Trail of Aces (Hot on the Trail Book 8)

by Merry Farmer

  “No, it looks far more dangerous,” Charlie commented from several feet behind where Olivia, Josephine, and Estelle were watching the busy river.

  Olivia turned, anxiety pressing down on her. She stepped away from her friends, rubbing her arms as she moved to stand beside Charlie. “What are you doing here? You should be watching your wagon.”

  Charlie’s brow flew up, and he smiled. “I’d much rather watch you.” His eyes lowered to her lips, and he swayed closer to her.

  A hot flush rippled through her. She dropped her gaze to keep from staring right back at his lips, but that brought her focus to the level of his trousers. It would do no good to let her mind wander down that path when there were so many things to be worried about around them.

  “Aren’t you worried about Chet breaking into your wagon to steal the—” She clamped her lips closed over her words as Mrs. Hamilton and one of the friends she’d made on the trail wandered past.

  Charlie chuckled and rested a hand on the side of her face. “Like I said, I’d much rather worry about you.”

  Olivia’s heart fluttered in her chest, but thudded to stillness when Charlie’s fond smile shifted to a hard frown.

  “I’ve got Graham watching my things,” he confided, voice lowered. It would have been lovely, but for the anger underlying his words. “Chet won’t try anything. Graham may be short one leg, but there’s nothing wrong with his arms. He could knock Chet flat in a heartbeat.”

  “I hope he doesn’t have to.”

  Charlie caressed her cheek, rubbing his thumb over her blush. “I wish you’d move your things back to my wagon, Sweet Pea. Or at least I wish that that bas—” He cleared his throat. “I wish that Chet was causing trouble a thousand miles away instead of in our wagon train. If he was gone, I’d scoop you over my shoulder and carry you back to my wagon and never let you go.”

  The hint of a growl in his voice sent shivers down Olivia’s spine. “You wouldn’t force me to stay if I didn’t want to.”

  He arched one eyebrow, sizzling mischief in his eyes. “You wouldn’t want to go once I got you there. You can’t fool me into thinking there isn’t a siren inside of you now.”

  Olivia’s face went so hot that she expected the snowcaps around them to melt. She pressed her cheek into Charlie’s hand for a split second before stepping away from him. “I’m still angry at you,” she whispered, unsure if she was or not.

  “I hope you’re always a little angry with me, Sweet Pea. It’ll keep me on my toes, keep me honest.”

  Olivia blinked up to him. He was teasing, but behind that was a rock solid truthfulness that she couldn’t deny. He’d lied to her once—if failing to divulge important information was the same as lying—but even she had to admit he’d been plain and open about everything since then. What if she could let go of her hurt and give herself up to him? Every married couple had conflict now and then.

  “Olivia, I need your help.”

  Olivia gave Charlie one last, wondering look before rushing off to help Mrs. Hamilton. The men who made their living helping travelers at this part of the river had started driving wagons onto rafts. These rafts were longer and narrower than the ones on the Platte River, but to Olivia’s eyes, they didn’t seem as stable.

  “I want you to stand up at the front by the oxen and keep them steady,” Mrs. Hamilton told her.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Olivia took a deep breath and swallowed her fear. She’d made it across the Platte in one piece, she could make it a half mile down the Snake too. Although Charlie had been with her to talk her through that journey.

  She checked over her shoulder for him now. He’d moved back to his wagon, which was only a few places behind the Hamiltons in line. Her heart squeezed tight when she noticed Chet talking to Graham at the back of Charlie’s wagon. There was a fair bit of distance between them, and the Hamiltons’ oxen demanded her attention, but she was certain that Graham was scowling and that Charlie has his fists clenched as he joined the conversation. Chet was almost certainly up to something.

  “You married the wrong man,” Mrs. Hamilton barked at her from the driver’s bench of her wagon.

  “What?” The statement was so preposterous that Olivia snapped straighter. The raft shifted under her, and she had to grab the yoke of one of the oxen, who wasn’t particularly happy with the arrangement on the raft either.

  “You should have held out and married Mr. Devlin,” Mrs. Hamilton went on, her wrinkled face alight with smiles. “He’s far more handsome and mannerly. Your Mr. Garrett isn’t trustworthy. To hear Mr. Devlin tell it, he’s done some bad things.”

  “I’m sure, to hear Mr. Devlin tell it,” Olivia grumbled.

  “Hold on, ladies.” The conversation was cut short as the river man pushed the raft away from the bank with a long pole.

  Three seconds later, Olivia was terrified for her life. It wasn’t like crossing the Platte at all. The river man steered the raft into the rushing water, and as soon as they hit the current, the raft sped up, hurling them downstream. Olivia yelped and grabbed hold of the yoke for all she was worth. The ox beside her was bulky and steady, but also as nervous as she was. It stamped and lowed, its eyes wide.

  “Keep that animal calm,” Mrs. Hamilton shouted above her, clearly terrified. “Mr. Devlin says that the secret to a smooth river crossing is to keep the animals calm.”

  “Steady does it,” the river man echoed. He kept his pole stuck in the water, doing his best to guide them as the river swept them along.

  “Stop that,” Mrs. Hamilton yelled at him.

  “Ma’am?”

  “You shouldn’t keep the pole in the water. Mr. Devlin says so.”

  “Who the hell is Mr. Devlin?” the river man snapped.

  “He’s a wise man who knows what he’s talking about.” Mrs. Hamilton’s voice was high and hysterical. “If you don’t float this raft the way he said to float it, I’ll come down there and do it myself.”

  The river man scowled, trying to focus on his work and Mrs. Hamilton at the same time. “With all due respect, ma’am—”

  He couldn’t finish. Mrs. Hamilton made an angry, frightened squeaking noise and stood in the wagon’s seat. The raft tipped in response. Olivia gasped and pressed her body against the ox beside her. It lowed in loud complaint and tried to step sideways, but was blocked by the other ox.

  “Sit down!”

  The river man was beside himself, eyes wide. He gripped the pole and did his best to steer, but Mrs. Hamilton was already climbing down the side of the wagon.

  “Don’t!” Olivia shouted. She let go of the yoke with one hand and tried to reach for Mrs. Hamilton to stop her.

  As Mrs. Hamilton hopped down onto the raft, the whole thing dipped to the side. “Mr. Devlin says the best way to steer a raft is with a paddle, not a pole. You can’t do this.”

  “Get away from me, ma’am!”

  Olivia whipped away from the confrontation as the raft sagged to one side. As long as the river man was able to concentrate on steering, the raft had kept to the side of the river. As he fought off Mrs. Hamilton—who tried to snatch the pole away from him with wide, feral eyes—they drifted further and further into the heart of the current.

  Olivia saw the rock in the middle of the stream several yards before they hit it. “Turn, turn!” she screamed, but the river man was too busy trying to pry Mrs. Hamilton’s fear-crazed hands off of the pole to see. The impact split the raft under them with a loud crack. Olivia screamed as everything tipped under her. Another scream and the cries of the oxen mingled with more cracks and crunches. A heartbeat later, Olivia splashed into icy water.

  The rush of water around her ears made the world oddly quiet for a moment. The shock of cold water robbed her of the ability to move. Something bumped hard against her arm, something else smashed against her hip. Sense snapped back to her and she scrambled, arms and legs flailing. She had no idea which way was up. The light seemed to roll and shift around her. Her lungs burned, her body felt d
istant and disconnected and far too heavy. Her foot hit hard against something, and on instinct alone, she pushed.

  As soon as her head broke the surface, she gasped for breath. She only had a second to see that the current was pushing her along at breakneck speed before she went under again. This time she fought. She focused on the light and pushed toward it with everything she had. Once again, her head broke through the surface, and she gasped for air. Her flailing arms and legs hit against solid objects, but whether they were rocks or the raft or debris from the wagon, she couldn’t tell.

  Her struggle seemed to go on for hours before something warm snagged her around the waist. She screamed, fighting whatever it was.

  “I’ve got you.” Charlie’s voice instantly calmed her. She went limp, sagging into him, trying to move as he moved.

  The splashing of the rapids and the tug of the current lessened all of a sudden. What seemed like the blink of an eye later, Olivia felt herself heaved up onto solid ground. She shook violently in spite of Charlie’s arms around her. Only then did her senses come back to her. She had only been pushed twenty or so yards downstream after all. The raft with the Hamiltons’ wagon was still snagged on the rock it had hit. The wagon itself looked as though a giant had smashed it with a hammer. All Olivia could see of the poor oxen were their backs where the harness held them under the water. She burst into tears at the sight. It moved her far more than the sight of the river man and Mrs. Hamilton catching their breath, soaked and shaking, further up the river.

  It was only after she registered everything going on around her that she realized she wasn’t the only one shaking…or crying.

  “I thought I’d lost you,” Charlie groaned. He had buried his face in the wet hair clinging to her neck. His arms were so tight around her that she couldn’t take a deep breath. “I thought I’d lost you,” he repeated with a sob.

  “How did you save me?” She twisted in his arms so that she could cling to him for all she was worth.

  It took Charlie a long time to reply. He squeezed her close until his ragged breathing and trembling subsided, and then until her breathing returned to normal. Olivia was convinced he hadn’t heard her question until he said, “Graham saw there was trouble on your raft from the moment you all got on. I rushed back to the river to try to stop it from leaving, but it was too late. That wretched Hamilton woman stood up when you were only a few yards down. I knew it spelled trouble, so I dove in.”

  “You what?” Olivia lifted her head so that she could look at him. She gasped when she saw the raw distress and the fierce protectiveness in his eyes.

  “I was already in the water when you hit the rock. I knew it was a bad idea to let you go with those miserable people.”

  Olivia clasped the sides of his face with both hands, but she didn’t know what to say. Her mouth hung open. The only right thing she could think of to do was to kiss him solidly on his cold, trembling lips. He kissed her back with equal passion. His body both relaxed in relief and tensed with desire around hers.

  There wasn’t time for any of that.

  “Your wagon,” she gasped, leaning back. “Your box. Chet might have stolen it.”

  Charlie shook his head. “He can have the lot of it if it meant losing you.”

  Shock, confusion, and something close to bliss welled up through Olivia’s chest. He would rather have her than that much money?

  She would have kissed him again, but the thud of men running toward them broke into their intimate moment.

  “You okay?” one of Pete’s crew members, Bob, shouted in alarm.

  “Bring warm blankets, now,” Pete shouted behind him. “Get that wagon out of the river.”

  “We’re fine,” Charlie answered Bob. “All this fuss for a little swim.”

  He was joking? At a moment like this? Olivia burst into laughter that quickly teetered toward hysterical. Charlie held her tighter as the men who rushed to help them lifted them to their feet. They brought blankets, and within minutes, Estelle and Josephine were there to lead them toward a warm fire. The danger was past, but as things settled, Olivia’s mind began to race.

  Chet stood farther up the river, where the wagons had begun their journey. Charlie’s wagon was guarded by Graham and Luke, but that wasn’t what he was looking at. Chet glanced from the Hamiltons’ crushed wagon—still holding on to the rock in the middle of the raging stream—to Olivia. He had his arms crossed and wore a frown…as if he was disappointed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Growing up dirt poor in the streets of New Orleans had given Charlie a tough skin, but it hadn’t prepared him for the complete breakdown of his personal strength following Olivia’s accident. Seeing Olivia tumble into the churning waters of the Snake River had changed him. He didn’t want to think about what would have happened if he hadn’t seen the raft veer off-course, and dived into the water before they hit the rock.

  He didn’t want to think about that, but he’d hardly been able to think of anything else for days after the fact. At least Olivia had kept close to his side—even if she’d been all but silent—as they continued on to Ft. Hood. They’d both endured half the wagon train fussing over them as what was left of the Hamiltons’ wagon was recovered and the rest of the wagons were floated downstream. Once they reached their camping spot for the night on the other side of the river, it was determined that the Hamiltons’ wagon was a complete loss. Mrs. Hamilton wept inconsolably, but Charlie had a hard time feeling sympathy for the woman. The whole thing had been her fault.

  Or so it would seem. Charlie couldn’t shake the feeling that Chet had something to do with the near-fatal disaster. But how? Obviously, he’d filled Mrs. Hamilton’s weak head with panic, judging by what Olivia had reported to him as the two of them huddled together by a campfire, drying out. There was no way to be certain that the foolish woman would have acted out on her own. It must be more. After the incident with his wagon wheel, there was no telling what Chet could have done to the Hamiltons’ wagon itself.

  “Are you sure you’re not being twitchy?” Graham asked as they sat enjoying a much-needed drink on a bench in the sun outside of Ft. Hood’s mess hall. When Charlie turned a glare on him, Graham held up his hands and said, “I don’t trust the man either, but that’s a lot of effort to go through and a lot of people to hurt just to get your hands on some questionable money.”

  Graham hadn’t seen Josiah’s jewels or the stacks of cash. If he had, he might think differently. “I know the man,” he said instead of arguing. “I know what he’s capable of.” In all their years of running cons, Chet had never killed anyone, but he had it in him.

  “Well, at least Olivia is back to traveling with you instead of those numb-nut Hamiltons.” Graham punctuated his comment with a sip of whiskey.

  “Not that she has much choice.” Charlie took a larger, calming swig of his own watered-down drink.

  Only a fraction of the Hamiltons’ belongings were able to be salvaged, and none of Olivia’s. All of her school books and supplies, her carpetbag of clothes and mementos, all of it was gone. She’d had nothing but the dress on her back, at least until the other women in the train stepped up with donations of clothes and a hairbrush and such. One woman had even given her a small bottle of perfume, which Olivia had thought was ridiculous. Thank God Estelle had convinced her to accept it graciously. His darling Sweet Pea was devastated, although she was trying her best to hide it. His heart told him she was near the edge after everything she’d been through. He wasn’t going to take that lying down.

  Olivia worked cooking supper with Estelle over the wagon train crew’s campfire now. Charlie could see her through the fort’s front gate. He’d made good and certain that he could always see Olivia wherever they were for the past few days, and he would make sure he could see her all the way to Oregon City and for the rest of their lives. The moment her head had disappeared under the rapids, he’d known beyond a shadow of a doubt that without her, life wasn’t worth living, and with her, he could be
the man that everyone had always wanted him to be. He needed her more than he’d needed anything in his life.

  That thought was foremost in his mind when they set out down the Snake River the next day.

  “As soon as we reach Oregon City, I’m taking you shopping,” he told Olivia as they approached their first overnight stopping point out of Ft. Hood. “I want you to buy as many dresses as your arms can carry, pretty shoes to keep your lovely feet warm, and one of those hairbrush and mirror sets ladies love so much. Silver, with ivory carvings.”

  Olivia met his list with a weak smile. “I’d rather buy books to make up for the ones I’ve lost, and slates and pencil boxes for the children I end up teaching wherever we settle.” Her words dropped away, and she hugged herself as they walked on over the rocky path.

  Keeping his wife safe was one thing, but Charlie had the sudden urge to make her smile. “Forget pencils and slates and chalk. Why don’t we open an entire school? It’ll be all yours. You can have it constructed to your specifications, paint it yourself, and stock it with whatever eager young minds need to grow.”

  Olivia did smile then, but only fleetingly. “Schools are expensive, Charlie. How do you intend to pay for all that?” She paused, then glanced sideways at him with a look that implied they both knew exactly how.

  He let out a defeated breath, dropped his shoulders. “You and I both know the cost wouldn’t be a problem.” She quirked an eyebrow. It shouldn’t have, but it still stung that she didn’t fully trust him. “Josiah Hurst would be proud to know that his fortune went into opening a school.”

  Now Olivia raised both eyebrows. “You really have…” She paused and swallowed, sending a darting look around them, then lowering her voice. “Josiah Hurst really had that much money?”

  The light of hope was back in her eyes. It was all the encouragement Charlie needed. His old, familiar, teasing grin returned. “Well, a small school. One room ought to do it.”

  Olivia made a sound that was something between scoffing and laughing. Their eyes met and both of them tumbled over the edge into laughter. Olivia’s guilty giggle was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard, and the most reassuring. He reached over and slipped his hand around hers.