He glanced at Sam. “If that’s Beth being hit, we have to—”
His brother grabbed his arm, shaking him quiet, and called out, “Ma’am, are you all right?”
After a long minute, Nick couldn’t resist asking for himself, “Ma’am?”
“Oh heavens.” She walked to them, smoothing her skirts and carrying a thin blanket. “You two weren’t—you didn’t see…?”
Sam spoke first. “I saw you slap him. Nick, however, missed the pleasure.”
“This is very humiliating.” She put her hands over her eyes.
“You two aren’t the first married couple to have relations on the trail,” Nick said more to himself than her, wanting to reinforce the idea that she belonged to Bartlett. “It happens.”
“He’s right,” Sam added. “It’s a long way to California and a long time for a couple to wait for privacy.”
Beth took her blanket, wrapping it around her and giving them a glare. “You’re very kind to reassure me. I could wait for privacy easily.” She went toward the wagon’s front.
Nick cleared his throat. “Um, ma’am?”
“Yes?” Her muffled voice sounded from the cart’s other side and he followed her, his brother close behind him.
He rounded the corner, stunned into silence. Nick fought against laughing when seeing Bartlett by the fire face down, his butt bared. He indicated the man’s undress to Sam with a gesture. His brother chuckled and told Beth, “Well, ma’am, your husband isn’t quite covered.”
She faced them, hands on her hips. Each word dripped venom as she said, “He’s too drunk to care and can stay that way.”
With a sigh and a glance heavenward, Sam said, “I’m more concerned with women and children seeing him in this state.”
“Very well. I shall take care of it.” She grabbed the back of his trousers and gave several sharp pulls until the pants covered his behind. Beth then took his blanket and flipped it over him. Without another word, she went back to her seat at the front of the wagon.
As if it were their own mother angry at them, Sam gave Nick a “Should we talk to her?” look. He shook his head at his little brother, unwilling to say anything and give Beth another focus for her anger. Sam made a let’s-go motion with his chin and Nick nodded, ready to continue their guard.
Walking on around the wagons, he couldn’t remember the last time jealousy consumed him so much as now. The idea of Bartlett making love to Beth angered him. He took a deep, calming breath. She didn’t seem to care for the man tonight, either.
Nick wondered, was only her husband’s drunkenness repulsive to her, or was it Bartlett in general? He wanted to think Beth desired him too and now pushed away her husband. Would he do the same if Sally still lived? Lost in thought, he shook his head. Even though he adored and wanted Beth now, Nick still considered Sally his true love. Had she survived, they’d be at home in Oregon raising their children.
The next two days passed in a blur of routine for Nick. Beth avoided him, not meeting his gaze. When their paths did cross, she gave him a quick greeting before finding a justification to start or finish a task. He brushed off the thought of how she only treated him this way. After two exhausting days of traveling twenty miles or more, he didn’t want to ponder their feelings so much as have her in his arms at night as they slept. Still, he’d see her chatting with various people in the camp more than she did with him. Her distance bothered him, but he understood her embarrassment.
At day’s end, he’d broached the subject of Beth with his brother. Sam found her as difficult to talk with as Nick did, barely able to share some of the game hunted around the watering hole. She tried to decline, saying they’d not earned it. Sam pressed her to take some, saying the meat would spoil if she didn’t. He convinced her, but wasn’t able to charm her into anything more than a distant politeness.
The shallow Wolf River ran swift and clear. People took advantage of this by scrubbing themselves and their clothes. He went through his things and gathered up his worn shirts and pants. Every time Nick ran across the material he had bought in St. Joseph, it nagged at him. Running across the fabric frustrated him because he’d not yet invented a reason to give it to her. He hated how each day passed without him inventing a good excuse to give her such a gift. It bothered him to see how other ladies dressed in their Sunday best as their everyday clothes dried. Beth wore her freshly cleaned everyday clothes damp. The day warmed as the sun hit noon, yet Nick knew she had to be chilled. She sorely needed a new dress, even as impractical as the white print was. He regretted the color choice but knew she loved what he’d purchased.
He went to the river, intent on washing his own body and clothes. A soft breeze blew, carrying the hum of insects and chirps of nesting birds.
Sam was already there and almost done and met him at the bank. “Nick, I noticed how Mrs. Bartlett never received her material for a new dress.”
At first, the coincidence that Sam should bring up the very source of his frustration even as he pondered it himself startled him, but then an odd sense of shame crept in that Nick knew he had no right to feel. It hurt him to see Beth’s need so plain that others noticed it too, particularly when such a simple thing as giving her fabric for a dress would help her. His own need to step in warred inside him, like he’d failed her somehow, but the job of providing for her belonged to her husband, bitter as it was for him to admit. He pretended indifference for Sam’s benefit. Shrugging, he said, “I’ve not found a reason to give her something so personal just yet.” He pulled off his boots and socks, placing them in separate places.
“I see.” The younger man buttoned his crisp shirt before asking, “Do you mind if I make sure Mrs. Bartlett has the fabric today?”
Nick removed his suspenders and his own grubby shirt. He attracted dirt as much as Sam repelled the stuff. “Not at all. It’d be a relief if you did.”
“Great, I’ll be glad to do so.” Sam gave him a carefree salute and went off in their wagons’ direction.
Nick continued to strip down to his long underwear, wanting to get done before the day grew much older. He washed his clothes first, using a plain bar of soap, and then laid them to dry on the grass. The river too shallow to truly bathe in, Nick regretted not having the foresight to bring a bucket or water pitcher to pour over his head. He glanced at the camp, wondering whether anyone would see him in his underwear if he ran and found a container of some sort.
He saw a young woman walk toward the stream, her own bucket in hand. Quickly, he searched for bushes, a tree, anything to cover his lower half at least, but nothing around could hide him. Nick sat in the mid-calf deep water. He smiled at the woman as she stepped to the river.
“Hello, Mr. Granville,” she greeted.
“Hello.” He pretended to wash, just wanting her to leave. Nick watched her out of the corner of his eye as she scooped up water for her family.
She looked around at his belongings and then grinned at him. “Did you forget something?”
The woman knew he had. Still in shock from almost being naked in front of her, Nick couldn’t remember her name. He had to admit after a few moments, “I’m afraid so.”
Laughing, she said, “How about I lend you our bucket and you bring it back full of water? Not soapy, please.”
He grinned. She had a kind heart. “Thank you, ma’am. I do appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll leave it here on the bank for you.” She returned his smile and backed away to the wagon circle.
Since someone now waited on him, Nick made short work of cleaning up. He finished, folded the wet clothes and grabbed the bucket to return to Amelia Chatillon, Robert Chatillon’s daughter. He remembered her more now not having to hide his underclothes from her. She and her family traveled to Oregon hoping to help farmstead the eldest son’s land.
Beth smiled at him as she walked toward him and the river. Nick smiled back. She said, “Mr. Granville said you’d be here but to be cautious. You might still be filthy.”
Showing off his clothes, Nick retorted, “He’s actually wrong. I’m nearly as clean as he is.”
She laughed, continuing, “I’ve already thanked him and now I’m here to thank you as well.”
He knew by seeing what Beth held why she sought him out. But after several days of not hearing her voice, Nick wanted to do everything possible to keep her talking with him. “For?” he asked.
“Oh honestly!” She laughed, “For this.” Beth held out the fabric. “Sam told me you’d bought this at Henry’s, thinking it might come in handy later for some woman on the trip.”
“And it has, hasn’t it?” He hid a grin at her reference to “some woman.”
“It will, as soon as I cut and sew a dress from it.” She ran her fingertips down the material as he’d seen her do the first day they met. “It’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. I’m so happy you picked it out of the others.”
Nick decided his new vocation had to be making Beth happy. Seeing her joy brightened his day, if not his entire life. Her approval felt like the machine moving the blood in his body. Struggling to maintain a distance, he said, “I’m glad you like the color. I thought it the prettiest there too.”
A slight blush stained her cheeks as she replied, “I tried to refuse the gift. It’s too extravagant for me.”
“I don’t think so. It’s perfect for you.” He leaned in closer to speak softly. “I’m also glad Sam turned down your refusal.”
Beth smiled up at him. “Secretly, I am too.”
Chapter 7
“Mr. Granville?” A young woman walked up to Nicholas, asking, “You’ll have dinner with us tonight?” She clasped her hands together, her forget-me-not blue eyes pleading. “I’m so anxious to begin learning French from you. Say you will, please?”
Beth smiled at the other woman—Amelia, she’d heard her name was. She looked so much like Lizzy, Beth had to force herself to adopt a pleasant expression instead of scowling. She excused herself with, “I need to start our own supper.” While Amelia went on about French being the perfect language, Nick waved a distracted goodbye at Beth. She nodded and went to her own wagon.
She busied herself with cooking, unable to think of anything but Amelia and Nicholas together this evening. Amelia, like Lizzy, had every physical feature Beth didn’t. She stood much shorter than Beth and was pleasantly round in all the ways men liked best. She also had no freckles while Beth was sure many dotted her own nose. The girl also wore a new Sunday dress of blue paisley matching her everyday dark blue dress and sunbonnet. If she’d not possessed the sweetest disposition, Beth was sure she’d dislike her.
So far during the trip, Amelia seemed much kinder than Lizzy had been. Beth had often seen Daggart gawk at Amelia when she walked or rode by on her horse. She had such a porcelain doll face with sunshine gold hair. Maybe if he’d married her instead, Daggart would be much more agreeable.
Beth already missed the tasty stew of beans and rice she and Daggart had eaten at noon. The meal overshadowed the biscuits and bacon dinner now facing her. She glanced up and noticed Lawrence standing nearby. The man must be part snake, the way he silently glided to wherever he needed to go.
His light blond hair kept its mashed down shape when Lawrence removed his worn hat. He twisted the hat in his hands, adding creases. Most days he bristled with friendly energy, but now his dark eyes didn’t meet hers. “Ma’am?”
She smiled at his shyness. “Yes, Mr. Lawrence? How are you today?”
“Fine ma’am.” He shuffled from one foot to the other. “Ma’am, if I’d caught a couple of fish, would you cook them up as you did the other night? I’ve got a bit of a hankerin’ for them.”
To save his hat from certain destruction in his nervous hands, she reassured him. “Certainly, I’d be glad to.”
“Would you let me share with you too? As a sort of trade for the cornmeal and all? I mean, I got cornmeal in the wagon to trade with you.” He sighed as if realizing he needed to breathe. “So you ain’t workin’ for free and all.”
Making a show of it, she scratched the back of her head and squinted. “Hm, goodness. I’d have to have fish instead of the usual bacon.” Beth sighed as if giving in to a demand. “I suppose so, since you’re forcing me and all.” She almost laughed at his anxious expression, but instead patted the ground nearby her. “Please, Mr. Lawrence, have a seat and I’ll fix up your dinner.”
He gave her a shy smile and sat a little way from the fire. Lawrence watched as if memorizing the motions as Beth dunked the fillets in a plate of milk. She rolled each in cornmeal before laying the fillet in the bacon grease.
Lawrence stood. “I’ll rinse those, ma’am, while you watch dinner.” He took both plates and headed toward the river. A little later, he returned and wordlessly handed clean dishes to her.
Beth smiled at him. “Have you been to Oregon or California before now, Mr. Lawrence?”
Nodding, he replied, “Each once, ma’am.”
She hoped he’d continue with a story or two. Finally, she asked, “Which of the destinations do you like best?”
He pondered for so long, Beth flipped over each fillet while wondering if he’d forgotten the question. “Hard to say, ma’am.”
“It’s just as well. Dinner is ready.” Beth dished him up a full plate and handed it to him. Pausing, she asked, “Are you sure you don’t mind sharing? The fish should all be yours.”
“I don’t mind, ma’am.” He cleared his throat. “You don’t need to save some for Mr. Bartlett. The hands are sharing venison with him.”
“I see.” Smiling away her irritation, she said, “That means extra for us, then.”
They ate in silence as the dusk grew darker. Beth hated how fast night came, giving her no time to cut a new dress from the material. She marveled at how Nicholas knew exactly what to buy, and then remembered he’d seen her at the store fawning over the print. First the night he and Samuel saw Daggart all over her, now this. Did he think her a charity case? She felt her face burn in mortification. Maybe she was, but she didn’t want pity from anyone.
Beth poked at her food with a fork. Samuel did say she’d earned a new dress with her cooking. She glanced at Lawrence eating as if this meal were his last. If she ended up cooking for any hired hand with freshly gathered food, Beth supposed she should be paid in any goods the Granvilles gave them. She liked that idea much better than being someone’s cross to bear.
“You are a very good cook, ma’am. Thank you,” Lawrence said.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it.” She stood, taking his dishes, and added them to the washbasin. Beth watched as he tipped his hat and walked off, presumably towards his own campfire. He seemed like a very nice man, although much more shy than her. She went to the river to wash up and get water for tomorrow morning.
Once done, Beth put the water on to boil with the water jar nearby. She retrieved her knitting from the wagon, sat by the firelight and continued work on Nicholas’s socks. Although, she thought with a sneer, maybe she should let Amelia do this, since Nicholas seemed to prefer her company.
Beth knew she was being unfair to the unmarried and lovely girl. A man would be a fool to not have his eye turned by such a beauty and even crazier to prefer Beth instead of her. She scowled, doubting even if she were also unmarried that any man preferred a tall, string bean with dark hair and eyes the color of muddy water. Daggart didn’t like her appearance, and until meeting the Granvilles, she had been glad every man agreed with him.
She bound off the top cuff, finishing Nicholas’s first sock. Beth absentmindedly broke the wool and wove in the loose end. She gathered up everything, placing the items back in the little fabric bag. Staring into the fire, she wondered not for the first time how much the Granvilles had seen of Daggart’s attempt at lovemaking. She squeezed her eyes shut at the mortification, knowing her skirt had been pushed up around her waist.
Daggart’s growl startled her. “If you’re that tired, go to bed, woman.”
“Oh! Good idea.” She liked the suggestion and hiding under covers would give her time to decide how embarrassed she should be around the Granvilles tomorrow. She pretended to yawn while retrieving the bedrolls and wool stuffed pillows. “It’s been a long day.”
He poked at the waning fire. “I’ve heard tomorrow will be longer. Everyone’s anxious to get to Fort Kearny for supplies.”
Beth worried about how much she’d rationed for each day so far. Had she been wasteful and not known? They didn’t have money left for much more. Plus, rumor held that prices only increased as the trail continued. “Are people running out already?”
“Some are, most aren’t.” He reclined on his blankets. “Since the Granvilles and their men like me so much, they take care of us.”
She hated his smug grin and thought they more pitied than liked him. “I’m glad. Are you putting up our tent tonight?”
“Nah, there were no storm clouds to the west. We’ll be all right.”
She set up her blankets on the opposite side of the fire from Daggart, hoping he was too lazy to attempt lovemaking. He’d not found any whisky tonight, so she doubted he’d bother. It took him being dead drunk to forget she wasn’t Lizzy.
He’d had good information. The next day, Beth was sure they’d traveled at least twenty-five miles, passing a great number of good camping places only to halt next to the trail instead of near water and grass. She had to lead first the oxen, then Erleen nearly a mile for their drink and meal. Daggart again didn’t eat at their wagon, instead swapping stories with other men in the group.
Beth ate cornbread left over from lunch and started cutting her dress. Each movement of the scissors both excited and scared her. A wrong snip could waste precious material. Holding her breath during each cut, Beth had to stop every so often. After a while, she glanced around in surprise. The sun had slipped just under the horizon without her noticing. She folded the pieces separately from the uncut material and placed everything back in her keepsake trunk.
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