“She loved the earl, Johanna; she said so.”
“The earl didn’t love her. If he had, he would have divorced his wife and he wouldn’t have cut off my support the moment her body was cold after promising to take care of me. At least he had the decency to return her belongings.”
“Those letters we found from your father disturb me, Johanna. They contradict so many of the horrible things your mother told you about him.”
“He never said he loved her or wanted her, only me, his possession. He offered to bribe her to return, no doubt to avoid a scandal or because he couldn’t stand to lose something that belonged to him. I wonder how he explained our departure to everyone?”
“We’re judging him on what your mother told you Johanna. What if she was speaking from hurt and bitterness? What if she was being vindictive? He said she could have freedom and great wealth if she’d come home or if she would send you home: we don’t know what that means. He begged for forgiveness and understanding for his past misdeeds, whatever they were, or she believed they were. He can’t be all bad, Johanna. He even admitted he was selfish, a coward. He said he’d made mistakes and that he was sorry for them. We know what two of them were—his mistress and adopted son—but we don’t know the story behind them.” Ginny spoke with conviction, yet, she couldn’t help but wonder if that assumption was correct. Bennett Chapman could be a terrible person. His “son” could be the same, as bad and mean as her own stepbrother.
Ginny looked sadly at her dear, sweet, funny, beautiful Johanna. They had been inseparable for years. They gave each other courage, strength, and solace; they were always there for each other during the good and bad times. Don’t take her from me, God. “You’re asking me to deceive your father by impersonating you when you’ll be…”
“Gone, dead and buried here, under your name, Ginny.”
Tears escaped Ginny’s eyes and she quickly brushed them away to prevent upsetting Johanna. “Don’t say such things; I can’t bear them.”
“Don’t you see? If you’re allegedly gone, your stepfamily will leave you alone while you search for your father. If they learn you’re here, they might guess why. That could be dangerous and costly for you and your father. Before you go to him, you can settle matters for me.”
“What if I can’t unravel this mystery? Surely Bennett Chapman isn’t going to confess any serious misdeeds. Maybe he didn’t do anything wrong, Johanna. There’s far more to the story than your mother or those letters revealed.”
“If that were true, he would have tried to get me back. He didn’t.”
“According to your mother,” Ginny reminded gently.
“A man with his power and wealth could have defeated my mother with ease. He had ways and means of reclaiming me. He didn’t. He was too busy with his son to miss me or care what happened to me. He’s twenty-five now, seven years older than I am. Father may have grandchildren by now. Even if he refused to support or contact Mother, he owed me those things. He won’t even know Mother and I are dead until you tell him. That’s wrong and cruel. A few short letters in sixteen years don’t make up for his offenses. I deserve retribution or a logical explanation. I can’t die in peace until you swear you’ll get it for me because I know you won’t break your word.”
Ginny tried to soothe her friend’s agony. “You were taken away when you were two years old, so you don’t even know him. If he wasn’t being honest in those letters, he’ll probably pretend he was the victim of your mother’s tricks. How will I know if he’s lying?”
“You’re intelligent; you’ll know. You can watch him for clues. After he exposes himself, find a way to hurt him as he hurt us.”
“If he’s guilty. If not, what do I do? He’ll be furious when he learns I’m not his daughter. He’ll be devastated to discover the bitter truth.”
“Not if you remain there as me.”
“What do you mean? Live the rest of my life as Johanna Chapman?”
“Why not? My father is rich and powerful. He deserted me as a child; he owes me plenty. You can collect that debt for me. I’m his rightful heir, not his mistress and adopted son. There’s no way anyone could ever learn the truth. It’s the perfect solution for both of us. If he’s guilty, drain him and punish him. If he’s not, make peace and make him happy. You’ll have a home, safety, all you need, for as long as you need them.”
“What about my father?”
“You left word at school where you could be reached. If your father is alive and contacts you, then you can tell mine the truth. I’ll write a letter explaining how I forced you to do this for me as my last dying wish. Find the truth for me, Ginny, so I can rest in peace.”
“Let’s not talk about this anymore. Please rest now and take your medicine. I know you’re weak, and in pain. I can see it.”
“This is the last time we’ll have to talk, Ginny; I feel it all over. I can endure a little pain to spend these final hours with you. I don’t want to die drugged or in my sleep or with things left unsaid.”
Ginny had to relent once more. “How will I get to Texas?”
“You know where the ranch is located.”
“You heard what Mr. Avery said: Train rails were cut during the war and haven’t been repaired. He said stagecoach travel is worse. We were going to telegraph your father after we docked and ask for money or transportation. If I contact him and he comes here, he might discover the truth. He could send your adopted brother after me. I doubt he will be happy to have a blood heir suddenly appear.”
“You were planning to travel all the way to Colorado by yourself anyhow. You’ll find a way. Mr. Avery will help. Remember how he took us under his wing on the ship, how he protected us. He’s a good and kind man. He helped tend me after I became ill during the voyage; he brought me here, summoned a doctor to treat me, and he and his sister are taking care of us. You know he’s heading for Texas. He’ll take you along with him.”
“But he knows I’m not you, Johanna. He’ll wonder why I’m lying.”
“We can trust him, Ginny. He’ll take you with him; you’ll see.”
“Take Virginia along with me to where?” Charles Avery asked as he entered the gloomy sickroom.
“Mr. Avery, we desperately need your help.”
“No, Johanna, we can’t do this. I can’t do this,” Ginny protested.
Though he was two inches under six feet tall, Charles sat on the edge of the bed to keep from towering over them. “Do what, young ladies?”
“Ginny must pretend to be me and get to my father’s ranch in Texas. She’s in danger here from her stepfamily. After I’m dead and buried as Ginny Marston she can travel there with you as Johanna Chapman.”
Charles patted the sick girl’s arm. “That isn’t possible, Johanna dear. Only families are allowed on the wagontrain. These people are moral Christians. They wouldn’t allow an unmarried young woman to travel west with a single older man, friend or not. And Virginia can’t take her own wagon; they’re scarce and expensive, so are supplies and mules.”
Johanna gazed into his clear blue eyes that mutely apologized for having to disappoint her. At least he hadn’t pretended she would recover. “She has to reach Texas, sir. Her father has enemies in Georgia and out West who might want her slain or captured. She must pretend to be me and go to Texas until she can contact him to come for her there. Father and I were going to help her. Now that I’m dying, things have changed.”
Charles Avery ran his hand through his graying brown hair. He stood and said, “Let me think for a minute.”
As he did so, Ginny helped Johanna with more water to wet her dry throat. They had met the lean, fifty-four-year-old Georgian on the ship from England. They had talked every day, shared activities and amusements, eaten together, and become good and trusted friends. He had protected them from unwanted attention by sailors and other male voyagers. He had helped Ginny with Johanna after she took ill.
“I must get to Texas to my new business before the seller moves and leaves
it abandoned. I can use assistance with the wagon and chores. By helping you, I’ll be helping myself. She can travel as my daughter. She’s the same age and physical type as Anna. The poor girl was in school up North during the war and she died recently on her way home so no one will be the wiser.” Both girls looked away to give him privacy as he wiped sudden tears from his eyes. “It will be hard work, Virginia; you’ll have to learn to drive a wagon and work along the trail like everyone else. The men are meeting with Steve Carr, our scout and guide, next week for training. I’m to get my wagon ready and join them Wednesday. The group is gathering at the Ogeechee River east of town. Most are heading west for new lives. The war and that so-called Reconstruction Act have ruined things for Southerners. The women begin training as soon as we finish our own, in a week or so.”
Johanna grasped Ginny’s hand and squeezed it with her remaining strength. “I’m begging you to do this favor for me. We’ve been like sisters. You know I would do it for you. Please.”
“It’s a wild scheme, Johanna. I could fail or get into terrible trouble.”
“They’ll never guess the truth. Only you and Mr. Avery will know it.”
“I will not betray your confidences,” Charles Avery assured. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
“Thank you, Mr. Avery. Do it, Ginny; for me, for us.”
“You win, Johanna: I swear I’ll carry out your last request, but only if you take at least a little of your medicine, eat something, and rest.”
“That sounds like a fair bargain to me,” Charles said. “I’ll
fetch a tray.”
“Thank you, Mr. Avery. Thank you, Ginny.”
Near midnight, Johanna Chapman died with Virginia Marston sitting beside her and holding her hands. She wept while Charles Avery and his elder sister, Martha, tried to comfort her. He said he would handle the burial arrangements and pay for them; he would have the young woman interred under Ginny’s name. He told Ginny it would be best if she stayed in Savannah with his sister until he came for her, which would allow her time and privacy to deal with her grief and to prepare for her journey.
Ginny thanked them for their kindness and assistance. A clock chimed midnight. So many dark secrets engulfed her. She had made Johanna a deathbed promise that she must honor. With her final breath, Johanna Chapman had thanked her, then smiled and gone to sleep forever.
CHAPTER 1
Twelve days later, Virginia Anne Marston’s hazel eyes scanned the crowded and noisy area where a temporary camp was set up on the western bank of the Ogeechee River. Ginny watched the women gathered in a clearing for their instructions. Many of the fourteen laughed and chatted as if they were close friends. She reminded herself they had been given ample time to get acquainted while living there for a week or more while their husbands received their training.
“Miss Avery!” Steve Carr’s sharp tone pierced her distraction. He shook her arm until she looked at him. “I need your attention, as well as your body, here this morning. We have no time to waste.”
Ginny’s face grew warm and flushed with embarrassment. She hadn’t realized their guide had arrived and begun their lesson. “I apologize, sir, and it will not happen again,” she told him. His eyes were so dark brown that they appeared as ebony as his shoulder-grazing hair. She pushed other thoughts out of her mind and came to alert, thoroughly unsettled.
“Good. As I was saying, ladies, let’s introduce ourselves. You’ll be living and working as one big family for a long time, so it’s best to get off to a friendly start. Some of you are already acquainted, but some have been shy and kept to yourselves; and we have one new arrival this morning.”
Ginny felt all gazes look in her direction for a moment.
“Sometimes you’ll work alone or with your family, and other times you’ll work as a group. Obedience and cooperation are a must on the trail; you are never to let personal dislikes or disagreements interfere with our purpose for being here. My name is Steve Carr; I’m your guide, scout, leader, and boss— whatever you want to call me. I’m in total control of this trip. If you can’t obey me without hesitation, don’t come along. If you do come with us and cause trouble along the way, you’ll be left on that spot. That might sound cruel, but it’s for everyone’s protection. Is that clear?”
Ginny watched those dark eyes journey from woman to woman and observe each nod her head in understanding and acceptance.
She wished he hadn’t embarrassed her over an innocent mistake, and when his gaze reached hers, she said, “I’ll obey your orders, Mr. Carr. My name is Anna Avery. I’m Charles Avery’s daughter. My father and I are moving from Savannah to Texas.” Ginny noticed how Steve’s powerful gaze lingered on her as if trying to penetrate her deceptive veil, or maybe that was just guilt gnawing at her for deluding these people, most of whom seemed nice.
“To get under way as soon as possible, ladies, be on time for training and practice every morning and afternoon. We’ll start promptly at nine, give you a two-hour break at noon to tend your children, work until five, and quit for you to get your meals cooked, chores done, and children down for. the night. The education you’re about to receive will move at a swift pace. It will be hard. You’ll be sore and exhausted, especially in the beginning. And some of you will be as fussy as a hungry baby past feeding time. But don’t let the hardships and pains get to you. When the training is over, you’ll be able to take charge of your team and wagon if anything ever happens to your husband … or father,” he added with a quick glance at the only unmarried female present. “You’ll practice along the way to keep your new skills honed. There’ll be times when the men need to rest or to ride ahead to hunt fresh meat or cut firewood, so you’ll be in charge of driving the wagon to camp.”
Steve looked at each woman to make certain all were paying attention. “Today, we’ll learn how to harness and tend your team, how your wagon works, and how to take care of it so it won’t break down along the way. You won’t always be able to ride, so we’ll exercise daily to improve your pace, strength, and stamina. This afternoon, we’ll begin with a mile walk.”
“Walk a mile? After work?” Mattie Epps complained.
“Yes, and tomorrow we’ll do the same. We’ll increase the distance every two days by a mile. By the time we’re finished, you should be able to walk five miles before riding to rest. With possessions and children and sometimes soft ground, too heavy a load will overburden the mules. If you don’t take care of your animals, they won’t get you far. Treat them as you would family, or better, in some cases. Your lives may depend on them.”
“Why couldn’t we use oxen, Mr. Carr?” Ellie queried. “They eat free grass, not high grain; and we could eat them later. Why mules?”
“Mules get five miles a day more than oxen, Mrs. Davis,” Steve explained to the stout woman. “Every three days by mule team shortens your journey by a day over oxen. What you spend on grain will be less than what you would have spent on added supplies for yourselves on a longer ride. You can’t eat mules, unless you get mighty desperate, but they’re easier to manage and harness and they make good plow animals. Besides, outlaws don’t steal a tough, stringy mule as quickly and easily as a plump, tasty ox.”
As Steve grinned, other women smiled and laughed. A sense of humor to break the tension, Ginny decided. He sounded educated and he knew good manners, even if he had been curt to her earlier.
“What all do we have to learn?” Mattie Epps whined.
“Driving the wagon, controlling and maneuvering it, circling up for camp and safety, keeping the right pace and distance, crossing rivers, getting out of mud, repairing and replacing broken wheels, calming teams during storms, and defending yourself—things like that!”
“Defending ourselves? From whom?” Mattie asked.
“From bandits and raiders who still roam the land and prey on people,” he explained. “If any of you have special feeding times for babies, let me know so I can set our schedule for walks around them.”
Considerate, too, Ginny’s impressed mind added. She noticed how he had hurried past his first sentence, perhaps to avoid scaring them.
“Any of you ladies know how to harness and handle a team already?”
Ginny watched three of the fourteen women raise their hands. She was relieved she wasn’t the only novice in camp.
“How many can ride a horse?” he asked.
All but four hands lifted, and Virginia Anne Marston was delighted she was a skilled rider. She wondered if she should tell him she couldn’t ride western-style but she decided not to do so, as it couldn’t be much different from English sidesaddle.
“How many of you can load and fire a weapon?”
Ginny noticed how the leader grinned when everyone raised a hand, but something wasn’t right about those smiles and grins. Forced? she mused.
“Is anyone carrying a child?” He waited a moment then pressed, “Speak up if it’s true. I don’t want your life or that of the baby endangered. As I told you, this is going to be a tough pace and hard work.” No woman responded so Steve continued. “Do any of you have a physical problem that might affect your training or interfere with chores along the way?”
Lucy Eaves raised her hand. “I have a gimp ankle,” she said, “but it rarely gives me any trouble.”
Steve glanced at the slightly twisted ankle she revealed by lifting her hem. “Be sure to let me know if it does.”
“Yes, sir,” Lucy replied with a cheerful smile.
“Any questions or comments before we get started?” Steve’s alert gaze drifted from one woman to the next around the circle enclosing him. He didn’t care for this pretense of liking and helping these people, but he would do his job and do it to the best of his ability. As soon as he unmasked the culprit he was searching for, he could turn this group over to the genuine wagontrain leader who was awaiting them near the west Georgia line. “Let’s get to how a wagon works and how to take care of it,” he began his instructions. “Jeff Eaves, Lucy’s husband, has loaned us the use of his wagon for today’s lesson. Let’s gather there,” he told them, pointing to it.
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