Dangerous Heart

by Tracey Bateman

  A good-natured smile tipped Miss Sadie’s lips at Ginger’s teasing tone. “With an old lady like me in your tent, it’ll be plenty proper.”

  “With my rifle next to me it would be, anyway.”

  They made short work of putting up the tent. Ginger thought Miss Sadie looked mighty tired. “I take it the men are all sick now?”

  “They’re getting better, though. Elijah’s asking for you to join him as soon as you get back.”

  “Asking for me?” Ginger gave a frown. “I wonder why.”

  Miss Sadie shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

  “Is he in the tent?”

  “Yes, but you’re not going in there. He should be well enough tomorrow to sit up out here awhile.”

  “Fannie and Blake sent you a bearskin, so I’m going to make you a pallet inside the tent, and I think you ought to sleep for a while.”

  The older woman pressed her fists into the small of her back and nodded wearily. That surprised Ginger. She figured she’d have to argue for a good five minutes to get the stubborn woman to take a break.

  Within a few minutes, with strict instructions that she was not to go near the men’s tent, Miss Sadie collapsed onto the soft pallet Ginger had made with special care.

  It felt strange, eerie even, for Ginger to be in this camp while the men lay sick in one tent and Miss Sadie, exhausted from days of giving everything she had to the sick, in another. Ginger unhitched the oxen. After hobbling them, she wandered to the campfire and lifted the coffeepot, glad that there was at least a full cup left, even if it was the bottom of the pot. Alone, she felt at a loss. The pot was full of the soup and another of stew, so there was no need to cook. She felt faintly disappointed. Cooking was one of the few domestic chores where she excelled. She’d been doing all the cooking for Web’s gang since she was thirteen years old. Well, Miss Sadie would be wanting coffee when she woke later, so Ginger could at least get some to boiling.

  Filling the dipper with water from the bucket next to the fire, she slowly filled up the pot, barely paying any mind to the task at hand. Her thoughts turned to the conversation she’d had with Miss Sadie. If the woman was right, then God didn’t remember that Ginger had joined the wagon train bent on revenge against Grant. The problem was that she remembered. And Grant had a right to know. He couldn’t go on having ideas that he might want to court her and most likely marry her, when Ginger knew it would never be possible. Even if she loved him as much as she’d once hated him, it still wouldn’t work.

  Especially once he discovered who had provided the decoy that day. She had stood in the road, flagged down the stagecoach and had cowered behind a tree until she’d seen her brother, Clem, shot from his horse.

  No. God might not remember it, but Ginger did. And once Grant became aware of her place in his wife’s death, he’d never love her again.

  But that was a chance she’d have to take. She wouldn’t start out her new life by holding onto a lie. She just couldn’t.

  Thankfully, there was no time for her to mull it over any more, because Yuley crashed through the perimeter trees, his arms filled with a load of wood. He stumbled under the weight and almost dropped his burden. Ginger hopped up and hurried to help him. His eyes were still dark and sunken in, much like Buddy’s, but clearly, his strength was returning. He grinned broadly, showing only a few teeth left in his mouth. “I’m glad to see you, Miss Ginger!”

  “I’m glad to see you up and about, Yuley. How you feeling?”

  “Better. I thought I was going to die like Dale did. You want to see where we buried him? You never got to say goodbye.”

  That was just about the last thing Ginger wanted to do. She’d seen enough death. Dale would have to do without her. “I’ll say goodbye another time. Right now, I have to get the fire built back up so that we can get that soup boiling again.”

  His expression drooped. “I don’t much like that soup, Miss Ginger. I’m fixin’ to go to the river and catch us some fish.”

  “There’s some stew.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t much care for it, neither. Ate it for breakfast.”

  “It’s kind of cold to be fishing. You think they’ll bite?”

  “Sure they will!”

  “All right, Yuley,” she said, dropping the wood to the ground by the fire. “I’ll tell you what: if you catch some fish and clean it by the river, I’ll cook it for your supper.” She nodded toward the pot of stew. “But if you don’t catch any, you have to have a bowl of that stew. You need to keep up your strength.”

  He frowned, clearly weighing his odds. Then he nodded. “Thank you, Miss Ginger. I’ll do it.” He started to dash off, then turned back to her. He closed the distance between them in a few lanky strides. “Forget something, Yuley?”

  “I got to tell you something.”

  “What is it, Yuley?”

  “I can’t be an outlaw no more.”

  “You can’t?” Ginger held back the smile lurking at the corners of her lips. The thought of Yuley as an outlaw was just silly.

  “Miss Sadie says it ain’t right.”

  Ginger took a breath and released it in a cloud of frigid air. Land sakes, Miss Sadie ought not to say things like that, right in the midst of outlaws. She could get herself hurt. Or worse, if she angered someone like Lane. He’d put a bullet into her without thinking twice. “I suppose it’s not right, but no one is going to hold it against you.”

  “I just want to do what’s right. Like Miss Sadie.”

  How could she encourage him to stay with this band of thugs if she herself had no intention of staying? “It’s okay, Yuley. You don’t have to be an outlaw anymore if you don’t want to.” And then an idea hit her that was so ridiculous in its simplicity that she had no idea if it would work or not. “How would you like to go to Oregon with me?”

  “I think I’d like that fine.” A slow grin spread across his face and before she knew what was happening, he swooped her up into a tight hug that lifted her clean off her feet. “You won’t change your mind will you?”

  “Of course not. I want you to come with me and Buddy. It’ll be like having two brothers again.”

  “That’d be good. I ain’t never had a sister.”

  “Well, now you will. What about those fish? If you don’t hurry up, they’re going to think you don’t want a fish dinner, and they’ll all swim away.”

  “Aw, Miss Ginger, you’re teasin’ me.”

  Chuckling, he moved off toward the saddlebag that held all of his belongings, including his fishing tackle. Walking toward the river, he turned and gave her a hardy wave.

  Ginger grinned and shook her head, staring after him. She heard footsteps behind her and turned to find Web coming. He stopped when he reached a rough-hewn bench. Sweat dotted his forehead, despite the frigid air. Miss Sadie was right. Sickness had somehow caught Web, and if he didn’t do something about it fast, he’d be swallowed up in death.

  Web nodded toward Yuley. “You got a special way with him, you know. Always did.”

  She shrugged. “Yuley’s a good boy.”

  “I heard what you said to him about going to Oregon with you and Buddy.”

  Ginger raised her chin. “That’s right. He wants to stop riding with you, because he doesn’t feel right about it anymore. I’ve seen you let men walk out of the gang before with no hard feelings. Surely you won’t stop Yuley.”

  He pursed his lips and gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “He can go if he wants. I only kept him around for his brother’s sake, anyhow.”

  Something in the way he stressed he wrapped a tight fist of dread around Ginger’s gut. “But not me or Buddy?”

  “Like I said, we got one more job to do; then I’ll let you go.”

  Summoning courage she didn’t even know if she possessed, she stared into Web’s eyes. “I’m not doing any jobs. We agreed after Clem died that I didn’t have to help after that. I can’t steal anymore than I could kill Grant. I’m not the same as I used to be. I’ve been
around folks that work hard for a living. Folks that care about each other. And I like them. I’m not stealing from them.”

  “Look, I know I didn’t give you the chance to be around decent folks much. And maybe I was wrong for that.”

  Anytime Web admitted to any wrongdoing, he was probably lying through his teeth. He didn’t have a sincere bone in his body and everyone knew it. She opened her mouth to tell him as much, but Miss Sadie’s words came back to her in a flash. She swallowed her skepticism and tried to wipe the disbelief from her face. “Well, I’ll be around decent folks from now on. And so will Buddy. So don’t fret about it.”

  “Look, girl.” His graying eyebrows shoved together in a deep frown. “You’re gonna have to do what I say, or you might get into more trouble than you bargained for.”

  “Like being forced to marry the likes of Lane Conner?”

  “You know about that?”

  “Lane told me.” She gave him a pointed look. “And he kissed me, against my will and threatened to do more than that.”

  Anger flashed in his eyes again. This time directed toward Lane.

  “Lane knows I’m sick. I’m tryin’ to make sure you’re looked after when I’m gone.”

  “Miss Sadie told me about that, Web. I’m truly sorry you’re not well, but I can’t marry Lane. I can hardly tolerate ten minutes anywhere near him. Besides, if I married Lane, I’d probably have to shoot him within a year.”

  “Let me tell you about the job.”

  “Not that I have a choice.”

  “Elijah’s been writing letters to a man in California. A man that struck it rich in the gold mines.”

  “I don’t know what you’re getting at, Web.”

  “Well, hush up and listen, and you will.”

  Same old Web.

  “He wrote some real fancy, pretty letters, if you know what I mean.”

  “What for?” Ginger’s mind tried to wrap around the point Web was trying to make, but just why Elijah would write fancy, pretty letters to a man in California didn’t make any sense whatsoever. Unless…Ginger shoved to her feet. “Do you mean Elijah answered a rich man’s advertisement for a wife?”

  His face brightened. “I always said you was a bright girl.”

  “It appears I’m the only bright one around here,” she mumbled. “That’s about the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard. How did you plan on…” And then she knew. “Elijah pretended to be me, didn’t he?”

  “That’s right. Now you’re catchin’ on.” He looked so pleased with himself, Ginger realized this must have been his bright idea in the first place. “Tell me about the plan.”

  Reaching into his pocket, Web drew out a fistful of letters. Ginger took the dirty envelopes. “I figure Elijah’s about dead. I took these from his bag.”

  Ginger gave the handful a cursory glance and sniffed. “Letters from the man in California, I take it.”

  “Yep.” Web beamed with pride. “You read them letters and see what I mean. I need you to meet him, and we’ll take it from there.”

  “I don’t see how my meeting him will give you the opportunity to rob him. For this big a job, you have something more in mind. This is a little too easy.”

  He gave a sigh of resignation. “Okay. You might have to marry him. But it’d only be for a little while.”

  Horror filled Ginger. “What? Marry him! Web, are you crazy? First you want me to marry Lane; now you want me to marry this fellow in California? Do you want me to live with them both at the same time?”

  Instead of boxing her ears for her impertinence, Web grinned, showing a mouthful of mostly missing teeth. “Feisty, aren’t ya? After we get his money, we’ll leave California, and you won’t have nothing to worry about.”

  “I’d still be married.”

  “Only if you look at it that way. That’s up to you.”

  “It’s the way it would be, Web. No matter how I look at it. God would see me as married to that man. You really want to force me to do that, just so you can line your pockets?”

  “You know I don’t cotton to talk about God.” A dangerous glint flickered in his eyes. A sign Ginger recognized as Web nearing the end of his patience. “Just read those letters. You just might like the man’s pretty words.”

  “How would you know what they say?”

  “Elijah read ’em to us.”

  “But how did they get back and forth so quick?”

  Clearly at the end of his patience, Web struggled to his feet and towered over her. “I ain’t askin’, Ginger. If you want to leave us, this is your chance. You do one job for us, and you, Buddy, and Yuley are free to go. If you don’t…well, let’s just say, you won’t be goin’ anywhere.”

  “You’re threatening your own daughter?”

  “I don’t want to. But you forced me to it. Now you simmer down and do as you’re told, and before long, you’ll be free.”

  He moved away, and Ginger faced her first test as the new person she’d become. The opportunity to gain her freedom or staying true to the new feelings of truth and goodness inside.

  Was there anything in the Bible about how to get out of this mess? If only she could ask Miss Sadie about it. A sigh escaped her as she sat on the bench and opened the first letter.

  Elijah,

  I’m grateful you’ve reached Missouri and have joined up with Web. Be careful, my pa may not have learnin’ but he’s smart in the ways of man. He won’t be easy to fool. The most important thing is not to make him suspicious. If he gets wind of who you really are, he’ll kill you and that’ll be the end of our plans for Ginger…

  Ginger frowned and reread the first part of the letter. Clearly, Elijah had been pulling a job of his own. One that had nothing to do with a man in California. Indignation shot through her. How dare he? Web wouldn’t know any better.

  A chill scurried up her spine and she shuddered. Her eyes skimmed the rest of the letter, and when she reached the last words, a gasp tore through her throat.

  It won’t be too much longer before I’ll be able to join them.

  Thank you again, my friend.

  God Bless and keep you,

  Clem

  Fifteen

  Grant had that unsettling feeling someone was watching him even before he opened his eyes and confirmed the truth. He sat up on his pallet and came face-to-face with Buddy Freeman.

  He frowned through a pounding headache. “Buddy? What are you doing?”

  The boy ducked his head. “Mr. Tanner asked me to come find you. I hated to wake you up. But you’ve been sleeping since the church meeting this morning and it’s almost suppertime.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “Soldiers from Fort Boise rode in a couple of hours ago.”

  “So why call for the doctor? Are they sick?”

  Buddy shrugged. “I don’t know, sir.”

  “All right,” Grant said, standing. He tried to shake off the clutter in his brain. Four hours wasn’t enough sleep when it was all he’d had per night for over a week. What he wouldn’t give to lie down again and sleep for a solid twelve hours. He knew he’d feel like a new man. He released a breath. But a person didn’t ignore the wagon master when he called. So he ignored the ache in his muscles, the queasiness of his stomach, and the pain in his head, and inched his way to the tent flap, fighting dizziness.

  “Doctor Kelley? Are you feeling okay?”

  A spasm seized his gut. “I’m fine,” he gasped out. But he wasn’t. So much for the disease coming to an abrupt end. The worst thing for a doctor was coming down with his patients’ disease and being unable to help those who still needed him. “Buddy, please ask Mrs. Kane to come see me. And tell Blake I’m not going to be able to meet with him.” He took hold of Buddy’s arm just before he could dash out to do what he’d been told. “Don’t mention anything about sickness in front of the soldiers. We don’t want to risk them getting jittery about the wagon train and not allowing us to winter at the fort even after cholera is over.”


  Another wave of dizziness swept over him. He backtracked to his pallet and fell across the blankets, fighting hard to keep from retching. “Buddy, hand me the black bag and that bucket.”

  The boy’s eyes were wide as he brought the items. He opened the bag without being told and lifted out the quinine. “Is this what you’re wanting?”

  “Yes. Thanks. Please, go get Amanda Kane and tell Blake I’m not coming.”

  Grant took a dose of quinine and prayed it would begin to work quickly. One thing was for certain—by tomorrow night, he would either be dead or getting better. That was the nature of cholera. It came on suddenly and killed quickly and violently. Grant had seen the killer strike more times than he cared to count. Only now it was personal. He was the one lying sick retching violently, and soon it would be even worse and he wouldn’t be able to get off his mat. As a matter of fact, even now, he felt the need to stay put. His limbs were shaky and weak and he shivered under his blanket, hands and feet freezing as though he were walking barefoot in those snow-covered mountains to the west.

  All he wanted to do was sleep. Then he wouldn’t feel so bad. If he could lose consciousness for a few hours and allow the quinine a chance to go to work for him, maybe he’d wake up on his way to becoming well again.

  Proper or no, Ginger slammed into the men’s tent, letter in hand. “Elijah!” she hollered. “Wake up, you varmint and tell me what this means.”

  Greely, one of the lucky men that made it through the sickness, sat up. “Shut your trap, Ginger. We need our rest.”

  “It’s all right.” Elijah sat up, wrapping his blanket around his rail-thin shoulders. Ginger nearly gasped at his appearance. How could a man be reduced from vibrant and vital to a skeleton so quickly?

  “I have to talk to you about these letters.” She shoved them toward him but kept all three firmly clutched in her hands.

  Greeley and Ames laughed. Sickness sure hadn’t scared the meanness out of them.

  “Web finally let you in on the new plan, huh?” Ames asked.

  Elijah slowly shoved to his feet and clutched her arm. “Let’s go outside.”