Jackson grinned as the girls approached, and Glory admired his right fine-looking eyes. They were blue, the color of eggs she’d found in robins’ nests each spring. And when he smiled, his white teeth flashed and his cheeks creased like he smiled a lot. “All set, ladies?”
Ruth nodded, smiling back at him pretty as you please. “Got the supplies ordered?”
He chuckled as if he really liked her, and Glory felt funny inside, kind of empty.
“They’ll be ready first thing in the morning.” He glanced at Glory, and his smile reappeared, making her feel warm inside. “Had decided to buy our staples when we reached this point of the journey. We’ll be camping right outside town tonight. You’re welcome to stay with us.”
“No,” Glory said, dying inside to accept his kind offer. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing that prairie schooner leave without her. “I’m starting my new life, so I might as well get to it.”
Swallowing against a dry throat, she glanced up the street, her gaze taking in the orange glow of the setting sun. Things were settling down a bit, not as busy as they’d been earlier. Loud music now spilled from a doorway; men were coming and going from the building.
Gunshots rang out suddenly. Glory jumped, automatically crowding closer to Jackson. The crowd scattered like buckshot, ducking behind posts and water troughs. Then two men wearing tin stars on their shirts appeared from another building and quickly took in hand the two men who’d been staggering down the street and shooting off their guns. Glory didn’t understand what was going on, but she’d just as soon it hadn’t happened.
When the excitement cleared, Jackson took her arm and steered her down the street. “You’re sure you won’t stay the night with us? This town looks kind of rough.”
“You don’t have to start your new life this very minute,” Mary encouraged. “You can spend the night in camp with us, then return in the morning when we come for our supplies.”
The other girls chimed in to agree, and Glory felt real proud to have such good friends. She’d never had even one friend before, unless she counted Poppy, and now she had a bunch. But she couldn’t accept their generosity. She’d already declared her independence, and Poppy would expect her to take care of herself.
There wasn’t a better place to start than here, right now, in this town … among all these strange people. “Thank you much, but I’ll be staying here tonight.”
“All right then, load up, ladies. It will be dark soon.”
Before they got into the wagon, each girl gave Glory a parting hug. She would have liked for those acts of kindness to go on longer, but the girls kept the friendly embraces brief.
Handsome Jackson Lincoln swung himself onto the wagon seat, as the women scrambled aboard. Ruth claimed the bench seat beside Jackson, Glory noticed, and she didn’t blame her. That’s the spot she’d have chosen.
Then it was time to leave. Glory stood on the edge of the road, waving until the wagon disappeared from sight, trailing a faint cloud of dust. She drew a deep breath to settle her quivering stomach and tried to ignore the wave of loneliness that washed over her, the likes of which she’d never felt before.
Squaring her shoulders, she sighed. Wasn’t nothing left to do but get to making her new life.
She set off down the walk, having no idea where she was going or where she’d spend the night. Smells coming from a building with a wide window drew her. She peeked in to see people, happy people who smiled at each other, eating at long tables. Her stomach knotted with hunger. Her noon meal had been a biscuit and bacon left over from breakfast, and it had satisfied her at the time, but that had been a long time ago. Wondering just how one got to eat in there, she forgot where she was until a gruff-looking woman with gravy stains on her white apron came out to shoo her away.
“Get on, girl. Quit annoying the customers.”
Hurt, Glory turned and strode down the planked sidewalk, head held high as if she had somewhere to go. Before long, she slowed. The rough planks hurt her feet through the thin soles of her worn boots. She hadn’t noticed before, but a wind had sprung up, a wind with rain in it if she knew the signs. And it was getting dark. She pulled her thin jacket closer, wishing it fit better. It wouldn’t do much to block out dampness. She scanned the black sky. If it rained, it would take days for her clothes to dry, and wearing wet clothes was miserable, even in July. She’d gotten caught in storms a few times while out hunting, and she didn’t look forward to it again.
She kept moving, following sounds and dodging threatening-looking men who eyed her either with pity or with another look she didn’t understand at all. One threw her a coin. At first she was insulted and refused to pick it up, but then she decided that maybe the man would be upset if she didn’t accept it. She didn’t want charity, but then she’d never known anyone who had enough money to throw away. So she picked up the coin and stuck it in her pocket, hunched her shoulders against the dampness, and continued on down the street.
When she felt water well up in her eyes, Glory blinked hard and reminded herself of Poppy and how ashamed of her he’d be if she couldn’t make her own way. She couldn’t keep feeling sorry for herself. Stiffening her spine, she crossed the street and hurried toward a white clapboard building where men and women were gathering. Expensive buggies and fine-looking teams filled the yard, where a mellow light shone from lovely narrow windows. As she approached, the first stinging droplets of rain spattered on the dry road. The scent of rainwater hitting dry dust filled her senses.
A laughing couple carrying a baby entered the building, allowing warm light to spill out the door momentarily. A woman’s lilting laughter and children’s happy voices drifted to her, and she wished with all of her might that she could be a part of the festivities inside. Overhead, a bell tolled from the tower, its sweet sound filling the stormy night. She paused to look up, blinking rain out of her eyes. That sound called out to her, its friendliness beckoning to her. Welcome, welcome, welcome, it tolled. But then one of the finely dressed men spotted her and smiled, shooing her out of the way when he and his family passed. He was eyeing the Hawkins rifle she still clutched in one hand.
“Run along now,” he said. “Services are about to start.”
His little girl stared back at Glory with wide blue eyes before her mother pulled her forward and they disappeared inside the building.
Glory backed away, and the man pulled the big doors closed. A moment later, singing began, singing like she’d never heard before, and she was caught by the sound. How wonderful it was! The melodic sweetness washed over her like rich, thick honey as she stood in the rain and listened. Shutting her eyes, she pretended that she was in the warmth and light, singing the beautiful songs with all those nicely dressed folks.
Rain peppered down harder, reminding her that she was not part of what was happening inside, but still she hesitated to leave. The music was so beautiful. Finally, the thunder and lightning drove her to seek shelter, and she hurried across the street toward a row of tall buildings. Water soaked through the shoulders of her jacket and began seeping through the soles of her boots.
Driven into an alley for protection against the blowing rain, Glory found a large, wooden crate that offered temporary cover. Scrunching into the box, she ate a cold biscuit from her pack and watched the rain turn the street into rutted strips of mud.
Oh, Poppy, I miss you so much. Her heart ached nearly as much as the chill in her bones.
She wondered what Mary was doing tonight. She imagined her sitting by a warm fire, eating some of Ruth’s fine cooking. Salt pork and brown beans. And, of course, the girls would be talking and laughing. Then, due to the rain, they’d go into the wagon to sleep. It might be close quarters, but they’d be dry and cozy, having each other for company.
Leaning against the back of the crate, she pulled her feet in tight and closed her eyes. Gripping her rifle tightly to her body to keep it dry, she thought of handsome Jackson Lincoln with eyes the color of robins’ eggs. He’d been goo
d enough to give her a ride into town, and he hadn’t charged her a cent. How lucky Mary, Patience, Ruth, Harper, and Lily were to be traveling with a fine man like Jackson Lincoln, who would protect them and make sure they get to their destination, their new lives.
She drew a shaky breath and wished she were going somewhere, too. Wished with all her might that she had somewhere to go. Maybe she should have accepted one more night of their hospitality. It wouldn’t have affected her independence. At least she would have been dry. It was still up to her to find her own way, to make a new life, but she regretted starting out on her own on this night, this cool, rainy night. A few more hours with her new friends would have been nice. A few less hours of being so alone.
A fierce wind rattled the brittle crate, and she pushed farther into the corner. Curling into a fetal position, she listened to the rolling thunder, her fingers still gripping the rifle, her teeth chattering more from fright than from cold. Men ran in and out of the building with the loud music, passing by the end of the alley. Women laughed louder. One woman had come out to roll a cigarette, the lantern light catching the red in her hair. She looked strange. Glory heard strains of the other music from across the street—the sweet, pure music coming from the building with the warm light. It seemed the two sounds warred with each other. One, loud and disturbing; the other, sweet and comforting. The sweeter singing told about a place called heaven and how they were all going to go there someday and walk on streets of gold.
Streets of gold. She closed her eyes.
Just imagine.
Gritting her teeth to keep them from chattering, she tried to find a comfortable spot. She’d heard Poppy mention that town called Heaven once. He’d said it was a place some folks hoped to go when they died, but he wasn’t sure how they planned to get there. For days after, she’d lie in the grass in front of the shanty and stare up at the sky, trying to figure a way up there. It would take a mighty tall ladder, taller than any she’d ever seen, taller than any ever made.
Keeping her eyes shut, she listened to the glorious voices coming from the warm building, hoping that Poppy had gone to live in that town called Heaven and that someday she could go visit him. Wasn’t likely, though. She didn’t know where this Heaven was or how to get there. Right now, she wasn’t overly fond of Squatter’s Bend and not so sure it was where she wanted to start her new life.
And truthfully, she couldn’t imagine how Poppy could have gotten to Heaven, because he certainly wasn’t going anywhere the day she’d buried him six weeks ago.
She dozed, huddled against the blowing rain. Sometime during the night the music from both ends of the street stopped. Toward dawn, the rain slowed to a foggy drizzle.
It was full daylight when Glory awoke with a start, nearly dropping her rifle. Soaked to the skin, teeth chattering, her hair falling into her face, she crawled out of the crate. Stamping her feet, she tried to get the feeling back. She looked like a drowned rat and felt worse. If her new life was going to be anything like the past few hours, she hoped she would die young.
The town was strangely quiet, nothing like the day before. Creeping to the mouth of the alley, she watched from the shadows to see what was happening. Vapors of fog rose from the muddy streets, and the stillness was almost as frightening as the rowdiness of the day before.
Not many people were about. The few who stirred were shopkeepers removing shutters from store windows. The blacksmith’s fire was flaming up again, fanned by bellows pumped by the same big man who had worked there yesterday. The thin man at the livery stable yawned sleepily as he scooped grain into a bin for the horses.
Glory turned at the sound of a lone wagon rolling into town. The prairie schooner appeared through the gray mist, and she almost cried out with relief when she spotted the tall form of Jackson Lincoln on the driver’s seat and Mary’s pale face peering over his shoulder.
A more welcome sight Glory had never seen. She longed to rush out to greet them, but she didn’t. Instead, she shrank farther into the shadows, wishing she could hide somewhere until the traveling party collected provisions and left town. She couldn’t bear for Jackson to see her like this: her boots sucking water, her clothes soaking wet and muddy, her hair stringing in her face and dripping inside her collar.
Frightened, Glory held on to the corner of the building and ignored the hunger gripping her belly.
“Glory?”
She recognized Ruth’s voice and quickly shrank farther into the shadow of the alleyway.
“Glory!”
But she wasn’t quick enough. Seconds later a strong grip lifted her to her feet. She peered up into Jackson Lincoln’s handsome face, and she felt faint with embarrassment.
He eyed her condition; his cleanly shaven jaw was set with anger. “What did you do? Sleep under a downspout?”
Before Glory could respond to his query, the girls arrived, all talking at once.
“Glory!” Ruth exclaimed. “Why, you’re wetter than an old hen!”
“Come, get out of those damp clothes before you catch your death,” Patience exclaimed.
“Girl? What’s wrong with you?” Harper’s hands sprang to her hips. “Don’t you know enough to get in out of the rain?”
Jackson interrupted the girls’ excited babble. “Girls, you can ask Glory all the questions you want later. Right now, she needs dry clothes and, by the looks of things, hot coffee, and some eggs and bacon are in order.” He turned back to eye Glory. “That won’t slow you down but an hour or so, getting on with your new life, will it?”
Glory nodded meekly. No use lying to him now. He could clearly see that the first night of her new life hadn’t exactly been a bragging success. “No, sir, hot coffee and eggs and bacon sounds real nice—thank you, sir.”
He leaned close enough that she could smell the scent of his shaving soap as he chided gently, “The name is Jackson.”
Glory glanced at the other girls. Mary nodded. “It’s all right—we all call him Jackson.”
Glory smiled between chattering teeth. “Yes, sir. Jack … Jack … Jackson.”
She allowed the girls to lead her to the wagon, which Jackson had hitched to the rail in front of the mercantile. The girls helped her into the back, and Patience wrapped a light blanket around her shoulders.
Ruth rummaged in the food box and handed Glory a biscuit and bacon. “Here, have these for now. You must be starving,” she said.
Glory’s stomach clenched with hunger, but she forced herself to accept the food without snatching it out of Ruth’s hand. “I’m all right,” Glory said.
“No, you’re not. You should have stayed with us.”
Glory folded the whole biscuit into her mouth and chewed. It wasn’t mannerly, but she wasn’t in a mannerly mood this morning. She was mad—plain mad that she couldn’t take better care of herself. What did Jackson think of her now? He probably thought she was a helpless, sissy female too foolish to get in out of the rain.
“My, it’s a wonder you didn’t catch your death last night,” Lily scolded as she fished inside a trunk, sorting through clothing. “We slept warm as toast in here.”
Patience toweled Glory’s wet hair while Mary stripped her out of her wet clothing.
“Why didn’t you come looking for us?” Lily asked. “We were camped just outside of town. You could have found us easily.”
“Didn’t need to find you.” Glory wedged a fat strip of bacon into her mouth.
Lily and Patience exchanged a look that Glory couldn’t make out.
Clearing her throat, Patience smiled. “Why don’t we go over to the hotel and get you into a hot tub of water? Cleanliness is next to godliness, you know.”
Ruth shook her head. Her penetrating gaze seemed to silence Patience. Glory wondered if Ruth knew she felt they were ganging up on her.
“Nowhere in the Bible does it say such a thing, Patience.”
“Oh.” Patience blushed. “I’d always heard—”
“Well, if it don’t, it should,” Ha
rper grumbled.
Ruth gave her a stern look.
Lily reached for the dry clothing, and Glory shook her head and wadded another piece of bacon into her mouth. “Already had my bath.”
Lily’s face fell. “You did?”
“’Course.” Glory felt both resentful and puzzled.
“You did not.” Harper towered above her, hands on hips. “You slept in that alley in the rain. That’s how come you smell like a wet dog.”
Glory refused to look at her. She’d already decided they weren’t going to be friends, though Glory felt beholden to her for her help. “Did too—had one the day I buried Poppy, and before that I had my spring bath, same as usual.”
“Well … you can put these on.” Lily handed Glory a dry shirt and a pair of trousers. “I used to wear these when I helped in the orphanage garden. They should be about the right size.”
Glory hoped her eyes conveyed her appreciation. The last thing she needed was to fuss with one of those dresses on top of all her other troubles.
Jackson Lincoln emerged from the mercantile as Glory climbed from the back of the wagon wearing Lily’s trousers and shirt. They’d fit someone who ate more biscuits than she did, but Glory wasn’t complaining. The warm clothing was a heaping sight better than her wet ones. Harper intercepted the wagon master on the sidewalk, her dark eyes flashing.
“You know Glory slept in that alley last night? Sat there in the rain all night.”
“I suspected as much.” He fixed Glory with a tolerant look, setting his Stetson more firmly on his head. “You got a hankering to be a duck?”
Glory hastily braided her hair and stuck the braid under her hat. “No, sir, just don’t want to be a burr under your saddle.”
He patted the top of her head, then picked up a box of supplies and loaded it into the back of the wagon. “You let me worry about that, short stuff. The only burr under my saddle is getting these ladies to Colorado ahead of winter snows.” He stored the box and turned back to face the girls. “Mary, take Glory to the café and get a hot meal in her. Ruth, Patience, Lily, Harper? You help load supplies. It’ll take most of the day, so let’s get about it.”
Glory Page 4