Esther paused to gauge their reactions. Julie and Teresa were both listening raptly despite their intentions. Teresa urged her, "What kind of trouble? Go on, Mrs. Webber, please. I'd like to know what happened to that poor girl to make her so spiteful. Maybe it would help us to understand her."
"Understand, my foot!" Esther snorted. "There's nothing to understand. She's just a spoiled brat, just plain ornery.
"Adam said he couldn't hold to slavery, and he went off and joined up with the Yankees. I can tell you that didn't set well with Elisa's daddy. Jordan Beckworth had a big plantation, he did, owned a lot of slaves, and he didn't much like his son-in-law taking sides against him and his people. Well, Elisa told Adam to go on off to war and, when it was over, if he hadn't gotten himself killed, he could just keep right on going."
Teresa gasped. "But she's expecting his baby."
"I'm getting to that," Esther said excitedly. "See, the gossip was that Adam Thatcher was just tickled to death to get away from that hateful, willful girl, so when he rode off, he didn't look back. But then Jordan suddenly died of a heart attack. All the strain of the war, you know. Well, it came out that he was heavily in debt, and Genevieve didn't have sense enough to look after anything, so what little they did have after Jordan died ran out fast. Well, she and Elisa went to Adam's daddy and got him to call his boy home, thinking, probably, they could get some of the Thatcher money. Only it didn't work out that way. Adam and Elisa were together for a while, but then they had a big fight, and he left. It wasn't long after that Elisa found herself in the family way. So Genevieve took her to the Thatchers and told them she was their responsibility. Then she took off to live with her sister up in North Carolina.
"So," Esther gasped, out of breath from excitement, "Adam's daddy wrote him he had to do the right thing, and Adam wrote back and said he wouldn't come back to Georgia, that he liked it just fine with the cavalry out in the Arizona territory, and though he wanted to do right by the baby, Elisa would have to get herself out there. He wasn't about to go back to Georgia where folks hated him for taking sides with the Yankees."
Teresa sighed. "The poor thing. She's going to have a baby, but she can't be sure her husband wants her anymore. That's heartbreaking."
Esther lifted her chin. "If you ask me, she's getting what she deserves. You can be sure Adam Thatcher would never have anything more to do with her if she wasn't having his baby."
Julie's gaze was drawn to Elisa, walking over to Derek. Whatever was said Derek got up and walked with Elisa to her wagon.
Esther, also watching, cried, "That's what kind she is, a man-chaser. Everybody knows she's been running after the wagon master—and her a married woman expecting a baby. Disgraceful."
"You shouldn't jump to conclusions," Teresa admonished. "That's how gossip gets started. She probably wants Captain Arnhardt to check something on her wagon."
"Ha!" Esther clapped her hands together and rocked back on her ample bottom. "What's he checking in a wagon in the middle of the night? I've seen him slipping in there when he thought no one was looking, and Ramona Towles saw him sneaking out one morning just before daybreak. Now, tell me who's jumping to conclusions?"
"There could have been reasons," Teresa said as easily as she could. "He is the wagon master, after all. Besides, none of it is anyone's business."
Before Esther could start up again, Teresa nodded to her, smiled at Julie, and suggested it was time to sleep.
When they were inside their wagon and bedded down for the night, Julie whispered, "It doesn't matter, you know. Any of it."
"Of course it matters," Teresa said firmly. "But you can't let it bother you. I'm sure the captain has a good reason for visiting that wagon, and—"
"It does not matter," Julie repeated stiffly, miserable. "He can do whatever he wants. I just wish this trip were over and we were there. Oh, please, let's not talk about any of it again. Please."
She turned her back toward Teresa, whose mattress was on the other side of the wagon, and whispered a muted good night.
Yes, she told herself mournfully, it mattered. Something she had once read in the Bible raced through her mind then: "To the hungry soul every bitter thing is sweet."
She had been hungry. Derek's love had been sweet. Now only bitterness remained.
Chapter 4
When the stygian night had faded to the gray shroud of dawn, the storm had abated. The snow had ended, leaving the hills and plains in alabaster glory. Julie peered from the wagon, thinking how beautiful the sight would be were it not a hindrance to them. She could hear the squeals of delighted children, begging for a few hours in that playground.
Myles brought hot porridge from the camp fire and told Julie and Teresa that Derek and Thomas had ridden out earlier to see whether the road ahead was passable. "If the sun manages to break through," he remarked hopefully, "the snow will start to melt. But we've still got to contend with mud."
"It could take days for the mud to dry up, even if the sun is strong," Teresa pointed out.
"Our supplies are running low. We can't just sit here, Myles."
"We won't," he told her, kissing her lovingly. "The going might be very slow, however. We'll have to stop and cut pine boughs to fill up mud holes as we come to them. We'll see what Arnhardt says when he and Thomas get back. No telling how long they'll be gone, but we plan on staying put till tomorrow."
They finished eating, and Teresa remarked that she would love to go for a walk. "I'm feeling awfully cramped and stiff from spending so much time in the wagon."
"Then walk we shall," Myles responded cheerily, and after she was bundled up, they left.
Restless, Julie decided to go for a walk on her own, and after dressing warmly, she climbed down from the wagon and smiled as she felt the soft crunch of snow under her boots. She delighted in every step, marveling at the wonderland. The air was crisp, and above the distant mountain peaks was a hint of golden light. The sun was coming out, after all.
The sound of crunching snow behind her made her turn. Arlo Vance was following her. Arlo, an enigma, had appeared out of nowhere as they left Louisiana and crossed into Texas. Alone with his wagon and six mules, he was happy and relieved to join their wagon train, citing the dangers of traveling alone.
He was heading for the Arizona territory, where they were going, so that was fine. But since his arrival, he had stayed to himself, seldom joining the men around the fire at night, never mentioning anything personal or explaining why he had started such a long journey by himself. One of the young boys had peeked into Arlo's wagon and reported there was little inside, just food and a few necessary provisions. This added to everyone's curiosity, for Arlo's wagon was large, with ample room for cargo. Why was he burdening himself with a heavy wagon he didn't need?
"Miss Marshall, wait up," Arlo called, his voice ringing clearly in the quiet snowy morning.
Julie told herself to be friendly. Why not? He was not a bad-looking man, of medium height, a bit heavy, in his mid-thirties. His hair was dark and hung loosely around his neck. He drew closer and she could see his eyes. Myles didn't like Arlo's eyes, she knew that. They were narrow and lacked warmth. His entire face looked threatening because of the strange scars all over his cheeks. He looked like a man who had known violence. But what man—or woman—hadn't known violence in recent years? She reminded herself to ask Myles about Arlo.
"Miss Marshall," he said again, standing before her, a wide grin twisting the scars into a macabre crisscross pattern. "I hope you don't mind me joining you. I was starting to feel closed in back there, listening to all those kids whining and their mothers screaming at them. Horses don't smell too good, either." He made a face and Julie laughed.
"Besides," he continued, "it's not safe for you to be out walking alone."
She raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that, Mr. Vance? There's not a soul around for miles." She began walking again, carefully lifting her skirt to the tops of her boots as the snow got deeper and deeper.
/> "It's not always people you have to be afraid of. There are coyotes and wolves, and with all this snow, they can't be too choosy about what they eat."
"Really, Mr. Vance. You have a way of making a lady feel safe!"
He shrugged. "Please call me Arlo."
She stepped into a hidden drop-off, lost her footing, and pitched forward. He didn't move fast enough, and she landed on her face in the deep snow.
"That's another thing to watch out for." He pulled her to her feet and laughed at the sight of her snow-covered form. "I'm sorry. It's just that you look so funny."
Julie dusted at the snow, unperturbed. "I guess that ends my walk. I'll have to go change clothes now."
"Oh, it'll brush off easy enough." He dusted her shoulders, then moved to brush the snow from her chest. But he jerked back quickly as he realized he had touched her breasts. "I'm sorry," he offered, staring down at the ground. "Please don't think I was trying to be... uh..."
"I know," she said, embarrassed. "Tell me." She looked for another direction. "If you don't think I'm being nosy, what takes you west? You speak with a northern accent, so I don't suppose you're running from the Yankees."
His reply was surprisingly brusque. "No, I'm not."
"Forgive me. It's none of my business." She turned to walk back to camp, but he blocked her path, his gaze intense.
"I didn't mean to be short with you, Miss Marshall. I'm aware of the speculation about me, but I don't want you wondering. I mean, I'd like for us to be friends. I'm not trying to be forward, it's just that I don't know of any other way to let you know how I feel without coming right out and saying I'd like to get to know you better. I haven't got any courting skills, you see?"
Julie was surprised. She couldn't criticize him for being blunt, because she was often pretty blunt herself. "I'm flattered, Mr. Vance, but frankly, I don't foresee any opportunities for socializing on a wagon train."
"Will you at least stop calling me Mr. Vance?" he asked. "It makes me feel like an old man. And as for being social, what are we doing right now?"
She smiled up at him. "Walking in the snow."
"Well, we're getting to know each other, aren't we?"
"I suppose."
"That's a start. And when we get to San Angelo, there'll be a big dance. I heard the town always does that when a wagon train comes through. It's their way of saying welcome. Would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you?"
A dance! Heavens, she couldn't even remember the last time she had whirled about a dance floor! The thought was so appealing. But what did she know about Arlo Vance? Myles wouldn't approve, for all the menfolk were leery of Arlo. Derek wouldn't like it, either. That thought gave her pleasure.
"You're hesitant." Arlo continued to smile hopefully. "It's because no one knows anything about me, is that it? Well, I'll be glad to go to your brother and tell him I have only the most honorable of intentions."
"That won't be necessary, Arlo. I am capable of making my own judgments about people." She wondered if Arlo sensed her doubts about him. Something she could not quite define warned her to be careful with his feelings.
His eyes widened just enough that she could see the hope there. "You will allow me to escort you?"
"We'll see," she hedged, beginning to walk again. He fell into step beside her.
"Maybe it'd help you make up your mind if you knew something about me, knew why I'm traveling alone."
His voice suddenly became tinged with sadness.
"I was married once," he began softly, head bowed. "We had a little farm in Pennsylvania. It wasn't much, but we survived, me and my wife and little girl. We were happy. Then the war broke out, and I felt it was my duty to join up with the Union army. I thought Louise and Betsy would be safe, but there was fighting around Gettysburg, not far from our farm. I got there as soon as I could. It was too late." He swallowed hard.
"Please, Arlo," Julie said quickly. "Don't talk about something that hurts you. It's none of my business."
"But I want you to know," he cried. "It burns me, and the only way I can get any peace at all is to tell it to somebody who might give a damn, like you." He rushed on. "I went back to find my farm burned to the ground. Louise and Betsy had been shot like dogs. The damn Rebs didn't even stop with two bullets. They kept on shooting and filled them full of holes. They weren't part of the goddamn war, and Betsy was four years old. Now they're both dead."
"Oh, Arlo, I'm so sorry," Julie whispered, cut clear through. "What a terrible grief you must carry. Dear Lord, I am sorry."
He took a deep breath and looked up at the sky, gazing into the distance as though attempting to avoid the memories by looking far away into space. "That's why I'm traveling alone, Miss Marshall. I'm searching for some peace, and I'll keep on moving till I've found it."
After a silence she spoke. "Please call me Julie," she offered in a gesture of friendship. "I've known grief from the war, too, and I do understand."
"Then you'll do me the honor of allowing me to escort you to the dance?" he asked.
"Of course," she told him. "I'll look forward to it." The poor man wanted a friend, that was all.
Later, when she told Myles, he was instantly furious. "He's not taking you to any dance. I won't allow it. I'm the head of this family, and—"
"You're the head of your family, yours and Teresa's," Julie cried, her own anger rising. "I am in charge of my own life. You don't tell me what to do, Myles."
They glared at each other, and Teresa said, "Both of you, stop it right now! This is ridiculous!" To Myles she said, "Julie is capable of making her own decisions about her friends, and she should be allowed to do so without interference from either of us. If Mr. Vance proves to be undesirable company, I am sure she will end their relationship at once."
Myles scratched at the stubble of his beard. Teresa was right. And Julie wouldn't bend to his will, anyway. He just hoped Vance wouldn't bother his sister further. Damn it, he wished he knew what it was that bothered him about Vance. There was just something....
Sudden shouts around them turned their attention to Derek and Thomas riding up the slope. They rushed outside to join the others.
"It's warming up," Derek told them, sitting atop his palomino, "and it doesn't look as though the snow will be a problem. If we move out right away, we can still make a few miles today, before the snow turns into slush and mud. Get ready to leave at once."
The men moved to harness their horses, and the women scurried to prepare for the journey. Julie hung back. She didn't know why, but for some unexplained reason she could not tear her gaze from Derek, who was staring at her intently.
Finally he dismounted and took a few steps toward her, but a woman's voice stopped him.
"Derek! I must talk to you."
Elisa Thatcher approached, and Derek was forced to turn away from Julie and see what Elisa needed.
With a deep sigh, Julie left to help Teresa and Myles prepare for the day's trek.
Chapter 5
At long, long last, they arrived in San Angelo. The townspeople were happy to see the wagon train, and after introductions to more people than Julie could possibly remember, Myles whisked her and Teresa to one of the town's few hotels, dismissing their protests that they would save money by staying in the wagon.
The next day, while Myles went off with the men to barter some of their horses for mules or oxen, Julie and Teresa shopped. Everywhere they went people were friendly, glad for the excitement of new faces, glad for an excuse to be festive despite the bleak winter.
There had not been much to choose from in the few shops, and Julie made up her mind not to buy a dress for the dance, to forego the ball altogether. She returned to the hotel and was surprised, a few hours later, by the delivery of a dress she had admired. Teresa had told Myles how pretty the dress looked on Julie, and that Julie refused to spend the money for it. Myles, bless his generous heart, had gone and bought it for her, explaining that after trading two of his horses and one of hers
for oxen, there had been money left over.
It was a beautiful dress. Slip-on, puffed sleeves were fashioned to taper from her elbows to her wrists, and the points were meticulously embroidered in gold cord. The skirt was full and hung in thick drapes, a new style from Paris, which did not demand hoops—for which Julie was grateful. Hoops, as well as other fashion items, were unimportant and had no place on wagon trains.
* * *
The next day, an hour before the dance, Julie stood before the oval mirror and beheld the vision she was. The gown was of midnight-blue velvet and the delicate gold thread embroidery around the bodice accented her black hair. She had labored for hours with a borrowed curling iron, twisting her long tresses into delicate spirals that graced the tops of her bare shoulders. Tiny ribbons that matched the dress were entwined in the curls.
A soft knock on the door brought Julie out of her reverie, and she heard Teresa's voice.
"Oh, you're beautiful!" Teresa exclaimed, clasping her hands in admiration as she stepped inside. "Julie, I always did think you were the prettiest woman I ever saw, and now I know I was right!"
"Teresa, you're prejudiced," Julie said, laughing. "You look lovely, too, Teresa. You did a marvelous job on that dress."
Teresa looked down at her loose-fitting gown of soft pink wool. "Are you sure you can't tell where I let out the seams? I don't mind looking pregnant, but I don't want to look awkward, either."
Julie reached out to adjust the white ribbon and bow Teresa had fashioned under her bodice to conceal the seam marks. "You do have talent with a needle, Teresa."
"Uh-oh!" Teresa's eyes grew wide, and her hands flew to her swollen stomach. "The baby just kicked me. What am I going to do if my bow starts jumping up and down?"
They looked at each other and giggled, delighted, but the moment was spoiled by the appearance of Arlo Vance in the open doorway.
This Savage Heart Page 4
