by Merry Farmer
“A crying shame,” Graham agreed, eyes alight. “But in my experience, folks find a way to do what they need to do in the end.”
“Do they now?”
He winked at her over Tim’s head. “They do.”
Pete kept the train going that night until there was almost no light in the sky. He told Graham it was to make up for the time they’d lost during Charlie and Olivia’s wedding, but Graham had other suspicions. Pete had been spending a fair share of his time with Miss Josephine lately, and pushing on gave him the chance to avoid her, or rather, the temptation Graham suspected she presented. He only wished he could find a way to avoid Estelle and the well of emotion and desire that he couldn’t keep in its place every time she was around.
“I’ll put Tim to bed,” Estelle said after she made and served a surprisingly good supper in no time at all.
Tim sat on an overturned crate, his head resting against Graham’s shoulder, all but asleep already. Estelle slipped the stew bowl from his hand and set it aside, then scooped her arms around the sleeping boy to lift him. The motion brushed her arm against Graham’s, sending her soft scent around him like a caress. When she carried Tim away to the back of the wagon, he let out a breath of surprising contentment.
He reached for one crutch, stood, and limped to the front of his wagon. The conversation he’d had with Nelson earlier came back to him. A man with a pretty wife and an adoring family painted just the right picture to win hearts and votes. What was he waiting for? The future was his to grab, if only he was brave enough.
It was difficult to see the details of the wagon in the dark, with only the light of the moon and a few lanterns around the camp. He’d noticed some sort of rattling from his wagon in the afternoon as they walked, saw the oxen shuffling once they stopped, as though something was wrong in the way they were hitched or the way the wagon felt behind them. He bent over to look, but what he really needed was to crawl under the wagon with a lantern. If he could.
“What’s the matter?” Estelle surprised him out of his thoughts.
He blinked and turned to her. “Tim went down that easily?”
“He was mostly asleep to begin with,” she confirmed. “What’s wrong?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure if it’s anything.”
She moved closer to him, standing by his side to stare at the front of the wagon. It felt natural, right. Solving problems together would work so well for the two of them.
What are you waiting for? a voice inside him whispered. Get down on one knee and snatch this gem of a woman up.
“I noticed the axel was wobbling a bit as we walked today,” Estelle said, crossing her arms and tapping a finger on her lips.
Her lips. They were full and rose-tinted. Graham was certain they would be soft and welcoming, that they would taste of honey and promise and all things good.
He sucked in a breath and focused on the wagon. “I’d crawl under there, but….”
Estelle raised an eyebrow and blinked at him. “But what?”
A wave of self-consciousness hit him. He rubbed the back of his neck, gripping his crutch tightly with his other hand. “I guess I’ll have Gideon look at it in the morning. He’ll probably come up with half a dozen ways to fix it.”
As accurate as his statement was, and even though Estelle laughed softly, it didn’t feel right. Deep in his heart, deeper than his anxiety over looking like a fool, he wanted to fix the wagon. He wanted to scramble through the dirt, tools in hand, tapping here, tightening there. He wanted to do it for her, to prove he was man enough for her.
He huffed out a breath with the frustration of it all. Losing a leg was one thing. Losing his pride was so much more.
“What?” Estelle asked again. She turned to face him fully this time, hands fluttering toward him as though she would take his hand or lay hers on his arm. As if she would brush the side of his face and lean forward to bring those beautiful lips of hers into contact with his.
He caught his breath. They were standing so close that all it would take was a subtle lean. He had one free hand. He could slip it around her waist and draw her close. He might not be able to stand on his own without a crutch, but with her in his arms, he could let go of everything else.
He hadn’t finished contemplating the idea of embracing her when Estelle began to lean away. Whether it was instinct or the power of his thoughts, Graham reached for her before she could leave him, closing his arm around her just as he’d envisioned a moment before.
With a burst of strength and need, he tugged her close. She gasped, her eyes flickering up to meet his. Even in the moonlight, he could see the flush that graced her cheeks. She was warm, willing, and waiting. Yes, he could feel the waiting in her. Waiting for something to happen, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Against his better judgment, Graham brought his mouth closer to her, hesitating at the last second. They were nearly the same height. He felt the heat of her breath, lost himself in the scent of her skin. All it would take was an inch, a push, a dare, and she could be his. With her, he could be whole. He parted his lips to meet hers, ready, so ready. His heart held still as he leaned closer.
A startled cry from the back of the wagon shocked both of them to their senses. Graham straightened. Estelle pulled away with a sharp intake of breath.
“Tim?” she called, twisting toward the back of the wagon.
Graham balanced carefully as she flew away from him, racing to see what Tim needed. She wasn’t the only thing racing. Graham’s heart beat so fast dizziness overtook him. He’d come so close, so close to giving her his heart. He cleared his throat and frowned. Why’d he wait so long?
“It’s all right,” Estelle said from the back of the wagon. “I’m here. You fell asleep at supper is all, and I moved you to bed. You’re just fine.”
Her soothing words reached into Graham’s soul too. One thing was sure. He wasn’t going to sit around and wait for others to do the things that he should be doing himself. Though his arm ached from where his crutch had rubbed against it all day, Graham maneuvered himself around to the side of the supply wagon, fetching a lantern, then returning to his wagon. He set his crutches aside and leaned over until he could ease himself to the ground beside the front axle of his wagon.
Rolling himself to his back, he scooted the lantern to where it would provide the most light, then inched his way under the axle to try to figure out what was wrong. He might not be able to fix it, he might not even discover the problem. But he would damn sure try. He had a life to build, starting now.
Chapter Nine
“And she won’t tell me a thing about how it happened,” Lucy nattered on to Estelle, still wrapped up in gossip of Olivia and Charlie’s wedding two days later. They were on their way back from a waystation which contained a spring, heavy jugs of water for cooking and drinking on their hips. “I keep asking and asking, but she insists that it’s for the best and that she’s happy, but her eyes don’t look happy to me, no sir-ee.”
Estelle nodded and hummed. It was the best response she could give with her own thoughts turning and turning over themselves from that evening, that moment, Graham.
They had walked on through endless, flat prairie, every mile the same, since then. The sky was the same, the grass was the same, and the wagons all around her were the same. But with each step she took, each beat of her heart, her mind began to change. What if she could keep her secrets safely buried forever? What if she could run so far away from her past that it never caught up to her? What if she could let herself love Graham the way she wanted to?
“Every time I’ve seen them for the past few days, Olivia looks as though she’s packing for a trip to the gallows and Charlie looks like a cat who’s eaten the canary,” Lucy continued. “But I haven’t seen him touch or coerce her once. I haven’t even seen him kiss her since the wedding. I think Charlie is even sleeping under the wagon while Olivia sleeps in the wagon bed. I just don’t know what to make of it. Not at all.”
“It’s a trail marriage,” Estelle said with a shrug. “Perhaps they’re easing into things.”
Would she want to ease into things if she and Graham had a trail marriage? Immediately, she knew the answer. It might make her even more scandalous than she already was, but no, she would not. If she had the right to hold Graham in her arms, kiss him whenever she wanted to and more, she would grab it—and him—with both hands.
The memory of their lips a mere breath away from each other wrapped itself around her heart like a blanket on a winter’s night. It was a good thing Tim had awoken confused about where he was. Otherwise, she would have let Graham kiss her—kiss her in the moonlight and hold her until she gave in to anything he wanted.
Maybe. Maybe she could actually let herself live.
It took her several moments of daydreaming to realize Lucy had gone silent and was staring at her. The sharpness of Lucy’s gaze was something that even the most stalwart soul would be wary of. As soon as Estelle noticed her watching, her daydreams stopped.
“I may be a magpie when it comes to flippant conversation,” Lucy said, “but I know when someone has something serious weighing on them. Tell me. I can help.”
Estelle hesitated. She liked her cheery friend, but the last thing she wanted to do was confide her secrets in anyone. Then again, the need to be free of those secrets was nipping hard at her heels.
“I think,” she began, pausing to take a deep breath. “I think I have developed feelings for—”
“You shouldn’t be doing that, Graham. Let me take care of it.”
Estelle gasped as Isaiah spoke nearby. She and Lucy had reached the wagons and turned in unison to find Isaiah helping Graham to his feet. He’d been lying beside the wagon, tinkering with one of its wheels.
“A man with your limitations shouldn’t be troubling himself with little things like wagon repairs,” Isaiah finished.
“For the last time, stop,” Graham snapped, but Isaiah had his arms under Graham’s, hauling him upright so that he could sit. “I just want to take a look. I thought I fixed it the other night, but there’s still a rattle.”
Neither man looked happy.
“Is it Mr. Jones?” Lucy whispered to Estelle.
“Hmm?” Estelle dragged her eyes away from the sight of Isaiah brushing off Graham’s shoulders while Graham frowned, his mouth tight. Too many things about the pairing and the way they interacted made her nervous.
“The thing that’s bothering you.” Lucy leaned closer. “Only, I’ve noticed that Mr. Jones seems awfully attentive to you.” She held up her hands and added, “Not that I have a problem with a man of color helping out a wounded soldier and a fellow member of the wagon train crew. But he has seemed… I don’t know… partial to you.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Estelle replied with a shaky smile. “He’s very helpful, though I don’t think Graham wants help.”
They continued to the supply wagon at a slower pace. Estelle watched Graham, could see the frustration dropping off of him in waves. He and Isaiah glared at each other as Isaiah moved away. She would have to do something, say something, about that situation, perhaps to Pete.
“I know it’s not Isaiah Jones who you’re developing feelings for,” Lucy went on, an impish glint in her eyes. “Everyone knows it’s Graham Tremaine.”
“Oh? What? I mean, I don’t know what I was saying before,” Estelle brushed the statement off with a wave of her hand, backtracking on her confession. Her blush was a dead giveaway that Lucy was onto something, but Estelle wasn’t as ready to confess as she’d thought.
“I know what I’ve seen,” Lucy giggled. “You’ve grown fond of him. Very fond.”
Estelle didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.
“I knew it.” Lucy nodded in triumph. “I knew it, of course, because the two of you are so perfect for each other. You’re both so strong, so good.”
In spite of herself, Estelle laughed. “I’m hardly that good.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Lucy contradicted. “Why, you take care of everyone, you took in that sweet little Tim—is he talking yet?” she blurted a new thought into the middle of her list.
“Not yet,” Estelle answered.
“Hmm.” Lucy gave it two seconds before dashing back to her other train of thought. “And you’re so considerate and attentive to Graham. He’s blossomed under your care and—oh!” She stopped, her eyes going wide as she glanced on to the wagons. “There’s Gideon.”
Lucy’s smile grew tenfold, and a becoming blush broke out on her cheeks. She picked up her pace and hurried on to the line of parked wagons. Estelle sighed in relief and followed her, glad not to be the center of attention anymore.
“Gideon, how nice to see you here,” Lucy greeted Gideon first, then added, “And hello Graham and Mr. Jones,” to the other men as an afterthought.
“Miss Lucy.” Isaiah nodded to her, then turned his dark eyes on Estelle. “Miss Estelle.”
“What do you have with you?” Lucy launched on, setting down her water jugs to skitter to Gideon’s side.
Lucy saved Estelle from having to reply directly to Isaiah, though she nodded. She settled her water jugs and Lucy’s in the wagon as Gideon uncovered the bulky object he was carrying.
“Here’s the latest design,” he said, presenting Graham with a wooden leg.
Estelle couldn’t tell if it was the same one he’d tried before with different buckles and padding or if he’d constructed an entirely new one. The sight of the contraption filled her with unexpected hope. She rushed to get the water taken care of so she could join the group.
“What’s this?” Isaiah asked, leaving the side of the wagon where he’d been looking at the repairs Graham was making.
“It’s a prosthetic limb,” Gideon told him, crouching to sit in front of Graham. “I’m hoping to develop a comprehensive design that will enable injured soldiers to resume as close to a normal pattern of movement as possible.”
“Well,” Lucy exclaimed, pressing a hand to her chest. “Isn’t that noble?”
“I know what the contraption is,” Isaiah said, arms crossed, “I’m only questioning the judgment of inventing something like this on the trail.”
Gideon glanced up at him, blinked, then went back to work as if Isaiah had never spoken.
Graham cleared his throat. “Maybe now isn’t the best time to try this out,” he said, frowning at Isaiah, “what with our audience and all.”
Isaiah bristled at the veiled dismissal and held his ground.
“No time like the present,” Gideon said, oblivious to the showdown above him. “Now, let me just fit this in place.”
He set the leg aside and reached to untie the knot at the end of Graham’s trousers. Lucy raised to her tiptoes and peeked over Graham’s shoulder, expression alight with curiosity. It didn’t take an intimate friend to see the consternation that came over Graham.
“Where is Tim?” Estelle asked, looking for some way to take the attention away from Graham’s situation.
“He wandered off with some of the other boys as soon as the wagons stopped,” Graham picked up her intent right away. He glanced up at her with gratitude.
“We should go look for him,” Estelle said, meeting his eyes with the silent communication she loved so much.
“I think that would be best,” he answered. The warmth and thanks radiating from him sent Estelle’s heart beating faster.
“Lucy, will you come with me?” Estelle asked. “Isaiah, you can search that end of the wagon train.”
Lucy tore her eyes away from Gideon with as much reluctance as if Estelle had asked her to fry her knickers in butter. “Oh, um, I thought I’d stay here in case Gideon needed help,” she said.
Estelle raised a brow. At least it wasn’t curiosity about Graham’s missing leg that held her interest.
“I’ll come with you,” Isaiah offered.
Estelle’s heart caught in her throat. So much for her plan to diffuse the situat
ion. She snuck a glance to Graham. He didn’t look at her directly, but she sensed worry from him as well.
“I thought I saw a group of the boys investigating the collection of old Indian artifacts at the waystation,” Isaiah went on. “We could walk over there.”
Not a single good reason to object came to Estelle’s mind. If she turned him down, people might ask why. The fewer questions, the better.
“All right,” she said, working not to sound as uncertain as she felt. “Let’s take a look.”
She crossed around Graham, Gideon, and Lucy as they set about attaching the latest wooden leg to Graham’s stump. Graham sent her a quick glance of support as she went. It was a gallant gesture, but she wasn’t sure what he could do to help her if she should need it. She took a deep breath, telling herself she couldn’t think that way, and marched on up the line of wagons toward the waystation.
Isaiah fell into step beside her, his hands coming out of his pockets.
“I’m not sure if it’s a good idea for Mr. Faraday to go giving Graham hope with that wooden leg of his,” he said.
Estelle blinked rapidly, wishing her heart would still. “Oh? I like the idea. I know how much Graham wishes he was whole again.”
“That’s just the point,” Isaiah said, frowning. “He’s never going to be whole again. That leg of his is gone. He can’t escape from the reality of who he is.”
A chill slithered down Estelle’s spine, and with it the uncomfortable feeling that Isaiah was talking about more than Graham and his wound. He watched her with a steady intent that made her skin break out in prickles.
“I can’t say that I agree with you.” Estelle chose her words carefully. “We are more than the challenges that are handed down to us. We should strive to be more, to be better, all the time.”
“Is that what you believe?” he asked, words pointed.
“It is,” Estelle answered.
