Separate Roads

by Judith Pella

  Jordana opened her mouth to protest, but then realized this might well be the adventure of a lifetime.

  “The First Cavalry has returned the settlers to the Elkhorn, and everything seems to be secured here in the eastern half of the state. We won’t be going any farther west than Fort Kearney, and therefore we shouldn’t be under any great risk. The Indians have been pushed west and north, and Matt assured me that the militia felt confident of their removal.”

  “I see,” Jordana replied, not sure she wanted to show too much enthusiasm. If she appeared too cooperative, Brenton just might change his mind.

  “I’ll speak to the survey leaders tomorrow and square it away. Captain O’Brian and his men will accompany us as guards, so it’s not like he isn’t used to bailing you out of trouble.”

  “The man saves me from a group of bushwhackers, and now suddenly it’s a full-time job to save me from harm?” she questioned sarcastically. It was a good thing Brenton didn’t know about the incident with Zed Wilson.

  “He saved you that day with Damon, as well. You might well have come to harm had you walked back to town alone.”

  “Thank you for having such confidence in me,” Jordana replied snidely. Getting to her feet, she added, “Captain O’Brian will probably resign when he hears that I am to accompany this traveling circus.”

  “I’m surprised he didn’t resign from the army once he found out you were still on this side of the Missouri,” Brenton deadpanned.

  Jordana stuck out her tongue and made a face. “Well, for your information, Captain O’Brian thinks we could be good friends.”

  “He and the rest of the single male population of Omaha,” Brenton answered matter-of-factly. “But I give O’Brian credit for having enough brains to pursue you for nothing more than friendship. The poor man would die of exhaustion if he had to keep track of you twenty-four hours a day.”

  Jordana shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Yes, you look to be at death’s door yourself.”

  “I’m sure I do,” Brenton replied. “You would weary any man before his time.”

  ——

  “This is out of the question!” O’Brian declared.

  Governor Saunders, Peter Dey, and Brenton were the only nonuniformed individuals in the room, but they weren’t the only source of O’Brian’s misery.

  “Captain, I understand your misgivings, but it’s important that we soothe and calm the nerves of our citizens,” his superior began.

  “But there are dangers out there that far exceed—”

  “Captain, unless you wish to face court-martial for insubordination, I’d suggest you refrain from commenting and allow me to speak.”

  O’Brian grew rigid, knowing he was totally out of line. “Yes, Colonel.”

  “Very good. If Miss Baldwin attends this survey team under her brother’s protection, she will send a message of confidence to the people of Omaha.”

  “I agree,” Governor Saunders replied. “There has been a general panic in this city since the beginning of August. We would do ourselves a great service to send you off with our utmost confidence. We don’t want to keep folks from coming to our great territory just because of a little Indian misunderstanding.”

  O’Brian wanted to scream that this little “misunderstanding” was responsible for many deaths on both sides of the war. But being a soldier, he remained obediently silent. He would do as they ordered, although God alone would keep them from harm. Nevertheless, as bad as it was to have to worry over Indian attacks, now he’d have yet another problem to contend with.

  Jordana Baldwin.

  He sighed heavily. The woman positively frightened him more than any thought of Indians or the injury they might cause.

  “So you do understand, Captain?” Governor Saunders concluded.

  Rich hadn’t heard the last few minutes of the governor’s winded soliloquy, but regardless, he understood full well. “Yes, sir.”

  The colonel and the governor exchanged smiles. “Wonderful. Then we’re all agreed.”

  Not by a long shot, Rich thought silently. Not by a long shot.

  21

  Friday morning dawned with a taste of rain in the air. Lacy red-violet clouds decorated the western horizon, while in the east the sun began a steady ascent to start the day. Jordana and Brenton arrived at the assigned point of departure, their unusually enclosed wagon seeming a strange oddity for the traveling caravan of horses and pack mules and covered wagons. The Baldwin wagon looked bulky and not at all suited for enduring rocky prairie paths. Rich had questioned Brenton about this at one point, only to be reminded that the same wagon had seen them through the wilds of Missouri. Rich had acknowledged this with little more than a grunt. He didn’t want the Baldwins on this trip. Or perhaps better put, he didn’t want Jordana Baldwin on this trip.

  Rich eyed the duo as they sat in their wagon awaiting instructions. Jordana had worn a dark blue skirt and long-sleeved calico blouse. Her hair had either been pinned up or tucked up inside the wide-brimmed sunbonnet, while kid gloves covered her hands. She looked very prim and proper sitting up on the wagon seat with her brother. If Rich had not known what a wildcat she could be, he would have thought her poorly suited for the job they were about to face. But he couldn’t fault her in that area. Rich knew she was made of strong stuff. She had more spunk and enthusiasm for life than most folks, especially women.

  Nevertheless, she was a woman, and life on the open prairie was hard on women. Too hard. Rich had seen them suffer and die. Some were left alone too long and suffered prairie madness. Long weeks and even months of howling winds, isolation, and fear of nature and the creatures inhabiting the area left many women unable to cope. He put the thought from his mind. Jordana wasn’t the type to go mad from travel or life on the plains. She was strong. Jordana knew her strength, too. She thrived on the adventure and excitement around her, and she had a certain hunger for things that most women would just as soon leave to their men.

  “We’re ready if you are, Captain,” an older man said, drawing his horse up alongside O’Brian’s.

  Rich looked at his sergeant and nodded. “Very well. Here is the map of locations where the surveyors hope to take measurements.” He handed the man a piece of paper and pointed to a heavy black line. “We’ll head west to the Platte. After that, we’ll move along south of the river. Put a scout out ahead of us. Tell him to keep an eye open for any sign of trouble. I don’t care if it’s just a hunch—if that man so much as feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, I want to know about it.”

  “Yes, Captain,” the older man replied, folding the paper. “I’ll make sure he knows what’s expected.”

  The sergeant moved out, instructing a skinny private regarding the area he would be scouting. Rich knew this soldier would be Sergeant Hart’s choice. The boy had lived in and around Omaha all his life. He knew this prairie better than anyone. Hart would have been foolish to pick anyone else. The private studied the map for a moment, then saluted and headed his horse out.

  The survey team consisted of five Union Pacific men. None of them were well-known to Rich. He had been introduced to the men in rapid-fire succession, with no one dwelling long on any particular man or name. He supposed it was just as well. He would learn enough about each man before their three weeks on the prairie concluded. Besides the men who were traveling mounted, there were two supply wagons and several pack animals for when the surveyors needed to get equipment into places wagons could not go.

  Maneuvering his horse alongside the Baldwin wagon, Captain O’Brian touched the brim of his cap. “Morning, Mr. Baldwin. Miss Baldwin.”

  Brenton greeted him warmly, but Jordana only nodded polite acknowledgment of his greeting, saying nothing. He wondered only for a moment what he’d done to cause her to be so cold and distant, but there wasn’t time to worry about it.

  “I suppose you have some idea of the job you’ll soon be facing,” Rich asked.

  “I believe we do, Captain,” Brenton rep
lied. “We’ve been working pretty hard on our own for nearly two years.”

  “Yes, but most of that time has either been in Omaha or east of the Mississippi. Is that not true?”

  Brenton nodded. “I suppose you have a good point.”

  “There is very little, if any, Indian trouble back east. Oh, you get an occasional renegade who causes trouble, but we both know it’s never anything all that serious. Out here, however, we are left pretty much to the mercy of the elements and the Indians.”

  Brenton eyed Jordana for a moment, and Rich wondered if he might change his mind about bringing her on the trip. It wasn’t safe or reasonable to have her along, and Baldwin knew this. Rich could read the regret and apprehension in his eyes.

  “We’ll be just fine, Captain O’Brian,” Jordana replied before Brenton could say anything. “You do your job, and we’ll do ours.”

  Rich wondered once more at her cool tone. She had clearly placed a wall between them. “I don’t have a problem doing my job, Miss Baldwin. It’s just that you doing your job makes my job about ten times harder.”

  She jutted out her chin, tilting her nose delicately in the air. “That, sir, is your problem.”

  Later in the day, Rich observed that Jordana had changed her clothes to a full brown skirt and matching jacket. She had apparently wearied of the wagon and was now riding the sorrel gelding that had previously been tied to the back of their wagon. As she rode out away from the others, Rich thought it the perfect opportunity to seek her out and learn what had caused her to treat him with such indifference.

  “You need to stay close to the others,” Rich warned as he came up beside her.

  Jordana acknowledged him with a glance but said nothing.

  “Look, I don’t know what I’ve done to irritate you. I only mentioned you remaining in Omaha for your own safety. Forgive me if that seemed less than gallant of me.”

  She turned to glare at him for a moment. “I am sure you are quite gallant, Captain. I just don’t happen to need anyone acting on my behalf. I’m here simply because my brother couldn’t bear the idea of leaving me alone in Omaha.”

  “And he has a good point in his worries,” Rich replied. “It’s just that bringing you along on this trip is hardly much better.”

  She shrugged. “I tried to tell him I was fully capable of caring for myself, but he refuses to see me as a grown-up.”

  Rich chuckled, which he quickly learned was the wrong thing to do. She frowned at him and resumed her stiff posture before replying, “I should have expected that of you.”

  “Yes, you should have,” Rich replied, quite unwilling to show her any pity. She didn’t need pity, as he saw it. Maybe a good spanking, but not pity. They were nearly twenty yards off to the right of the rest of the group, and Rich felt confident he could bring up the past without further discrediting her before her brother. “After all,” he continued, “I’ve been there for your encounters with other less-than-honorable men.”

  “So you walked with me back to Omaha. It’s not like I couldn’t have done that on my own.”

  “What about the alley and the attacker you faced?” he asked.

  He watched her bite her lower lip, a nervous habit he’d observed of her on more than one occasion. When she did this, she looked very innocent, almost childlike, but that’s where any idea of Jordana Baldwin being a child ended. She was a comely woman, and he’d seen men, even his own men, look at her with a clear mind to her beauty and shapely figure.

  “I suppose, Captain, that you will be throwing these things in my face for as long as time continues to put us in each other’s company.”

  “It wasn’t meant as something to throw in your face, but since you are the one who is intent on proving your independence and ability to take care of yourself, those are situations you must consider.”

  She nodded. “I realize that. And I have considered them.”

  “To what conclusion?”

  “I believe I shall purchase a gun for my protection.”

  Rich rolled his eyes heavenward. “God help us all,” he said in complete reverence. “Miss Baldwin, do us all a favor, but especially me, since I am the one who generally bears the brunt of your heroic efforts to right yourself of injustice—do not buy a gun.”

  She looked at him as if he’d spoken in a foreign language, then began to grin. This was soon followed by her laughter.

  Rich smiled in spite of himself. It was the first time she’d shown any merriment since they’d left Omaha. “Laugh all you want, Miss Baldwin, but I’ve been shot before.”

  “So have I, as you will recall,” she said, still smiling.

  “I have no desire to face the contents of the blue bottle,” he said, matching her good mood, “nor the humiliation of being shot by a woman.”

  “Well, a young woman has to protect herself.”

  “Yes, especially when that young woman is you,” Rich replied. “Very few other women have a tendency toward knives or clubs.”

  “But if I had a gun,” Jordana stated, appearing to think the matter through quite seriously, “I could protect myself. My father taught me something of shooting when I was young. In fact, I’m a better shot than Brenton. His eyes are weak, you know.”

  “You are dangerous, Miss Baldwin,” Rich said in a low, husky tone. “Most dangerous.”

  She smiled, appearing to quite like the sound of that. “Then no one should worry overmuch for my safety, for surely such danger will ward off many who might think to tangle with me.”

  Rich nodded and added, “Or the challenge of beating you out will bring them in droves.”

  “Are you a God-fearing man, Captain?” she asked out of the clear blue.

  Rich wondered at her line of questioning but decided there was no harm in answering. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Why do you ask?”

  “Because I am a God-fearing woman. I believe completely in His power to keep me from harm and in His ability to steer me out of dangerous paths.”

  “And how do you suppose God does this, Miss Baldwin?”

  She looked at him oddly for a moment. “What do you mean?”

  “Just what I said. How do you suppose God keeps you from harm and steers you out of dangerous paths?”

  “Well, by showing me what’s best and teaching me what’s harmful.”

  “Like staying out of dark alleys or not taking rides with young men in an unescorted fashion?”

  She frowned and turned back to study the landscape of tall prairie grass.

  “I merely mention it,” he went on, “because it seems to me, in order to be shown or taught, one has to be willing to observe and listen. I would suggest that God does strive to teach you, Miss Baldwin, but if you’re unwilling to heed His direction, how do you propose to remain out of harm’s way?”

  Just then the scout returned, and Rich’s attention was taken elsewhere. “Forgive me, but I must go check in with my men.” He touched the brim of his cap and gave Jordana a brief smile. He could tell by her expression that his words had found their mark. She didn’t respond with a snide or ludicrous comment. She merely considered his words, appearing to realize their importance.

  “Oh, and I might add, riding astride rather than sidesaddle isn’t exactly the best way to maintain a low profile,” Rich added.

  Jordana frowned. “Is there any possible hope that I might be left to live my life my way, without some man coming along to rebuke me for my choices?”

  O’Brian laughed. “Where you are concerned, Miss Baldwin, I would imagine anything is possible.”

  ——

  Later, as they set up camp along an ample creek, Sergeant Hart found Rich brooding over Jordana.

  “If I didn’t know better,” Hart drawled, betraying his southern roots, “I’d say your mind is given to thoughts of our young miss.”

  Rich smiled and motioned Hart to join him. “Now, Wes,” he said, letting the formality between them drop, “you know full well that would be completely out of characte
r for me.”

  Wesley Hart laughed. “Yes, it would be. But I’ve seen stranger things happen in this world.”

  “So have I,” Rich replied. “I suppose I admire her gumption. She’s intelligent and brave. Of course, she’s also a little flighty and easily riled.”

  “You’ve just described many women. What makes this one so special?”

  Rich shook his head. “I’m not sure I know the answer to that question.”

  “I’m thinkin’, Captain, that you’ve lost your heart to this one, and that’s what makes the difference.”

  Rich looked at Wes and saw the glint of amusement in his eyes. “It would be a disaster if I had,” he said firmly, but in his heart he realized how close Wes was to the truth of the matter. “There’s no room for a female in my life,” he added quickly, before taking himself off to check on the rest of the party. “No room at all.”

  “Better clear out a corner, Captain,” Wes called after him.

  Rich shook his head. His relationship to women in the past had proven most harmful—especially to them. He had simply thought to offer this young woman friendship. She seemed so needy of it. But perhaps Miss Baldwin had been right. Men and women couldn’t be friends without one or both losing their hearts in the matter.

  He stopped just outside the camp and caught sight of her as she cooked over an open fire. She appeared completely at ease, unconcerned with her rugged setting or the lack of comforts. Just then the hem of her skirt touched the edge of the flames and in a flash caught fire. Rich began to run toward her but then stopped as she calmly doused the fire with a nearby bucket of water. She inspected the damage for a moment, pulling her skirt up to reveal shapely legs. She glanced up to catch Rich watching her and quickly dropped the skirt back into place.

  She shrugged in a nonchalant manner as if it were quite normal to catch one’s dress on fire, then went back to work as if nothing had happened.

  She must have one weary guardian angel, Rich thought, turning his attention elsewhere. Then letting out a heavy sigh, he knew he was in for a long and tiresome trip. Make a corner, indeed, he thought, remembering Wes’s words. Jordana Baldwin wouldn’t need a corner, she’d need an entire room—or in the case of his heart, she was the type of woman who would spread out to fill every conceivable nook and cranny. It would take a stronger man to keep her in line than he knew himself to be.