by Merry Farmer
“Because he’s your husband and you love him,” Josephine answered.
“I don’t love him,” she insisted. “I haven’t known him long enough for that.”
Josephine laughed at her. “Love doesn’t have a timetable, sweetheart. Look at me.”
Olivia glanced up at her with a puzzled frown.
“It took me forty years to fall in love.” She paused and smirked. “And at the rate I’m going, it’ll take forty more years to get him to feel the same.”
Everything else blew right out of Olivia’s mind, and she sat straight, a sudden smile touching her lips. “Pete?”
Josephine gave her a grin as sly as a cat. “Who else? Talk about one tough nut to crack. That man has been on his own too long.” She paused, tilted her head, then laughed. “But I guess I have too. All I mean is that we each have our troubles and the things that try to keep us apart, but it’s my firm conviction that men and women were meant to be together. We’re better when we’re together. We can help each other get over things and turn over new leaves.”
There was more to Josephine’s words than met the eye. Olivia was smart enough to get the message. Josephine wanted her to go back to Charlie, to help him make the changes he wanted to make in her life. She wanted to help him make those changes too, if she was being honest with herself.
“So, are you going to swallow your pride and go talk to your husband, at least?” Josephine asked when the silence between them had gone on too long.
Olivia arched a brow at her. “If it was a matter of pride, I would swallow it with a swig of lemonade. But if my suspicions are correct, there are much bigger issues at stake.”
“But you still want to go to him, don’t you?” Josephine asked her question with a wink.
There was no point in denying it. Olivia did want to go back to Charlie, at least long enough to find out the answers to some pressing questions. If only she could—
“Olivia?” Mrs. Hamilton called from the back of the wagon. “What in heaven’s name is this strange, heavy box?”
The longing and remorse that accompanied Olivia’s thoughts snapped away. She pressed a hand to her mouth, then jumped up and spun to face the wagon. Sure enough, Mrs. Hamilton held Charlie’s locked box in her hands. Olivia had shoved it into the far corner of the Hamiltons’ wagon the night she’d moved her things back. She’d hidden it so that Charlie wouldn’t find it, but she’d assumed no one else would find it either.
“That’s mine.” She skipped over the pile of dirty clothes she’d made and rushed to snatch the box out of Mrs. Hamilton’s hands.
The woman had lifted it to the side of her head and was shaking it, as if she could guess what was inside. “Sounds like rocks. Maybe a chain or something?”
“Careful.” Olivia tried not to sound too harsh. “Some of the contents are fragile.”
“Oh! Is it that pretty necklace of yours? The one that rake of a husband of yours gave you?” Mrs. Hamilton speculated as Olivia pried the box from her hands. “Say,” she went on, narrowing her eyes. “You don’t suppose your Mr. Garrett stole that necklace, do you?”
Up until she’d heard the conversation between Charlie and Chet, Olivia would have done more than suppose. Now that she had fragments of truth, however, she couldn’t be sure.
“These are just mementos from home.” Another lie, and one told far too easily. But it had been told to protect Charlie. Whether he deserved protecting was another story.
“I don’t recall you having that when we first set out from Fairfield,” Mrs. Hamilton said.
“You don’t? I’ve had it all along.” Olivia cursed herself. Where was her integrity?
Or was it having integrity to stop the cat from getting out of the bag? A whole new set of worries struck her. Chet was looking for the contents of that box. That’s what he’d meant when he said that he’d earned Josiah’s money as much as Charlie had. Several people had seen her wearing the diamond and sapphire necklace, and Mrs. Hamilton—who wasn’t the brightest candle in the stand—had made a connection between it and the box. Something had to be done, and fast.
Mrs. Hamilton sniffed, peeked at Josephine, then focused on the mound of filthy clothes Olivia had made beside the trunk. “If you’re going to go airing our dirty laundry in front of the neighbors—literally—then the least you could do is go find a washtub and clean it up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Olivia clutched Charlie’s box to her chest and nodded. “I’ll go fetch some water and do the washing right now so it has time to dry overnight before we move out.”
Mrs. Hamilton’s smile returned. “I don’t know what your ma was always talking about. You’re far more useful than a silk scarf in February.”
It was a sure sign of how deeply the discovery of Charlie’s box had upset her that Olivia barely flinched at the backhanded compliment. She knew that she would never measure up in her mother’s eyes, but that hardly seemed to matter beside the immediate danger of the box of jewels and money and everything it represented. Something had to be done about that first.
Josephine was standing to the side, watching the exchange. She watched as Olivia stashed Charlie’s box in her carpetbag. It was a poor hiding place, but for now it would have to do. When Olivia snatched up a bucket and rushed away from the Hamiltons’ wagon toward the stream, Josephine followed her.
“You know more than you’re letting on,” Josephine told her.
Olivia couldn’t very well deny it, but she didn’t have enough information to share her fears yet. “There’s a lot more going on than even I know,” she answered instead.
Now Josephine looked genuinely worried. “If you need any sort of help of a serious nature, you can always come to me or Pete.”
“I know.” Olivia nodded and went on with her work.
She made several trips to the stream near where the wagons were camped, filling up the Hamiltons’ washtub and scrubbing her way through their laundry. It was a sign of how distracted she was, with thoughts of how she could both keep Charlie safe from suspicion and keep him at arm’s length, that she barely noticed how quickly the water turned filthy. She didn’t stop to eat supper either. As soon as the wash was done and hung, she mustered her courage and marched down the line of wagons to Charlie’s camp.
“Olivia.” He stood, the hope in his face heartbreaking, as she approached. “Is there something I can do for you?”
The sincerity in his offer, the way he abandoned his game of solitaire and came to meet her, touched every soft and inconvenient place in Olivia’s heart.
“I’m not staying long.” She glanced behind her, looked over Charlie’s shoulder, and made sure that Chet was nowhere near.
Charlie caught on to her covert looks and stepped closer. So close that if he reached out, she could slip into his arms. “Is something wrong?”
A burst of frustration broke over her. “Everything is wrong.” She scowled at him, balling her hands into fists at her sides. She was estranged from a husband that she had never truly been given the chance to get close to. She was protecting someone who had done terrible things, and now she didn’t know which way her moral compass should be pointing.
“I’m sorry.” The two words were spoken so softly and with such emotion that tears stung at the back of Olivia’s eyes. Charlie touched her arm, inching closer. “I never meant for any of this to happen. You have to believe me when I tell you that I genuinely hoped that by coming out west, I could leave my sordid past behind.”
Part of her wanted to shout that you could never leave that kind of a past behind. Another part of her saw all too clearly what it was like to walk away from a difficult and uncomfortable past with the hope of finding a better, freer life.
She didn’t speak fast enough, so Charlie stepped closer and went on with, “If there is anything I can do to take whatever pain you’re feeling away from you, Sweet Pea, I’d do it.”
Her mind rebelled with “Don’t call me Sweet Pea,” but she couldn’t force the harsh wor
ds through her lips. Her heart wouldn’t let her.
“I know that our marriage started out as a game,” he went on, piercing her heart further. “But I underestimated how magical a woman as beautiful and noble as you could be. You make me want to be a better man, Olivia.”
“I—” Her throat closed up over everything else that she could think of to say.
Charlie moved closer still, and only when she felt his hand on her waist did she realize that they were almost in an embrace. “I’ve been thinking of nothing else for the past few days. I never thought I’d say this, I thought I would play along for the length of the trail and then give you the chance to be free when we reached Oregon City, but I…I love you, Olivia. And I don’t want to give you up. Not for anything.”
Her mouth dropped open. Charlie’s eyes followed the gesture, watching her as if he wanted nothing more than to capture her lips with his, to kiss her with all the emotion that glowed in his words. He stayed where he was, though, looking without taking, longing without demanding. And blast it, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to press up to her toes, throw her arms around his neck, and beg him to teach her all the things that had made his life so wicked before.
“I have your locked box,” she squeaked before she lost her nerve.
“I know.” He nodded, face serious, eyes ablaze. “I thought I’d let you keep it for a while. Sort of a mark of trust.”
Her heart dropped to her stomach, and guilt wormed its way up her spine. He trusted her. She couldn’t say the same.
“Mrs. Hamilton suspects what’s inside of it.”
“What?” He hardened, taking a half step back.
The moment of promise between them was gone. Olivia swayed away from him, throat tight with regret. “She found it and was shaking it. She made the connection between the box and the necklace I wore a few weeks ago. I didn’t confirm her suspicions, but I don’t trust her not to talk about it with anyone.” Trust. There was that word again.
Charlie frowned, rubbing his mouth and chin. The tenderness that had radiated from him just a moment ago had changed to something harder, more protective. “Are you sure she’s the sort who would gossip about that?”
Olivia winced. “Pretty sure. I don’t know if anyone will listen to her or care, but…” She paused and swallowed as she met Charlie’s eyes. “I heard you and Mr. Devlin talking the other day. He’s after those jewels and that money, isn’t he?”
“He is.” It was little consolation that Charlie was so quick to admit the truth.
“Then word is sure to get back to him. I…I don’t want you to be in danger because of it.”
Charlie’s expression hardened to something ferocious. A second later, it lightened to a grin that was so close to his old, charming self that Olivia wanted to weep and throw herself into his arms. “Don’t you worry about me, Sweet Pea. Chet and I might share a less than reputable past, but we’re very different people now. But I could still take him in a fight.” He finished with a wink.
She should be reassured, but she wasn’t. Not at all. “Be careful,” she whispered.
“I will.” He stepped closer and brushed a hand against the side of her face.
“I don’t approve of what you’ve done,” she forced herself to say, in order to save face. “But I would…I would deeply regret if anything happened to you.”
“It’s all right. I know.” He dipped forward, and before she could put a stop to things, pressed his lips to hers.
It was only a fleeting kiss, just enough to remind her of the promise and the fire that smoldered between them. In an instant, it was over, and Olivia was as uncertain as ever.
“I need to get back.” She took a step back, away from the caress of his hand and lips, drawing a firm line between them. “The Hamiltons will be wondering where I’ve gone.”
“Tell them you went to visit your husband.” He winked, his charming smile melting her heart with regret.
She turned and started off, every step shaky. She only managed to go a few yards before turning back.
“Were you really going to let me go in Oregon City if I decided I didn’t want to be married to you?”
He spread his arms in a gesture of surrender. “Sweet Pea, I would never force you to do anything that you didn’t want to do, even if it would break my heart. Of course I would let you go. I still will, if that’s what you want.” His final statement hung like a question between them.
All she had to do was say the word, and any connection between them would be broken. He’d let her go her way, and he would go his, to make whatever he would of his life, good or bad. She wouldn’t have to worry about it or have any part in it.
Her lips pressed firmly shut. She took one last, long look at him in the fading light of twilight, then turned and walked off.
Chapter Twelve
It was only a matter of time. Charlie knew how the game was played. Any good confidence man worth his salt couldn’t let the people around him think that he was vengeful or bloodthirsty or even angry for more than a few days.
“I have complete confidence in your ability to lead us on through any sort of challenge.” Chet smiled at Pete from where they all sat, enjoying a meal together on a Sunday. He’d been so friendly and positive in the last two days that even Charlie would have thought all was forgiven and forgotten…if he didn’t know better.
“You may have confidence in my abilities,” Pete replied, sipping on a mug of coffee Libby had just handed him, “but I don’t have much confidence in the look of those snowcaps.” He nodded toward the mountains on the western horizon. It was a clear, warm day in the valley they currently drove through, but at higher elevations, snow had been falling.
“Surely the snow will stay on the mountaintops,” Olivia said. Her hands were busy mending the hem of a pair of Chet’s pants. If Charlie could have, he would have demanded that Olivia stay fifty paces away from Chet at all times, let alone handle his clothing. But his dear, heartbroken wife was at a loss after Pete suspended her trail school until all signs of illness were gone from the train, and even Charlie didn’t have the heart to force her to remain idle. As long as she remained close to his side.
Pete removed his hat, smoothed back his hair with a pinched expression, then replaced his hat. “Trouble is, we got off to a bit of a late start back in Independence. And with all the delays we’ve had on the way,” his gaze darted to little Freddy and Muriel Chance, to Lucy and Gideon as they made googly eyes at each other, and to Graham as he rubbed the end of his stump absentmindedly, “I’m afraid we’re going to hit at least some sort of bad weather.”
“So we should move faster,” Chet suggested. “Surely there’s a way to do that.”
Pete’s pinched expression grew, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ll reach Ft. Bridger in a day or two—”
“And then I’ll be so close to my father’s ranch that I’ll be able to smell it in the wind,” Lucy added. Charlie hadn’t thought she was paying attention.
Pete nodded, then went on with, “After that, we really and truly get to the mountains. We’ll have to dip south a bit to go around by the valley, then head straight north through the pass for a spell before we come out near the Snake River.”
“Is it full of snakes?” Muriel asked, eyes wide.
Several of the adults laughed, which only highlighted how tense everyone was.
“No, ma’am.” Pete held out an arm, and Muriel rushed to cuddle up to his side. “It was named that because it winds through the hills and trees so much.”
Charlie watched Pete and Muriel with a strange, fuzzy feeling in his chest. He’d had no idea Pete was good with children. In fact, he’d have placed money on Pete being the sort that avoided them whenever possible. He’d have pegged himself as the sort to avoid kids, but something about the stars in Muriel’s eyes as she looked up at Pete and the wistful flush that came to Olivia’s lovely face sent his senses tumbling.
That moment when she’d come to him, worried ab
out his safety, seemed like it was a hundred years ago, though it was only the day before yesterday. Olivia had felt so right, so perfect, in his arms. His mind had run in circles since then, telling him that if she truly hated him, if there was no chance left for them, she would never have come to him in the first place, and she certainly wouldn’t have let him hold her close or brush her face. No, there was something there, some inner longing. He felt it too. And now, the way she watched Pete with Muriel, well, it was as if she was yearning to see her own husband and daughter. And he was her husband.
“You two had better kiss and make up sometime soon,” Gideon advised him once their communal meal broke up and they each went off in their own direction. “Otherwise, you’ll drive the ladies to do something drastic to get the two of you back together.”
The image that those words brought with them—of Josephine and Estelle and especially Lucy plotting some sort of Shakespearean device to land him and Olivia alone in a tight spot—brought a long-missing grin to his face.
“They would, wouldn’t they.” He chuckled, Gideon laughing along with him.
Gideon shrugged. “At least it’s made Lucy…amorous.”
Charlie laughed harder, slapping Gideon on the back. “You old dog.”
“We may have anticipated our marriage vows a little,” Gideon admitted, pink-faced.
“A little?” Charlie elbowed his friend. His true friend. The bond he’d formed with Gideon—and with Graham and Pete—on the trail was nothing like the so-called friendship he’d had with Chet. They didn’t want anything from each other. They didn’t need to watch their backs around each other either. Maybe that’s what Josiah meant when he said that the simple joys of an upright life were worth more than gold.
“Well, I think—”
Charlie stopped cold halfway through thumping Gideon on the back. Ahead of them, Chet leaned against the back of the Hamiltons’ wagon, a charming smile on his face as he chatted with Mrs. Hamilton. Mrs. Hamilton didn’t seem to have anything to occupy her other than talking to Chet, but Chet kept peeking into the back of the wagon. The man must have made a bee-line straight to the Hamiltons as soon as the meal broke up. Which meant he must have heard something in the chatter while they ate, hinting where Josiah’s treasure had gone. Chet never spoke to anyone, unless he could get something out of it.
