Where The Wind Blows

by Caroline Fyffe

  “You warm enough?”

  “Ummm. With my new coat and gloves, I hardly feel the cold.” Jessie watched the team’s heads as they bobbed up and down. “The horses must have cost you a fortune.”

  “What’s money, if a man can’t spend a little when he wants to?” His guilt over losing Jessie’s money made him look away. Just as soon as he could, he’d get it back to her, and then some. But the locket was irreplaceable. He took a deep breath. “It’s good to finally be back on the trail. Feels mighty nice.”

  “It was just so generous of you to buy us these new things. I can’t help feeling overwhelmed.”

  A few moments of silence made him look over to see her studying him intently.

  “Are you cold, Chase?”

  He slapped the reins across the horses’ backs, urging them forward. “Course not.”

  Jessie scooted toward him a few inches and pulled the blanket over so he could put some on his own lap. “But when we get to town, what will the people think?”

  “They’ll think we’re husband and wife. Plain and simple.” Hardly plain and never simple.

  This charade was taking on a life of its own. Mrs. Hollyhock was looking for any reason to keep Jessie in town and was watching them like a frog eyeing a fly on a lily pad. They’d had to act like love-struck newlyweds to keep her from catching on. Jessie seemed to be playing her part quite well. She was solicitous of his every need. Waiting on him hand and foot. And it seemed she truly enjoyed his closeness.

  They rounded the bend into Valley Springs. As they passed the blacksmith shop, Garth bounded out, waving his arms.

  “Whoa, now,” Chase called to the team, pulling on the long reins. Garth didn’t look pleased to see him.

  “Logan. Jessie.” Garth tipped his hat to Jessie. Chase didn’t miss the fact that he’d refused to call her Mrs. Logan.

  “Mr. Shepard.”

  “I don’t know how you did it, Logan, but marrying Jessie before we even knew Nathan was dead was underhanded. Makes a man wonder if maybe you had something to do with his death.”

  “What’s done is done. Now step away. Wouldn’t want to catch your foot under my wheel.” Chase would welcome a confrontation. It still stuck in his craw how Garth had pushed his unwanted advances on Jessie the other day, friendly or not.

  Garth grabbed one of the reins. “Just want you to know I plan to look into what happened to Nathan. If anything even hints at suspicious, I’ll be on your trail.”

  Chase slapped the reins against the horse’s backs, making the wagon lurch forward. Garth had to jump out of the way or else get run over.

  “Will you miss him?” Chase asked angrily. “Maybe he’d be a better candidate for you and your brood.”

  “What makes you say that?” Jessie countered, her voice taking on a puzzled tone.

  “We both know he’s sweet on you.” She knew. Women always knew when a man was sweet on them. They just liked to pretend they didn’t.

  Jessie laughed suddenly, the sound reminding him of bells.

  “Why, Chase Logan,” she said with amusement.

  He glanced her way to see the reason for her delight.

  “You’re jealous.”

  “Jealous!” Chase barked. “Hardly.”

  “There’s no other explanation for your statement,” Jessie said in an overly innocent tone. “It’s as plain as the nose on my face there’s no love lost between you and Garth. Doesn’t make any other sense.”

  “He accuses me of murder, and I’m not supposed to take offense.” Chase pulled the wagon to a halt in front of Hollyhock’s Mercantile. Wrapping the reins around the brake handle, he turned to face her. “That man has designs on you. You know it. Quit saying otherwise.”

  “Whatever you say,” she replied sweetly as she turned for Sarah. “You going to brood there all day, or help us down?”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  In the mercantile, Mrs. Hollyhock and Jessie were going through the herbal remedies the woman had packed to send along. The plants, neatly divided and wrapped in brown paper, were stored in a beautifully hand-carved box.

  “Now, this one here is thyme. If you’re having trouble sleeping, jist tie up a little in a cloth bag with some catnip and chamomile and put it under your pillow. Soon you’ll be sawing logs with the best of ’em.” Mrs. Hollyhock grinned, holding the herb under discussion.

  Jessie looked doubtful. “I hope I can remember all this, Mrs. Hollyhock. It seems so complicated. What if I make a mistake? Can I harm someone?”

  Chase, who was leaning against the counter, cleared his throat, his impatience growing. He’d planned on saying goodbye and heading out. They’d been here nearly an hour.

  Mrs. Hollyhock, ignoring Jessie’s question, continued. “This here cylinder is lavender oil. It works wonders on restless and cranky babies, or adults, as the case may be,” she said, rolling her eyes toward Chase. “On little ones, use one drop—no more.”

  “One drop,” Jessie echoed, as the woman placed the brown cylinder back in its place amongst the colorful array of herbs and bottles.

  “Now, in the springtime, if the young’uns are looking a little peaked, boil up some tea from dandelion. It’s chock full of good minerals and such. It’s an overall good fortifier.”

  She held up a sample for Jessie to examine. “Fresh is better, but dried will do. But mind you, too much will cause cramping and the flux, so be careful.”

  “That’s it,” Chase barked grumpily. “You know all you need to know, Jessie. Say your good-byes and let’s go.” He stomped over to the window and looked out. Garth was still watching their wagon from down the street.

  Mrs. Hollyhock continued on as if she hadn’t heard him. “Don’t forget, Saint-John’s-wort for sadness, ginger for nausea, and”—she pulled Jessie into her embrace—“skullcap for your monthlies.” Her voice caught on the last word.

  “Shh…There, there, Mrs. Hollyhock. Please don’t cry. If you do, I’ll start and…” Jessie’s voice trailed off quietly and ended with an emotional gulp.

  “Oh, girl, I jist hope I did the right thing in marrying you off to Mr. Logan. I never dreamed he’d up and take ya away.” Worry and fear, etched over the pale wrinkled face, pulled at Chase. “How am I supposed to take care of ya so far away?”

  “We won’t be too far.” Jessie wiped a tear with the back of her hand. “Chase said you can write to us there, and we’ll be sure to get the letter. Isn’t that right, Chase?”

  “That’s right.” He was watching the exchange. Jessie looked small and bruised and almost as fragile as the old woman. Her face was clouded with unshed tears. They’d best get going soon.

  It seemed to take forever to get the wagon packed up, but finally they were rolling away, Jessie and Sarah waving goodbye to their friend. Mrs. Hollyhock stood on the boardwalk, a smile plastered on her face. Garth watched miserably from down the street, and Beth spied at them from the secondstory window.

  “Wait!” the old woman yelled. She ran into the store and was back in an instant. She stood next to the wagon looking up at Jessie. “Here. I want you to take this.”

  “I can’t take your Bible!”

  “Yes, you can, girl. I want you to have it. Take it.” With determination she handed the book up to Jessie and backed up onto the boardwalk. “Take good care.”

  “One last stop and we’re finally on our way,” Chase said, trying to distract Jessie. Sarah was now sitting up front between them.

  Jessie looked very sad. Questioningly, she glanced at Chase. “Where are we stopping?”

  “The telegraph office. I want to wire a friend in Logan. Have him see to the condition of the house.”

  Chase could see Jessie was downhearted, but there was nothing he could do about it.

  “Hey, Gabe, wait up.” The sound of thundering hooves clamored down the street. Jake’s big gray slid to a stop next to Chase.

  “Can I ride along with ya to Logan?” He looked hopeful. His shaggy brown hair, fresh from w
ashing, glistened in the sun. On the back of his saddle was his trail gear and bedroll. Strapped to his leg was an old Colt .45.

  “Do you know how to use that?” Chase asked, motioning to the gun.

  “Sure do. Learned to shoot when I was eight.”

  “Okay, you’re hired. I’ll pay you when we arrive.” Chase nodded, liking the fact they’d have the extra protection of another gun.

  “Well, I’ll be!” Jake let loose a deafening whoop. “Hey, Granny,” he called out to Mrs. Hollyhock. “I’m on my way west. Say good-bye to my ma for me.” He pulled out his gun, shooting off a couple of rounds in the air, spooking the wagon horses and making his own horse buck. It took Chase a moment to muscle them under control.

  “Put that thing away,” Chase ordered, cross with Jake’s reckless shooting.

  Sheepishly Jake holstered his firearm. Reining around, he jogged his horse up next to Gabe.

  “He’s already trouble,” Chase said gritting his teeth. “But the extra gun will make me feel a whole lot better.”

  “I’m glad you let him come along.” Jessie pulled Sarah’s fingers from her mouth. “He’s never been given a chance to prove himself in this little town. Too many small-minded people. Now he can start fresh.”

  Stopping at the telegraph office, Chase jumped down off the wagon. “This’ll just take a minute.”

  Inside he stepped up to the counter and tapped the silver bell. An older man came ambling out of the back room.

  “Back so soon?” the man asked, a cheroot hanging from his mouth. The smoke curled up around his head like a halo.

  “Need to send another wire.”

  The clerk lifted an old fountain pen and paper pad from a lower shelf. Dipping the tip of the pen in the inkbottle, he looked at Chase expectantly.

  “Coming home. Stop. Check house on Shady Creek. Stop. Clean up and have repairs made. Stop.” Chase paused a moment, letting the clerk catch up.

  “That all?” the clerk asked.

  “No. Buy chickens and a cow. Stop. Should be there around Thanksgiving. Stop.” Chase thought for a minute trying to figure the best way to tell Frank he was bringing Jessie.

  The clerk stared at him.

  “Bringing wife and young’uns. Stop.” He’d have to explain later. On a whim he added, “Get a tom and fatten it up. Stop. Chase.”

  “Who’s it go to?”

  “Frank Lloyd, First National Bank of Logan.”

  The man made a few marks with the pen and scratched the top of his bald head. “That’ll be a dollar fifty.”

  Chase pulled out three silver half-dollar coins and placed them on the countertop.

  The clerk reached over to the telegraph. His finger moved quickly as the rhythmic tapping filled the room.

  “All done.”

  “Much obliged.” Chase had turned to leave when he remembered the ranch that was expecting him. There was no getting around it. “Send another to the Rocking Crown, same place I wired before. Tell them I won’t be coming this year.” He tossed the man one more coin before leaving.

  They were finally on their way. Jessie pulled out a tattered old book and began reading to Sarah. Each page was dogeared and yellowing here and there, but Jessie held it as if it were a priceless jewel. As she read, her voice fell in rhythm with the wagon wheels, and Chase found himself listening and enjoying the story.

  When she paused to turn the page, Chase took the opportunity to ask, “What’s the name of the story you’re reading?”

  “Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott. It’s my all-time favorite story.”

  Chase nodded, and Jessie picked up reading where she’d left off. Sarah snuggled close in Jessie’s lap. She nibbled on some crackers Mrs. Hollyhock had tied up in a piece of bright yellow cloth.

  “You can make somethin’ outta it when the crackers are all gone,” she’d said, kissing Sarah’s cheek. Chase considered the old woman. He guessed she was good-hearted—albeit meddlesome.

  “How far will we go today?” Jessie asked, setting her book aside. Sarah had fallen asleep and her head rested in Jessie’s lap.

  “I’d like to make at least three or four hours. We need to start the animals off slow and work them up to longer days.”

  “And how long did you say we’d be on the trail?”

  “I’m hoping two weeks at the very most. We should get to Logan around the end of the month.”

  Jessie’s eyelids drooped as she listened. It was a strain packing for this move and leaving the people she loved. She looked tired. He was used to picking up and going whenever it suited him, but Jessie was more of a homebody, fussing and fixing things, needing a place to call home. The old cabin she’d left behind was all the proof he needed.

  And not one complaint. She’d worked alongside him long into the night getting everything they needed packed onto this wagon.

  “Why don’t you take Sarah and lay her down in the back? I’m sure she’ll sleep better back there,” Chase suggested.

  Jessie glanced at him, then down at the sleeping child. She rose slowly, getting her balance in the rocking wagon. She grasped the wooden bow that held up the canvas covering, steadying herself. As she clambered over the back of the seat, Chase reached out, placing his hand on her back.

  “You’ll get used to it soon.”

  “I hope so. I feel a little seasick. Is Sarah still asleep?”

  “Yes.”

  Jessie lifted the sleeping child and laid her on a bedroll, covering her with one of the several quilts Mrs. Hollyhock had sent along.

  “Just lay on down with her so she doesn’t wake up,” Chase called over his shoulder. “She’s plum tuckered out.” When Jessie didn’t argue, he smiled.

  They ambled along at a leisurely pace. He would push the horses harder tomorrow. For now he was glad to be on the trail and moving.

  What would Frank think when he got the telegram? He’d jump for joy, probably. He was always pestering Chase to settle down.

  A wife of your own is just what you need, son. Chase could hear him now. It had been three years since his last visit to Logan. Plenty of time, if he’d been inclined, to marry and start a family.

  Gabe and Cody seemed to be getting along fine, which was surprising. He usually was a pretty sensitive mount.

  “Traitor,” Chase mumbled to himself.

  He’d told the boys earlier to stay in sight of the wagon. “And keep that gun in its holster—unless it’s a matter of life and death,” he had pointedly told Jake.

  The boys reined up in the bend in the road and waited for the wagon to catch up to them. They rode alongside as Chase kept moving.

  “Where’s Jessie?” Gabe asked.

  “Keep your voice down,” Chase scolded. “She and the tyke were exhausted from all the happenings. They’re lying down in back.”

  Jake swung his horse around and peered into the interior of the wagon. “When we gonna make camp?”

  “In an hour or so. You boys aren’t tired already, are you?” Chase asked, tipping his hat up with his thumb. “When I was your age I could ride all day and all night too, if I had to.”

  “Heck no. We ain’t tired,” Jake shot back, rising to the bait. “Just wondering if we should water the horses down at that stream.”

  “No. They can trek longer than this on the trail. They have to learn to drink when we give them water and not just when they’re thirsty.” Chase looked down at Cody, checking him over as he walked along. His horse knew well the code of the trail, but the new horses might not. “This is their first lesson. They’ll be good and thirsty by the time we make camp.”

  All four horses’ heads came up like flags looking to the bend in the road.

  “Someone’s coming. Get alongside the wagon. Stay alert.” Chase slid his Winchester out from under the wagon seat and opened his long coat from around his legs, giving him easy access to his guns.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Around the corner plodded a horse. It looked better suited to pulling a plow
than carrying a rider. As he neared, Chase could see the animal was very thin, on the verge of starvation. It was matted with mud and horse manure and was favoring the right front foot.

  The man astride didn’t look any better. He was covered in filth from his greasy hair to his worn-out boots. A shotgun rested across his lap and a jug of liquor hung from a cord tied around his saddle horn. His sneaky, snakelike eyes seemed to be taking in every detail, as if looking for something of value.

  He reined up about twenty feet from the wagon. “Howdy.”

  Chase inclined his head but didn’t say anything. This man was trouble. He could feel it in his bones. Intuition had saved his hide more than one time in his life. Who was he to argue?

  “Got any vittles to spare?”

  “Nope.”

  “How far ta town?” His eyes never stopped their perusal of the wagon. Chase had the feeling he knew the answer to his own question and was just trying to buy some time.

  “‘Bout half a day’s ride.” He was hoping Jessie, if she was awake, had the good sense to stay hidden in the back. A woman was always at risk on the trail. She was only as safe as her protector.

  “Your horse is lame,” Chase called.

  “Yeah. He’s been gimping for a while. He ain’t lame enough he can’t carry me, though. On second thought, it’s nigh on nightfall. Mind if I make camp with ya?”

  Chase hated to see a horse abused. It only confirmed his suspicions and heightened his dislike for the man.

  “We’re not stopping. You best keep right on heading to town.”

  “Ain’t too friendly, are ya?” He eyed the boys.

  Sarah picked that moment to cry out, and Chase could hear Jessie whispering to her to go back to sleep.

  The stranger’s eyes widened with interest. He kicked his horse in the ribs and as he passed, gave Chase a smile, and nodded. The few teeth he had were tobacco stained and green.

  “Get up,” Chase called to the team, sending the wagon rolling along.

  Chase looked from one boy to the other as they rode up close to the wagon. “I don’t trust him. Jake, you ride in back for a while and keep a close watch. Gabe, you stay up front and keep your eyes and ears open.” Chase dragged out Jessie’s old shotgun from under the seat and unwrapped it. He handed it to Gabe, who promptly checked to see if it was loaded and then slid it into his heavy leather scabbard.