She walked on beside him, inwardly proud of the man who slowed his pace to match hers, a man who gave without stinting of all he had for her comfort. How could a woman not love a man such as Cameron Montgomery? For if this feeling of joy and gladness while she dwelt in his shadow and in his presence was not love, she had no notion of what that emotion might entail. She wanted to find ways of pleasing him, recalling his pleasure in the shirt he wore, even now. She’d cut buttons from the antler of a deer, the same one who had given his hide for Cameron’s benefit, and pounded holes carefully in their centers so that she could sew them in place. The shirt was soft and supple, the sleeves turned up now, due to the heat of his exertion, and she beamed as she watched him, knowing that he wore the garment with pride.
And then they were at the chosen place for a crossing, the river before them, the rocks and swift current looking more dangerous by the minute. The men seemed assured of success, and Cameron himself told her he had already conquered this crossing three times before, and therefore knew the best place to enter and leave the water.
“Promise me you’ll hang on tight while the wagon goes across,” Cameron said sternly, readying his team, tying down anything that might wash away in the current. “I want you on the seat where I can watch you, and I’m going to tie you down. I’ll fasten a rope to your waist and then to the seat, but I’ll leave it so that you can undo it should the water tip the wagon and douse you in the current. Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll be watching you every minute, and I’ll take care of you.”
“I know that,” she said confidently, sure of his word.
The reality of the crossing was more traumatic than she had planned for. The water washed up over the sides of the wagon, sloshing about and soaking into the contents inside. She had put everything up as high as possible before they’d gone forward early in the morning, but some of their belongings were still liberally doused with the cold mountain water. She clung to the seat, feeling anchored by the rope holding her in place, even more secure in the knowledge that Cameron knew what he was doing and that she had only to follow his lead. There was much to be said for belonging to a strong man, she decided, and then felt her heart flutter within her bosom as she considered that thought.
She belonged to Cameron, as much as did his oxen and wagon and the very basics of his life, his clothing and food, and the rest of his paraphernalia. And yet she knew that of all he owned, all he claimed as possessions, she was the most valued item of which he boasted.
The climb up the riverbank was treacherous, and two of the wagons tipped, their contents being washed away, except for the few items the men were able to salvage. The wagons were set upright and the men formed crews, repairing and hammering fresh boards in place so that they might be fit for the trail. Women brought items to the two families and provided for their needs, clothing and food being supplied readily by those who were willing to share of their own bounty for the less fortunate travelers.
The trail leveled out by late afternoon and a fairly flat piece of land, perhaps two or three acres of grassy surface, was welcomed as a spot to halt for the night. Trees surrounded their oasis in the midst of the wilderness, and the wagons seemed to huddle even closer than was usual in the chosen place. One of the menfolk produced his Bible and read to the assembled group from the Scriptures, that which described the trials and tribulations of those who had lived centuries before, but who had shared in the perils of overland travel in their quest of a homeland.
Elizabeth listened to the words of comfort and promise and sat close to Cameron as they shared a quilt on the grass. The eyes of many of their fellow travelers dwelt upon them, perhaps gauging their relationship, or wondering about the days ahead and what they had planned once the outskirts of Denver were reached.
“I’m sleepy,” Elizabeth said softly. “Would it be rude to gather up our quilt and go to bed?”
“No.” Cameron looked around the circle. “Several folks have already headed for their wagons, but I don’t want you going anywhere by yourself, sweetheart. I’ll come with you.”
Together they approached his wagon and sought out the darkness behind the overland vehicle, there where the light of campfires did not reach. Cameron leaned over to place the quilt he’d carried inside the wagon and then reached for Elizabeth. His arms held her against his body, his lips found the skin of her forehead and temples and then he held her apart from his body, and peered down at her in the darkness, smiling as his words spoke of their future.
“I’ll build you a house as soon as I can,” he told her. “We’ll need at least three bedrooms eventually, to hold our family, but I think just one will do for a while. I have money in the bank in Denver, enough to buy furniture and whatever else we need to set up housekeeping. I’m glad you’re familiar with a needle and thread, sweetheart. We’ll need curtains and all sorts of things to make a home. Some we can buy, but—”
She shushed him effectively with fingertips touching his mouth. “Yard goods are a lot less expensive than ready-made stuff from the catalogue. All we need is a store with dry goods in supply and I’ll be happy. We’ll need a good length of oilcloth for the kitchen table though. My mama couldn’t abide bare wood to eat on. We always had fresh oilcloth for the kitchen table every spring.”
She inhaled sharply. “I’m remembering more and more all the time, Cameron. That little item came out of nowhere into my mind, and I could see the yellow daisies on the printed oilcloth we had last, before she died. Mama made curtains that had the same daisies all over them, and I helped her with the sewing. I think I can manage to recall the specifics of keeping house and sewing and all the rest. I can remember her teaching me how to cook and even the foods my father enjoyed the most. Mama always catered to him, spoiled him rotten, he used to say.”
“Will you spoil me the same way?” he asked, hugging her as if he could not help but show his affection.
“Probably,” she said agreeably. “I have a notion you’ll pretty much have your own way.”
“I’ll try to make you happy, Elizabeth,” he vowed, “and since pleasing you makes me happy, we should get along just fine.”
She tilted her head back and sought his lips, whispering against the firm line of his mouth. “Kissing you pleases me, Cameron. I know there’s a lot more to this business of being married, but when the time comes, I’ll enjoy whatever you give me.”
His legs weakened beneath him as he considered her words. “I think I’d better lift you inside the wagon, love,” he said, his voice sounding rough and yet soft against her ear. “I don’t think my self-control is going to last for much longer. I’m too ready to make you mine right now, and I can’t do that. I’ve already been tempted almost beyond my ability to resist you.”
She sought his gaze in the darkness, the moon lending a bit of light to the endeavor. “You mean when you touched me and kissed me in the wagon?”
“Exactly,” he agreed. “I had the devil’s own time not getting rid of your clothing and holding your warmth in my arms. I’m not trying to scare you off, Elizabeth, but you spoke the truth when you said there’s a lot more to being married than just kissing.”
“If you want to…” she began hesitatingly.
“No.” His voice regained strength as he denied her offer. “When we find your father, I want to be able to look him in the eye and tell him that I’ve taken care of you, not taken advantage of your innocence.”
“When we find my father?” she asked. “Are you so sure?”
“I’m sure,” he replied. “My daddy always told me that a man should ask for the hand of his bride from her father. I did it once, and I’ll admit that I wasn’t sure what I was getting into, but this time I’m certain of my ground. We’ll have a good marriage, Elizabeth, and it’s gonna start off right.”
With strong hands and arms that were muscled from hard work, he lifted her into the wagon and, to his credit, only snatched one quick kiss before she found her way to the bed he’d given her, disappearing
from his sight in the darkness. Without hesitation, he crawled beneath the wagon, having scooped up his quilt first and the flat pillow that offered little comfort. Only his boots were removed as he settled down for sleep, and he yawned widely, pleased with the few minutes he’d spent with his future bride.
He reached for the bottom of the wagon bed and rapped twice with his knuckles. An answering sound from above made him grin and he heard, faintly, but clearly the simple words she spoke for his hearing alone.
“I love you, Cameron Montgomery, but I forgot to give you your pillow.”
The trail into Denver was not without hardship, but the members of the train bore it with no complaint, happily anticipating the sight of an actual town and the chance to see a general store wherein they could buy supplies, and even clothing if they so chose. The children were regaled with tales of long candy sticks that would probably be available for sale, stored in tall, glass containers. Although some of them might have to share such a treat with a brother or sister, they didn’t seem to mind the scarcity of such luxury in their lives.
Elizabeth heated water over the campfire the morning before Denver city-proper would be reached. It would be a rushed job, she knew, but clean hair was a necessity, and behind the wagon was as good a spot as any to do the deed. Jennie approached her as she gathered her towel and soap, smiling as she approached, bearing her own bucket of warm water and the necessities for such a task.
“You’re about to wash your hair, aren’t you?” Jennie asked in an undertone. “I thought I’d join you when I saw you heating water. I knew it was either for a bath in a basin or a hair-washing and I was hoping for the latter.”
“I can’t bear not having it clean any longer,” Elizabeth told her. “Scrubbing my head in a cold stream was a necessity but not a pleasure. I can hardly wait to feel the warm water on my head and the soap being scrubbed into my hair.”
“I’ll do yours if you’ll do mine,” Jennie offered. “It always felt so good when I was a little girl and my mama washed my hair over the kitchen sink for me. She got right down to the bottom of things and it made me have chills down my spine when she poured the warm water over my head.”
“Well, I may not be able to do as well as she, but I’ll do my best,” Elizabeth told her. “And having you back here behind the wagon with me makes me feel better. I’ll appreciate your company.”
They poured the liquid soap over each other’s hair and took turns with the warm water and the washing and rinsing of long lengths of shimmering locks. It was not an easy task, but much more fun with two of them sitting together in the sun, using their towels on the wet strands before they combed out the snarls.
Elizabeth’s golden blond tresses and Jennie’s dark locks were a contrast to Cameron’s gaze as he watched them silently. Both of them pretty women…and then he revised that thought. They were beyond pretty. Lovely or beautiful were words that would better describe them.
He smiled as he watched Elizabeth’s hair dry, the sun turning it into the color of clover honey from the comb, shades of brown with sunshine mixed in, making it a sight for a man to dwell on with only one thing occupying his mind. Cameron’s would not be deterred from the wedding to come and his smile of pleasure as he gazed on the woman he’d chosen was but an outward sign of the deep hunger for her that filled his being. A need he must set aside now in order to concentrate on the day before them when his duties as a scout would be needed on the trail ahead.
Cameron and Joe rode in the next morning from scouting the trail that led from the mountains onto the flatter lands that were the outskirts of Denver. Their presence brought welcoming smiles from the womenfolk, who sensed that civilization was not far off. But no smile was wider than that of Elizabeth, busily finishing up the bacon and making toasted bread over the fire on which to serve the meat for their breakfast.
Her happiness was tinged by her awareness of Jennie’s leaving. The two women would soon part company, probably forever, once Denver was reached. For Jennie’s father was determined to go on to Oregon, was planning on settling there, leaving his daughter no choice but to go with him. Jennie had not complained, but Elizabeth knew that the parting would be painful for both of them. Finding another woman who was compatible was not easy, indeed the other ladies on the wagon train were married, with families for the most part, and Elizabeth had not found close friendship with any of them.
Now, she watched as Jennie approached, comb in one hand, a length of ribbon in the other. Without being asked, Elizabeth reached for the comb, and stepping to the back of the wagon, began braiding Jennie’s hair for what might be the final day of travel. Without speaking, she turned her back for her friend to return the favor. It was a task she could have accomplished alone, but one that she would be able to remember with pleasure in the future as she thought of these final days together.
Cameron called her name from the other side of the wagon and she watched as he rounded the corner afoot, pausing as if he would not infringe on her grooming.
And then he grinned as he saw that the two women were finished with the dressing of their hair. “Want me to tend to your fire, ladies?” he asked. “We’re about ready to break up camp, and we need to grab a quick bite of breakfast and then y’all need to be getting ready to move out.”
“I still have things to pick up and sort out,” Jennie said, rising and scurrying toward her father’s wagon. “I’ll see you later,” she called back to Elizabeth. “Save me some bacon.”
“I’ll go inside the wagon and straighten things up,” Elizabeth said, hanging her towel over the tailgate. “You and Joe can feed yourselves, I suspect.”
“We don’t have far to go this morning, sweetheart. Another couple of hours and you’ll see civilization, at least the Denver variety of it.”
“Will there be a hotel there, with an honest-to-goodness bathtub for me to use?” she asked anxiously.
“We’ll get a room and stay in town for a few days,” he assured her.
“One room?” she asked, lifting her eyebrows at him.
“Yeah, one room. We’re going to look for your father later today and see if he’s been seen or heard of here. If we can’t get married right off, we’ll put you in the room and I’ll sleep in the wagon until things work out.”
The hotel was impressive, Elizabeth thought. A large two-storied structure, painted white with dark green shutters on the first floor, and a fancy front door that was obviously imported from the East. Etched glass adorned it, the sunlight shining through it onto the hotel lobby’s floor casting lovely patterns of flowers and leaves entwined together. She paused to admire the effect and then turned as she heard Cameron speaking to the clerk at the desk.
“We’ll need a large room to share,” he said. “We’ll be married later on today.”
“I’ll see what I can find for you, sir,” the young man asked, shooting an admiring look at Elizabeth as she waited beside Cameron.
“We also need some information,” he said, watching as the desk clerk handed him the pen and turned the registration book to face him. “We’re looking for the young lady’s father,” Cameron told him. “He survived a wagon train attack some ways east of here, and we’re hoping he might have ended up in Denver.”
“Maybe the sheriff would know something,” the young man said. “He’s pretty well kept up on things going on in town.”
“Well, first we’d like to see a room, and I want to order a bath for Miss Travis.”
“I’ll show you the room, and notify the kitchen that you’ll need hot water and a tub, sir,” the clerk told them. “I’ll take your bag, Miss Travis,” he said, reaching for the small leather valise Cameron had given her from his wagon.
“I’ll take care of Miss Travis,” Cameron said shortly, narrowing his gaze at the clerk and then grasping Elizabeth’s bag in one hand, his own in the other. “If you’d give Miss Travis the key, we’ll find the room.”
Without hesitation, Elizabeth was handed the key to a room on the se
cond floor, and together they climbed the curving staircase. “You were a bit rude to that nice fellow,” she said reprovingly.
“That nice fellow was giving you the eye,” Cameron told her harshly. “You might as well know right now that no other man looks at you thataway. You’re mine, Elizabeth, or at least you will be by tonight.”
He was jealous, Elizabeth thought, happily aware for the first time of a man who would not allow any untoward attention to be fixed on her. Cameron had truly staked his claim, as he’d told her weeks ago, and had no intention of releasing her from his care.
The room was large, with a bed big enough for two, a dresser, complete with mirror, and two chairs. A wardrobe stood against one wall and Cameron put their valises inside.
“I’ll empty those out,” Elizabeth told him. “I see there are hooks to hang my dresses on, and my other things can go into one of the drawers. Shall I take care of your clothing, too?”
“Might as well,” he said, turning from the wardrobe to offer her a smile that encompassed her as a whole. “You’ll be sorting my things out for a lot of years to come, I’ll guarantee.”
A knock at the door announced the presence of two young men carrying buckets of water. “We’ll be right back with the tub,” one of them said, furiously blushing as he cast his eyes on Elizabeth. They backed out of the room, returning in minutes with the large, metal tub Cameron had ordered.
“I’ll leave you to your bath, ma’am,” he said with a bow. “I’m off to see the sheriff and look around a little. I’ll give you an hour of privacy before supper. Will that do?”
“Yes, of course,” Elizabeth said distractedly, hardly able to keep her eyes from the steaming water that filled the tub. “I won’t be long.”
“Go ahead and enjoy it,” Cameron said. “I’ll order you a tub from the catalogue once we get to the general store, but it’ll probably be a couple of weeks at least before we get it. More like a month, I imagine.” He shut the door firmly behind himself and then opened it again, poking his head inside the room.
Wed Under Western Skies Page 9