by Merry Farmer
As he and Hank headed off to get the wagon train moving, Gideon couldn’t help but agree. Some people, like him, were fools to be blindsided by men with questionable motives and fools to think they could ever make amends for their blindness.
“I’d say good morning,” Charlie greeted him as Gideon pushed the chlorine crate back into his wagon bed. “But you look like you’re having anything but a good morning.”
“I’m not,” Gideon confessed before he could work out a way to avoid conversation. Then again, why not vent his concerns to someone who had displayed at least a shred of sense on the journey so far. “The water supply near here seems tainted, but Rick Carlton and his friend refused to let me treat it with chlorine.”
Charlie shrugged. “Does that stuff work?” He nodded to the wagon bed.
“Yes.” Gideon sighed in frustration.
Charlie met that sigh with a sympathetic smile. “Tell you what. Why don’t you join us for a card game tonight. It’ll take your mind off things. I’ll even go easy on you.”
The way he said it indicated that Charlie didn’t think much of Gideon’s card playing skills. It was probably better that way. At least once the wagon train stopped that night, he’d be able to lose more of the blood money burning a hole in his trunk.
Now if he could just figure out a way to steer clear of Lucy’s wonderful, exciting, safe arms until he gathered the courage to tell her what kind of monster she was falling in love with, he’d be able to find a way to move on.
Chapter Nine
Lucy hated it when people didn’t tell her things. It was bad enough that her mother wouldn’t bother sharing important things—like letters from Papa begging her to come home, or whether the schools she’d gone to thought she should be placed in remedial classes—because she was too flighty to handle anything serious. It was ten times worse to feel that Gideon was holding something back from her. As it turned out, though, there were other problems brewing in the wagon train that she could do something about.
“Folks, we’ve got a problem,” Pete announced to the group sitting by the wagon crew’s campfire, several yards away from where Lucy sat reading a cookbook Estelle had loaned her. Josephine marched behind him, looking equally as grave.
“What’s wrong?” Estelle looked up from her work.
Gideon poked his head out of his wagon, where he’d climbed to look for parts he wanted to incorporate into the design for Graham’s leg. Estelle and Graham’s young charge, Tim, stuck his head out the back of Estelle’s wagon to watch the adults.
“The Carltons are sick,” Josephine said. “And it looks like the McGoverns and the Halls might be coming down with it too.”
“Coming down with what?” Graham asked.
“Dysentery,” Pete said. “Or at least that’s what Dr. Pyle thinks.”
“Dysentery.” Estelle clapped a hand to her chest.
Lucy’s brow flew up. She twisted to Gideon. “Weren’t you just telling me last night that you thought the water Rick Carlton drew from that spring was suspect?”
Gideon’s shoulders and expression dropped with a heavy sigh. He hopped out of the wagon and ran a hand through his hair. “Yes. I was afraid of this.”
She closed the cookbook and set it on her barrel as she stood. “Why don’t you go over to them and take some of your chemicals to purify their water?”
To Lucy’s surprise, instead of leaping at the idea, Gideon sank even further, his eyes filled with uncertainty.
“It’s too late for that,” he grumbled. “Besides, I’m not a doctor. It looks like Estelle knows what to do.”
Indeed, in the camp next to theirs, Estelle was in the middle of saying, “Blackberry tea, if you have it. The sick should drink as much as possible. And boiled water only. Even laudanum, if we have any.”
Lucy felt a burst of pride in her friend, but wasn’t finished with Gideon. “That will help those who are already sick, but shouldn’t you take some of your chlorine and treat the rest of the water in the camp? Isn’t that why you brought all of your chemicals with you in the first place?”
Still, Gideon looked uncertain. “I offered to treat the water yesterday, and Carlton refused. He didn’t like the smell of it or the look.”
Frustration bubbled up from every inch of Lucy’s body. “Gideon.” It burst out into sharp scolding. “What’s gotten into you? Don’t you want to help people with your chemicals? Isn’t that the whole point?”
His expression pinched tight—almost as if he’d drunk the tainted water himself—and he raked his hand through his hair once more. “I’m not good with people,” he spoke, barely above a whisper, inching closer to her. “I’m not persuasive. I’ve never been able to get people to do what I want, or to explain what they should do… or shouldn’t do.”
The look that came over him with those words was as dire as if someone had died. A twist of pity formed in Lucy’s gut, but the impatience was still there. Of course, Gideon was good with people. They got along splendidly. More than splendidly. And he was friends with Graham and… was he friends with Charlie Garrett? But there was also….
It was a shock to realize that aside from her and Graham, and maybe Charlie and Pete, Gideon hadn’t made any friends on the trail. He hardly spoke to anyone.
“Oh.” She crossed her arms, shifted her weight, and fixed him with a firm stare. Whatever reason he had for holding back, it wouldn’t do. “Now is the time for you to put yourself forward and make friends. I know you can do it.”
Gideon laughed and rubbed his face. “No, Lucy, you can do it. I can’t. The last time I tried to explain a chemical reaction to someone….”
For a moment, he turned as sickly green as his chlorine. He shifted his weight and sucked in a breath.
“Lucy, there’s something I have to tell you about my past. This is the worst time I can think of to bring it up, but… but I can’t let it sit untold anymore. Not with the things I’ve been feeling lately, the question I want to ask.”
Twin spikes of joy and anxiety shot through Lucy’s chest. “Oh?”
She was about to say more—step closer, take his hands, entreat him to tell her everything, and assure him that everything would be all right—when a loud whack to the side drew both of their attention. The sound was loud enough that she jumped and gasped, then turned to find Alvin storming toward them. He carried a fat stick, and was smacking it against the sides of wagons as he stomped.
“Alvin, sweetheart.” With an apologetic look for Gideon, Lucy darted away from him and went to intercept the glowering Alvin. “Whatever is wrong?”
Behind her, Gideon sighed and groaned, as if she’d left him with a splinter in his finger. Lucy shot him a look over her shoulder, feeling more torn than she ever had. She had never been needed by two distressed males at the same time.
Alvin glared at Gideon, then grumbled, “Mr. Jackson just told me to go away.”
“Mr. Jackson?” Lucy blinked, trying to place the man amongst the dozens of people still traveling west to Oregon. She let out a breath when she made the connection. “The man who took you in after the Pooles left.”
Alvin nodded, lowering his chin to a stubborn pout. “Nobody wants me.”
The child-like statement was made in the same tone that Gideon had just used to tell her he didn’t know how to talk to people. Boy and man were far more alike than either would have guessed. Just the thought of that sent her heart blossoming with compassion. She met Alvin’s worries the same way she would Gideon’s.
“Everything will be all right, Alvin, you’ll see.” She rested her arm around Alvin’s shoulders and steered him into the heart of her camp. “I’m sure the Pooles didn’t take you with them to Denver City because they already had plans.”
As soon as he saw that her attention was needed elsewhere, Gideon shook his head, smiling enough to let Lucy know there were no hard feelings, Alvin needed her more, then turning back to his wagon. He pulled one of the crates of chemicals out of his wagon bed and opened
the lid.
“I didn’t like those stupid people anyhow,” Alvin grumbled. He watched Gideon with a scowl as he gingerly removed jars of yellow-green chlorine and lined them up on his tailgate.
“I’m not sure it’s fair to say they were stupid,” Lucy counseled Alvin. “Maybe just misguided.”
“No, they were stupid all right,” Alvin insisted. The two of them sat on a short bench, watching Gideon as they talked. “That Mr. Poole was mean. He’d go off and play poker with Mr. Garrett and the others, then get all mad when he lost. Everybody knows that Mr. Garrett is the best card player in the wagon train.”
Lucy couldn’t help but grin. She peeked up to see if Charlie or Olivia were nearby.
“You know that pretty ring?” Alvin went on. “The one I wanted to steal for you?”
Gideon looked away from his chemicals in surprise. Lucy smirked, fighting not to laugh. “I remember.”
“Well, Mr. Poole up and lost it in a card game with Mr. Garrett right before he tore off for Denver City,” Alvin explained. “And all that time he said he was going to sell it and use it to start his new life. Stupid.”
Gideon tilted his head to the side. “Charlie has that ring?”
An excited shiver zipped down Lucy’s spine. How many reasons could Gideon have for asking a question like that? Only one that she could think of. She peeked down at her left hand, remembering how perfect the ring had looked on her third finger.
“Uh huh,” Alvin answered. He twisted to Lucy, leaning closer. “Want me to steal it for you again?” he whispered.
Lucy pressed her lips together to keep from giggling. “Remember what we talked about with stealing?”
Alvin huffed and slumped. “That it’s wrong.”
“Exactly.”
“Would you marry me if I got that ring for you?” Alvin asked.
Lucy burst into laughter before she could stop herself. When a flush came to Alvin’s cheeks, she pressed her fingers to her mouth to stop herself from giggling even more.
“That’s so sweet of you, dear,” she told Alvin, hugging him from the side. “But I’m afraid I’m much too old for you.”
“But you can wait until I grow up a little more,” he insisted. “I’m almost eleven.”
And sweet as sugar, Lucy added to herself. She shook her head. “That would be a long time.”
Alvin frowned, eyes fixing on Gideon. “Are you going to marry him?”
“Well… I… that is….” She paused, then burst into a snorting giggle.
Gideon didn’t miss a beat in his work, but his face flushed. Alvin only scowled deeper. He slipped off the bench and marched up to Gideon’s side, narrowing his eyes at the rows of chlorine jars.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
As he did, he reached out to pick up one of the jars.
“Don’t touch that,” Gideon snapped, so loud and so fast that he startled Lucy ten feet away.
Alvin yanked his arm back. “I wasn’t going to touch anything,” he barked, then quickly followed that with, “You’re stupid.”
Gideon’s mouth dropped open and his brow flew up. Lucy was willing to bet it was the first time in his life he’d been called stupid.
He shut his mouth, took in a breath, then said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted. It’s just that chemicals like these are extremely dangerous if handled wrong. If something were to happen and some of them were mixed, they could cause fires, explosions, poison gas.” His voice fell away to silence as if he’d tripped off a cliff. He lowered his head and swallowed. “Please don’t touch.”
“I don’t want to touch your stupid snot stuff anyhow,” Alvin declared. He turned on his heel and marched back to Lucy. “You should wait to marry me,” he declared with all the authority of a judge. “Or you should at least adopt me and become my ma.”
The shock of the encounter between Alvin and Gideon melted instantly to bittersweet warmth. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You know I can’t. I’m an unmarried woman, and I know nothing about being a ma.”
Though if she and Gideon continued to carry on the way they had been, she might find herself cradling her own baby before a year was done. She wasn’t sure if that made her more happy or terrified.
“I can teach you to be a ma,” Alvin offered.
Lucy spared another glance for Gideon as he fiddled with his jars, alternately searching down the line of wagons for something and stealing glances at her. She sighed and hugged Alvin from the side.
“I’m sure someone better than me will come along to love you forever.”
Her words had the opposite effect than what she’d planned. Alvin humphed and stood, snatching up his stick again.
“See, nobody wants me,” he pouted, then stormed off, smacking wagons as he went.
“Oh dear.” Lucy sighed, slumping where she sat.
Gideon turned to her, setting aside his work. “I shouldn’t have shouted at him. I was just… alarmed.”
“I know.” She stood and wandered over to him, taking his hand. That wasn’t enough, so she rested her head on his shoulder. “I hope I make a good mother someday. That wasn’t the best start.”
With her head on his shoulder, she couldn’t see Gideon smile, but she felt it. “You’ll be an excellent mother.” He kissed the top of her head, then whispered, “But hopefully not too soon.”
She stood straight, arching a brow at him. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take, all things considered. Papa would have a fit if I showed up at the ranch in the family way, but he’d get over it. Aunt Virginia wouldn’t care, and I don’t care what Mother thinks.”
“You don’t?”
She shook her head, surprised at how sincerely she meant it. “I’ve spent a long time worrying about what my mother thinks of me, but it dawns on me now that I’m never going to be who she wants me to be. Frankly, I like being who I am, mad, chattering ideas and all. And I know that if a baby does happen, you’ll take care of me. I trust you.”
Instead of blushing and melting and looking pleased, Gideon grew pale. “You do?” he asked, voice strangled. Before she could answer, he shook his head and pulled himself away. “You shouldn’t.”
All at once, her frustration with him was back. “Maybe you just need some practice with children,” she said, assuming he was talking about how things had gone with Alvin, how he pictured himself as a father. “We could ask Estelle and Graham if we could watch their boy, Tim, for a while. That would give them a chance to have some time alone.”
His expression was not that of a man who was concerned about his skills as a father. For a second, he looked like he would correct her. Then he let out a breath, shook his shoulders, and put on a smile.
“All right. Let’s do that.”
Lucy was pleased that things had gone her way, but she was certain something bigger, something under the surface, was not going her way at all.
Without a doubt, if Gideon had had Lucy by his side three years ago when the army had approached his team at Princeton, a hundred lives would have been saved, and the weight of his conscience wouldn’t threaten to crush him at any moment. He might not have been good with people, but she was. He also had a feeling that she was the backbone he so sorely needed.
It was because of Lucy that he approached Pete and Dr. Pyle, as they sat with their heads together beside the crew campfire that night.
“Excuse me.” He interrupted them with a short clearing of his throat.
Pete and the doctor broke off their conversation to glance up at them.
“Gideon.” Pete smiled in surprise. “Nice to see you. I can’t believe I’m making introductions so long into the journey, but you’ve met Dr. Pyle, right?”
“I’ve heard about you,” Dr. Pyle greeted him. He stood and held out a hand to Gideon. “The reclusive scientist who Miss Lucy has taken a shine to.”
There were worse ways to be known. Swallowing his anxiety and shifting the jar of chlorine he held to his left hand, Gideon took Dr. Pyle’s ha
nd in a shake. “Dr. Pyle.”
“Norbert, please,” Dr. Pyle replied. He made room for Gideon on the bench where he’d been sitting. When Gideon was seated, he said, “I’ve wanted to seek you out for a conversation, to learn what kind of research you did, but you’ve been a mite… busy.”
Dr. Pyle and Pete exchanged knowing looks. Gideon was grateful for Lucy in his life for yet another reason. He didn’t know how he would have faced a conversation with someone else who had at least some scientific background before he had her by his side. Not without revealing the monster he’d been.
“Looks like this is about the water,” Pete opened the conversation, nodding to the jar in Gideon’s hand.
“Yes.” Gideon squirmed, clearing his throat. He never would have approached Pete if Lucy hadn’t nudged him that morning. “Dysentery can be prevented by properly treating the water we come across on the trail.” He treated his offer to help as though he was giving a lecture at Princeton. “I don’t have a huge supply, but I have enough that we might be able to treat anything we come across that seems suspicious.”
Pete nodded, but said, “I’m one step ahead of you. I had all the water that was collected at that spring dumped, and I’ve told everyone else to boil the water they have.”
A stab of disappointment had Gideon dropping his shoulders. “I see.”
“But I still think it would be smart to treat water that we find at other springs on the trail,” Dr. Pyle defended him.
Pete hummed in consideration. “I don’t disagree with that, but I’m pretty sure the sources I’ve got marked from here on out are okay.” Before Gideon could collapse all together and write himself and his mission off as a failure, Pete went on with, “How does that stuff work anyhow?”
“It neutralizes putrification,” Gideon explained. “We’re not entirely sure by what means yet, but chlorine has proven highly effective in reducing infection and disease, exactly like the kind we have on our hands right now.”
“Could it be used to clean the wagons of those who are ill?” Dr. Pyle asked.