by Merry Farmer
“Well,” Graham said at last, letting her hand go. He cleared his throat and finished freeing the oxen. “I’d better take care of these ladies.”
“Oh, yes,” Estelle replied, breathless.
“Thanks for your help. It means a lot.”
“You’re welcome.”
She chewed her lip as she watched Graham lead the oxen away toward the river. Her heart refused to be still. She was in deep trouble.
Chapter Five
The wagon train woke up to almost a holiday atmosphere the next day. News that they would be getting a late start, that a big announcement would be made about the orphans—and from the trail council, no less—spread like wildfire. Several of the ladies in the train decided to cook a big potluck lunch to go along with the announcement. It all snowballed from there, and before Graham knew it, he was helping to set up for a feast.
“Can I set this over there for you ladies?” he asked the cluster of women cooking over a series of campfires.
Estelle glanced up from the vegetables she was chopping—the last fresh ones they would have for a while, or so she’d told him the night before—and said, “We need to set up a trestle table first, but if you have the time to do that….”
“Oh no,” Ruth, gasped. “We can’t possibly let a hero like Lt. Tremaine go setting up tables.”
Graham and Estelle frowned in unison. Her words were pretty, but Ruth spent more time looking at Graham’s missing leg than his uniform coat. Estelle did a better job of hiding her disapproval. Ruth stepped away from the bubbling pot of soup she was stirring, hurrying toward Graham with outstretched arms.
“You just sit and rest now,” she cooed. “You’ve done so much already, boosting our morale with your presence.”
“Ruth, leave that man alone,” one of the other, older woman said.
“Hush, Viola,” Ruth hissed at her. “This man has done his bit for his country, and we should show our appreciation.”
“It’s really no trouble at all, ma’am,” Graham insisted.
“I’ll take care of it.” Isaiah strode up from the other side of the wagon, where he’d been busy repairing a saddle. He sent Estelle a respectful smile, Graham a gloating one, and nodded to the other two ladies.
“Oh,” Ruth squeaked. She dashed back to Estelle’s side and said, loud enough for Graham, and probably Isaiah, to hear, “Do we really want his kind in such close contact with our food?”
A flash of something dark and wary lit Estelle’s eyes. “I’m sure it will be fine,” she told Ruth.
Isaiah ignored them all, crossing to lift a heavy pair of trestles and carry them out to where lunch would be served as though they weighed nothing. He nodded to Graham as he went, giving Graham the distinct impression he was gloating. It was a blow to Graham’s pride that was hard to swallow.
“I would appreciate it if you’d let me help,” Graham insisted, as politely as he could.
“Help?” Nelson said, striding into the makeshift kitchen. “Did I hear you say you wanted to help?”
Graham turned toward the man as he approached. Estelle looked up from the savory pie she was making.
“I came by looking for something to do to contribute,” Graham said, pushing himself to stand. “Looks like Estelle and the ladies are far too competent in the kitchen to need me.”
More like he was completely useless at every sort of job that needed doing on the trail. It grated on his nerves that Isaiah would dare to rub it in, but the man had a point.
“Looking for a way to contribute, eh?” Nelson said, slapping him on the back. The gesture nearly made Graham lose his balance. Nelson went on. “Well then, today is your lucky day. Take a walk with me, son.”
It was all Graham could do not to huff an ironic laugh at the invitation to take a walk. Rather than pointing out to Mr. Nelson that walking wasn’t exactly something he did for fun these days, Graham gritted his teeth and limped along beside him.
“Lt. Tremaine, I’ve been thinking,” Nelson said as they wandered farther up the line of wagons.
All around them, men were tending to livestock, making repairs on wagons, and setting up tables for the feast. All things that Graham would never be able to do again.
“What brings you out west?” Nelson asked.
Graham would have shrugged if he hadn’t needed his shoulder for his crutch. “I’m bringing my sister’s things to her in Denver City.”
“I see, I see,” Nelson hummed. “And what do you plan to do after that?”
Sit on a street corner and watch the world go by? Have Lynne coo over and coddle him as if he were a baby or an invalid? Dream and reminisce about the beautiful woman he’d met on the trail who was probably a thousand times better off without him?
“I can’t say I’ve given it much thought,” Graham lied. Some things were better not to think about.
“Have you considered a career in politics?” Nelson asked.
Graham blinked and stumbled to a stop. He twisted to face Nelson. “Politics?”
“Absolutely.” Nelson smiled. “The war is over, the West is opening up, and most of the folks that are rushing out this way wouldn’t know one end of a governing body from the other.”
“But there are plenty of farmers and tradesmen and pioneers who have lived out here for long enough to know how the land and its people work,” Graham argued.
“Maybe, maybe.” Nelson tipped his head to the side. “But I think that a smart, enterprising young veteran like you could make quite the name for himself in local government on the frontier.”
Something wasn’t quite right about Nelson’s suggestion. Not right, or there was more to it than that.
“With all due respect, sir,” Graham began, “I can barely get from one place to another. People get nervous when they look at me. I can’t do half the things that a normal, healthy man can do anymore.” He thought of Isaiah and the way he hefted table trestles without a second thought.
Nelson blew all that away with a snort. “If people get nervous when they look at your leg, it’s their own conscience pricking them because they didn’t give enough in the war. People see a hero like you and they think of honor, of uprightness, of sacrifice. If you were to stand for election or get up and give speeches supporting someone else standing for election, you’d be unbeatable.”
There it was. A slow grin spread across Graham’s face. “You’re planning to run for some sort of office, aren’t you?” he asked. “And you want me to campaign with you, get up in front of people to talk about the war and win you votes.”
“See,” Nelson said. “You understand perfectly. With a sharp mind like yours, you’ll be running against me in no time.”
He slapped Graham’s back again. A big part of Graham wanted to laugh the whole thing off, to tell Nelson he was out of his mind and that no one would vote for a cripple.
A bigger part of him thrilled with excitement at the thought. Politicians didn’t have to depend on two legs to work. They didn’t necessarily have to have a fancy college degree or experience in business to make something of themselves, not in the West. It might have sounded like a joke to have Nelson suggest he come along as a tool for his own political ambitions, but if he did that, he’d gain experience. He might even be able to make a career. And having a career would mean that he would be worth something. He’d have something to offer a woman, to offer Estelle.
“What would be involved in all this campaigning?” he asked, surprised he was actually entertaining the idea.
“Speeches, mostly,” Nelson said. The two of them walked on. “I’d be willing to pay you a small fee, of course, strictly under the table. And once I find a place to settle, once I find just the right office to run for, why, having a man of integrity and valor by my side would prove just as fruitful to that man as to me.”
He smiled. It was an oily, politician’s smile, but behind the nonsense of politics, Graham could see a future. A real, whole future.
“Let me think about it,”
he said. He wouldn’t commit to more, but he wouldn’t dismiss it outright either.
“Take all the time you need,” Nelson said. “We’ve got months until we get where we’re going. Plenty of time for me to teach you everything I know.”
Graham chuckled at the thought. It was a longshot, next door to ridiculous, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Nelson was handing him more than just a career in politics, he was giving Graham a part of his life back.
As soon as the tables were set up and the women of the wagon train finished and laid out their dishes, the rough and ragged camp turned into a humming community potluck. Estelle brought the meat pies she’d put so much effort into out of the Dutch oven she’d cooked them in and arranged them on the table. She served them with pride, but it wasn’t until Graham and Nelson came wandering back to join the feast that her heart sped up.
“What were you and Mr. Nelson talking about so mysteriously?” she asked, handing him a plate with a steaming meat pie.
Graham met her eyes with a smile. It was more than just a smile, it was a promise, a possibility. “Would you believe he offered me a job?” he said.
“Really?” Excitement caught in Estelle’s throat, and deep, deep joy for him. “Doing what?”
“Politics,” Graham laughed.
“Politics?”
Before she could ask him more, half a dozen hands were grabbing for the pies that were left on the plate and Graham was nudged to the side.
“These look mighty fine,” one of the farmers said, slipping a pie onto his plate, then shaking out the fingers he’d burned reaching for it.
“Smells like heaven,” Hank said, popping one onto his plate. “But then, with you, Miss Estelle, I’m not surprised.”
“Thank you, gentlemen.” Estelle smiled at both of them, and at the others in line, licking their lips. “But there are plenty of other delicious things that the ladies have made.”
“None so fine as your cooking, I’m guessing,” Graham commented.
“Oh, Lt. Tremaine, let me help you with your lunch.” Ruth nudged her way in between Graham and the table. “I saw you talking to my husband earlier.”
Ruth pushed Graham on, spooning food onto his plate as though he wasn’t able. Estelle grinned and shook her head, concentrating on the feast.
“If you’ve fixed your plate, you can come over here and sit next to me, Miss Estelle,” Lyle offered as Estelle piled a plate with food for herself. All of the women of the wagon train had truly outdone themselves for this lunch.
“Thank you, Lyle,” she said, but hesitated. Graham had found a spot for himself in the same circle where Lyle sat, but at the other end, next to Ruth and her husband. There was a free seat on his other side, but given the temptation that swirled around them….
“Or you could take this chair,” one of the single farmers, Estelle thought his name was Rich, offered. He stood, revealing a modest chair with a cushioned seat.
Graham sat a little straighter as he ate the fried chicken leg that Ruth had put on his plate. If Estelle wasn’t mistaken, a spark of jealousy flashed in his eyes. She smiled at the look, the protective way Graham frowned at Rich. She had never been one to play the coy debutante, but it was nice to know he cared.
“All you boys had better simmer down.” Josephine stepped up to Estelle’s side, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Miss Ripley here is a woman, not another treat from the table. Save your salivating for your supper.”
Estelle burst into embarrassed giggles. “It’s fine, Miss Josephine, really.”
Josephine turned to her, an eyebrow raised. “I said I’d find you a husband before we reached the end of the trail, and I mean it,” the older woman whispered, cheeks rosy with mirth. “Now, you want to sit next to Lt. Tremaine, don’t you? I’ll square it all away.”
Estelle ignored her meddling and turned the tables on her. “Where has Mr. Evans gone anyhow? I bet he could use a companion for lunch.”
Josephine laughed at the teasing, but Estelle was sure she blushed deeper. “All right, then. We’ll save the match-making for another day. Why don’t you and I sit together instead?”
“Sounds just fine.”
The two of them made for a bench that someone had loaned for the supper and sat. It just so happened that the bench was next to Graham, and Josephine switched places with Estelle at the last minute so that she ended up only a few feet away from him. There were plenty of other pioneers to keep them company, however.
“Miss Estelle, I just wanted to come over here to compliment you on the fine savory pies you baked,” Isaiah said, strolling boldly up to Estelle and Josephine’s bench. “They reminded me of my childhood.”
Estelle smiled in thanks, but her throat squeezed too tightly for words. His childhood? Was he being honest or was his compliment a thinly-veiled threat?
A few of the other pioneers eating near them fixed Isaiah with disapproving looks, as if having a former slave in their midst upset their digestion. Those looks, the implication of what it would mean if they turned on her, banished Estelle’s appetite.
“Come have a seat next to me, Mr. Jones,” Josephine invited Isaiah. She scooted closer to Estelle and patted the bench next to her. It was a bold move, and one that Estelle would have appreciated under any other circumstances. “Mr. Jones and I met the other day,” Josephine went on. “I’ve been active in the Philadelphia Abolitionist Society for years. Tell me again about your plans out West, Mr. Jones.”
“Well, ma’am, I’ve heard that Oregon is a sure bet for anyone intending to go into the lumber business,” Isaiah began.
He went on to tell Estelle and Josephine—and everyone else who couldn’t help but listen, startled that a former slave could even think to own his own business—all there was to know about the burgeoning lumber industry in Oregon. Estelle hung on his every word, not out of any interest in trees, but for any stray hints Isaiah might let slip that he knew who and what she was.
“Is the infrastructure in place for the lumber to be shipped out by rail?” Graham asked at length.
His entry into the conversation added a new layer of worry to Estelle’s mind. If Graham and Isaiah were to start talking, as friends or rivals….
“Whatever rails aren’t there already are in the process of being built,” Isaiah said with a nod. “Mark my words, there won’t be many more trail journeys like this one. Any year now, the railroad will reach from East to West, connecting this great land. Once it does, those of us who were smart enough to dash out West and set ourselves up will be sitting pretty.”
“All of us?” Ruth asked, a doubtful eyebrow raised. The sneer she gave Isaiah turned Estelle off, but the knowing look Isaiah shot to Estelle kept her from rushing to his defense.
“All of us,” Isaiah answered with a confident nod.
“I hope so,” Graham added. His shoulders slumped, and he looked past his plate to the space where his leg should have been, then across to Mr. Nelson.
“Well, most of us,” Isaiah said, quieter this time, and with a sideways smirk at Graham’s missing leg.
“Watch me prove you wrong,” Graham murmured in return. He met Mr. Nelson’s curious glance with a confident nod.
Estelle bristled with worry and was close to saying something when Pete interrupted them.
“Folks, once you’re finished your lunch, I’d like you to gather ’round over here.”
Across the camp, people finished eating in a hurry and set their plates and bowls aside. The mood in the camp had improved considerably since Mrs. Gravesend’s death. The orphans had managed to behave themselves and now stood in a line. Someone had arranged them from tallest to smallest, with the exception of the four Chance children, who had all been orphaned together. Luke and Libby Chance stood behind their younger siblings, Freddy and Muriel. As folks set aside their lunches, they formed a crowd in front of the line of orphans.
“Josephine, why don’t you explain how this is going to work,” Pete said, moving to stand in the ope
n space between the orphans and the pioneers.
“Do you want to go watch?” Estelle asked Graham. They and Isaiah were some of the only ones who hadn’t jumped up to see the show at the first announcement.
“Why not?” Graham smiled, but Estelle could see he was tired. He reached for his crutch and used it to pull himself up. They joined the curious crowd facing the orphans.
“This is how I see this going.” Josephine stood to the side of the line of orphans, her arms spread wide in pronouncement. “We’ve got fourteen orphans here and I don’t know how many good, honest families out there. If you each open your arms to take in one of these sweet young things—”
Someone in the assembly of pioneers snorted.
“—then everyone will have someone to look out for them,” Josephine continued in a harder tone. “Right. So who wants to go first?”
No one spoke. No one moved. The line of orphans squirmed and shifted. One or two of the more tender girls lowered their heads, lips turned out in pouts. Luke Chance glared at everyone who dared to look in his direction. Some of the younger ones were heart-wrenchingly cute, but others looked every bit the handful they’d proven themselves to be so far.
“Well?” Pete prompted.
A woman with a face lined beyond her years took a hesitant step forward. She narrowed in on one of the medium-sized girls.
“What’s your name, honey, and how old are you?” she asked.
“Francine, and nine,” the girl answered.
The woman nodded. “All right. You come with us.”
Francine burst into a relieved smile and followed the woman when she stepped back into the crowd of observing pioneers.
Another woman and her husband stepped forward, singling out one of the smaller boys.
“You are?” she asked.
