Orchids in Moonlight

by Patricia Hagan

  Lem asked, "You gonna tell us who you are and what you and your missus are doin' out here by yourselves?"

  Cord was not about to go into the details of his misadventures. "I was heading up a wagon train to California, but it disbanded at Salt Lake."

  They were impressed, and Cuthbert Young marveled. "So you and your missus kept on going alone. That's real brave of you, mister. And you must know the trail good, too. Mind telling us your name?"

  Cord sat down on a rock and bent to pull on his boots. He did not see the way they were exchanging glances, grinning with excitement. He introduced himself, then felt the need to make it clear, "Miss Chandler is not my wife. I'm helping her get to California, where she's meeting her father. She didn't want to stay back with the others. What has you stalled?" he went on to ask. "Why haven't you moved on by now?"

  The others looked to Lem, who had more or less been in charge of late. He took a deep breath and endeavored to explain their plight. "Well, the fact is, we don't know what to do. We don't have nobody to lead us. Our wagon master dropped dead when we were getting ready to cross the river. Heart attack, best we figure. Since then, we ain't moved because, the truth is, we're just plain scared to try to ford that river without nobody telling us how to do it or what to do when we get on the other side."

  Cord raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What about the sentinels? The men who worked for your wagon master?"

  A pained shadow fell across Lem's face as he recounted their tale of woe. "It was a family thing, him and his sons. We left Council Bluffs, Iowa, last April. Fifty-two wagons. We got hit by cholera as we were coming across the Rocky Mountains and lost over half. Some of the others turned back. Wound up there was only nine families left. Everybody was pretty worn out and downhearted, and when Captain Humphries died, we figure his boys just couldn't go on. We buried him that day, and next morning when we woke up, they was gone and—"

  Cuthbert broke in, "They took most of the food in the supply wagon too; that's another reason we figured we was better off to stay where we're at. There's plenty of game and water, and since there's not many of us left, we figured we'd just wait till a mail rider or another wagon train came through and follow along."

  Hearing that, Cord exploded. "Didn't anyone tell you the mail riders don't come through here? They've got their own trail, narrow and accessible on horseback only. We would have taken that route ourselves, but we had a wagon I wanted to bring through as far as possible. The mail riders cut off way back on the trail.

  "If we hadn't come through," he went on, staring at them incredulously to think they could be so uninformed, "you might not have seen anybody till next spring, because I doubt any more wagon trains will dare to come through this late. There's liable to be five or six hundred feet of snow in these passes by then. You'd either freeze to death or starve, because you sure as hell can't hunt with that much snow piled up. You took a hell of a chance," he finished in disgust.

  "Yeah, I guess we did." Lem looked at his friends. "We was dumb, all right, 'cause nobody told us about the mail riders going another way. We figured all we had to do was wait."

  "Well, you thought wrong," Cord snapped. "You were crazy. The best thing for you to do is get yourselves together and cross that river and follow the trail and get out of here."

  Tobias Dugan spoke for the first time. "But if the snows catch us, we'll be stuck again, 'cause we'd never be able to find the trail. You see, we never had no guidebooks or maps, and when the Humphries boys left, they took all that with them."

  "That's right." Cuthbert Young chimed in. "We're stuck right where we are unless we find somebody to take us the rest of the way."

  Lem grinned and licked his lips in anticipation of being the one to make the happy declaration. "Well, boys, the heavens have smiled on us this day, because we've found him. Come on. Let's go tell our families we're moving out."

  Cord had been about to go back inside the cave to tell Jaime to get ready to move on, but instead he looked at the men warily. Surely they didn't think he was going to be roped into becoming their leader.

  "You come too," Lem urged, motioning him to follow. "The folks will want to meet you, Captain Austin."

  Chapter 14

  When they topped a ridge, Cord could see their encampment. If he and Jaime had continued only a little farther the day before, they would have stumbled right on it.

  He scanned the pitiful scene. The wagons did not look too bad, but some of the canvas was in dire need of patching. Trees had been cut down to build crude huts as shelter against the harsh weather, but he shook his head to think how the first big wind to come along would blow them right into the water.

  The remaining men in the party had been fishing, but at the sight of Lem and the others returning with a stranger, they came running. The women, scattered about in the midst of various chores, gathered to watch apprehensively, small children clinging to their mothers' skirts.

  Concerned that Cord had not said a word as they made their way back, Lem felt his confidence slipping. Maybe, he began to fear, Cord would not be willing to lead them. "We'll give you whatever we got to take us the rest of the way," he offered. "Nobody's got much money left, but I think I can speak for everybody when I say we'll gladly give you what we have."

  Cord knew he really had no choice, because he wasn't about to go off and leave them stranded. And they were right to fear getting lost on the other side of the river. As green as they appeared to be, they wouldn't stand a chance if the snows did come. "Call your people together," he said with resignation. "If I agree to take you back, there's got to be some understandings."

  A short while later, he again found himself standing on the back of a prairie schooner looking out over a sea of unfamiliar faces. However, it was different this time than back in Missouri. Instead of faces shining with excitement and hope, he saw weariness and broken dreams.

  He had quickly inspected their wagons and teams, finding all in good shape to continue on. The men had obviously not spent the past weeks sitting idle; they had made needed repairs in the event a mail rider did come along. And, since everyone seemed healthy for the time being, there was no reason to doubt any of them would make it.

  Now they waited to hear words of encouragement and optimism from their new leader, but Cord had no intentions of allowing them to be overly sanguine.

  "I know it hasn't been easy since you left home," he began, "and now it's going to get worse. We've got another fifty miles to go into the deep hills, then, just beyond Truckee Lake, we've got to climb to the highest and most difficult point at Truckee Pass. It's the last major barrier between us and the Sacramento Valley.

  "See that?" He pointed above them, where snow glinted on the high ridges. With a stern glance at random faces, he warned, "Any time, it could start snowing here. And you don't know trouble till you've been snowbound in the Sierras. So we've got to keep moving, no matter what happens, and I don't want any complaining.

  "We move out at first light every day," he continued, wanting to make sure they all understood exactly how it was going to be. "We take no layover days. We go in the rain. We push every step of the way. No excuses. And my word is law. I give an order, and it's carried out. No compromise, no arguing.

  "Remember." He narrowed his dark eyes for emphasis, pausing to allow his words to soak in. "I didn't ask for this job. And the day you forget I'm in charge is the day I do the same thing your sentinels did—ride on."

  A low murmuring went through the crowd, as some thought him too arrogant and imperious, but Cord meant what he said. He was not about to let their stubbornness or stupidity jeopardize his life or Jaime's.

  He scanned the crowd and saw her standing to one side. She was looking at him with a mixture of bewilderment and, yes, disappointment. He knew she did not want to join the wagon train, preferring for the two of them to be alone the rest of the way. Well, that would have been nice, he privately acknowledged, but maybe it was better this way. God knows, it was wrenching his gut, t
he way he felt about her, but the end was coming, and they had to get ready for it. It would make it easier for him to have responsibility, others to think about.

  He went on to explain that they were immediately to start getting ready to ford the river. "Load the rafts you built earlier. Secure your wagons. We move out at first light. And one more thing," he advised. "Every one of you men can consider yourself a sentinel. I'll delegate duties, but you are all responsible.

  "Now get busy." He dismissed them, stepping off the wagon. "You've had your rest. It's time to work."

  He started in the direction he had seen Jaime, wanting to talk to her. Before leaving with Lem, he had gone back into the cave long enough to tell her about the wagon train they'd happened on, but he hadn't confided that it looked as if he was going to have to take it over. He had wanted to talk about that in private. But even though she had found her own way and was now aware of everything, he still felt the need for the two of them to discuss it.

  "Austin, hold up."

  He turned to see Norman Bryson walking toward him, scowling.

  "You damn near broke me up inside," he accused angrily.

  Cord regarded him coolly. "That should teach you a lesson about getting too close to a man when you've got a gun on him. Now what's your problem?" Cord had other things to do besides listen to him gripe about having been bested in front of his friends.

  Norman's eyes narrowed. "I want to get something straight between me and you before we even cross that river. I'm not going to be your slave. I'll do my part, but don't push me hard, 'cause I ain't no cow heart like the others. It wasn't my idea to hole up here. I wanted to keep on going, but my wife wouldn't hear of it unless everybody else went along too. But I want you to know I wasn't scared. Maybe the rest think of you as an angel sent by God, but I don't, 'cause I can get my family to Sacramento without you, and don't you forget it."

  Cord smiled thinly. "Fine. I'll keep that in mind, so if you can't follow orders you can strike out on your own."

  Norman knew he was being scoffed at and didn't like it. Wanting the parting shot, he said, "Well, I got my own idea about the leadership qualities of a man I find naked in a cave with a woman he ain't married to. Seems to me a man like that would have other things on his mind besides getting decent folk to California."

  Cord resisted the impulse to knock him on his butt. He wasn't worth it. Neither was he going to waste time bandying.

  He left Norman staring angrily after him and went in search of Jaime.

  When he didn't see her, he decided she had gone back to their camp to start getting their things together. He turned to go after her, but just then Lem Potter called to him.

  Regretfully, he knew talking to her would have to wait a little while longer.

  * * *

  Jaime found herself surrounded by a group of women. Introductions were made, hut she could not grasp all the names—only the one who had drawn her behind the wagon, Jerusha Potter, and the one who looked at her with unconcealed scorn, Thelma Bryson.

  Softly, hesitantly, Jerusha got to the point of their confrontation by saying, "We understand you and Captain Austin have been traveling alone together, dear."

  Jaime stiffened in defense. "Yes, that's right. I was the only one who wanted to continue on from Salt Lake, and he was kind enough to take me." Glancing about, she saw they were all staring at her with disdain, except for Jerusha, who seemed more concerned than condemning.

  "Well, I'm pleased to tell you that's changed now, because you aren't alone any longer. I'll send my man, Lem, to get your things and you can settle in our wagon. It might be a mite crowded with us and our little ones, but we'll make room for you."

  Only then did Jaime notice three little faces peering out from the back of the wagon, two girls and one boy. The boy stuck his tongue out and drew back inside.

  No, she thought in panic, she would not share a wagon with three children and two adults, all strangers. She had been doing just fine sleeping outside with Cord. He made sure if the weather was bad they had shelter, and now that he had agreed to lead the caravan, surely there was a supply wagon she could use. She would not have to resort to moving in with the Potters or anyone else.

  "Thank you," Jaime said, forcing a smile and stepping back, "but I'll be fine. Captain Austin will see I have a place, perhaps in the supply wagon. I won't need to trouble you."

  Thelma snapped, "It would still be living in sin."

  Jerusha shot Thelma a look that said she wished she would stay out of the discussion, then turned to Jaime once more. "She's right. Captain Austin will have to sleep there alone, and—"

  "He'll sleep out in the open or find shelter like he's been doing," Jaime interjected. "That's what we've had to do since we abandoned our wagon."

  "He'd sneak in at night," Thelma predicted. "Soon as you figured everybody was asleep."

  Jaime shook her head. "I don't have to listen to this."

  She started to leave, but Thelma swiftly moved to block her way. "Just a minute, missy. We're decent Christian folk here, and we'll not have you living in sin right under our noses. You aren't going to carry on like you been doing, not while you're traveling with us."

  Jerusha hastened to intervene, "Now wait, Thelma. If they decide to go on without us, what will we do? We have to reach some kind of understanding here. I'm sure Miss Chandler will be the first to agree it's not proper for her to sleep with Captain Austin."

  "I said"—Jaime spoke through clenched teeth—"he will sleep out in the open like he's been doing these past weeks."

  "But you were sleeping with him when they found you this morning," Thelma declared, shrilly, triumphantly, hands on her hips and eyes glittering maliciously, "Naked as a jaybird, the two of you; that's what my man said. Is that what you expect us decent folk to put up with, you all ruttin' at night in front of us and God?"

  One of the other women cried, "We'll not tolerate it!"

  "No, we won't," another joined in. "You either move in with Jerusha or we'll keep waiting for somebody else to come along and save us."

  Jaime was about to say maybe that would best anyway, since they obviously thought she was not worthy of their company, but Jerusha held up her hand for silence and scolded, "Stop it. All of you. We aren't here to condemn her. We want to help her, and ourselves, so we can be on our way before winter sets in, but we aren't going to be able to if we keep arguing.

  "Miss Chandler." She focused on Jaime. "Please understand we don't mean to hurt your feelings. We just think it would be better for everyone, especially our children, if you don't continue bedding with Captain Austin outside the sacrament of marriage, at least while you're with us. So please, move into my wagon, and I promise you'll be treated like one of the family. When the trip is over, the two of you can certainly do as you please. But for the duration, we must ask that you conduct yourselves properly."

  Jaime's head was spinning. A day ago, she was blissfully happy, weaving her way through the Sierras with Cord and savoring the time alone together in hopes he would come to care for her as deeply as she cared for him. Now she found herself the object of scorn, branded immoral, and any second she expected Thelma Bryson literally to cast the first stone and lop her on the side of the head with a rock.

  What could she say? What could she do? While she certainly had sense enough to know it would be indecent for her to cavort with Cord as she had been doing when they were in private, she could not stomach the thought of being torn away from him altogether.

  Suddenly he appeared, stepping around the end of the wagon. Sweeping them with stormy eyes, he asked suspiciously, "What's going on here, ladies?"

  Jaime started to speak at the same time as Jerusha, but it was Thelma who raised her voice to drown them both out. "I'll tell you what's going on here," she cried, "We've just told your companion we won't put up with your immoral behavior, that's what. From here on out, you travel like decent folk, or we don't go with you."

  At that, Jerusha wailed, "Oh, Thelm
a, will you please hush? You make it sound like we're doing him a favor to let him lead us, and that's not so." Her face etched with pleading, she turned to Cord. "Please understand, we aren't trying to be unkind. We just feel it would be best if Miss Chandler moved into my family's wagon."

  "And I agree wholeheartedly."

  The others gasped in surprise, and Jaime looked at him furiously. The silent message he was sending with his eyes said not to argue, it was the way it had to be.

  He continued addressing himself to Jerusha. "Your husband already told me of your very kind offer, and I'm sure Jaime appreciates it as much as I do." The look he gave the women said it was best they make no comment as he added, "It's been hard on Jaime, traveling as we've had to do, but with none of the others in our group willing to continue on from Salt Lake, she had no choice if she wanted to keep heading for California. It's a blessing for her to have shelter and chaperones for the rest of the way. Believe me, we're both grateful."

  Relieved it was all settled, Jerusha patted Jaime's arm and again told her she would be warmly welcomed into her family fold.

  "Well, we'll be watching," Thelma warned with a haughty sniff. "You can be sure of that."

  Cord bit back an angry retort. Taking Jaime's arm, which she stiffened at his touch, he led her to where they would not be overheard and rushed to explain, before she could unleash her fury. "It's the way it has to be. I don't like it anymore than you do, but it can't be helped. There is no way we can continue traveling together, sleeping together, among all these people. You would be treated like a whore. There would probably even be trouble with the young bucks, the boys in their teen years, who'd figure you were ripe for anybody's picking. The only thing we can do is move you in with the Potters."

  "Indeed." Jaime faced him, hands on her hips, fingers of rage tapping up and down her spine. "Well, I've got something to say about this, and I don't want to move in with those people and their children. Why can't I sleep in the supply wagon?"