The Trail Master's Bride

by Maddie Taylor

  That didn’t mean their travels were without mishaps, but they made it to Fort Boise in good time, and spent three days resting and restocking at one of the last outposts on the trail. The next obstacle in their path was passing through the Blue Mountains. The brown brush and dry grasses of the valley gradually turned to verdant fields and evergreen forests as they made their ascent. The high mountainous air became taxing on the animals as they pulled their loads up steep inclines, but it was the steep descents on the other side that Weston forewarned would be the most challenging.

  As they made their way up a steep incline one morning, Wes called for a stop. Rest breaks were more frequently required for the livestock in the higher elevations than what was needed in the prairie and high plains. Not for the first time, as they took another steep incline, they considered themselves fortunate to have the extra oxen to help pull the load. After one particularly rough and rocky track, Weston noticed one of the team limping.

  “She’s picked up a rock,” he stated while examining the oxen’s hoof. “Fetch my tools, will you, darlin’? I’d like to get this gal reshod, the team watered, and be on our way so we can get to the other side of the pass before nightfall.”

  “Sure, honey,” she said with a smile as she scrambled over the seat into the back of the wagon.

  At least ten minutes passed along with several shouts from him to hurry. Mina was preoccupied and didn’t answer. His voice became louder and sharper. It was also closer by and she knew without looking that he’d stuck his head in the front to see about the delay, clearly losing his patience. She went right on with what she was doing in spite of that, tossing things left and right as she searched through their belongings.

  “I can’t find it,” she exclaimed as she opened the same storage chest for the tenth time. Slamming it shut, she stood with her hands on her hips, looking at the mess in frustration. “Where could it have gone?” Her mutterings of a few minutes before were rising in pitch as she moved rapidly toward panic.

  “My tools?”

  “No,” she snapped in frustration, “the box you gave me to keep my trinkets in after mine melted in the fire.” She pointed at a sturdy chest. “I always kept it in that box.”

  “I sent you to fetch my tools, Mina.”

  “They’re not here either.” She frowned at him for his lack of concern over her cameo being missing.

  The ferocity of his scowl soon eclipsed her own. “What do you mean they’re not here? Did you stow them where I showed you the last time?”

  “Yes,” she said offhandedly, not giving a fig about tools. “But they’re not there now. Maybe someone borrowed them.”

  His head disappeared suddenly. She heard him curse and begin grumbling loudly, making it easy to follow his progress as he stalked around the wagon. In no time, he climbed in through the back. Moving past her, he pushed the mess she’d made aside with his boot as he moved to the bench to see for himself. When he also found it empty of his tools, she snorted with impatience.

  “Don’t you think I looked there already? And in the other bench, inside every bin, behind every box, crate, and bag. They’re not here and neither is my trinket box.”

  “I’m not appreciating your tone, darlin’.” His words were a warning as he stood, or as much as he could without hitting his head on the bonnet. Mimicking her position, both of his hands fisted on his hips as he surveyed the chaos around him.

  “I was a little frustrated when I couldn’t locate the tools,” Mina explained. “Then I noticed my trinket box with nana’s cameo was missing and could think of little else. I’ll put it all back.” Agitated, her fingers rose to her throat. “Blast,” she swore, not finding the choker where it belonged. She’d taken it off weeks ago during the stifling heat, even the small strip of lace adding to her discomfort. When the weather cooled recently, she left it stored in the wagon for safekeeping. She scoffed at that notion now. “I should never have taken it off. Not after almost losing it the last time.” Agitated, one hand rose to her forehead, rubbing at the nagging headache that was forming. “Someone has to have taken them.”

  Weston grunted his unmistakable disagreement with her theory. “No one would have entered our wagon, Mina, not without asking and even then they would have waited for us to fetch the tools, not rifle through our belongings on their own.”

  “There is no other explanation,” she asserted.

  * * *

  He shook his head at the familiar tune. It wasn’t one he cared to hear again, either. It hadn’t been long since he’d spanked her for this very same thing. She’d done better since then, except lately, little things had been happening again and she seemed to be slipping back into a pattern of distracted negligence. A tin of leftover biscuits and a missing handkerchief or two could be overlooked, but his tools were something vital for their continued journey. Having them come up missing when she’d been the last one to handle them was something that had to be addressed.

  “Mina,” he uttered low, not relishing what he felt compelled to do about this most recent and serious lapse.

  “No! Don’t you dare even think it. I know for certain I put those tools back.” Her voice broke as tears threatened. “Someone is out to get me, or to see us at odds and is doing this to me on purpose. What’s more, nana’s cameo is gone!”

  “Darlin’.”

  “The widow Matheson,” she accused wildly. “She watches you like a dog coveting a meaty bone left on the supper table. She’d love for you to cast me aside and take up with her.”

  “Mina.”

  “Or, Mrs. Gillespie, maybe she’s getting back at me for her laundry. I offered to help her clean it all, but she was so angry she sent me away. It could also be that awful Mr. Hill. He still blames me for not properly mourning Elliott’s death. He’d like to see me suffer. Or, maybe it’s—”

  “Mina, stop it!” he barked, his hands coming to her shoulders and giving her a little shake. When he continued, his voice had softened. “Listen to yourself, sweetheart. These paranoid thoughts have to stop.”

  “You still don’t believe me.” Her face fell, appearing completely disheartened.

  Weston couldn’t stand seeing her so crushed, but what other explanation could there be? The families had been together for four months and become close. In his experience, a thief showed his true colors early, where he could more easily scurry back to civilization with his ill-gotten gains, not on the top of the Blue Mountains in the middle of nowhere. He pulled her against his chest, growling in frustration when she tensed, her spine going ramrod straight. “I don’t have time to sort this out now. Ben will have tools I can borrow. In the meantime, clean up the mess you made and wait for me up front.”

  Obviously upset, she pushed out of his arms as though she couldn’t bear his touch and stepped back. Sniffling, she bowed her head, refusing to look at him.

  “Mina, I expect your rear end to be on the bench when I get back. We’ll finish talking about this when we make camp tonight.”

  “Is that when I’ll receive another little lesson?” Her voice was quiet, but held a bite of animosity that he didn’t care for at all.

  “I didn’t say that, but I suggest you mind your tongue or you’ll be heading that way. Do as I say now while I see to the team.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said quietly, without sarcasm this time, with no inflection at all, in fact. He feared her retreat was more than physical. Quickly, he pulled her back, tipping her chin up so he could see her face. The pain and disappointment there were palpable.

  “Darlin’, don’t take on so. You’re tired. It’s easy to make mistakes when you’re not used to months on end on the trail. Once we’re home and settled, we’ll put all of this discord behind us.” He lowered his head and brushed her lips with a soft kiss, frowning when she didn’t respond. “Mina.”

  “I’m sure we’re falling behind schedule as we speak.” Her tone was flat, the volume well-modulated to a level of indifference. “While you tend the oxen, I’ll do as
you asked, clean up, and wait for you on the bench.” Before he could say more, she turned her back to him, folding blankets and stowing away gear.

  At a loss as to what to do next, he went to find Jacobs and borrow some tools.

  * * *

  After straightening up the mess she’d made, Mina climbed onto the wagon seat to wait. Although extremely upset over the loss of her family heirloom, which meant so much more to her, she was devastated over Weston once again doubting her. The reasonable side of her said she couldn’t blame him. Always the evidence pointed to her. Her heart ached. On top of it, she was downright angry, although she had locked that feeling away deep inside. Having come out a loser in all the previous showdowns with her husband when she’d been in a fit of temper, she decided a different approach was warranted. Not to mention she was perplexed and needed time to think. Why did these things keep happening to her? It had to be one of the other train members; there really was no other explanation.

  She felt the wagon shift under his weight as he returned. She didn’t turn to him as she usually did, not even when his booted footsteps announced his arrival. At an impasse, him not believing her and her espousing her innocence, she refused to take another of his little lessons, not for this, not when she wasn’t at fault. She’d fight him tooth and nail if he got the notion to spank her again when she’d done nothing wrong.

  Feeling his presence behind her, she steeled herself to be still, keeping her back to him.

  “I’m not ready to talk to you, husband; maybe by next month, better yet, next year when my anger might have faded enough for me to have a civil tongue, but not today and not tonight.”

  “Elliott said that brazen red hair should have been a clue to your true nature. Poor man, he should have run like hell at the mention of your name.”

  That wasn’t Weston! Turning with alarm, she only caught a glimpse of Avery Hill before a sudden fierce pain struck her head and she saw blackness.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Awakened by the throbbing pain in her skull, Mina raised her hand to rub her temple. Her eyes flew open in confusion as both hands came up at once. She stared at the rope binding her wrists together, her foggy mind trying to comprehend the circumstance, but she found it too difficult to think lucidly.

  “Aw, does the whore have a headache?”

  Wincing, her eyes clamped shut tight as the loud grating voice in her ear sent waves of renewed pain through her head.

  “Tsk, tsk, isn’t that too bad.”

  Mina knew without looking that it was Avery and he sounded anything but sympathetic.

  “I must have hit you too hard. You were out longer than I planned. I had to haul you about, which wasn’t an easy task. You’re heavier than you look.”

  His footsteps moved behind her and she heard a strange noise. Opening her eyes, she watched as her hands were pulled upward by a second rope tied around the bonds at her wrists. She followed it up to where it looped over a stout tree branch. As she watched, the noise continued, the rope scraping against the tree bark as it shortened, pulling her hands along with it. The branch shook with each tug, not stopping until she was upright, her arms strained over her head, the tips of her toes barely touching the ground. Already she felt the strain in her shoulders.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked, hating the fear that made her voice quiver.

  “Because you deserve to be punished. And not with a pitiful little spanking.”

  She gasped, twisting her head to look at him.

  He laughed scornfully. “Yes, I saw the trail master swatting your bare ass by the creek. If it was me, I’d have used the belt, or cut a stout switch.”

  “You followed us and watched?”

  He shrugged. “I was bored. Two thousand miles on a dusty, dreary wagon train will do that. Besides, I was biding my time until I could put my plan into action.”

  “It’s been you who’s been playing those tricks on me all along. You untied the oxen, and took Weston’s tools, and released the wagon brake.”

  “Don’t forget the missing coffeepot and brooch. The old piece should bring me a few dollars in trade, don’t you think?”

  She saw his taunt for what it was and ignored it. “So you did all this because you were bored?”

  “Yes, except for the wagon brake. There must have been someone else who despises you and wants you dead.”

  “Dead!” Mina echoed back, aghast.

  “I really hoped your husband would get tired of your ineptitude long before now and left you at one of the forts. Considering I’ve heard you two rutting beneath your wagon every night, it seems he found something you were good at and decided to keep you after all.” His face changed abruptly, going from a cool mien of self-satisfaction to the crimson red heat of anger. It was like he was two different people. “It really is shameful!” he spat. “Carrying on like a harlot in full hearing of the others, including the children. You deserved castigation, even if it was by your husband’s equally culpable hand.”

  “Why do you care what I do with my husband?”

  “Because you owed Elliott respect,” he hissed, spittle flying from his mouth, making her flinch. “Not a week went by before you were cavorting with someone else. You didn’t mourn his death as he deserved and in life caused him nothing but misery. He told me so.”

  “Don’t you think you’re taking friendship a bit too far?”

  “No, bitch, don’t you see? He may have married you, but it was me he yearned for.”

  As his meaning took hold, Mina inhaled sharply, choking as shock swept through her. “You mean—”

  “Yes, you idiot,” he supplied. “Elliott and I were lovers.” She now recognized the look in his eyes that had been hard to pinpoint in their prior encounters. It was envy, pure and simple, with a good dose of hatred laced in. “Why do you think he left you untouched after you wed? He loved me, not you, a harpy, a shrew, a whore. You were simply a means to an end, a bankroll for the new life we had planned together. Now he’s gone and I’m stuck on this hellish wagon train alone. Why should you find pleasure in your lover’s arms while mine are empty?”

  It all made sense, Elliott’s unqualified contempt from the beginning, Avery’s unexplained hatred, she understood now except for one missing fact. “Wait, you said you were going to build a life together? He was married to me. What were you planning to do about that?”

  His face took on a wickedly evil light and she didn’t have to wonder any more. “You planned to kill me!” she accused.

  “A brilliant deduction. You’re not as stupid as Elliott believed. Once we reached our destination, after he claimed the acreage, you were to meet with an untimely death, by accident, of course.”

  She huffed a humorless laugh. “It seems his death put a kink in your plans. You’re left with nothing now.” Maybe it was a foolish decision to taunt him while he held all the power, and a gun, but she saw no way out of her predicament and couldn’t resist the opportunity to pierce his confidence.

  “Shut up,” he squawked. “I’m tired of your mouth and that voice of yours; mercy, it makes me cringe.” He was one to talk; his nasally backwater high-pitched accent became more pronounced when he was angry. She would have said so, knowing she had nothing to lose, but he stuffed a wad of linen in her mouth. “There,” he said with renewed satisfaction, having effectively reduced her protests to muffled, unintelligible mumbles. He then reached in his vest pocket and pulled out a tri-folded sheet of paper. “See this?” He held it up in front of her face so she had little choice except to see. “This is my contingency plan.”

  She could make out the top line in bold print, Last Will and Testament.

  “Wuh id ou et at?” Her question was incomprehensible behind the gag.

  He ignored her.

  “I drew this up when Elliott became ill. He was very much in favor of my new plan. My Elliott always wanted to make sure I was taken care of.” Avery blinked rapidly as though battling tears. “He was so good and considerate.�
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  Pulling at her ropes, she shook her head wildly, protesting for all she was worth with a mouthful of cotton.

  Still, he paid her no mind as he started to read.

  “‘I, Elliott Hobart, being of sound mind,’ and so forth and so, ‘do hereby leave all my worldly goods,’ blah, blah, blah,” he mumbled as he scanned down the paper. “Ah, here’s the good part, ‘to my cousin and lifelong friend, Avery Hill.’”

  Her eyes narrowed. Avery was dark where Elliott was fair; if they were cousins, she was the queen of England.

  He seemed to read her mind. “A bit of a stretch, I know; still, I thought it a nice touch. A familial inheritance is more commonplace and raises fewer questions. And, who’s going to challenge it, anyway? You? Certainly not. You’ll be dead.” He chuckled, clearly finding that funny before he went on reading. “‘This includes any lands and properties in my holdings, namely eight hundred acres of farmland twenty-five miles southwest of Oregon City.’” He looked up in triumph. “You lose, whore. And, now that we’re close to our destination, the hour of your untimely demise is upon us.”

  Avery stared at her a moment. “It’s not as much fun if you can’t speak.” Surprising Mina, he reached up and pulled out the gag.

  “You coerced a signature out of a dying man!”