Trail of Passion (Hot on the Trail Book 7)

by Merry Farmer

  Josephine pursed her lips to hide a smile before replying, “Yes.”

  Heat infused Lucy’s cheeks. She needed to keep her mouth closed. No one wanted to hear her jabbering, as her mother so often reminded her. She had done a terrible job of being seen without being heard as a child, had failed miserably at deporting herself as a calm and biddable young lady, and if she wasn’t careful, she would spend the rest of her life chasing everyone away with a riot of words.

  “Have you met anyone of particular interest yet on the trail?” she asked Josephine, working hard to let someone else have a turn at conversation. She popped a spoonful of stew into her mouth to force herself not to answer her own question. If someone had asked her, she would launch into a fit of speculation about the handsome scientist she’d met that morning, Dr. Gideon Faraday. The intensity that radiated off of Dr. Faraday gave her an acute case of the shivers.

  “As far as I can tell, half the folks making this trip are as interesting as interesting could be,” Josephine said. She tore a corner off of the piece of cornbread that the wagon train’s excellent cook, Estelle Ripley, had made for their supper before going on. “I’m not so sure about those orphans though. They look like they could be trouble.”

  “The orphans?” Lucy twisted on her barrel to look for them. An entire wagonload of orphans was being escorted west by a single, harried-looking older woman, Mrs. Gravesend. They were running this way and that now. One brown-haired, sweet-faced boy of about ten caught her eye and smiled. She smiled back.

  The smile was still on her face when her gaze drifted past the boy to Gideon Faraday. Her breath caught in her chest. When he’d taken her hand to introduce himself that morning—his palm warm and solid, his blue eyes sharp with intelligence—she’d felt a spark.

  “Who’s that talking to Lt. Tremaine?” Josephine asked.

  Lucy sat straighter, as if Josephine had shouted at her for staring the way her mother always had.

  “That’s Dr. Gideon Faraday,” she explained, doing her best to sound casual. “I met him earlier. I wonder what he’s talking to Lt. Tremaine about. He looks quite nice, don’t you think? Handsome in a distracted sort of way.” She tilted her head to the side as she drank in the sight of Gideon nodding as he listened to Lt. Tremaine.

  “Hmm.”

  Lucy pivoted back to Josephine to find a light in her eyes that sent prickles down to her toes. “I don’t think he would be interested in a woman like me,” she rushed to say. “With a ‘Dr.’ before his name, he’s bound to be looking for someone much smarter than I am. Why, I’d bore him to tears with my incessant chatter. He’d grow tired of me in no time and look for a way out.” As far too many men had before him.

  She swallowed the hard lump that formed in her throat and twisted to watch him again. Gideon was still deep in conversation with Graham Tremaine, gesturing toward the man’s missing leg.

  “I wonder what that’s all about,” she said aloud before she could stop herself.

  “Maybe he’s offering Lt. Tremaine some sort of medical advice?” Josephine suggested.

  “Oh, he’s not that kind of doctor.” Lucy shifted so that she could keep her eye on Gideon as he got up and headed back to his own camp. “I asked Mr. Evans about him earlier, and he said that Dr. Faraday is a scientist, not a medical doctor.”

  “You don’t say.”

  Lucy barely heard Josephine’s response. She followed Gideon with her eyes as he walked back to his camp and set to work sorting a group of glass jars that sat out on a crate some distance from his fire. From where she was sitting, it looked as though the jars contained nothing but dirt. Gideon left them to reach into his wagon. He pulled a small chest out onto the tailgate and opened it, revealing a mess of clothes and a pile of books. When he lifted the books out of the chest, a few of them fell to the ground.

  “I should help him,” Lucy said, only vaguely aware she was speaking aloud. “He doesn’t look like he’s particularly good at domestic chores. Maybe he needs a woman’s touch.”

  She stood as Josephine echoed, “Maybe,” behind her, mischief in her voice.

  Lucy left her own campfire and crossed around a few other wagons and camps until she came to the edge of Gideon’s wagon. She watched him for a moment before he could become aware of her. He wasn’t the type of dazzling, larger-than-life hero that her father always talked about as being the best sort of men, but there was something appealing about Gideon Faraday. His brown hair was unkempt, but short and clean. His clothes were well-made, although he had his shirtsleeves rolled up above his elbows. He hummed softly to himself as he searched through his belongings. He’d picked up the books that had fallen, all except one, which was out of his line of sight under the wagon.

  Lucy scooped to pick it up. When she held it out to Gideon with, “It looks like you missed this one,” Gideon flinched and turned to her.

  His face went red. “Miss Lucy. I didn’t hear you approach.”

  Lucy laughed, a nervous flush filling her. “I don’t think anyone has ever not heard me coming in my entire life. Mother always says I’m as loud as a parade of elephants, trumpets and all, and I think she’s right.”

  Blast. If she kept on saying things like that, half the wagon train would turn their backs on her, let alone Gideon.

  “Do you need help?” she asked, limiting herself to just those few words, though the urge to say much more gnawed at her.

  “Um….” Gideon glanced around his camp, eyes alight with assessment. Now that she was close, Lucy could see that more than just the clothes and books were in disarray. His supper was growing cold on a plate closer to his fire, and two other crates containing boxes of glass jars sat with their lids open by one of his wagon wheels. “I was looking for a particular book, this book, in fact.” He held up a small, leather-bound volume.

  “Looks like you’ve found it,” she said. She paused, she blinked, but the urge to talk was too strong. “Do you want me to help clean up your camp? I don’t know that I could go to sleep so early, this being our first night under the stars and all. I’m sure I’d just lay awake all night, thinking about home and all the adventures we’ll have between here and there.”

  He watched her for another moment, some sort of argument going on behind his eyes. He was shy of her, wary even. She could tell that he didn’t want her around… and yet he didn’t wear the same look that people did when they wanted her to go away. At last, he said a simple, “All right.”

  “Good.” She grinned, so glad that he hadn’t turned his back on her that she tingled with relief. “Why don’t I tidy up while you eat your supper? It looks like I might be getting cold.”

  “Oh. Supper. I forgot about that.” A smile touched Gideon’s lips, and he took his book and marched back to the crate where his supper sat.

  “I don’t know how good the food will be on the trail,” Lucy said as she began folding Gideon’s clothes and putting them back in his trunk along with the books he didn’t need. A small, leather satchel that didn’t look as though it belonged with the crates sat out as well, so she tucked that in with his clothes. “I’m used to my mother’s cook preparing all of my meals. Estelle Ripley will be cooking for the wagon train, and she said she’d teach me to cook if I need it. I heated a can of beans all by myself tonight, and while there’s a certain amount of pride that comes from feeding oneself, I was grateful that Estelle made enough cornbread for everyone.”

  “It’s good,” Gideon said, mouth full, from his seat by the fire.

  Lucy finished up with his clothes and books and move to the barrel with the jars of dirt. “I doubt I’ll be as good a cook as Estelle by the time I get to my father’s house in Wyoming, but I’m determined to learn how to cook at least a little bit.”

  She lifted one of the jars to inspect the contents. It was just dirt, nothing more. She sniffed the top, but sure enough, dirt. Gideon must have dropped the jars at some point, but hadn’t had the time to clean them out or put them away. She dumped the contents o
f the one she held, then went through the others, picking them up and tossing the dirt onto the grass.

  “I actually can cook a little,” she said as she chucked the dirt. “Well, if you consider baking cooking. I’ve been known to bake—”

  “What are you doing?”

  Gideon’s sudden exclamation of alarm snapped Lucy’s sentence off midway through. She gasped and turned to find him leaping up from his crate, half of the food on his plate slipping off as he did. His eyes were wide with alarm.

  “I’m cleaning these jars out.” She instantly put the one she was holding down and stepped back. “Oh no, did I do something wrong? I’m forever doing something wrong. I try to help, but everything has a way of falling apart.”

  Gideon set his plate on the crate and leapt over to her. He picked up the only two jars that still had dirt in them. “These were soil samples,” he said, shoulders dropping as he glanced from the two jars in his hand to the empty ones on the barrel. “I’ve been gathering them all along my journey in the hopes of studying the composition of the soil in different regions.”

  “Oh.” Dread filled Lucy’s stomach. She reached for one of the empty jars. Now that she bothered to pay attention, she could see a small, neatly written label that read ‘Allegheny County’ on the side of the jar. “I’m sorry.” Her throat tightened and the back of her eyes stung at the thought that, once again, she’d made a mess of things. Gideon Faraday was too smart for her.

  He let out a breath and set the two jars down. “It’s all right,” he said. There was far more forgiveness in his eyes than she deserved. “I might have been wasting my time collecting them in the first place.”

  “Wasting your time?” She lifted her eyes to meet his with cautious hope. He didn’t look like he was about to yell at her or tell her to go away.

  Gideon shrugged, then thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and glanced down, looking away from her. “I’m a chemist. Some of my colleagues are interested in soil and agriculture, but I only had a passing interest in it.”

  He left his explanation there. Lucy couldn’t stand the silence that crept up between them after his statement. “What does a chemist do?”

  “More harm than good,” he murmured.

  His head snapped up as though he hadn’t intended to say those words. A pinprick of fondness filled Lucy’s chest. She certainly knew what that was like.

  “I mean, a chemist searches for ways to use elements found in nature and those made by man to improve industrial, agricultural, and experimental processes.” He paused. “I’ve been particularly interested in the work of a distant cousin of mine, Michael Faraday, from several decades ago. He discovered ways to use the element chlorine as a means of sanitation. I’m interested in how it can be used to purify water, particularly for pioneers out west, where contaminants….”

  He trailed off, lowering his head and giving Lucy a sheepish look through his eyelashes. Her heart squeezed in her chest. The man needed a hug. Or more.

  “I’m sure you’re not interested in any of that,” he finished.

  “No.” She reached out and touched his arm, eyes alight with curiosity. “That sounds as if it could be extremely helpful. Why, I’m sure my father could think of a hundred ways to put something like that to use on a ranch, like ours.” She hesitated, then said, “I could tell you all about our ranch, if you’d like. It’s where I grew up, out in the wild. There aren’t many people there, at least not yet. Papa keeps buying up land in southwestern Wyoming because he says people will come out there to settle before too long, and that the railroad will come through. He—”

  She stopped when she saw the grin that came to Gideon’s lips and eyes.

  “I’m talking too much. I’ll stop and let you have some peace.”

  She turned to go.

  “No.” He pulled his hands out of his pockets to stop her. “I’d like to hear about Wyoming.”

  Lucy wavered, then turned back to him. “Are you sure? I can fill up the whole night with words.”

  He hesitated, a flash of pain that took Lucy’s breath away filling his expression. Then he said, “I’m sure.” He held out a hand toward his crate. “Tell me while I finish my supper, then, if you’re interested, I’ll tell you all about science.”

  Lucy’s heart expanded, nearly to the point of bursting. Someone—a handsome, male someone who was far smarter than she was—had just invited her to talk as much as she wanted. She could hardly believe it. If this was how her journey home started, who knew what might happen along the way?

  Chapter Two

  “Do you believe in love at first sight?” Lucy asked Estelle and the friend they’d made on the trail, Olivia Walters, a few days later.

  “I’m not sure,” Estelle answered as she poured water from a pail into the kettle she was preparing coffee in for the wagon train crew’s breakfast.

  “I don’t,” Olivia said. “I certainly believe that a person can like the look of another, but love is something that takes time to grow as you get to know the other person more fully.”

  Lucy hummed, debating whether she agreed or not, and continued cracking eggs into the bowl where she worked near Estelle in the crew camp. “I suppose there’s truth to that.”

  More than truth. It was silly to think that a few pleasant conversations with Gideon could add up to love so quickly. They’d hardly been three days on the trail. It was far too soon to fancy herself in love with him.

  Still, the way he sat and listened to her that first night—until the sun had gone down and Josephine had come by, clearing her throat and hinting that an unchaperoned lady talking with a man after dark was outside of the bounds of propriety, even on the Oregon Trail—warmed her heart. No one listened to her. Ever. Her mother was constantly telling her to hold her tongue, her younger brother, Franklin, had nicknamed her ‘Chatterbox’ just to get under her skin, and her Papa could only answer so many of her questions before he remembered he had something else to do at the other end of the ranch.

  “Well, if we don’t believe in love at first sight,” she went on, finishing with the eggs and gathering up the shells to toss, “then do we believe that some people inspire a fondness in others?”

  Estelle and Olivia exchanged looks that said Lucy was as transparent as a window.

  “Yes, I suppose so,” Estelle answered.

  “As long as you’re not too obvious about showing how fond you are of someone,” Olivia added.

  Lucy abandoned her pile of eggshells to plant her hands on her hips. “I am not obvious,” she declared, then hesitated. “Am I?”

  Another pair of grins passed between Estelle and Olivia.

  “I’m sure Gideon enjoys the attention,” Olivia said. “I haven’t seen many other people talking to him so far.”

  The three of them turned together toward the small camp Gideon had set up beside his wagon. He was by himself, coaxing a fire into flame, a coffee pot in the grass on one side of the crate where he sat and some strange scientific contraption that Lucy couldn’t begin to identify on the other. He was alone, but he smiled at the fire as he worked, thoughts likely a hundred miles away.

  Lucy’s heart gave a quick lurch in her chest.

  “He’s a thinker,” she explained to her friends as they returned to their work. “Yesterday at lunch, he told me all about the experiments he’d like to do and about the things he’s invented.”

  “I thought you said he was a chemist,” Olivia said.

  “He is, but he has other interests as well.” She gathered up the broken eggshells once more and moved to throw them off by the side of the trail. “He showed me a watch that he’s designed to keep track of how many miles we’ve traveled. It works based off of how fast he’s calculated the wagons are moving.”

  “Can a watch even do that?” Estelle asked.

  “Gideon’s watch can.” Lucy smiled, pride filling her. It was thrilling to feel proud of someone, to count herself as his friend. Heaven only knew that she would never be able
to invent anything or think up any sort of idea that would make a single living soul proud. The best she’d do would be to shock people, but at least then they wouldn’t forget her. “He’s making a new leg for Lt. Tremaine,” she added.

  “So I hear,” Estelle said. She smiled at the kettle as she nestled it in a bank of coals to heat.

  “How generous of him to volunteer his time and his skill that way,” Olivia said.

  Lucy brightened. “We should think of some way to thank him. But not offering to clean up his things for him.” She laughed. “I still can’t believe that I accidentally ruined one of his experiments. I’m only glad that it wasn’t something vital. Who knows what I might destroy if I meddle too much in his things.”

  She glanced back to Gideon’s camp, but he was nowhere in sight. Disappointment and curiosity swirled through her. His coffee pot was over the fire now and his scientific contraption was still there. So where was he?

  Lucy was about to go search for him when a tug at her sleeve stopped her. She turned to find the boy she’d smiled at the day before, one of the orphans, by her side.

  “Hello,” she greeted him with a bright smile. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m supposed to come help,” he said.

  “And what’s your name?”

  “Alvin,” the boy said. “Mrs. Gravesend told me to get out from under her feet and to stop tormenting the girls and find something useful to do. Do you need any frogs? I’m good at catching frogs.”

  Lucy’s smile stretched from ear to ear. She turned to Estelle, cleared her throat, and asked with all seriousness, “Estelle, do we need any frogs for breakfast?”

  “No, not today,” Estelle answered, keeping a straight face. “We could use more water for later, if you’d like to go fetch it.” She reached for the pail that she’d used to fill the kettle and handed it to Alvin.