Ella cried, "No, wait. Don't leave yet, Jaime. We've got to think of a way you can go with us."
Jaime turned slowly, desperately willing to listen to any ideas they had. Maybe, she dared hope, they could convince Mr. Austin to change his mind. After all, they'd said he wasn't happy with the small number of volunteer wives so far.
"What are you thinking of?" Hannah asked Ella, hoping she wasn't getting Jaime's hopes up in vain. "He said she couldn't go."
Ella's mouth spread in a mischievous grin. "Forget him. She can go with us, and he'll never even know it."
Hannah looked at her as if she'd lost her mind and bluntly asked if she had.
"No." Ella laughed, then rushed to explain. "It can work. Now listen." Excitedly, she offered a plan as to how Jaime could hide in their wagon. "I heard someone say there will be four women to a wagon. We can squeeze her in ours and talk the others into not saying anything. She can hide during the day and slip out at night to take care of her personal needs. We'll smuggle food to her. He won't know anything, because he won't see her."
"If he finds out, he'll send her back," Hannah quickly pointed out.
"We just have to make sure he doesn't, not till we've gone so far he can't. Then he'll have to take her the rest of the way. Once she's out there, she won't have to worry about not having a husband waiting for her. She's going to find her father, remember?"
"It might not work."
"It can't hurt to try. What does she have to lose?"
Dolefully, Jaime responded to Ella's question. "Everything. The Rupert sisters would be so mad at me for running away they'd never let me back in the house. Mr. Casey probably wouldn't give me my job back either, and even if he did, I wouldn't make enough to pay for room and board anywhere. I'd lose what little security I have now."
"She's right," Hannah said. "And I don't think you should try to talk her into it. It's a big decision, and it has to be hers."
Ella agreed with that much but wanted assurance. "If she does decide to go, will you agree to help her?"
"Of course."
Jaime flashed them a small but grateful smile as she backed out the door. "I appreciate what you all are trying to do for me, I really do, but it's just too risky."
"Isn't getting to California to be with your father worth it?" Ella challenged.
Cord Austin's staunch rejection and refusal had made a firm impression. Jaime was convinced, beyond a doubt, he was indeed a man of firm conviction, and the wagon train would have to be a long, long way from Missouri for him not to turn around and take her back. "I just can't," she whispered brokenly, and hurried on her way.
* * *
The next week passed in a blur. Jaime knew she could not hold back time and threw herself into her work, wanting to be too exhausted to dwell on the bleak future.
Arista was obviously wanting to move fast with her wedding plans, lest Jedediah Slawson change his mind. The house was a flurry of activity as she went about making arrangements for what she hoped would be a small lovely wedding in the parlor. Ironically, the date had been set for the afternoon before the wagon train was leaving with Hannah and Ella. Jaime knew that within a period of less than a day her entire life was going to change.
Adding to her misery was Howard Rupert's declaration, two days before the wedding, that he intended to court her. His aunts, he explained, had made him an extremely attractive offer. If he would marry and settle down, they would will the house and the rest of their money to him.
Rupert explained he was tired of the bachelor life and felt Jaime was the perfect choice for a wife. "She can appreciate a man like me who's willing to marry her and keep her from being a spinster," he had bluntly told Arista in Jaime's presence, unmindful of Jaime's feelings.
Arista had given him her blessing. "I can start my new life now with a clear conscience, knowing my darling niece will be taken care of by a fine man like you, Rupert. That was the only shadow on my happiness, because I made a solemn vow to my dear brother-in-law I would always look after her.
"But I must warn you," she had hastened to add, "she has this obsession for her father, and if he should send for her—if he's still alive, which I doubt—I'm afraid she'd run off to California."
Rupert's expression had instantly turned grim. "That will never happen."
"Will you allow her to keep working at the laundry?" Arista wanted to know, hardly able to suppress a gloating smile. Through Laura's daughter, she was getting her revenge.
"Oh, yes. I'll be resigning my job at the tannery, so I'll be able to keep a tight rein on things here."
Jaime knew true desperation then, because refusal to marry him would mean being evicted. But no matter. Never would she agree to be his wife. Maybe she had been willing to marry a man she didn't know in order to get to California, but that was different. With a stranger, there was always a chance she would be well treated. With Rupert, she was guaranteed a wretched existence.
Ella and Hannah had said nothing more to try and persuade her to change her mind about running away. She felt they were intentionally avoiding her. It was only natural for them to be excited over their forthcoming adventure, and they didn't want her to be hurt by it.
One morning, earlier than Jaime had expected, they drew her aside to explain that it was their last day at work. Jaime felt the world was crashing down around her. Only the night before, Rupert had told her of his decision for them to go ahead and marry right away, the day after her aunt's wedding. That way, they could make use of her aunt's flowers, as well as the leftover refreshments, sparing extra expense. It was a Sunday. They could spend their wedding night moving into her aunt's vacated quarters, and Jaime would not have to miss a day at the laundry.
Faced with the reality that she had to move out of the house as fast as possible, Jaime had approached Mr. Casey as soon as she got to work that morning, begging him to let her have Ella and Hannah's room. Sorry, he said, but he had already hired two of his wife's relatives to replace the girls, and they would be moving in.
So it was that Jaime could no longer keep her emotions under control and burst into tears. "I'm sorry, so sorry," she whispered, shaking her head from side to side as they put their arms about her. "It's just that I'm going to miss you so much, and you're leaving sooner than I'd thought."
Ella explained how they would not be departing until Sunday morning but had been told they needed to move into their wagon by Friday to settle in, as well as hear all the orders and instructions to be given.
"Listen, there's a big party Saturday night," Ella told her excitedly. "Why don't you come? Everybody is gathering to say good-bye to all their friends and relatives, and Hannah and I would like for you to be there."
Hannah chimed in to urge, "Oh, please say you'll come, Jaime. We probably won't ever see each other again." She was close to tears herself.
Jaime promised she would be there. Where she would go after that, she had no idea, because she had to escape from Rupert. But she did not confide her misery to Ella and Hannah, not wanting to burden them with her problems.
* * *
Saturday night, when all was quiet in the house and Rupert had left, thinking tomorrow was his wedding day, Jaime packed a change of clothing in a small satchel, along with her Bible, and quietly left the house.
Her intention was to seek a church later that night and ask for shelter till she could find work and somewhere to live. She made up her mind not to worry, because she was determined to find a way to survive despite everything.
She had unbound her breasts and felt a strange sense of freedom as she walked along in the night. Maybe her future was uncertain, but at least from now on she would be making her own decisions, and there would be no one nagging at her. That alone was worth any struggle that lay ahead.
A kindly man slowed his wagon and asked her destination. She told him, and he held out a hand to help her up.
As they drew closer to the departure point, they could hear the music of the banjos and guitars. Whe
n they arrived, she thanked the stranger and hurried toward the festivities but soon slowed in charmed fascination over the scene before her.
Prairie schooners, she'd heard them called, these wagons with white canvas covers supported by a frame of hickory bows, now drawn into a circle. Within, gathered around their campfires, were too many people to count. Laughter, singing, and music rang out in the cool spring night. Herded into a crude corral, oxen waited to be hitched up at daybreak. She could hear cattle lowing, also, and now and then the bray of a mule or a horse's restless whinny.
All about was an air of excitement, yet when she drew closer she could hear some women crying as loved ones about to be separated gathered to say good-bye.
Jaime kept to the shadows just beyond the firelight. She moved along slowly, searching anxiously for Ella and Hannah. She wanted to get the farewell over with and begin to put the sadness of parting behind. She knew she also needed to find shelter as soon as possible.
* * *
Cord leaned against the side of a supply wagon, quietly observing the festivities. He wanted no part of it. Let them have a good time, even if it meant they'd feel like hell at the crack of dawn, when he planned to roll them out. It would be their last party for a while. Sure, for the first weeks or so, every evening when they drew the wagons into a circle to bed down for the night, there would be some revelry. But that wouldn't last long. Soon they would be so tired at the end of the day all they'd want was a bite to eat and a place to lie down. So he would not interrupt them. They could stay up till sunrise for all he cared.
The girl caught his eye. She was obviously looking for somebody. Then, as she passed by one of the campfires, he got a glimpse of her face. She looked familiar, but he couldn't place her. Certainly, she wasn't one of the future brides. He hadn't signed up anybody that small. And she wasn't one of the prostitutes he'd been asked to take out to work in the big saloon owned by the man financing his trip. Too plain and dowdy.
He decided she was searching for a relative, but a closer look made him blink in disbelief.
He could see her eyes in the fire's glow, and there was no mistaking that strange color, like the greenish-blue stone the Indians polished to a sheen and used in their jewelry. No other woman he had ever seen had hair the exact color of a coveted gold nugget, either.
No doubt about it, that pristine little filly was none other than one he had mistaken for the infamous Francie.
He knew her name now, thanks to the two girls named Ella and Hannah. They had begged him to take her along, and finally he'd had to be a little harsh to get them off his back. No matter that Jaime Chandler was a beauty beneath that homely facade. He had endeavored to sign up only the heartiest of women, because he would be responsible for all of them and did not want any dainty ones who would need extra tending to. Besides, the men out in California wanted big, husky wives.
Some parts of that night made him laugh to remember, Cord mused, as he watched Jaime. And the fact was, he had never been aroused so easily. What he had thought was feigned innocence had delighted him at the time, but, thinking back, he was touched to recall how he'd felt her yielding, despite herself. The other women in his life had been experienced. And far too many had been actresses, pretending desire in order to please a man. Those he had enjoyed pleasantly torturing till they begged for it. But there was something about Jaime Chandler that made him think that, with the right man, she might turn out to be the tigress Pete had promised in Francie.
Tossing aside the cheroot he had been smoking, he silently moved up behind her. "Looking for your friends, Sunshine?"
Jaime spun about to gasp in recognition, "You!" and found herself mesmerized by dark, mocking eyes.
"Haven't you learned your lesson about being out at night by yourself?"
Jaime managed to keep her voice even as she fired back. "Not every man I meet mistakes me for a prostitute, Mr. Austin."
"Not the way you're dressed tonight, for sure."
She said primly, "I don't think you should concern yourself with either my appearance or my nocturnal activities." She turned away but paused as he spoke.
"I saw Ella and Hannah on the other side a little while ago. They'll be glad to see you. I don't think anybody else came to tell them good-bye."
She whipped about. "How did you know I was looking for them?"
"They nearly wore my ears off begging me to take you along."
"I'm sorry. I didn't ask them to speak on my behalf."
Disconcerted to realize he actually found himself wishing she was going, Cord's next words came out sounding harsher than he'd intended. "Instinct can mean the difference between life and death, and my instinct tells me you aren't cut out for a trip like this. Good night, Miss Chandler."
He started away, but fury flashed; Jaime reached out and caught his arm. He turned to glare with equally fiery eyes.
Undaunted, she stood on tiptoe, pointing a finger under his nose. "Let me tell you something. You don't know anything about me. I've had to work hard all my life, and I'm probably better able to cope with a trip like this than half the women you're taking. I'll make it, too. But not with you, thank God. I'll leave next spring, when I'm sure I can find someone to take me who isn't so pigheaded.
"And I'm glad you weren't looking for a wife." She went on, pausing only long enough to take a ragged breath. "I'd rather die than have you for a husband."
He fired back, "Well, pity the man who takes on a stubborn filly like you."
"Then we feel the same about each other, and there's no need to continue this discussion. Good night, and good-bye."
His hands clamped down on her shoulders, preventing her retreat. Jaime was too mad to be intimidated. "If you don't let me go this instant, I'll scream."
He released her, started to turn away, then yielded to impulse. Jerking her into his arms, his mouth claimed hers in a bruising kiss. Then, just as abruptly, he released her and gave her a gentle shove away from him, "Now get out of here."
He disappeared into the shadows.
Touching her fingertips to her mouth, Jaime felt rage washing over her for his audacity but could not deny being shaken by the surprise of his kiss.
Just then, Ella and Hannah saw her and descended in swooping hugs.
"You came!" Ella's delighted cry broke the spell. "Thank goodness. We were afraid you wouldn't."
Hannah grabbed her hand. "Come on. We want to show you our wagon."
Jaime took the glass of wine Ella handed her, anxious to do anything to get her mind off Cord Austin.
They introduced her to some of the others and gave her more wine, and soon, dizzy and mellow, Jaime joined in the merriment.
The celebration grew wilder and happier. Jaime did not know exactly when her head began to spin, and she lost all sense of time. There was dancing, and the girls spun one another around, giggling shrilly.
After a time, Jaime began to feel sick. Finding her satchel where she had left it, she carried it with her to Ella and Hannah's wagon. She crawled in and lay down, immediately falling into a deep sleep, and awakened only to realize it was nearly morning and preparations were under way for the wagons to roll out.
"Why not stay with us?" Ella said when she saw Jaime was awake. "Where else do you really have to go?"
Jaime's head was hurting terribly, and her mouth felt as though it were filled with cotton.
Hannah also urged her to stay. "You're probably in a lot of trouble, anyway, for being out all night. You might as well come with us."
Jaime was too miserable to argue.
With a nod and a faint smile, she closed her eyes and drifted away once more, telling herself Cord Austin's brazen kiss had nothing to do with changing her mind.
Chapter 4
Named for the sailing ships they resembled with their high white covers of heavy cotton twill, over forty prairie schooners lined up in single file just before dawn. Gone was the festive air of the night before and, in its place, sober contemplation of the momentous pil
grimage ahead.
Overcome with excitement, Jaime had slept little after all. There were two other women besides Ella and Hannah in the wagon: Ruth Winslow and Martha Lowery. Like Hannah, they had been made widows by the war. Still grieving, they viewed the journey to meet a new husband as necessary for their survival, not as an exciting quest. Fortunately, neither expressed any reluctance to help Jaime stow away, apparently viewing it as a welcome diversion to what was sure to be a long and grueling experience.
Ruth had explained a bit about the construction of the wagon. Her husband, before his death, she'd said, blinking back tears, had worked as a wagon builder. She knew a few things, like how the schooners had descended from the Conestoga model, which had originated in Pennsylvania. Intended to haul heavy freight over rough and muddy roads, the Conestoga was curved at each end to prevent the contents from shifting about, while the prairie schooner had a flat body and lower sides. The hoops supporting the canvas were about the same, she'd said, around eleven feet high.
A schooner had to be light enough to keep from putting undue strain on the animals pulling it, yet strong enough not to break down under heavy loads. Therefore, iron was used only to reinforce parts that would take the greatest pounding, with the rest constructed of hardwoods such as oak, hickory, and maple.
There was hardly any place to sit. Most space had been taken up by cargo, such as cooking utensils, clothing, sewing necessities; in addition to staples like flour and corn meal, salt and sugar, there was an ample supply of hardtack, dried beans, fruit, and beef.
The women had protested but Cord filled one corner of their wagon with tools anyway—shovels, spades, ox shoes, and extra axles. As a result, Jaime was squeezed in tightly, with hardly enough space to lie down, for she couldn't expect the others to put themselves out for her.
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