by Merry Farmer
“I will,” she vowed.
As he rode off, a light giggle rose from her throat. How had she ever thought it was amusing to tease and torture Cade? It was so much more fun to work with him. Not that she would stop teasing him.
She continued to wait and watch the rafts. On the far bank of the river, she could see Callie and John Rye, studying the river and talking. A short prick of guilt at not spending more time with her friend was quickly replaced by a warm smile. Callie had a story of her own playing out. She and John stood close together, and they appeared happy. If one couple could find such sudden, unexpected happiness with each other in such a short time, who was to say that she couldn’t do the same?
She only had a few moments to ponder the question. Her wagon was next to reach the shore. Cade had told her to stay within sight, but she wheeled Clover around and nudged her closer to the end of the ferry crossing. Ben and the ferrymen steered her wagon off of the raft and onto the south bank of the Platte. Sure enough, Cade had had a word with Mr. Evans, and instead of driving the wagon on into line with the others heading to Denver City, the ferrymen steered it to the side, closer to the river and apart from the rest of the wagons.
“Thank you, Ben,” she smiled at the grumpy young man when he finally had the wagon stopped in the shade of a low, scrubby tree. “You’ve done your job well.”
“My job ain’t over yet, ma’am.” He frowned and hopped down from the driver’s seat to unhitch the oxen so they could feed.
“Of course not,” Lynne laughed. “We’ve still got miles to go, but thank you all the same.”
He tipped his hat to her, then went back to work with the oxen. Lynne checked to see where Cade was—back at the ferry crossing, off his horse now and helping the ferrymen lead anxious oxen onto the bank from newly crossed rafts—then hopped down from Clover. Her things had made the crossing more or less intact. A few of the smaller boxes had fallen off of the stacks against the sides. One of the sacks of cornmeal had caught a nail as it fell and tore open. She had fewer supplies crowding the back of the wagon now than she’d had when they set out. It was her hope chest that concerned her now.
She crawled to the front of the wagon where it sat with nothing on top of it and flipped open the lid to look for her purse. A chill went down her spine as she did. It seemed that every time she’d opened her hope chest, she found something she didn’t want to see. It was strange that the sight of her own possessions could fill her with such anxiety. She moved a pile of handkerchiefs to the side and searched for the purse. It had slipped down between the linens and the wall of the chest. She fished it out and took payment for the crossing.
As she tucked the purse back in its place and moved the handkerchiefs over top of it, she found her poor, ruined doll. It was tucked into a bedroll made of some of her mother’s table linens. At first, the sight made her smile, but not for long. She hadn’t tucked her doll in. Cade might have, but it didn’t seem like something he would do.
She reached for the doll, and as she lifted it, its head flopped to the side. Lynne gasped. The doll’s neck had been cut clean across and its broken head was left hanging by a thread. She pushed the doll into her makeshift bedroll and slammed the lid of the chest, scrambling back.
Part of Lynne wanted to scream. A bigger part was seething. She crouched at the open end of the wagon bed on her hands and knees, breathing fast. Her would-be killer was still out there, still taunting her. He could have put the doll in its bedroll days ago or he could have done it only hours ago, before the river crossing. Either way, he was sending a message. He wanted her to be afraid. He wasn’t done with her yet.
There was only one thing for her to do. As swiftly as she could, she climbed down from the wagon and searched through the clearing beside the river where the wagons were crossing for Cade. He was still helping the ferrymen bring wagons off of rafts. With her lips pressed shut and her hands balled into fists at her sides, Lynne charged across the matted grass toward him.
Cade saw her coming. The smile he wore as he met her eyes vanished in a heartbeat. He left the oxen team he’d been leading in another man’s hands and cut around the wagon he was helping to march toward her.
“What is it?” he demanded. “What’s wrong? You’re pale.”
Fear bubbled up from her stomach, making her breath short, but Lynne refused to give in to it. “Come with me,” she said and took Cade’s hand.
Silently, she led him back to her wagon. The river was alive with noise, splashing and oxen lowing, people talking and shouting as they made the crossing and organized themselves on the other side. No one was watching as Lynne and Cade reached their wagon apart from the others. Lynne scrambled inside and motioned for Cade to follow her.
“What’s going on?” he asked, tone grim, as he hopped into the wagon behind her. “Lynne?”
She scooted to the hope chest and lifted the top.
“I found this when I was looking for my purse.”
It was all the explanation she needed to give. Cade crawled to the chest and looked in. When he saw the doll, its head lolling to the side where Lynne had put it back in the pretend bedroll, he growled.
“That’s it,” he said. “I am through with letting whoever this is toy with us.”
“He’s trying to scare me again, but it won’t work this time,” Lynne said. She knew her voice betrayed her. “It won’t,” she insisted.
Cade circled an arm around her back. “I know it won’t, but this has got to stop. I’m getting Pete so he can take a look at this.”
He kissed her forehead, then scooted toward the open back of the wagon.
“Wait, Cade. Don’t.” She stopped him.
Cade frowned. “What do you mean, don’t?”
“Don’t tell Mr. Evans. Don’t tell anyone else at all.” Her heart raced as ideas began to flood her head, and with them more and more fear. “Mr. Evans has done all he can to help us, and besides, he’s heading on to Oregon with the other half of the wagon train whenever we set out again. His assistants just think we’re trouble.”
“You don’t know that,” Cade argued. “They’re good men.”
“Good men with a lot of trouble on their hands. The miners are coming with us, remember.”
His frown darkened. “I remember.” He shifted to sit in the wagon bed, and Lynne sat with him. He rubbed his chin. “You think we should go after whoever this is ourselves, don’t you?”
“It’s the only thing we can do,” she said. It was. The truth had been sneaking up on her, just like her would-be killer, just like her fear. “We could set up a trap and catch him. I won’t let him think he’s bested me.”
“Finding a killer is a job for law enforcement,” he said. It wasn’t an argument. Lynne could already see the fire of determination in Cade’s eyes.
“You said yourself there is no law on the trail as long as the war is still going on back East. We have to rely on ourselves.”
He stopped rubbing his chin and glanced up at her. Behind his determination was admiration. It gave her strength.
“I’m tired of doing nothing but sitting and waiting. I want you to give me a gun again, no matter what Mr. Evans said,” she added when Cade opened his mouth to protest. “If he says there’s nothing he can do, then there has to be something we can do. Someone has to have seen something the night my throat was cut. I don’t believe that the killer went unnoticed. He has to be here somewhere.”
“He is, I know he is,” Cade agreed. “So what do we do about it?”
Lynne straightened her shoulders and tilted her chin up. “We find him before he finds me again.”
Chapter Fourteen
Helping the other wagons disembark from the ferry and talking to their drivers was an excellent way for Cade to ask if anyone had seen anything suspicious in regards to Lynne’s would-be killer. The only problem was that every time he asked if a farmer or tradesman had seen anyone suspicious around the wagons, he got the same answer.
“Those min
ers,” they all told him. “They’re as shifty as a skittish pony on a box full of sand.”
“I wouldn’t trust them with a dog I didn’t like,” another added.
Cade could sympathize with them, commiserate with them, and even laugh at their jokes, but none of it helped him at all. Whoever the Briscoe Boy in their wagon train was, he was keeping well hidden.
The wagons finished crossing late in the day. By that point it was too late to do more than organize them into two lines and let the families who owned them straighten out the contents and dry off. Pete didn’t say anything about Lynne’s wagon sitting aside from the others, but Cade could tell by the man’s scowl that he wasn’t pleased. As long as he didn’t tell Cade to move it, it would stay right where it was.
That night, to Cade’s immense surprise, Lynne let him climb up into the wagon to sleep instead of banishing one or both of them to the damp ground around the river.
“Keep to your own side of the wagon, though,” she told him with an arch of her eyebrow.
That expression was enough to tempt him to do anything but keep to his side, but he could see that Lynne was tired, and he wasn’t in the mood for cuddling anyhow. He rested with his back against one side of the wagon near the open covering, staring out at the stars and wondering how a killer could go for so long without detection. He watched Lynne as she slept. He would have to do better. His reputation was on the line, and Lynne’s life was at stake.
The next day dawned cloudy with a threat of rain heavy in the air. Cade had drifted off to sleep for a few minutes here and there in the night, but by the time the gray light settled on their split camp, he was still groggy and working on a headache. That didn’t stop him from hopping down from the wagon to try to start a fire and make some much-needed coffee.
When Lynne awoke and climbed down from the back of the wagon in fresh clothes, her hair done up in a pretty but serviceable style, the sun came out for him in earnest.
“You look awfully pretty for someone who just crossed a river and had her life threatened,” he said.
Lynne laughed. The sound filled him with a peace and confidence he’d lost somewhere in the frustrating night.
“One should always meet danger looking their best,” she replied with a sweet smile.
Cade was no fool, though. He could see the worry behind her eyes, the tightness in the lines around her mouth as she tried to make light of her situation. The bandage around her neck may have been tied to look fashionable, but it was still a bandage. The urge to protect her was as strong as ever, to do more than just protect her.
They were halfway through preparing their breakfast when Mrs. Weingarten approached their camp.
“Mrs. Weingarten.” Lynne stood with a polite smile. The way she shifted from bold and ready to hunt down a dangerous man to a perfect lady who would be at home in a drawing room sent a deeper longing through Cade. “What brings you to our camp this morning?”
Mrs. Weingarten returned her greeting with a smile filled with joy and knowing. “I’m loathe to disturb the two of you, but I’ve come to invite you to a tea party.”
“A tea party?” Lynne glanced to Cade with a look that said she would fly to the moon and back for the chance to attend. “Here? On the trail?”
“Our group is setting out for Oregon and yours is heading on to Denver City. A few of us women have decided that we need to say goodbye to each other before we go,” Mrs. Weingarten explained.
“And Pete’s okay with this?” Cade asked.
Mrs. Weingarten laughed. “Mr. Evans is delighted to have one more day of rest and something to improve the morale of the people he will be taking on to Oregon.”
“That’s awfully nice of him,” Cade said. He wondered how hard Pete’s arm had to be twisted to give in to such a feminine scheme. Still, it would be a good way for Lynne to say her last goodbyes.
“The tea will be early this afternoon,” Mrs. Weingarten explained. “I was hoping Lynne would join us in setting up, though.”
Cade opened his mouth to thank Mrs. Weingarten for her consideration but to refuse when Lynne brightened and said, “I would love to help.”
She caught his frown and smiled even more brightly at him.
“Excellent,” Mrs. Weingarten said and stepped close enough to pat Lynne on the arm. “I would invite you to help set up as well, Mr. Lawson, but I understand that you’re quite a busy man and that you’re looking for someone.”
Cade bristled with caution. “I have a job to do,” he said, but nothing else. He didn’t know Mrs. Weingarten as well as he should have. She seemed a good sort, but these days he didn’t trust anyone.
“Good.” Mrs. Weingarten nodded. She squeezed Lynne’s arm once more before letting go and stepping back. “I will see you at the tea party then, Mr. Lawson. And now, you two young lovebirds keep out of trouble.” She winked and then turned to go.
An awkward heat made its way up Cade’s neck. “Lovebirds,” he mumbled. He never thought he’d see the day.
“I’m sure she means well,” Lynne said. Her face had gone pink as well, but a flash of mischief lit her eyes. He should probably be worried.
He was uneasy about letting Lynne out of his sight to help with the tea party, but with so many people hovering around Mrs. Weingarten’s wagon where a tent was being set up, he figured she was as safe as she was going to be. Mrs. Weingarten was right about him being able to get a lot of work done while they were busy. Since so many of the women had left their wagons to set up for the party, Cade was able to speak frankly to the men who were left behind.
“And you’re sure you didn’t see anyone around Miss Tremaine’s wagon that night?” he asked the blacksmith who’d been fixing people’s wagons and shoeing horses along the trail. “No one who shouldn’t be there?”
The grizzled man shook his head and itched his beard. “No one. I never saw anything out of the ordinary. You folks have been keeping pretty much to yourselves, although I can’t say I blame you,” he added with a wink. “That Miss Tremaine is something else.”
“She is.” Cade tried to smile in spite of that wink. He moved on with a bad taste in his mouth.
“I rarely see anyone but you and Miss Tremaine and that boy of yours near your wagon,” a young and eager farmer told him. “At first I thought maybe he was your son.”
“Who, Ben?” Cade asked.
“Yeah, but he’s too old and you and Miss Tremaine are too young.” The farmer had the good grace to look sheepish as he said, “I coulda sworn you and Miss Tremaine was married good and long. Kind of surprised to find out she’s still a miss.”
There was a question in the young farmer’s tone that made Cade itch with guilt. Everyone seemed to notice that he and Lynne were sweet on each other far more than any of them noticed anything amiss.
“Don’t see how no one could get close to that fiery, fine woman with you so close to her,” Kyle, the miner who had tried to rob John Rye’s wagon told him. Cade stopped him as they passed each other on the wagon line. He hadn’t intended to speak to any of the miners, but they could have seen things that others didn’t. “She’s a peach, that one. I bet you’ve taken a big, juicy bite out of her. Ha!”
“Miss Tremaine is a lady and deserving of your respect,” Cade scolded the man.
“Sure she is.” Kyle continued to laugh as he walked away.
Cade scrubbed his face to wipe away the frustration. His questions were getting him nowhere. The only thing he’d learned from the others in the wagon train was that he and Lynne were considered to be an item and her reputation had suffered because of it. He let out a weary breath and stared across the line of wagons to where Lynne was scurrying around inside of the tent that had been put up, setting places with someone’s fine china.
In spite of everything, he smiled. She would make a fine hostess at a real tea party. She would run a perfect house as well. A man could do a lot worse than to protect a woman’s reputation by offering for her. The sooner the better if every
thing he was hearing from the rest of the wagon train was right. He may not have had Great-Aunt Elizabeth’s ring with him right there on the trail, but surely he could find something to take its place.
With an awkward smile, still not believing he was going to do what he was planning to do, he headed across the gloomy riverbank to Lynne’s wagon. The skies had darkened and rain was already spitting down from the clouds. In the distance, Cade could see it raining harder. The tea party would get rained on one way or another. At least they had that tent.
He reached the back of the wagon and was about to hop up into it when he caught Ben leaning over Lynne’s hope chest. As soon as Ben saw him, he jumped and whirled around to face him fully. The lid of the hope chest slammed shut.
“What are you doing?” Cade demanded.
“I… uh….” Ben scrambled to his feet, although he had to hunch in the covered wagon. “I was lookin’ for something.”
“What were you looking for in Miss Tremaine’s things?” Cold suspicion wound its way through his gut. He flexed his hands, moving one closer to the revolver in his belt.
“I….” Ben let out a breath and hung his head, face red. “I wanted to look at the doll,” he said.
“Miss Tremaine’s doll?”
Ben nodded, so abashed that tears were in his eyes. “I never seen such a thing before,” he said. “I… I wanted to see what it looked like.”
The excuse did nothing to allay Cade’s suspicion. “Did you get a good look?”
Ben shrugged. “It’s just a doll. Nothin’ to get all upset about.”
Cade shifted, uncertain. He didn’t trust Ben in the least, but these days he didn’t trust anybody. How long could he go on suspecting everyone he came across of wanting to hurt Lynne or damage her reputation or even laugh at her? Ben was just a kid. He’d been hired by Judge Tremaine.
“Go on, then,” he said, shifting to the side. “Get out. Go make yourself useful and earn your keep.”
