him into hopping up and being mean to her. Her feet hurt standing there, plus, she didn’t want to go to the creek for washing. Waiting until morning also didn’t appeal to her, but at least there’d be light. Beth sat and pried the shoes from her feet, gasping at the cool air soothing them. The chill felt good on the bare skin. There were no new blisters or raw flesh, just deep grooves where the seams pressed into her insole. She wiggled her toes, even if they hurt, and began rubbing the sore spots. When her feet felt better after the care, she crawled into her bedroll. Her cloth sack of spun wool doubled as a pillow. She settled her head onto the cushy comfort.

  “I sure do miss Lizzy.”

  Daggart’s gruff confession surprised her out of her drowsiness. He’d mentioned her sister before this but not since her father died and not as if Lizzy was truly gone. His sadness triggered memories of her sister’s death and their father’s mental decline from the loss. “I do too, Daggart.”

  He snapped at her, “Then you better start doin’ a better job than usual of bein’ her. You keep your promise, I keep mine.”

  She lay there, staring up at the stars with tears flowing. Beth didn’t sob aloud. This was an old hurt in her heart. They’d not been identical by a long shot, but she and Lizzy had been twins and still closer than most sisters. First their mother, then Lizzy, and finally Pa all left her with Daggart. She glanced over at him. He’d settled in at arm’s distance from her.

  If he’d been the same man Lizzy had married, Beth might not mind taking her sister’s place. She struggled to keep from sniffling and letting him know she was crying. Lizzy died because of her. She’d promised Pa and Daggart to make up for her horrible mistake. There was no sense in her wasting time wishing things were different.

  The new day began too soon. Beth woke slowly, wiping the sleep from her eyes. She looked at the ashes, hoping a little spark remained for this morning. Daggart’s bedroll was gone, as was he. She propped up on one arm, pushing the hair from her face. Her braid had come undone in the night, so she searched for the pin.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Bartlett.”

  She smiled at Nicholas’s voice, smoothing back the wisps and sliding the hairpin into place. “Good morning, I think.”

  “You don’t know for certain?” He walked over to her and squatted.

  Even when he was lower, she had to lift her chin to look into his eyes. She stifled a yawn. “Not until I’m awake.”

  “I can fix that.”

  She watched while packing her bed and wool for tonight as he put fresh wood on their embers. “Thank goodness,” Beth exclaimed as flames flickered. “I thought they were dead.”

  Nick smiled at her. “Not entirely.” He took the bucket of dishes. “If you’ll find your coffee and put a little more wood on the fire, I’ll wash these for you.”

  Blinking, she watched him stroll away with her dishes. Beth did as he asked, putting a few sticks on the fire and getting a scoop of beans for the coffee pot. She checked on Erleen and the oxen, and Nick returned shortly after.

  “Great!” Nick poured water into the pot. “This will help you on your feet.”

  “It will. Thank you.” She smiled. “Did you want some coffee when this is done?”

  “I’ve had mine already. Excuse me while I rouse the other sleepyheads.” He tipped his hat and left her there.

  She frowned, unhappy at what this meant. Daggart had been right. Beth had held up the entire group. The Granvilles did talk to him. Dag hadn’t been falsely blaming her yesterday. Her face burned in embarrassment as she mixed up biscuits as fast as possible and set them on the fire to cook.

  A little while after the coffee began boiling, she poured a cup. Beth sipped, already dreading the day’s walk. She waited for her husband as long as possible, keeping busy by making sure she’d packed everything else. She folded the biscuits into a napkin for breakfast later in the morning. Daggart could grab his own food while on the move.

  All that remained was putting on her shoes. Beth picked them up and went to sit on the wagon tongue. Walking on the cool, trampled grass had felt good. She forced herself to put them on using the buttonhook to fasten them. One of the top buttons popped off, the pressure tearing a hole in the leather. She gingerly stood to her feet, wincing at the pain. Beth took a couple of limped steps toward the oxen.

  She pulled both animals into place and fastened their yoke. Seeing her husband, Beth waved him over to her. She asked for his unneeded expertise, knowing he loved thinking himself the smarter of the two of them. “Have I done this correctly?”

  He made a show of checking and double-checking the harnesses. “It’s good.” Daggart started the oxen on down the crooked road. “We’re going in front today. I don’t need you causin’ trouble for us, Lizzy.”

  Beth fell in step beside him, forcing herself not to limp. “I don’t plan on doing so.”

  “Hope not, because these men are our guides and guards to the gold, and you’re not messin’ it up for me.” He glanced around. “I’ve seen you wander off, talkin’ to one man, then another. I don’t know what your plan is, but you’d better count on diggin’ once we get to California.”

  “That is my only plan.” She told him the truth. Whatever plans Beth ever had, Daggart tore through as if her wishes were spider webs. “Unless, you decide on a different life for us.”

  “Gold is my only plan.” He glared at her. “Mr. Granville seems to be taken with you. I’ve see him smilin’ and bein’ polite and all.”

  Nicholas never seemed to need encouragement. Now nervous of how much Daggart suspected of her feelings, Beth swallowed. “I don’t call him over specially.”

  “I’m thinkin’ you might be doin’ just that. In case you get ideas, you’re not the only woman he likes to help around here. I’ve seen him bein’ a bit too friendly with the other gals too, especially the married ones.”

  “I see.” She bit her lip, chewing. Beth didn’t know how to feel. Foolish, because she thought he treated her with special regard? Embarrassed, since she had feelings he’d never return? Or sadness, certain she’d stay married to someone else?

  “You better see real good. Just because he calls all the women ‘my dear,’ they all think he’s a gentleman.” Dag snorted, “Those manners are wiles dressed in Sunday best.”

  Oh heavens, he was talking about Samuel. She stifled a chuckle at her mistake. Still, Beth didn’t think Samuel was as conniving as Daggart had said and asked him, “Why do you suppose he only pays favors to the married women instead of the eligible girls?”

  “Crazy woman. The man doesn’t want to get caught by some husband-huntin’ devil.” Daggart slowed and took her arm as if protecting her. “Look out, there’s trouble up ahead.”

  She stepped away from him and forward a little to see why the fuss. The wagons stacked backwards from a ravine. Riders galloped north and south from the train’s front.

  “Go see what the holdup is but keep out of the way,” Dag ordered her from where he waited. “Don’t get hurt
and hold us back, Lizzy.”

  Beth went, resentfully doing as he’d asked because she was curious too. As she made her way up front, other women and children joined her. All speculated as to the reason for stopping before noontime. Then everyone saw why. The ravine, seeming thin from a distance, instead gaped wide enough to swallow wagons. A high-pitched whistle caught everyone’s attention. The rider to the south waved an arm in the air.

  Samuel rode past at a trot, saying, “We’ll head downstream for half a mile, cross the creek bed, and then see.” The first wagon followed him toward the south.

  She searched for but didn’t see the north rider. The southern rider, now small, picked his way down to the bottoms. Wagons in front of Beth obscured her view. The wheels also kicked up more dust, the ground having dried from the rains of two days ago. A gritty wind blew from the west and she blinked away the grains.

  From what she’d seen, the opposite bank appeared very steep. She trusted the captains and hands knew what to do. Walking back to Dag, Beth wondered how anyone could coax animals up the steep wall.

  “Took you long enough.”

  Beth ignored Dag’s tone and an argument. “We have to go south and across.”

  He let out an exasperated snort. “I didn’t see any water.”

  She tried to remember seeing the glint of a stream. “No, there isn’t any. The bed is dry.”

  “Did you get water this morning?”

  She’d forgotten. Clenching and releasing her hands, she didn’t want to admit to overlooking a task so important. “For us, but not for the animals.”

  He stopped the animals to glare at her. “Didn’t you think we needed water for the oxen? How’re you going to get milk from Erleen tomorrow if she don’t get water today?”

  His volume increased with each word. She saw others glance at them then look away in a hurry. Beth didn’t blame them. She didn’t want to be caught up in a fight either. “I’m sorry, Dag. We’ve always been near a creek of some sort. I didn’t think about needing water until just now.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t think about, woman.” He spit. “Am I going to have to do everythin’ for you?”

  She closed her eyes hard for a moment, willing herself not to snap back at him. “No, you won’t. You’re right, I do need to think more.”

  “See that you do,” he sneered. “We need them in California. They’ll be so helpful in the mines that I’d sooner bury you before them, Lizzy Lou.”

  Her chin snapped up at the name. Could he mean what he’d said? “You prefer a couple of animals to your wife?”

  “When you’re not being the wife I want, I do. You know the agreement.”

  Curse the bargain. Beth hated every minute passed since then. “I know you don’t mean it, but very well. I’ll make sure the big bucket is full of water if you make sure it’s put in the wagon.”

  “Will do.” Daggart pulled on the oxen, leading them to the ravine’s slope.

  She let him continue on, unable to bear being near him another moment. Other wagons behind her kept Beth from loitering in one spot too long. Curious, she walked to the edge of the chasm. No streams flowed below. Creeks, rivers, and other ponds had been so plentiful in Missouri. She never thought to store any water for the prairie. If tales about the great desert past the Platte were true, she needed a better plan.

  The northern rider galloped up, saw her watching him, and slowed to tip his hat. This one, different from the others, wore a green flannel shirt, open halfway down his hairy chest. Leather buckskin similar to Nicholas’s coat, but with fringe, covered his legs. Like the other hands, he had pistols in a holster draped over the front of his saddle. She’d seen him around the camp but never spoke. Beth returned his greeting with a smile and nod as he rode past.

  A long line of white-topped wagons snaked their way along the ravine going north. They traveled the slope into the slight canyon without incident. She followed at a distance from the dust cloud while not lagging too far behind everyone else.

  The train rolled for what seemed like forever to Beth’s empty stomach. She looked up at the midday sun. The procession hadn’t stopped for noon. She hoped they made an early night of it. Though her feet ached, she kept going, knowing biscuits and water waited for her ahead.

  Beth hurried up to the back of their wagon, finding Dag had already eaten his lunch. He’d left her water and a biscuit, something she’d not expected after their earlier conversation. She ate and a couple of drinks later, she wanted to give the last bit of water to their animals. Considering his earlier anger, Beth decided to consult Daggart first.

  “What the hell?” He stood with the other men, arguing. “We have to unload everythin’ just to get up the hill?”

  His raised voice unnerved her and drew attention to him. She glanced around, hoping no one else heard his complaining. Beth walked up and peered to the front of the queue. The wagon at the foot of the ravine’s exit buzzed with activity. Several people handed off the contents onto the ground. She watched as the person inside hopped out, signaled to the driver, and waited until the wagon topped the embankment. A line of people handed the boxes and sacks of belongings up to the cart. They made quick work of repacking everything.

  She went back to Daggart. “I don’t think it will be too bad. There’s a lot of help and it seems to go fast.”

  He turned to her, hand raised. “Shut up!” Then, as if aware a few people saw his actions, he lowered his arm. Glaring at her, he ground out between clenched teeth, “I’m glad you reckon so. Let’s see what you say unloadin’ and loadin’ our own.”

  She knew better than to argue but blurted, “The men and boys handle the slope. The women are driving the animals and watching out for the children.” Beth yelped when he grabbed her upper arm. He wasn’t gentle this time, or protective.

  He smiled at the others as they walked by, dismissing them with a nod, and held her arm with a hard squeeze. “Since we don’t have children, you’ll help the men, won’t you,” Dag growled.

  She bit her lip at the pain and knew he wasn’t asking. “Of course. I’ll want to make sure they do it right for you, won’t I?”

  “Good. Now get up there and make yourself useful,” he said with a shove.

  Stumbling, she caught herself from falling, turning her ankle a little. A slight stab of pain went up her calf that she ignored in her hurry to get out of Dag’s sight. Beth breathed in deep, releasing it in a whoosh, trying to disregard the sting in her left ankle. She shook her head as if to shake away the hurt, having no way to avoid a limp. Between the tiny shoes and now this, she took each step with caution. Not everyone in the group strode hard and strong. Surely no one would notice her walking a little lame too.

  She reached the latest wagon being driven up the incline. Addressing the nearest hired hand, the one she’d seen riding from the north, Beth asked, “How may I help?”

  “Ce qui? Je ne comprends pas.” He nodded toward Nicholas riding up to them. ”Demandez-lui, s’il vous plait.”

  ”Qu'est-ce que c'est?” Nicholas asked of the man.

  Shrugging, the worker replied, “Je ne la connais pas. Entretien à elle.”

  “Ah. Hello, Mrs. Bartlett.” Nicholas smiled down at her and tipped his hat. “I’m afraid Claude here doesn’t understand. Maybe I can help?”

  She smiled, her face feeling hot. “That’s what I asked him, actually. How may I help with this?” She pointed to the current wagon being unloaded.

  Nicholas addressed Claude, “Je serai là dans un moment. Allons.” He frowned at her, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous. You can’t help with this. Just stay out of the way and we’ll handle it.”

  “Oh. I see.” Beth chewed a little on her lower lip, fretting. She couldn’t go back to her own wagon, angering Daggart. He’d say she didn’t try to be useful. His horse snorted, and with a start, she realized Nicholas still stood beside her. Beth smiled up at him, “You will tell me if I can be useful in any way?”

  He d
ismounted. “I appreciate you asking, but the men can take care of this much faster.”

  “Of course. I was being silly to ask.” She looked down, hiding her face with her sunbonnet and feeling very foolish.

  He sighed, smacking gloves against his hand, “If you must do something constructive, I’d prefer you wait over there.” Nicholas gave her his reins. “Hold mine and the others’ horses while we get across. Make sure they get something to eat while waiting.”

  “I will. Thank you for letting me help.” She turned to lead his horse out of the way.

  “Hold up.” Checking to make sure Claude was out of earshot, Nicholas leaned in a little, speaking in a lowered voice. “I can’t let anything happen to you, Beth. If the animals spook and pull free, you’d be crushed. Please stay back while we get everyone up the embankment.”

  She nodded, better understanding his unfriendly reaction to her offer. “I will, but what about you? I couldn’t let you get hurt either.”

  Nicholas’s chin went up and his eyes narrowed. Someone called his name in the distance. Holding his hand up in a wait gesture, he took a step closer. “Elizabeth.”

  The stormy grey of his eyes drew her in, leaving Beth unable to look anywhere else but him. She couldn’t break her gaze any more than he could seem to break his. “Yes?” she asked, lifting her face for a kiss. Her lips parted as she realized what her guesture subconsciously told him.

  He laughed. “No, no kisses.” They heard him called again, more insistent this time. “Please keep an eye on the horses.”

  She nodded in assent as he answered the demand for his attention. She did as he’d asked, going up the incline to the mounts. Beth patted their necks, cooing at them to trust her and scratching their foreheads. She took two sets of reins in each hand, leading them around to give her a better view of each wagon’s struggles uphill. Beth used the distance from everyone as a chance to watch Nicholas as he worked. He’d read her expression correctly. She’d wanted to kiss him and didn’t know how to feel about him telling her no. By the time she spotted Daggart standing to the side, also watching everyone else, the men worked like a machine—unloading, driving up the incline, reloading, then moving the wagon for the next in line.

  People milled around ahead of her as she waited, women searching for firewood, men wandering off to hunt, children playing or sitting in the shade. Beth took the horses along the dry creek bed while searching for new grass or hay. She scanned the ground for animal tracks, pretty stones, or anything else interesting as the animals ate. Every so often, upon hearing a holler, she peeked out from under her sunbonnet, knowing which man she wanted to see. Not Claude with his hairy face and neck, nor did she watch for Lawrence, his hat pulled low over his eyes and long white hair braided down his back.

  Samuel caught her attention a couple of times; he looked enough like his brother. Her heart hadn’t raced upon seeing him as it did when she merely thought of Nicholas though. Remembering how her name sounded in his voice sent shivers through her. He’d said no to her accidental request and recalling the sound left her hungry to hear a yes from him. Seeing the softening in his eyes even as he refused her, the affection there left her unable to think.

  Once everyone had been pulled up the embankment, Nicholas, Samuel, Lawrence, and Claude came to her for their horses. Every man was polite as he took his mount and rode away, Samuel more so than Nicholas.

  “Thank you, my dear. Nick told me you’d care for them well.” He tilted his head to peer at her under the brim of her bonnet.

  She smiled at Nicholas’s name and at the compliment. “I don’t know how much care I gave them. They’re very self-sufficient.”

  “Nonsense, Mrs. Bartlett. Lawrence and I are to scout ahead for camp and needed our horses fresh for this afternoon and evening. You are a true angel of mercy for them.”

  Beth laughed. “A true angel would have given them water, apples, and sugar cubes.”

  “True. I’m sure if you had those items, they would not have wanted to see me coming.”

  “Probably not,” she replied, hearing Lawrence whistle.

  “Until we break for camp.” He tipped his hat and rode toward the other man. Both gentlemen headed in tandem to the northwest, the lead wagon slowly following.

  On the other side of the shallow canyon, the country grew hilly and the road roughened from prior wheel ruts. Nearly everyone who preferred riding to walking now strolled in the fresh air away from their wagon. Only the ill stayed under their oilcloth cover. Some canopies were raised to let in the cool breeze. Other women walked with her, herding the children as they ran and played among the spring flowers.

  Beth listened with inattention to the conversations flowing in the air around her, shyness keeping her quiet. She didn’t feel able to chat about anything. The farm she loved was gone and too painful to discuss, as was her family. She loathed even thinking about Daggart.

  The wagons ahead slowed to a halt. The front wagon turned into the familiar circle. She wondered at their stopping for the day so soon. To the north grew a grove of trees with more scattered along a creek. People already unhitched horses, oxen, and mules, leading or riding them to the gully. She caught up with their wagon. Daggart had already taken the oxen, but only them. She grabbed the larger bucket and untied Erleen to take her for a drink.

  Beth searched until she found a quiet, shallow part of the river where she could see the bottom. She soon tied Erleen to a tree close to the water, thrilled at the prospect of wading. After setting down the bucket for later, she pried off Lizzy’s shoes with a curse under her breath. She threw them on the bank, lifted her skirt, and walked into the shallows. Beth sighed, raising her head heavenward in silent thanks.

  Her feet stirred up silt in the cool water. A little choke of panic crawled up her throat until currents drew the clouds away, calming her. She wiggled her toes, not minding how they disturbed the creek bed and instead enjoyed freedom from the cramped leather. The blisters didn’t sting anymore, the cold numbing them a little. Beth enjoyed watching crawfish scurry. Minnows darted around, some nibbling her toes and tickling them. She smiled from their touch. Wanting to rest, she searched for some sort of seat allowing her to still bathe her feet.

  A little way down from the sand bank was a cliff cut into the earth. Beth waded over and sat, thinking this the perfect spot. She reclined on her elbows and let the sun shine on her face despite her husband’s warning to keep her skin pale. Enjoying the icy comfort flowing over her feet, she laid down on the warm ground. Beth closed her eyes, listening to the birds chirp and rustle around her, smelling the fishy river, and soaking up the late afternoon warmth.

  The birds must be fussing, she thought, hearing more of a rustle than usual. Beth hoped Daggart wasn’t sneaking up on her to complain about something ridiculous. She only wanted a few moments to let her feet feel a little better before tending to chores. Better to be Nicholas sneaking up on her. She’d love him whispering her name in her ear. How wonderful if he were so near. She couldn’t stop a small grin while wondering how much closer he’d have to be before she protested.

  She heard a horse snort, and opening her eyes in surprise, Beth looked up into an Indian’s face. Before she could scream a warning to everyone, the man clamped a hand tight over her mouth.