by Merry Farmer
“I’m sure there will be other chances,” Greg said, shaking her out of her bittersweet thoughts.
“I’m sure,” Darcy agreed.
“And look.” Greg pointed up to the sky. “The clouds are clearing. Soon you’ll be able to see the stars.”
Darcy followed the line of his gaze. It was true. Above them, the clouds that had pressed down on them all day and brought so much rain were beginning to break apart. Their edges were tinted with bright red and orange and coral as the sun set. Beyond that, a hint of sky and the first glimpse of the evening stars could be seen. One star in particular caught her eye.
She closed her eyes to make a wish. I wish that I will be able to convince Greg to become my husband after all.
With a gasp, she opened her eyes. No, Conrad. She meant Conrad. Greg wasn’t even an option. He had told her he didn’t want a wife, not yet. He had plans for a life. They had only met by chance, and their connection wouldn’t last long. She was a fool to think anything else.
“It will be all right,” Greg reassured her, reaching out to rub her back.
“You’re right.” She smiled, even though her heart fluttered at his touch. “I just wish I didn’t have to depend on a man like Conrad Huber for a secure life.”
“I admire your determination, you know,” Greg said.
“You do?”
“Absolutely. I don’t know many people who fight so hard for justice when things don’t go their way.”
A flush of confused emotion heated her face. “I’m only doing what I have to do,” she said.
“And that’s what makes you so admirable.” He nodded. “I’m certain you’ll win in the end.”
“I wish I was so certain,” she replied. Her heart wished that she was certain enough to get what she really wanted, not just what she felt she had to. She could talk all she wanted about marriage being a partnership with nothing to do with romance, but her heart yearned for something different. She longed for love. It just didn’t seem possible right then.
“Just you wait,” Greg said. “Not only will you succeed in changing Conrad’s mind, once you do change it and convince him to take you back, you’ll change his whole world.”
She let out a weak laugh at the idea. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do.” He patted her back, then pulled his arm away to continue eating. “You’ll be the making of Conrad Huber. Under your influence, he’ll turn into a gentleman with the best manners and the deepest consideration for his fellow man.”
Darcy laughed outright. “We’ll see.”
The very fact that she doubted it could happen should have told her something. It should have told her she was a fool to keep on pursuing the man when he didn’t want her. But what choice did she have? No other man wanted her either. Especially not the one sitting beside her. That thought squeezed her heart in her chest.
“It will be all right,” Greg repeated.
She dragged her eyes up to meet his, hoping to find an answer there. Greg looked at her with a sympathetic smile. There was something warmer in his eyes too. She had to glance away. That warmth of friendship would be the undoing of her if she let it. She knew what she had to do, which man she had to focus her attentions on. Opening herself up even a crack to something different would only spell disaster. But how her heart battled that idea.
Chapter Four
Greg had grown used to walking every day for most of the day in the last several weeks that he’d been on the trail, but as soon as Darcy joined the wagon train, everything seemed to change. On the one hand, he had someone charming and sweet to talk to as they walked on over terrain that was rougher than anything they’d traversed in Kansas or Nebraska. They shared a lot of opinions and were never at a loss for something to talk about. On the other hand, for whatever reason, from the moment Darcy joined the train, the skies opened up and rain pummeled them. It rarely stayed clear for more than a few hours.
“I’ve never seen so much rain in my life,” Darcy commented as they coaxed the oxen around yet another patch of the trail that had been turned into a swamp.
“It’s just the West’s way of saying hello to you,” Greg teased her.
Darcy laughed. “I wish it would find another way. My boots and the lower half of all of my skirts will never recover.”
“Nonsense,” Greg went on, wiping his wet hair off of his face. “Muddy boots and skirts are fashionable in these parts.”
“Only out of necessity, I suppose,” she giggled her answer.
It didn’t matter that the rain refused to let up. With Darcy there to laugh and chat, the sun was probably refusing to shine out of jealousy.
“They say that rain is exactly what’s needed to make the crops grow,” Greg told her, checking on his oxen when they stumbled over hidden rocks in the mud.
“Not this much rain,” Darcy countered. “Too much will ruin an entire harvest, or so I’m told.”
“True.” Greg nodded. “But if the land is irrigated correctly, rain can be directed around crops without washing them away.”
“Are you sure about that?”
He smiled at her, full of confidence. “I am. I’ve worked on farms before, but when I buy my land in Oregon, I’ll prove it. They say it rains quite a bit in that part of the country.”
“Then you’ll be used to it by the time you get there,” Darcy said. “It will feel like home.”
“I’m sure it will,” he chuckled, turning his face up to the sky. “I want to buy a stretch of land on a hill, maybe even one that looks out over the Pacific Ocean. I want it to have trees too, lots of them. Maybe I’ll plant an orchard along with wheat and barley.”
“So you’ve definitely decided to farm, then?” she asked. She stumbled over one of the hidden rocks the same way the oxen had.
Greg reached out to help her balance. She nodded her thanks, then pushed on.
“I’m not completely decided,” he confessed. “I may still use the money I have to buy ranch land. I’ve been told cattle ranching could be highly profitable with so much land around.”
“But in Oregon? Near the ocean? I thought cattle preferred wide, flat stretches, like this.” She gestured to the sodden land around them.
“If you ask me, it feels like we are at the ocean right now,” Greg joked.
Darcy laughed and slicked her wet hair back. She’d given up wearing her wide-brimmed bonnet when the brim became so soaked it blinded her. There was something fresh and free about her walking without her head covered, as if she would just let the rain come and take whatever it gave her.
“Why are you two so giddy?” one of their fellow travelers, a middle-aged farmer named Ichabod, commented as he strode past, on his way to the front of the wagon train.
“But it’s a lovely day,” Darcy replied, still giggling, her eyes full of light.
“Weather like this makes a man feel as though he could grow another foot,” Greg added, unable to keep his smile inside.
Ichabod snorted and shook his head. “You’re both off your nuts, if you ask me. We didn’t have none of these problems until she joined the wagon train.” He jerked a thumb at Darcy and walked on.
“What do you mean by that?” Greg demanded, his high spirits suddenly itching for a fight.
Ichabod turned and walked backwards as he answered. “The rain, the McTavish family being sick… all that started when she showed up. Gets folks to wondering, you know. Like maybe she’s bad luck.”
“Darcy is not bad luck,” Greg growled. “She’s very good luck.”
Ichabod snorted. “Is that why Conrad wants nothing to do with her?”
“Conrad Huber is a—”
There was no point in going on. Ichabod waved him off and continued his soggy trek to the front of the wagon train.
“I can’t believe anyone would even hint at you being bad luck,” Greg grumbled.
To his surprise, Darcy laughed. “I’ve been accused of being good luck before, so why not bad luck now? I believe that lu
ck is what we make of it.”
Something in Greg’s chest turned over at her comment and at the smile that accompanied it. He rubbed the spot—right over his heart—as if he could blot it out. Whatever it was, it was bound to be inconvenient. He had a clear course in front of him, and after her explanation the other day, Greg understood her reasons for wanting Conrad to agree once more to marry her. Life wasn’t necessarily fair, but it did make sense.
“So while you’re up in Oregon, planting your farm or starting your ranch,” Darcy went on, “I’ll likely be down in California, panning for gold along with Mr. Huber. Whether I’m good luck or bad luck, I bet I’ll find a big, fat nugget right in the middle of everything.”
Her smile was all the gold Greg would ever want to find, but the thought wasn’t comforting.
“We could probably pan for gold in the streams that have been caused by all this rain,” he went on, trying to joke, but his heart wasn’t in it anymore.
“You know, I bet we could,” Darcy giggled. “We should get out one of the big bowls and try it next time we stop.”
Her words were underscored by a loud crack. The two of them stopped together and turned toward the wagon. The whole thing tipped slightly to the side as the back wheel on the side facing them popped half off, several of the spokes broken. The oxen lowed and shuffled, feeling that something was wrong, but they continued moving.
“That’s not good at all,” Greg said, dropping back to take a look at the damaged wheel. “The wagon must have hit one of the rocks in the mud.”
“Or maybe it’s my bad luck?” Darcy suggested, eyebrow raised, lips twitching to a grin.
That feeling in Greg’s chest came back full-force. Did nothing dent her spirits? Was she always this happy, even in the face of disaster?
“Whoa! Whoa, hold up there,” Pete Evans’s cry came from the front of the wagon train. Greg stepped back from his broken wagon to glance up the line of the train. Pete was mounted and was moving down the line, telling everyone to stop. “We’re gonna stop here until the rain lets up a bit,” he was shouting so everyone could hear. “Pull up and rest for a bit.”
Darcy rushed to the front of the wagon to coax the oxen to stop. “There,” she said. “I’m good luck after all. The whole train is stopping, so we won’t have to fall behind while we fix the wheel.”
Greg nodded. He couldn’t help but smile in the face of that much optimism. “Lucky Darcy.”
She giggled and came back to help him figure out the wheel situation.
All around them, wagons were stopping and finding whatever patch of ground looked even a little bit drier. The neat line of wagons disintegrated into a hodge-podge. People pulled up alongside where Greg’s wagon was stranded, but no one offered to help. Whether it was because of the pounding rain that drove most folks into the shelter of their wagon’s covering or whether it was because of some silly rumor of bad luck, Greg didn’t have time to care.
As he fetched the spare wagon wheel he’d been lucky enough to buy a couple of forts ago from the back of his wagon, he noticed that Conrad had pulled his wagon up beside them, a few yards away. The sudden flash of an idea struck him.
“Darcy,” he whispered, bringing the wagon wheel up to the side of the wagon where she crouched, examining the broken one. “You’re going to replace the wheel yourself.”
“I’m what?” She blinked and stood.
“Look,” he nodded across the rainy distance to Conrad’s wagon. “Your would-be husband is sitting right there. His complaint is that you’re too small and weak to be a good wife. You’re going to replace this wagon wheel and show him he’s wrong.”
“What a wonderful idea,” she said, eyes bright with excitement. “Except that I don’t know anything about replacing a wagon wheel.”
“I’ll talk you through it,” he said.
“Then I’ll do it.”
Greg moved the new wheel to where it would be in easy reach when Darcy needed it, then he circled around the back of his wagon to take out a set of tools. He had his doubts about whether Darcy would be able to work the pin loose from the center of the wheel or whether she was strong enough to tug the broken wheel off of the shaft, but she surprised him. She followed every direction he gave her with focus and determination.
What was better, as she yanked the old, broken wheel off and tossed it aside for the new one, Greg spotted Conrad watching her.
“Excellent,” he said in a hush. “He’s watching. Now all you have to do is take the new wheel and slide it into place.”
“Right.” She nodded, panting with exertion, and lifted the new wheel.
Conrad continued to watch. He’d even delayed seeking shelter in the back of his wagon so that he could scrutinize every move Darcy made. Darcy, for her part, hardly took notice. She pushed the new wheel onto the shaft and turned it until the holes for the pin lined up. Then she retrieved the pin from Greg and fit it into place, pounding it with a mallet. She managed to do the whole thing with only instructions from Greg, rain pounding down, the ground and everything she worked with slippery with rain. She did it.
“Well done,” Greg said with a beaming smile once she stood straight and brushed her hands on her wet skirt. “Don’t you think so, Conrad?”
Realizing he’d been caught spying, Conrad jerked straighter. “What are you talking about?”
“Darcy replaced the wagon wheel entirely on her own. I’m sure it has never worked better. She’s a fine woman, don’t you think so?”
Darcy smiled at the compliment. Conrad screwed up his face as though he’d bitten something sour. He lurched away from his wagon and came to squint at the wagon wheel.
“It was easy,” Darcy said, a little out of breath still. “I’m sure I could do another one. In fact, I’m ready to learn how to make wagon repairs and everything now.”
Conrad leaned in closer to inspect the wheel. He grabbed hold of the top and shook it, evidently thinking it would come right off. It didn’t. Greg exchanged a promising look with Darcy over Conrad’s back. Conrad stood straighter and kicked the wheel. Nothing happened.
“Well I’ll be,” he muttered at last. “She fixed a wheel.”
“And is willing to fix other things too,” Greg added.
“I can already mend clothes and darn socks,” Darcy said with a wink. “That counts as fixing things, doesn’t it?”
“It sure does.” Greg smiled, but his triumph at a plan well-executed was already fading. He didn’t like the sharp look in Conrad’s eyes as he stared at the wheel. He liked it even less when that look was turned on Darcy.
Conrad stepped over to her, looking her up and down with a new assessment in his eyes. He crossed his arm and rubbed his stubbly chin.
“Those were some good biscuits you made the other day,” he said, almost as if talking to himself.
“I learned cooking at my mother’s knee,” Darcy went on, all smiles. “There’s only so much I can do out here on the trail, but just you wait until I’m in a real kitchen with fresh supplies.”
“Hmm.” Conrad rubbed his chin harder. “And you don’t seem the type to nag after all.”
A sick feeling began to spread in Greg’s stomach. Conrad was seriously reconsidering. This was what they had wanted. He should happy. Darcy’s future would be secure, she would have the legitimacy of being someone’s wife, and he wouldn’t have to worry about her anymore.
“All right, I’ll take you,” Conrad said, then sniffed and spit. “I got plenty of work that needs doing, and it looks like you’re the girl after all.”
“Oh, thank you Mr. Huber,” Darcy said, far, far more happy than Greg thought she should be. She spared a short, excited look of victory for him, then rushed to the back of his wagon. “I won’t let you down, Mr. Huber. I’ll be the perfect wife for you, you’ll see. You’ll never have any reason to complain.”
Conrad huffed. “We’ll see about that.”
“Perhaps we should stop to consider this for a second,” Greg said sl
owly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Why?” Conrad frowned at him, hitching up his rain-soaked pants as they sagged.
Greg fumbled for an excuse. “It… it might be too much of a strain for Miss Howsam to shuffle all of her things around in the rain.”
“Oh no,” Darcy said, coming around from behind the wagon with her bag in her hands. “It’s no trouble. This is all I have.” She smiled and turned to Conrad. “Should I climb up into your wagon from the back, or would you like me to sit in the front?”
“Sitting? Who said anything about sitting?” Conrad snapped. “I’ve got work for you, girl.”
“Oh.” Darcy paused on her way across the space that separated Conrad’s wagon from Greg’s. “All right. Let me just put this in the wagon, out of the wet.”
She strode on to the back of Conrad’s wagon. Conrad followed, while all Greg could do was stand there and watch. He opened his mouth to say something, to protest, but there was nothing he could say. This was exactly what he had intended to have happen. It was exactly what Darcy had wanted, what he had wanted too. Wasn’t it?
“What would you like me to do, Mr. Huber?” Darcy asked as soon as she’d put her bag in Conrad’s wagon.
Conrad sniffed. “Something’s keeping my wagon from moving right,” he said. “There must be a stick or some rocks or something up under the axel. I need you to take a look under there and clean the whole thing out.”
Darcy stared at Conrad’s wagon. She glanced up at the sky—rain beating down harder—then across to Greg for half a second before looking at Conrad again and saying, “Now?”
“We’re stopped, aren’t we?” Conrad barked. “You said you wanted to be a good wife, didn’t you?”