Trail of Redemption (Hot on the Trail Book 6)

by Merry Farmer

  “I know you feel poorly, sweetheart,” she said to one of the McGovern children as she rode in the back of their wagon, “but you need to drink as much of this as possible.”

  Graham rode behind the wagon on Jackal, ready to be on hand in case there was anything he could do or anything he needed to protect Estelle from.

  “Do what Miss Estelle says,” Mrs. McGovern said, though she herself was faint with illness. Her lips were pinched with distaste, but parched, and when Estelle handed her a cup of clean water and helped her to drink it, Mrs. McGovern’s expression settled into confusion. It was better than hate.

  A horrible smell wafted up from the wagon, and Graham was tempted to tell Estelle to get out and away from anything that might make her sick too. He’d seen too many of the men in his regiment die from afflictions just like this in the war. But Estelle paid no mind to it. She ignored the mumbled insult as she climbed into the Halls’ wagon to check on them, soothing fevered brows and cleaning up the worst filth.

  “It’s all right,” Estelle hummed to one of the Hall children as she held the girl in her arms. She managed to convince her to drink a spoonful of laudanum and a bit of water.

  “Miss Es—” the girl began, clinging to Estelle’s skirts as their wagon jostled along. “Miss Essie,” she tried again, unable to form her full name properly.

  “I’m here, sweetheart,” Estelle all but sang back to her. “You’re going to be just fine.”

  Graham’s heart swelled with pride in her. It expanded further with hope as he watched Jonah and Betsy Hall’s opinion of Estelle change before their eyes. The distrust was gone, replaced by anxiety and hope, but more than that, with trust.

  “Graham,” Estelle called up to him from the back edge of the Hall’s wagon.

  “Yes?” He nudged Jackal closer.

  “I need you to run and fetch more boiled water. Get it from whoever has it, doesn’t matter who. As much as you can find.”

  “Yes ma’am.” He touched his forehead, then tugged on Jackal’s reins to bring him around.

  “Let me help,” Jonah Hall broke away from his wife to jog after him. When he caught up to Graham’s side, he sighed and said, “It breaks your heart when your young ones are so fragile, doesn’t it?”

  Graham thought of Tim, thought of how he would feel if Tim was ill. It was too painful to contemplate, and Tim wasn’t truly his. That hadn’t stopped him from sending Tim back to the supply wagon under Lucy’s watchful eye when Estelle had started climbing into people’s wagons to treat the sick.

  “I can only imagine,” he replied to Jonah.

  Jonah’s breath caught, as if he was stifling a sob. He cleared his throat. “Thank God above that Miss Estelle knows how to treat dysentery.”

  All Graham could do was nod in agreement. “Boiled water,” he called out as they walked past advancing wagons. “Does anyone have boiled water they can spare? Estelle needs it to treat the sick.”

  “Estelle?” Ruth turned toward Graham from where she was walking with Viola as he rode past.

  Graham paused to walk Jackal beside her. Jonah headed on, calling out for more boiled water.

  Ruth scowled. “What fool got it in their head to allow that woman to touch sick people? Why, she’ll probably work some kind of dark slave magic on them to kill them.”

  Graham had to fight to keep his temper in check. “I don’t know if people suffering from dysentery care much who treats them, if that person knows what they’re doing.”

  Ruth and Viola shared huffs of offence and complaint. “Does she know what she’s doing?” Viola snorted.

  “Yes.” Graham felt no need or desire to explain more. “Do you have boiled water?”

  Ruth tipped up her chin. “Not for her, we don’t.”

  Viola looked only slightly less certain. “It’s the Halls and the McGoverns who are sick, isn’t it?”

  “And the Carltons,” Graham said.

  Viola wound her fingers through the long ties of her bonnet, craning her neck as though she could see one of the wagons that held the sick. “I do like those Carlton children.”

  “You won’t get any water from us, Lt. Tremaine,” Ruth addressed Graham formally, but without respect. At the same time, she grabbed Viola’s wrist to still her.

  “That’s what I thought,” Graham growled.

  He wheeled Jackal around and tapped his flank with his one good leg, his missing leg completing the gesture in his mind. People like Ruth and Viola didn’t deserve his thoughts, not even his scorn, when Estelle needed his help. There were sick people to heal. Graham moved on in his search for water, but uneasiness followed him. It was only a matter of time before the likes of Ruth Nelson caused more problems than could be avoided.

  Chapter Sixteen

  For all of Estelle’s efforts and the efforts of Dr. Pyle, the families suffering from dysentery were slow to get better. It was with a heavy heart that Graham stood by, head lowered in respect, as first one, then two, then a handful of the sick pioneers died and were buried on the trail. A helpless itch rolled down his back, not just because he was unable to help dig the graves, but because illness was an enemy that killed without mercy and with no means of fighting back. He’d grown worried about Estelle too. She worked with tireless passion to use the knowledge she had to heal where she could, but days on, Graham could tell from the slump of her shoulders and the heaviness of her step that she was tired.

  As soon as they reached a clean spring that Pete knew from previous travels, he ordered everyone to dump every last drop of water they had stored and to refill their supplies with boiled spring water. That drastic measure stopped any new cases, but for the poor folks who were already suffering from dysentery, all they could do was move on while Estelle and Dr. Pyle nursed them as best they could.

  “I hate to say it, because I don’t want to sound coarse,” Pete said as they milled around the hasty camp they’d set up for a day near the spring, “but we’re doing far better than other trains I’ve led.”

  “Is that so?” Lucy asked. She sat on a crate, tending to several pots of water on their way to boiling. Josephine was there to help her, and Tim had set himself up between the two women, happy to do whatever they asked him to. He wanted to be with Estelle, but as the sick families suffered, even she agreed it was best that others watch out for him.

  Across the clearing where the camp had set up, Isaiah sat mending a saddle, listening but not part of the group.

  “Afraid so,” Pete answered. He sent a worried look Josephine’s way.

  “If only there were some sort of scientific purification system portable enough to bring on the trail,” Gideon mumbled.

  Graham was surprised his friend was paying attention at all. He was hard at work, attaching an extension to the saddle Pete had sold Graham after Ft. Laramie. Graham sat atop Jackal as Gideon screwed the piece of wood—shaped and padded to look like a calf and foot—into the stirrup so that it would reach the same part of Jackal’s side as Graham’s other foot. The aim was to make it move and feel as much like a real leg as possible so Jackal could respond to Graham’s slightest commands. It needed to work with whatever horse Graham would purchase at the end of the trail as well. They’d been working on it for half an hour already, and Graham was ready to dismount and get a bite to eat.

  “Scientific water purification?” Graham questioned his friend.

  “Mmm,” Gideon answered. “It was my area of expertise before….”

  They all stared at him. Gideon flushed, but didn’t answer. He grasped Graham’s knee and guided his stump into the hollow at the top of the extension as though his knee were just another piece of technology to fiddle with.

  Pete blew out a breath. “Well, all this twitching and flinching over people’s pasts has got me plum worn out. For any of you who want to know, I was born a poor, dumb hick to poor, dumb hick parents, and I’ve lived most of my life wandering back and forth across this great land of ours.”

  “You’re not a dum
b hick,” Josephine scolded him, slapping his arm.

  “Well, I’m the daughter of a self-made man,” Lucy added her bit. “Even though my life has been easy, that doesn’t mean I go around looking down on people who’ve had trouble.” She stared hard at Gideon’s back as she spoke.

  “What an admirable quality that is, Miss Lucy.”

  Everyone in their group turned to see Clarence Nelson striding into their camp. Graham’s gut clenched and he sat straighter before he could put a name to the anxiety Nelson brought with him. In spite of the cautious reaction of the group in the camp, Nelson smiled.

  “Pete, I need to talk to you,” Nelson went on.

  Pete pushed himself to stand from the barrel where he’d been sitting by Josephine’s side. “Yeah?”

  Nelson spread his politician’s smile around the camp, a spark of judgment in his eyes as though he was assessing who would vote for them if an election was held right then. His slick smile landed on Graham and widened. It then traveled on to Isaiah at the other end of the camp clearing and tensed. He snapped back to Pete before Graham could get a handle on what Nelson might be up to.

  “We’ve delayed long enough,” he said. “It’s time you allow me to let the trail council meet.”

  Pete sighed. He swiped his hat from his head and rubbed his forehead on his sleeve. “I’m not sure I should have let you start that council thing. What do you want to meet about now?”

  Nelson hooked his hands around the lapels of his vest. He rocked on his heels, letting a look of mock seriousness settle in his face. “It’s about the boy.”

  “What boy?” Pete played along.

  Again, Nelson flashed a quick look to Isaiah, then nodded to Tim. “That one.”

  The sudden urge to fight whipped through Graham’s blood. From atop his horse, he turned to check on Isaiah. Isaiah’s head was down, but a distinct grin touched his lips. Graham had to swallow to keep the need to climb down and punch the man in the face at bay.

  “What about the boy?” Pete asked. He crossed his arms and looked from Nelson to Graham to Isaiah and back again.

  In contrast to the tension that rippled through the camp, Nelson shifted into a smile. “We want to make sure we keep the boy’s best interest in mind, am I correct?”

  “Yes.” Pete didn’t elaborate.

  “Well, it has come to my attention that he would be better served in someone else’s care,” Nelson went on.

  Between Lucy and Josephine, Tim tensed. He cast a terrified look up to Graham, but from the top of his horse there was little Graham could do.

  “That mulatto woman has been caring for him,” Nelson said.

  “Estelle has.” Pete drew in a breath, standing taller. “The two of them have grown mighty attached.”

  “That’s exactly my point,” Nelson said. “It’s wrong. The council needs to meet as soon as possible to decide what should be done about it.”

  “What should be done about it is what has been done about it all along,” Josephine said, standing and stepping to Pete’s side. “Estelle has done a fine job of caring for him.”

  Nelson shook his head. “A white child should not be left in the care of a mulatto woman.”

  “You’re wrong,” Graham spoke up at last. “Estelle loves Tim. So do I.”

  Nelson was slow to turn toward Graham, and when he did, his expression was pinched. “Son, if you hope to have any future with me, it’s about time you stood up for the right things instead of wasting your time with the wrong.”

  “You’re right.” Graham nodded. “There is no question of who should care for Tim. Estelle and I. End of story.”

  Again, Nelson’s reaction was a paradox. His smile grew instead of shrinking, and he chuckled softly.

  “I don’t think you understand, Graham,” he said. “I’m telling you that it’s in your best interest to forget you ever knew that woman.”

  “Oh, I know what you’re telling me.”

  “Do you?” Nelson turned fully toward him, narrowing his eyes. “Because what I’m telling you is that I have no interest in helping out someone who is a traitor to his own kind.”

  “Yes, I understand,” Graham said. In spite of the conviction of his heart, once again he felt as though he were slipping, falling from a horse he’d climbed up on, as the future Nelson had offered him disappeared. Just because it was right and good didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. “I have no interest in being helped by someone who would try to take a child away from a woman who loves him.”

  Nelson’s eye twitched. His frown deepened. “I see.” That was it. He turned back to Pete, ignoring Graham as though a wall had grown up between them. “I demand that a trail council meeting be held at tomorrow’s midday stop to decide what to do with the boy.”

  Tim flinched to hide behind Lucy’s skirt.

  Pete let out a breath that sounded more like a growl. “You can have a hundred council meetings,” he said. “I don’t see how any council would have the right to tell a boy who his parents should be.”

  In spite of Pete’s words, Nelson smiled as though he’d won a victory. “There’s where you’re wrong, sir. Once the council makes its decision, any lawyer in the land will take that into consideration. You don’t really want to run afoul of the law, do you?”

  Pete shook his head, resting his weight on one hip. “I’ll tell you what. You go ahead and have your council meeting.”

  “Pete.” Graham appealed to him from the top of his horse.

  Pete held up a hand to appease him. “You have your council meeting,” he addressed Nelson, “and I’ll decide if I think the conclusion you come to is worth a pail of horse sh—” He cleared his throat. “Whether it’s worth anything.”

  Nelson’s smile was cold. “Done.” He turned to go, but as he went, he grinned up at Graham. “I don’t think your services are required on the council anymore, Lt. Tremaine.”

  “And I say they very much are,” Pete countered.

  Nelson clenched his jaw, looking over his shoulder at Pete. “I’m the president of this trail council.”

  “Yeah? And it’s my wagon train. Like it or lump it.”

  With that, Pete turned to go. The conversation was over. Nelson swayed as if he would argue, but when he saw he had no one to argue with, he marched on.

  “Well, this doesn’t bode well,” Lucy murmured. She glanced from Gideon to Graham.

  “No, it doesn’t.” Graham said.

  By the time the wagon train stopped for the night, Estelle was beyond exhausted.

  “You should really go get some rest,” Mrs. McGovern urged her, though she was weak from illness herself. “You deserve it.”

  Estelle blinked, glancing to the woman from where she’d been spooning clean water and a few drops of laudanum down little Jency McGovern’s throat. “I—”

  Mrs. McGovern cut her off with a nod, barely lifting one of her hands. “I know,” she breathed. “I’ve said some harsh things to you and about you. I take them back.” It was all she could manage before fatigue shut her eyes.

  “Thank you,” Estelle whispered, though she suspected Mrs. McGovern was already asleep.

  As she climbed out of the wagon and washed her hands in the bucket of boiled water that sat beside the McGovern’s camp, Estelle’s emotions bounced and flipped around, unable to settle. A week ago, she had been the most hated woman in the wagon train. Now she was being thanked and urged to rest. Tiny shoots of hope tried to poke up through her resignation and despair, but could she really entertain them?

  “There you are.” Graham met her halfway back to the crew camp. He cut a fine figure atop Jackal’s back, but his expression was serious.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, fear bubbling to the top of her soup of emotions.

  Graham clenched his jaw, then let out a breath. “Nelson has the trail council up to no good. There’s going to be a meeting tomorrow at midday to discuss what to do with Tim.”

  Estelle reeled. She pressed a hand to her heart. “Tim?�
��

  “Don’t worry,” Graham reassured her. “Nelson likes to make noise, but Pete was pretty clear that even if the council does make a bad decision, he won’t let it stand.”

  “But….” She worked her jaw for a few seconds before the right words could come out. All she could think about was Tim’s cherubic face and the devastation of losing him. “But why let him have a council meeting at all if Pete’s not going to listen to them?”

  Graham shrugged. “To get him to shut up?”

  Estelle blinked rapidly. Her mind was too tired from soothing the ill and fighting against disease to take it all in. “Where’s Tim now?”

  “Lucy has him,” Graham said. “She packed us a picnic too. Thought we might want some time away from bitter old gossips.”

  Estelle was more relieved than she wanted to admit. Her heart ached over Tim as though she’d swallowed a handful of nettles, but the chance for peace was a blessing. Still, she looked up to Graham with as much gratitude as she could muster.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “That might be just the thing. I can’t… I can hardly think right now. It’s all so much.”

  “I know.” He sighed, but now that he’d told her the bad news, he seemed more at ease. “Let’s see if I’m strong enough to lift you up onto this horse with me.”

  He reached for her, steadying Jackal with his thighs. Estelle worked with him, clasping his hand and even stepping on top of the wooden foot tucked into one stirrup to heft herself onto the horse with him. It was clumsy, they would need much more practice to learn the best way to do it, but in no time, Estelle was sitting sideways across Graham’s lap. He grinned at her, reaching his arms around her to grasp the reins, then nudged Jackal to start off away from the camp.