“You ready to talk?”
She did not look at him. “That is the very last thing I want to do,” she said in a flat voice. “Where are the girls?”
“They went off to explore the fort.”
She studied the fire crackling in the pit he’d dug. “I should see to supper.”
“Jenna.” He folded up his pocketknife and stood up.
“I’m not ready to talk,” she said quickly.
“I don’t care if you’re ready or not. There are things I need to know.”
She ignored him. Keeping her head down, she turned back to the wagon, reached inside for the skillet and the coffeepot, and set them on the apple crate.
“Jenna,” he said again.
“Not now, Lee.” She climbed back through the bonnet, and this time when she emerged she had a tinned can in each hand.
“Corn and tomatoes,” she said. “Succotash.”
He lifted them out of her grasp. “Forget the succotash.”
“I could make biscuits.”
“Forget the biscuits, too. I need—”
Before he could get the words out, Mary Grace flew into camp, breathing hard. “We got invited to supper. Mrs. Lincoln asked one of the soldiers from the fort, and she sent me to see if—”
“You girls may stay to supper,” Jenna said. “And Mr. Carver, too. I am...not hungry.”
“Mr. Carver is staying here,” Lee said.
“Oh, but...Lee, I know you would enjoy Emma’s cooking.”
“I’m staying here,” he repeated.
Jenna frowned at him, then at her stepdaughter. “Go on, then, Mary Grace. Be sure to wash up first, and don’t stay too late. And tell Mrs. Lincoln thank you.”
The girl raced off, and Jenna stood staring after her.
“Come on,” Lee said. “We’re going for a walk.”
“Oh, I don’t think—”
“I didn’t ask you what you think. Don’t argue.” He banked the fire and took her arm. After half a dozen steps she pulled free.
“I don’t need help.”
He closed his hand around her arm again. “Yes, you do. You’re unsteady on your feet.”
A strangled laugh escaped her. “Lee, I am expecting a baby. I am learning that women in the family way do not have very good balance.”
“We’re still going for a walk, Jenna.” He guided her away from the cluster of wagons and out onto the smooth parade ground. “It’s still light enough to see where we’re going,” he offered. “And the moon will be rising soon.”
“You will be hungry before then,” she said.
“I don’t think so. Right now I don’t feel much like eating.”
The air smelled of dry grass and wood smoke from numerous campfires. They walked in silence for a good ten minutes while a song sparrow twittered from a clump of ash trees.
“Jenna, that fellow Morgan is someone you knew back in Ohio, isn’t he?”
She hesitated so long he thought she was going to ignore his question. “Yes,” she said finally. “He is—was—my mother’s attorney.”
“And a friend of yours.”
Another long silence fell. “Yes, he was a friend.”
“A close friend, I gather.”
“Lee, for heaven’s sake, that must be obvious to you. Why do you keep asking these things?”
Because I’m going to kill him if he comes near you again. “A close friend?” he repeated.
“Yes,” she said sharply.
“Are you sorry I ran him off?”
She stopped short, then walked on a few steps. “No. I am glad you did.”
“You didn’t want to see him, am I right?”
She barked out a harsh laugh. “You sound like an attorney yourself.”
“I don’t like what he did to you. Upsetting you, I mean.”
“I admit it was a shock to see Randall. I never expected to see him again. But I... I will be all right.”
“Provided he doesn’t come back,” Lee said drily.
She came to a dead stop. “Oh! You don’t think he would, do you?”
“You don’t remember what he said?”
“To be honest, it’s all a blur. I only remember his face when he saw that I was...”
He took her arm again, turning her toward the grove of trees. “If he shows up again I might have to shoot him. That all right with you?”
She chewed on her lower lip. “Yes, that is all right with me. I thought I was in love with him once,” she said in an unsteady voice. “And then I discovered that...” her voice choked off “...that he already had a wife.”
So that was it. Damned bastard.
“You like succotash?” he asked to change the subject.
“What?” She huffed out a laugh. “Do I like succotash? No, actually, I don’t like succotash. I do like biscuits, though.”
Lee hid a smile. “Your biscuits are good, Jenna.”
She stopped walking. “Lee, you say the most unexpected things.”
His eyebrows went up. “What, that I like your biscuits? You’re pretty easy to surprise.”
“As a matter of fact I am not at all easy to surprise. Except when Randall—” She broke off and bit her lip.
“I’ll bet back in Ohio he had to work hard to get you to even smile at him.”
“Well, yes, as a matter of fact, he did.”
“To say nothing about, uh, dancing with him. Or—”
“Don’t you dare say it!”
“Making biscuits for him,” he finished.
This time Jenna laughed wholeheartedly, and he turned her to face him. Bending forward, he touched his forehead to hers.
“You know something, Jenna? I like you. And it has nothing to do with your biscuits.” He lifted his head and tipped her chin up with his thumb.
She caught her breath. “Don’t, Lee. Please. If you do anything nice, I’ll start to cry again.”
He stared at her. She’d cry? Well, hell, that sure took his mind off kissing her.
“Jenna?” a young voice called out. “Mr. Carver? Where are you?”
“Over here,” Lee shouted.
“Hurry!”
Lee clamped his jaw tight and ran for the camp. When he got close he saw not only the girls but the figure of a man, and his stomach turned over. He turned back toward Jenna. “Wait here,” he yelled.
Mary Grace grabbed his hand. “Look who we brought, Mr. Carver,” she sang.
The man turned, his face illuminated by the firelight. Not Morgan, thank God. This man was solidly built, with graying hair and a trim beard, and he was wearing a military jacket. He extended his hand as Lee approached.
“Lee. Good to see you, Major.”
“Colonel Owens? I didn’t recognize you, sir.”
“Wasn’t expecting me, either, I’d guess. Your girls told me you were traveling with their wagon. I hope I’m not intruding?”
“Not at all. Just a minute and I’ll introduce you to their mother.” He walked Jenna back into camp and presented her to the colonel.
“I am honored, Mrs. Borland.” Then he surprised Lee with a question. “Would you happen to have some coffee brewed? Mrs. Lincoln served only tea after supper.”
Lee grabbed the coffeepot, filled it from the water barrel hung at the side of the wagon and waited while Mary Grace ground up some beans.
Tess bobbed at Jenna’s elbow. “Guess what, Jenna? They’re having a ball tomorrow night, at the officers’ quarters. Can we go? Please?”
Mary Grace tugged at Jenna’s skirt. “Oh, could we? I’ll watch after Ruthie, I promise.”
Colonel Owens spoke up. “I hope you will attend as well, Mrs. Borland.”
“Oh, no, I cou
ldn’t.” She was misshapen and clumsy and she must look positively dreadful.
“We’ll be there,” Lee countered. He avoided Jenna’s angry glare and instead set the coffeepot on the fire.
“Lee,” the colonel said in an undertone. “Could I speak to you in private?”
The two men stepped away from camp, and Colonel Owens cleared his throat. “A man rode into Fort Caspar a couple of days ago, asking after Mrs. Borland. Name of Morgan. You know him?”
“I know him. What did you tell him?”
“Nothing. I had no idea where her wagon might be. Or that you’d be with her. Didn’t like the look of him, though. Thought you’d want to know.”
“Thanks, Colonel. Don’t mention it to Jenna.”
“Figured as much. As I said, Morgan didn’t impress me. Matter of fact, Lee, something about the man made my skin crawl.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Just think,” Tess whispered the next night in the wagon. “A ball! Jenna, will you show me how to braid my hair like yours?”
Jenna stared at her stepdaughter. Tess is asking for my help? After all the months of obvious dislike and disrespect, she could scarcely believe it.
“Me, too!” Mary Grace exclaimed.
“Your hair isn’t long enough to braid,” Tess sniped.
“Is too!”
“Is not!”
Jenna laid her hairbrush in her lap and studied the curved wooden wagon staves over her head. “If you two behave like this tonight, everyone will know you are not grown-up enough to attend a ball.”
“I behave nice,” Ruthie said. “I’m old enough for the ball, aren’t I, Jenna?”
Jenna opened her mouth to reply but Tess cut her off. “I apologize, Mary Grace. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Mary Grace’s hazel eyes widened. She and Jenna stared at each other, then both turned their gazes on Tess.
“I accept your apology, sister,” the younger girl said primly.
Where on earth had the girls learned this? As far as she knew since the day they’d laid eyes on her, the girls had never paid the slightest bit of attention to anything she’d said about good manners or social graces, to say nothing about being kind to each other.
She picked up Tess’s comb and motioned her to turn around, then combed and braided, gradually feeding in more strands as she went along until a perfect crown of braided dark hair wound around the older girl’s head. She handed Tess the hand mirror.
“Oh, it’s just beautiful! Thank you, Jenna.”
Jenna blinked in astonishment. Thank you, Jenna? She must be dreaming.
Both girls scrambled into clean gingham dresses, one blue and one pink, rubbed their dusty shoes with spit and clambered out of the wagon bed. Jimmy Gumpert waited outside to escort all three of them to the officers’ quarters.
Lee and Jenna followed, walking side by side in uneasy silence. Jenna was still smarting from their exchange the night before when Lee had refused to tell her what Colonel Owens had said to him in private.
“Not important,” he had insisted.
“Of course it’s important,” she’d flared. “Otherwise the colonel would have said it in my presence.”
“Go to sleep, Jenna.”
That had made her so mad she’d punched his shoulder. He’d grabbed her wrist and pinned it, then told her to mind her own business.
What on earth was the matter with the man? This was her business. This was her wagon, after all. Her family.
But when she’d pointed this out, he had laid his hand over her mouth and told her to shut up and go to sleep.
All day today something simmered between them. She didn’t know how she felt about the man, and trying to puzzle it out just made her head ache. She resolved that tonight, at the officers’ ball, she would talk with Emma Lincoln and Sophia Zaberskie and the officers’ wives and ignore Lee Carver completely.
* * *
The officers’ quarters consisted of a trim, white-painted, two-story building with a wide veranda running along the front. The first floor, where the ball would be held, was a large room with polished plank floors; the second floor was where the men bunked.
Music drifted through the open double doors, and lamplight glowed from the tall windows. The girls dashed up the wide steps and disappeared inside, but Jenna hung back, an odd premonition tickling her spine. For some reason she felt apprehensive.
Ever since Randall had found her she’d felt angry and frightened. It was hard to face up to the mistakes she had made, but it was equally hard to feel that she didn’t deserve to suffer for her pride. She hadn’t listened to anyone about Randall, her mother least of all. She had been young and foolish, and remembering her stupidity made her cringe.
Never again would she let herself believe anything a man said. She would not, would not, be gulled by a man, no matter how attractive or persuasive. Or needy, like Mathias.
She would have to stay as far away from Lee Carver as possible. If she did not, she might admit to herself how much she liked him, how much she was drawn to him. Considering how foolish and headstrong she’d been in the past, that would be dangerous.
Two uniformed soldiers flanked the doorway, and a red-headed youth clicked his heels and bowed. “Good evening, ma’am. Welcome to Fort Caspar.”
Just inside the warm, flower-scented room Jenna spied gray-bunned Emma Lincoln and headed for the sidelines to sit with the older woman.
Four earnest young soldiers sat in the far corner, sawing away on fiddles and strumming guitars, their faces flushed with perspiration. Ladies’ perfume and bouquets of wild roses scented the air.
Jenna sank down beside Emma and let the music pour over her, then felt the older woman’s calloused hand press hers.
“How are you feeling, my dear?”
“Quite well, thank you, Emma.” Oh, how glibly she could lie! Not just to Emma, but to herself, as well.
“You look upset. Is something wrong?”
“I am...concerned about the girls. They have never attended a ball, and I do hope they behave.”
Emma gestured across the spacious room. “The Gumpert boy is looking after them. Relax and enjoy yourself, Jenna.”
She would give her right arm to be able to relax. “Emma, does a woman’s worrying over her children, or even her stepchildren, ever end?” But even before Emma could answer, she had to admit she was on edge not just about the girls, but about Lee Carver.
“No, it does not, and I’ve raised three.” She scanned the noisy dancers with twinkling blue eyes. “My advice is to stop stewing about your stepdaughters and enjoy yourself.”
Jenna pressed her lips together and studied the dance floor, crowded with soldiers in military jackets and sharply creased trousers and their silk-gowned partners, as well as the emigrants and their less elegantly dressed wives and daughters.
Mick McKernan sidled up to within a yard of where she sat, but she angled her body away from him and pretended to wave at someone. When she looked back, the Irishman was gone.
“You don’t like Mr. McKernan, do you?” Emma observed.
“No. I’m afraid I cannot hide my distaste for the man. From the day the train rolled out of Independence, he has leered at me, and it has grown worse since Mathias’s death.”
“I would think having Lee Carver driving your wagon would discourage Mick.”
“Well, it has and it hasn’t, Emma. Mr. McKernan behaves himself when Lee is around. It’s when he’s not that Mick is a problem.”
“Then I’d stay close to Mr. Carver.”
“But that’s the problem, Emma, I—”
“Look.” Emma tipped her head toward Sophia Zaberskie, whirling past in the arms of her husband. “That woman has had more than her share of heartbreak, losing two sons in as many y
ears. Tonight she looks almost happy.”
“It must take years to recover from losing one’s children.”
“Ted is a great help,” Emma said.
“Funny, her husband doesn’t look the least bit heroic, does he?”
Emma laughed. “Not with that shock of red hair and his potbelly.”
“Yes,” Jenna said, her tone thoughtful. “I am beginning to think heroism is often a quiet matter, not something flamboyant. I think your husband, Sam, is heroic, Emma. You are fortunate.”
“I am that.” Emma leaned in close and spoke in an undertone. “However, I must confess that Sam feels so much responsibility for getting this train through to Oregon he...well, he hasn’t much time for anything else. Me, for instance,” she said with a self-conscious laugh.
Jenna opened her mouth to reply, then snapped it shut. What did she know about a relationship with a man? She had made a hash of it both times, first with Randall and then with Mathias. She hated herself for both lapses, for letting Randall bully her into...
She caught her breath and ran one hand over her hard belly. And she hated herself for agreeing to marry Mathias.
Was there something about her that invited men to pressure her into things? Both her older stepdaughters were insolent; if she let them, they would walk all over her. And now, with her advancing pregnancy, she was growing more tired each day. Soon she might not manage to haul water and cook and air bedding and wash clothes and...
What will I do when the baby comes?
“Emma, I wonder if—” She broke off as a shadow fell over her.
Colonel Owens bowed before them. “Ladies.”
Emma smiled. “Good evening, Colonel.”
The colonel turned to Jenna. “Mrs. Borland, would you honor me with a dance?”
Jenna hesitated. “Oh, I didn’t think I would dance tonight, Colonel. I will just enjoy the music.”
“Then perhaps you would indulge me a few moments of your time?”
She rose and accepted the colonel’s proffered arm. He escorted her through the crowd to the entrance, where the two soldiers on duty snapped salutes and swung the door open before them. Outside, Jenna breathed in fresh, cool air and allowed Colonel Owens to guide her along the veranda.
Baby on the Oregon Trail Page 13
