by Jodi Thomas
This might work, thanks to the widow. She’d watch over the girls and help with the cooking. She didn’t even want to be paid. Just a ride to Dallas. How lucky could he get? She was pretty too, but sad and pale. With no husband she probably thought she had the weight of the world on those little shoulders.
An hour out of town Number One crawled up on the bench with him. She looked as proper as if she was sitting in church. “Mr. Trapper.”
“Just Trapper,” he corrected.
“Mr. Trapper,” she insisted. “I was wondering if I could man the reins.”
“You know how to handle a wagon?” He swore her pointed little nose went up two inches. “A four-horse rig.”
“I’m Colonel Chapman’s daughter, sir. I assure you, I was driving a wagon by the time I was six, riding at four.”
Trapper was impressed. He handed her the reins. The road was pointed straight west and dry. How much trouble could she get into?
Ten minutes later he decided she was better than he was at handling the team. “Any time you want to drive just let me know, One.”
She smiled. “I’m thirteen years old, sir. I’m almost grown. We will get along fine if you remember that fact.”
“Almost,” he whispered as he watched the countryside passing. He’d been an “almost” when he’d joined the army. Now, at twenty-four, he felt like an old man. He’d seen enough fighting and dying to last him ten lifetimes.
He smiled. Widow Adams would take care of the girls and One could drive when he circled back to make sure they weren’t being followed. This trip was going to be easy.
He heard the girls in the back singing songs. Farms spotted the land, and now and then a farmer waved from the winter fields. This was going to be the easiest money he’d ever make.
An hour later Trapper wasn’t so sure. Number Four poked her head out of the canvas cover. “I have to stop to take care of private things, Mr. Tapper.”
“Trapper,” he corrected.
“I need to take care of private things, Mr. Tapper!”
She wasn’t listening to him and he wasn’t understanding her.
When Trapper raised his eyebrows, Mrs. Adams whispered, “Chamber pot.”
“I didn’t bring one.” He started wondering if he needed to drive back to get one. He’d never been around women. He’d talked to girls in grade school when his dad let him go, and he’d managed to have a few conversations with ladies over the years, but he’d never asked about how they handled private things. In fact he’d never seen the nude body of a woman except in pictures over a few bars. Even if he’d wanted to court a girl after the war, none would be interested in him.
To his surprise, all the girls looked confused including the little widow.
Number Five helped him out as her little hand patted him on the shoulder. “Please stop and help up us down, Mr. Tapper. We know what to do.” The mispronouncing of his name was spreading.
“All of you?”
“Yes,” Five answered. “If one goes, we all do. I think it’s a rule written down somewhere.”
Mrs. Adams took over. “We’ll all have to make a circle, Mr. Trapper. It’s a lady’s way.”
“Oh,” he said, pulling up the horses though he didn’t understand at all.
The girls nodded as he helped each one out of the wagon.
They walked over near a stand of trees and formed a circle, with Number Four in the center. Then they did the strangest thing. They turned their backs to her, held out their skirts, and waited.
One by one, each took her turn in the center, then laughed as they all ran back to the wagon. He climbed down and helped each one up, counting as he loaded.
He noticed when he looked back into the wagon that they’d made their luggage into tiny chairs and tables and the blankets he’d bought were now cushions. Their bonnets were tied to the top of the cover, but Number Three still wore her wool cap, as if it might snow at any moment.
As he lifted Number Five, she leaned close to him and patted his cheek. Trapper couldn’t help but smile.
When he looked around for the last girl, he couldn’t see her. Number Four, the chubby one, was missing.
Great! He wasn’t five miles out of town and he’d already lost one.
He looked around and saw her picking up rocks. “Four!” he yelled.
She paid no attention to him.
He walked toward her. “Four, it’s time to go.”
She looked up at him, and he saw panic in her eyes.
Trapper knelt to one knee, not wanting to frighten her. “Remember, honey, we’re playing a game. You’re Four.” He told himself to be stern, but he couldn’t. She had pretty, brown eyes and curls that bounced.
“I forgot. You want to see my rocks?” she whispered.
“Sure.”
Four showed him two rocks. “I love rocks. My teacher said they hold the history of the earth in them.”
“They are fine rocks,” he said as he offered his hand. “How about we head back to the wagon and you show the others?” Her fingers felt so tiny in his big hand. As he walked, he added, “Do you think you can remember your name is Four for the trip, and that we all have to try to stay together?”
She smiled. “I’ll try, Mr. Tapper.”
Trapper didn’t correct her. He never wanted to see panic in her chestnut eyes again.
After he lifted her in and climbed up on the seat, Trapper found Mrs. Adams sitting beside him. The widow might think he needed company, or maybe she felt she’d been needed as an interpreter.
They rode for a while, listening to the girls talk. Finally, as the afternoon dragged on, the conversations about school stopped.
Mrs. Adams touched his shoulder as she looked back. “They’re sleeping,” she whispered.
He nodded, still having no idea how to talk to the widow.
“They’re sweet little things, aren’t they?” she finally broke the silence.
“They are,” he managed to say, then asked, “You got family in Dallas?”
“No. I just have to start over and I thought Dallas would be as good a place as any.” She straightened. “I think that the war made widows and orphans of us all.”
They rode along without talking after that. He didn’t want to tell her all he’d lost and he guessed she felt the same. Now and then he did glance at her hands. Her fingers were tightly laced on her lap. Nothing about her seemed relaxed. The band of gold on her left hand reminded him of what she had lost. A husband. The safety of a home, maybe. Any chance of having children.
At sunset they camped by a little stream. The day was warm for December. The girls took off their jackets and ran around, playing a game of tag. Trapper dropped a few fishing poles in the water, hoping to get lucky. Number Two, the shyest one of the girls, said she’d watch them.
By the time Mrs. Adams and Trapper set up camp and got a fire going, Two had caught three fish. The widow cooked a simple supper of fish and potatoes with biscuits.
“Tomorrow we’ll be heading into open country.” Trapper talked while they ate. “You all have to stay close to the wagon.” He looked at Four.
All the girls nodded.
When he came back from taking care of the team and Midnight, he found all the girls asleep in the wagon. Mrs. Adams was wrapping biscuits to save for breakfast.
“Thanks for coming,” he said.
“You are welcome. I enjoyed today more than I’ve enjoyed any day in a long time. It was good to see the farms.”
“Me too.” He thought it might just be the best day he’d had in years. “I know it’s probably not proper for me to ask, but I’d like to know your first name.”
She turned away for a moment, and he thought she might not answer. “My mother named me after her family, Emery, but people call me Em.”
“What do you like to be called?”
“Emery.” She smiled. “No one has ever called me by my full name.”
“You think I could, Emery?”
She smiled.
“I’d like that.”
“How old were you when you married?”
She looked away again. “Can we not talk about the past?”
Trapper watched her carefully, wondering what hardships she’d faced. “Of course.” She stood, and so did he. He offered his hand to help her into the wagon. “Good night, Emery.”
To his surprise, when she stepped up equal to his height, she leaned and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. You don’t know it, but you saved my life today.”
Then she disappeared into the crowded wagon.
Chapter 5
Emery sat on the bench watching the days pass and the brown winter land drift by. The wagon of little girls was moving farther away from any civilization. Each mile she calmed knowing there was less chance her father would find her. He’d beat her sister the first time she’d run away. She couldn’t walk for days, but as soon as she was strong enough she ran again.
Emery hoped she made it to that better life this time.
Farms and small groups of family homes often gathered in a circle. Trapper said they were often called forts because the group felt safer together. But she spotted homes or barns less and less as the road became more of a trail. Even the weather seemed wild away from all civilization and the wind howled at night like a wild animal.
A comfortable loneliness settled over her. She enjoyed the girls, but they weren’t hers. She’d left her family and was surprised how much at peace she was about her choice. Part of her lived inside her memories when all she wanted to do was forget them. To do that, she’d have to make a new life.
Trapper was always polite. He never asked too many questions and when she didn’t answer one, he didn’t seem to mind.
They talked from time to time, but neither had much to say. He told her he’d been a gambler. When he asked if she’d ever been in a saloon, she knew he truly didn’t know she’d been the ragged girl who’d served him dinner many times.
Trapper had no problem finding game, rabbits, wild turkey, and fish. Near the end of the day he’d ride ahead to set up camp. He’d have a fire going and the meat roasting before they arrived.
Number Three, the princess with the old hat for her crown, asked if she could ride Midnight. Trapper said she could if she’d stay close.
Em wasn’t surprised when Three knew how to ride.
Emery decided she’d always sit next to Number One when Trapper left to find the next camp. The oldest of the colonel’s daughters drove while Emery rested a rifle over her lap. Any sign of trouble and she’d promised to fire a shot. Two, an eleven-year-old and painfully shy, and her sister Three had orders to watch out the back of the wagon. Though they were only a year apart and had the same auburn hair, Two seemed much older. Number Three never took off the hat that looked like she’d found it on the boat. She usually did the talking for them.
All the girls had switched into what they called their Saturday dresses. They were plain but well-made, and much easier to climb around in.
Em had never had a Saturday dress. All of her clothes were hand-me-downs. By the time she was twelve she could sew as well as her mother, but the dresses she made were for her big sisters. Her mother told Em it would be foolish to make anything for herself.
Beneath the cover of the wagon, the girls played games and sang on the journey, but when they camped they wanted to help. Everyone gathered firewood, fearing that Trapper might get cold outside. Number One liked to help him with the horses and Two always helped Emery with the meal.
Chubby Four and tiny Five took on the job of washing the dishes and packing everything away. Five wanted to help fish, but after she fell in the stream twice, Emery appointed her the official lookout.
Every morning Trapper looked like he was silently counting as he helped each one into the wagon. Four was always the last one in, with her pocket full of rocks.
When he lifted her in, Four would always pat his cheek and say, “Thanks, Tapper.”
Trapper would secure the back of the wagon, then walk around and help Emery up. She thought of telling him she could climb into a wagon without any assistance, but she liked the gentle way he lifted her. She loved it when his smile reached his blue eyes.
As the days passed, he rode Midnight, circling the wagon and riding ahead from time to time. He’d always come back to her side of the wagon and check on the “little ladies.”
When the wind changed at the start of the second week, the nights grew colder. She worried about Trapper sleeping outside on the ground, but he insisted the cold didn’t bother him.
Emery liked to stay out by the fire long after the girls were asleep. Trapper talked about the weather and the plans for the next day. Thanks to him hunting and fishing, they had plenty of supplies. A wagon they’d past a few days back had told them of a trading post two days ahead. Emery agreed they’d stop there.
“I’d better turn in.” She stood still, wrapped in her blanket.
As he always did, he walked her to the back of the wagon. When his hands went around her waist to lift her up, he whispered, “You know, that first night when I helped you up in the wagon, you kissed me.”
“I remember.” She could feel her cheeks warming. She’d been so grateful he’d agreed to take her.
“I was wondering if you’d thought about doing that again. It was a great way to end the day.”
She looked down, surprised he’d asked. “I thought it was a nice ending to the day also,” she answered. “If you have no objection, I’d like to do it again.”
He was smiling when she looked up. “I wouldn’t mind at all. I’d be much obliged.”
She took his hand as she moved up one step to his height and leaned over and kissed his cheek once more. His face was hairy from the beard forming.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“You are welcome, Trapper. You’re a good man.”
He smiled. “No one’s ever said that to me.”
“Maybe no one took the time to know you.” He’d never mentioned any family or friends. Maybe he was a man who wanted to live alone. Yet her light kiss seemed to mean a great deal to him.
When she moved inside, she thought how nice it was to know a man well enough to kiss him on the cheek.
Rain started before dawn the next morning. Trapper tied Midnight to the back and took the reins. He told Emery and the girls to stay inside. By noon the ruts that had replaced the road looked like tiny rivers, and the wagon rocked several times, almost tipping them over.
Emery covered her hair and leaned out when Trapper called.
“There is a bend up ahead.” He pointed, as if she could see it. “It’s got a rock formation behind a stand of trees. In a flash of lightning I saw a few wagons camped there. I think we need to pull over and wait this storm out.”
She nodded, hating how he was exposed to the cold and the rain.
“Tell the girls to hold tight, and make sure all is tied down. Once we’re off the trail, it’s going to get rocky.”
Emery pulled back in and began getting ready. She crisscrossed rope between the bows holding up the cover. Then the girls could hold onto the ropes. Anything tumbling would hopefully be caught in the web.
Trapper must have pulled off the trail and into open land. The wagon leaned first one way, then another, but they all held tightly. The girls were wrapped in their blankets to cushion them against any bumps.
“One!” Trapper yelled over the storm.
The oldest girl jumped up and climbed out to the bench.
Trapper handed her the reins. “I need to guide the lead horses. Hold tight to the reins and don’t let them bolt.” The last thing he yelled before jumping down was, “If the wagon falls over, jump and roll in the mud.”
Emery couldn’t just wait for the accident to happen. She had to help. In as calm a voice as she could muster, she said, “Now, girls, bundle up and hold on. I’m stepping out to help Trapper.”
Their eyes watched her as she stripped off her jacket and skirt. Next came her pettic
oats and shoes. Without hesitation, she climbed out of the back of the wagon and headed toward the team of horses.
The wind almost knocked her down. She balanced against the wagon and moved forward. By the time she got to the lead horses, Trapper was already there, trying to control the huge animals.
She grabbed the bridle of one lead horse. Trapper had the other.
For a moment he didn’t see her through the curtain of rain. “What are you doing here?” he yelled. “Get back in the wagon, Emery!”
“No!” she shouted. When she pulled the horse back in line, they began to make progress. She felt like they were walking into an ocean. The rain was so hard she could barely breathe.
One step at a time they moved toward a thick stand of trees. It took what seemed like an hour to go the few hundred yards, but when they stepped behind the shelter of the rock outcrop, the wind slowed suddenly to a breeze as the rain dribbled.
Thirty feet more and they were in the shelter of the trees. Trapper pointed to a break in the tree line just big enough to pull in the horses and the wagon.
The wind and the noise of the pounding rain died, but the gloomy day remained. Now they were moving through a cloud sitting on the ground.
Emery held the reins, talking low to the exhausted team as Trapper began to unhitch the wagon. Four little heads peeked out of the wagon behind Number One, who still stood her post. She might be just thirteen, but she’d done her job better than most men could.
Trapper yelled for them to get back inside; then he helped One down from the bench. “You did great, Number One. I’m very proud of you.”
She smiled. “I told you I could drive.” She went to work, helping to settle the horses, and moved them twenty feet away to an opening beneath the overhang. It looked calm there in the shadows, and the grass was still green.
Emery started toward the wagon, carefully picking her steps in stocking feet. As she watched her path, she suddenly realized her bloomers were plastered to her legs.
She rounded the front of the wagon to the step up to the bench and noticed the thin material of her camisole was wet and lying like a second skin over her breasts. The pink of her nipples was showing proudly through the silk.