Eirica twined her fingers together, her gaze locked with his. “All right—James.” She picked at the fraying edges of her apron, but she didn’t move away from him.
A wave of happiness stole through him. He held out his hand. “Friends?”
Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his. “Friends.”
Quelling the urge to draw her close, James relished the feel of her small hand in his big callused one. It thrilled him that she’d taken this step. He released her immediately, though he could have stood there all night holding her hand and gazing into the blue of her eyes. Her gaze was so full of emotion, he felt her thoughts, her pain and her uncertainty.
“Thank you, Eirica.” Going to the back of her wagon, he reached in and grabbed the rolled-up canvas, brushing aside her second protest that she could see to her own tent. Time would heal her wounds. For now, he’d take it nice and slow and show her he could be trusted, that he would take care of her and cherish her. One way he could prove his good intentions was to ease her hardship on the trail. Whistling, he pushed up his shirt sleeves and unrolled the canvas tent.
Chapter Three
Eirica glared at James, who went about setting up her tent with a tuneless whistle. His cheerfulness made her long to march over and demand he stop, but she swallowed her pride. What else could she do? Aside from truly being tired from the long day, she’d learned during the past month it did little good to argue or protest when James decided on a course of action.
James Jones was too used to taking charge. She just wished he’d listen to her, consider her wishes, but like most males, he didn’t think her serious, thought he knew best. And maybe he was right, but it hurt that he ignored her.
Turning away from him, she removed the Dutch oven from the fire and checked the bread. It was done, so she pulled it from the pan and set it out to cool. Then she put a pot of water over the hot coals for some tea. Minutes later, she sat on the wagon tongue, stretching her swollen feet out before her and cradling a tin cup of sweetened tea in her hands. Though she had a few precious minutes to sit and enjoy the peace, her growing debt to the Jones family, in particular to James, left her too edgy and restless to relax. Being a burden to others weighed heavily on her conscience.
Eirica understood the hardships of the trail, had witnessed the fate of women forced to continue alone after the loss of their fathers, husbands or children. So many women struggled with no help from their wagon train. If they fell behind, they were left to fend for themselves.
Eirica knew she could so easily have been in the same position if not for the generosity of James and his willingness to share his wagon and supplies. He’d made it possible for her to leave her husband and strike out on her own. Birk had made it very clear during their marriage that everything they owned belonged to him, that if she ever left him, it’d be with the clothes on her back and nothing more. Of course, he’d never thought she’d actually leave. Her lips thinned. She’d proved him wrong.
At least she had her wagon and supplies back, though Birk had nearly lost them when he’d tried crossing the river alone. Unwilling to think about him or what he’d put her through, Eirica gnawed on a hard-as-rock biscuit while slanting James a look from the corner of her eye.
She had to admit it felt heavenly knowing someone cared enough to step in and do what needed to be done—but that was the problem. Her growing dependence on James and the others scared her. Once they reached Oregon, they’d all go their separate ways and she’d be left to survive as best she could.
For her own peace of mind, she had to know she could be self-sufficient, physically and emotionally. It was time to stand up for herself, and stop relying on others, including James. But how to tell him without offending him or hurting his feelings? How could she make him understand how important her independence was to her?
Alison and Lara ran past, begging James to let them help. Watching him with her girls, she admired his patience at the small hands that hindered more than helped. The sight of the genuine affection between him and her daughters tugged her heartstrings, forcing Eirica to fight harder her growing attraction to him—another source of worry plaguing her mind and heart. His kindness and gentleness touched her, tempted her to reach out and take what he offered.
How could any woman not be drawn to this fine man? She shifted so she could watch him without craning her neck. He’d stopped working to roll up his sleeves, revealing tanned arms dusted with thick, dark, curly hair. Her gaze continued downward to skim long legs encased in faded and worn denim pants that fit snugly over narrow hips. Noting the holes in the knees, she made a mental note to mend them on the next wash day as a way to repay her debt.
Her attention slid back up his long, lean frame to his hair, black and silky-looking, falling in soft waves past his collar. The breeze ruffled the gently curling ends like a woman’s fingers. When he reached up to steady a pole, his flannel shirt pulled taut. Muscles rippled from one side of his back to the other. A tiny quiver of appreciation darted through her. James was a man in his prime. He wasn’t pretty-boy handsome like Coralie’s brother Elliot but more rugged, earthy.
Staring at him, it was apparent he’d spent his days outdoors in the sun, wind and rain, even before heading west. A fine form such as his didn’t happen overnight.
James chose that moment to glance over his shoulder. He caught her staring at him and had the audacity to grin, revealing strong white teeth in stark contrast to his darkly tanned face. The lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled with hidden amusement and the two grooves etched on either side of his mouth deepened. Her breath quickened. Unlike most other men on the trail, he kept his face shaved, revealing a square jaw that warned of a stubborn nature.
But oh Lord, that face of his. How had she managed so far not to be affected by the sheer beauty of it? He held her gaze with his own. Heat seared her cheeks. Flushed, Eirica glanced away, her breathing quickening. He could have any woman he wanted. So why her? She wasn’t worthy of someone like James. She was too damaged, too worn in mind and body. But how to convince him that she wasn’t interested? How to convince herself she wasn’t interested!
Part of her rebelled, hating the thought of him with someone else, but knew it was best for him to turn his attentions elsewhere; Eirica could not allow herself to ever fall in love again. Though he was gentle and patient, he, too, would eventually consider only his own needs. The fact that he refused to listen to her sat like a lead ball in her stomach. He was just a man—a man like all others—and men weren’t to be trusted, not even nice, handsome ones like James.
Though James wasn’t mean like Birk, he would expect to dominate his wife and children. He was too used to being in charge, and she could never put herself under the dominance of another mate, especially one with the same tendency to override her wishes, as he was doing now with the tent. It didn’t matter that he believed he was doing her a favor.
In fact, that made him even more dangerous in her eyes, for Birk had been just as sweet and kind when they were courting. He’d won her over with fistfuls of wildflowers, store-bought gifts, sweet words and sweeter compliments followed by declarations of undying love. Eirica had believed she’d found her knight in shining armor, her hero, someone who’d love and cherish her forever.
How wrong and so very, very foolish she’d been. Heroes didn’t exist outside the pages of some stupid books. As soon as Birk had what he’d wanted from her—someone to cook, clean and take care of all his needs—he’d revealed his true nature, one he’d carefully hidden from her during their courtship. It had only taken that first night alone with him to have her dreams of love, romance and happily-ever-after crushed.
Hunching over as if in pain, Eirica’s eyes burned with remembered humiliation and terror of those first weeks of marriage. But she was wiser now. She knew better than to believe a man’s promises of love and devotion. She’d learned her lesson, but the suppressed need to be swept off her feet lingered, reminding her of the innocent and naive girl she
’d once been. Troubled, her fingers smoothed the material of her bodice over the worst of her scars.
Taking deep, slow breaths, Eirica calmed herself, forced her hands back into her lap. She wouldn’t think about the past. With effort, she shoved the painful memories back into the dark recesses of her mind. Needing activity to keep the haunting nightmares at bay, she struggled to her feet and walked slowly to the back of her wagon, rubbing the tightening skin of her abdomen. She couldn’t help stealing one last look at James.
How she longed to be proven wrong, longed to find true love, but the stakes were just too high. It was time to face reality. She was a widowed woman with three children, and soon she’d give birth to number four. With so much to be done to prepare for an infant, she didn’t have the energy or time to waste on wishing for what could not be.
She peered inside the wagon, found the small, beat-up trunk that contained baby clothes and quilts. But it rested against the side, just out of reach, with heavy sacks of flour and rice piled around it. She frowned. Now what? She couldn’t climb into the wagon anymore. With a sigh, she glanced over her shoulder and saw that James was finished setting up her tent. He was deep in conversation with his brother Jordan. She hesitated to interrupt, hating to ask anything else of him, yet she had no choice.
But before she could go to him, the two men walked away with Jordan leading his horse.
Eirica planted her hands on her hips. “Bother!”
“What’s up, Eirica?”
Shifting her stance to face the woman who’d come up behind her, Eirica smiled. “Hi, Coralie,” she greeted the pretty blonde girl, then motioned in the direction of the two men. “Your husband just left with James.”
“Yeah, he has first watch tonight, which means I’m stuck helping Jessie and Rook cook.”
Jordan and Coralie had married days before setting out for Oregon. Eirica remembered Coralie’s first few weeks on the trail. The newest Jones family member hadn’t been at all enamored of outdoor life and hadn’t hesitated to let everyone know. She’d been spoiled, petulant and nearly impossible to be around. But slowly she’d changed, matured into a caring woman.
Eirica shaded her eyes and glanced around. “Is Jessie already helping Rook?”
Coralie grimaced. “Probably. As I should be. Do you need her?”
“No,” she sighed. “It can wait. I planned to go through the baby clothes I brought with me tonight. Figured they might need airing and some mending, but I can’t climb into the wagon to get them.” She patted her belly.
Scoffing, her friend stuck her nose in the air. “You don’t need Jessie for that. I can get them just as well. Where are they?” She clambered into the back of the wagon after adjusting the skirts of her beige wash-day-length calico dress.
Eirica hid her smile at Coralie’s obvious need to compete with Jessie. She pointed out the small trunk. Sisters by marriage, Jessie and Coralie were as different as night and day. Jessie was a tomboy skilled in the outdoors and Coralie a city-bred lady spoiled by her father. The two had started the trip as mutual nemeses, but their longstanding feud had finally come to an end, leaving Eirica free to enjoy both her new friends, their easy banter and now-friendly rivalry.
“Here we go. See?” Coralie gave one final pull and fell back on her bottom, puffing and panting. “We don’t need Jessica for this.” Wearing a pleased grin, she hopped down from the back of the wagon, then swayed.
“Coralie!” Concerned, Eirica reached out and grabbed the girl’s arm. “Are you all right?”
Coralie leaned against the wagon and closed her eyes briefly while fanning her cheeks with her hands. “I’m fine. Just a bit dizzy.”
“Dizzy?” Eirica frowned, then did some fast calculations. “Have you been dizzy before, I mean, recently?”
Coralie lowered her voice to a mere whisper. “I haven’t said anything to Jordie because I don’t want him to worry, but I’ve been feeling sick and am so tired. I’m so afraid I’m going to take ill and die.” She closed her eyes. Tiny tears clung to her lashes.
Her own problems forgotten, Eirica put her arm around the younger woman’s narrow shoulders. “Coralie, when was your last flow?”
Coralie’s gaze flew open, clouded with confusion. “My last—” Understanding dawned in her baby-blue eyes. Her gaze went wide first with shock, followed by disbelief, then absolute joy.
“I haven’t paid it much attention out here, traveling each day. It’s been a couple of months, I think.” She paused, grabbing Eirica’s fingers tightly. “Oh, Eirica,” she breathed, “you don’t suppose—could I be with child?” Her hushed voice tingled with suppressed excitement.
Laughing, Eirica hugged her. “Don’t think there’s any supposing about it. Looks like you’re going to be a mama.”
As sudden as it had come, Coralie’s joy fled and a look of horror washed over her features. “I can’t be with child. I don’t know how to be a mother. I’ve never even tended a baby. How will I know what to do? I can’t do this.” Her voice rose and ended in a panicked squeak.
Eirica rolled her eyes. This was the Coralie Eirica knew well. Overemotional and melodramatic. “Calm down, Coralie. You’ll do just fine.”
Seeing that her words didn’t reassure her, Eirica put her hand on the other woman’s shoulders. “Look, my baby is due in a month. You’ll have plenty of time to learn how to diaper, bathe, hold and care for an infant. I’ll show you everything and you can help me and practice.” She lifted the lid of the trunk. “By the time yours is born, you’ll be a pro, and I even have lots of baby clothes for you to use—”
Eirica’s voice trailed off abruptly. An odor of rot filled the air and made her gag. “Oh no,” she moaned, staring at the mildew-covered baby things in disbelief. She lifted out what had once been a tiny white gown. It was now black with a hole through it where the material had rotted.
“The dampness from all those storms got into the trunk.” Eirica pulled out layer after layer of moldering cotton. “They’re all ruined.” Even the tiny blankets and quilts on the bottom were covered with holes and black dots of mold.
Coralie covered her mouth, obviously fighting the urge to gag. She moved away. “Oh, Eirica, how terrible. What are you going to do? Will you have time to sew more before the baby comes?”
Feeling the weight of responsibility return to sag on her shoulders, Eirica blinked back tears of helplessness. “I don’t have any material. Birk wouldn’t let me buy any to bring. I was counting on these lasting until I reached Oregon.” She bit her lip and just stared at the ruined layette.
Coralie patted Eirica on the arm. “We’ll figure out something. I have some material from Pa’s store that he insisted I bring, even though he knows I can’t sew. We can see if there’s anything there you can use.”
Hearing a shout across the way, Coralie glanced over her shoulder and grimaced when Jessie motioned her over. “Guess it’s time to start cooking. Those hired hands of Wolf’s are worse than a swarm of locusts. I swear, they’d eat their tin plates if they could.”
Standing, she awkwardly patted Eirica on the shoulder then hurried over to where Jessie and Rook were busy preparing supper.
Eirica closed her eyes, unable to face the prospect of sorting through the ruined clothing. She thought of Coralie’s offer of material and just as quickly rejected it. Even if she paid for it—not that she could afford to do so—she wouldn’t take it. Coralie would need her supply for her own dresses and baby things in Oregon. Eirica would just have to cut up one of her woolen blankets for nappies and infant-size blankets. As for clothing, she’d have to do the same with one of her old dresses or use Birk’s old shirts, which she’d saved to reuse the material.
With frustration coursing through her, she slammed the trunk lid closed and stood. She’d deal with this later. She just couldn’t think about it now.
Alone once again, she faced the enormity of her situation. Anxiety churned in her stomach and a chill ran through her. Her palms were slick with sweat.
She wiped her hands on her apron, then wiped the moisture from her eyes, feeling scared and overwhelmed by the knowledge that the survival of her children rested squarely on her slim shoulders.
How could she do this? She had some money stashed away in a hidden compartment beneath the floor of the wagon—not nearly enough, though. Birk had dug into it, spending a good amount of it on the trail to purchase liquor from anyone willing to sell it to him.
Now she was glad she’d risked Birk’s fury by taking some of that money herself every time he got into it, tucking it into her sewing basket. She’d also kept a portion of the payments she received for doing laundry for some of the single men in her wagon party. She would really be in desperate straits if she hadn’t. Luckily for her, Birk had believed he’d spent more on his drink than he truly had, which kept him from depleting their resources further.
But even by adding the two stashes of cash together, the funds wouldn’t last long setting up a farm in Oregon. Things would be tight until the first harvest. By her calculations, there wouldn’t be anything to spare.
So what was she going to do? A hard knot of dread formed in her throat. She swallowed, fighting panic. No. She would not give in to her fears. Closing her eyes, she slowed her breathing by taking a deep breath, feeling the air flow clear down to her toes. Then she released it, imagining all her fears and worries leaving her as she exhaled slowly and completely. She continued to breathe consciously until she felt her heartbeat calm and the tightness in her throat ease.
“Life goes on,” she whispered under her breath. She thought of Sofia and the woman’s determination to carry out her husband’s dreams. Then she thought of Jessie. Nothing stopped her young friend from going after what she wanted.
White Nights Page 4
