Finding Promise

by Scarlett Dunn

  Jake helped Promise to her feet. “Did you know you could shoot a pistol?”

  “Not really. I just assumed after what I read in my journal I must have learned to shoot. When Shorty handed me the pistols, I seemed to know what to do. I remembered . . .” She paused, trying to explain her vision. “I think I remembered shooting at someone before now.”

  “Do you know who it was?”

  “It didn’t really make sense, just like a flash of something in my mind. I don’t know why I would shoot at anyone.”

  Jake turned his attention back to Shorty. “Did they get close enough for you to see their faces?”

  “No sir, we kept them pinned down pretty good.”

  “Let’s finish loading the wagons and meet up with the men,” Jake instructed. “Cole and I can drive the wagons.”

  Cole and Shorty walked away to store the provisions in the wagons, but Promise didn’t move.

  “Mr. McBride, could I have a moment of your time?”

  “Sure thing.” He turned his attention on her and noticed she was still shivering. “You best get some dry clothes on first. We don’t need you getting sick on us.”

  “I will change in a minute, but there is something important I need to tell you. I found something I think explains the reason those men were attacking us.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a stack of gold coins and held them out to him. “I found these in my dress.”

  Jake glanced at the money in her palm. “I already know about the money. You have coins in all of your dresses.”

  Her eyes widened at his revelation. “You knew?”

  “Shorty found them when he was washing some of your dresses. I didn’t mention it since I hoped if you found them it might help you to remember.”

  “I didn’t remember. I was just trying to find out why my dress was so heavy. Unfortunately, I only have more questions. Do you think this is what those men want?”

  “Yes,” Jake answered quickly. “You also have some valuable jewelry, and I’ll tell Shorty to give it to you. Maybe it will stir a memory.” Jake debated on what he should say, but he wanted her to be aware these men could come back. “Honey, you were traveling with quite a bit of money, expensive jewelry, and your clothing is obviously of fine quality, much nicer than the dresses of the folks you were traveling with.” He hesitated, but decided to tell her more. “I guess you know from reading your journal that you were on a wagon train with some older folks. The other women had money sewn into the hems of their dresses, but not as much as you had. I was hoping we could find out who those folks were and get the money to their families. I think those men heard about the money and that was the reason for the attack.”

  “And the man that you thought I was traveling with?”

  He hated to tell her the truth, but he saw no way around it now. “He’s dead.”

  Her eyes filled with tears as realization dawned. “You said you wanted to get the money to their families. What happened to the rest of the people?”

  Jake took a deep breath, and looked directly into her eyes. He had no choice; she needed to know the reason those men would come back. “We buried nine people.”

  She stared at him, disbelief in her eyes. “How many were traveling with me?”

  “Nine.”

  She couldn’t believe what he was saying. “No one else was alive?”

  Jake shook his head.

  Her unshed tears started streaming over her cheeks. “Do you think any of these people were my family?”

  Jake debated whether she was strong enough to hear the truth, but he knew in her position he’d want to know. “Let’s go inside the supply wagon.” He took her by the hand and led her to the wagon and lifted her inside. After opening the trunk, he pulled out the painting of the man he assumed was her husband. “Does this man look familiar to you?”

  Promise searched the face on the canvas. He was a handsome man, with pale blond hair like hers, and intriguing golden eyes. His face did seem familiar, or was it wishful thinking on her part? She wanted so badly to remember something. “I’m not sure.”

  Jake placed the painting back inside the trunk and turned to her. “That was the man I found near you.” He allowed her a few minutes to digest that piece of information before he added, “We’ll find out who you are.”

  She tried to wipe her tears away, but they continued to flow.

  Jake pulled her into his arms. “Shhh . . . We’ll figure this out, I swear to you.”

  She sobbed on his chest as he held her. Several minutes passed before she looked up at him. “You think he was my husband,” she stated, not really expecting an answer. “Were our things in the same wagon?”

  “The contents of the wagons were emptied onto the ground. We found another trunk very similar to yours, and it’s in the other supply wagon. The initials on that trunk were MS. Your trunk bears the initials PS, so yes, I thought he was your husband. You can go through the other trunk when you feel like it. But right now, you need to change out of these wet clothes.”

  “I’m sorry for holding you up. I know we need to leave.”

  Taking her chin in his hand, he lifted her face to his. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You are not holding me up. I just don’t want you getting sick.”

  Her gaze met his and they stared at each other for several long seconds. He didn’t know how she could look so beautiful, covered from head to toe in mud, her nose red from crying, but she did. Lowering his eyes to her lips, his heart started pounding in his chest. When he heard her quick intake of breath, he knew that whatever he was feeling, she was feeling it too. His mind drifted back to the kiss he’d given her when he was half asleep, and how good she tasted. He was tempted beyond reason to kiss her again. But he was wide-awake now, and he knew he shouldn’t do something he’d regret when he was thinking clearly. He mentally ticked off the reasons he needed to get out of that wagon. First of all, she was vulnerable to any man who could protect her right now. He reminded himself that he might have just buried her husband a few days prior, and he wouldn’t be much of a man to take advantage of that situation. He was lured by her beauty, no doubt about it, and female companionship had been a rare thing over the last several months. And the plain fact was, if he kissed her again he wasn’t sure he’d have the fortitude to stop. Finally, his inner dialogue was making headway. Back off, McBride. Leaning over, he gave her a chaste kiss on her forehead. “You’re a beautiful woman, and much too tempting for a man to be alone with in a wagon,” he said lightly. “Asleep or awake.”

  Chapter Nine

  The storm continued throughout the night, forcing all of the men to pull nighthawk duty. They rode into camp in pairs for hot coffee and to catch an hour or two of sleep before they went back out. Their only relief from the steady downpour was under the tent Shorty had set up over the small fire, hoping they would have a chance for their clothing to get somewhat dry.

  Like the men, Promise had a difficult time keeping her clothing dry as she helped Shorty keep a fresh supply of coffee over the fire.

  It hadn’t escaped the sharp-eyed cook that the bottom half of Promise’s skirt was drenched. “You need to get in that wagon, get some dry clothes on, and try to rest for a few hours, missy,” Shorty told her.

  “I don’t think I can rest right now. I’ve had too much coffee.” She couldn’t say for sure her nervousness was due to coffee, or because of the intimate encounter with Jake in the wagon. Replaying that moment in her mind, she’d thought he was going to kiss her again, and God help her, she wanted him to. But he’d left the wagon, rode out, and she hadn’t seen him since. She wanted to be awake to make sure he made it to camp safe and sound.

  Shorty figured she was probably still tense from the action earlier, so he didn’t push the issue. “I might as well get breakfast started since it’ll be dawn soon, and no one is getting much rest anyway. Jake didn’t even get to eat his dinner last night, so his stomach is probably saying howdy to his spine.”

  Promi
se smiled at his choice of words. “I’ll make the biscuits.”

  “I know the men won’t complain about that.”

  The first light of dawn was peeking through the clouds when Jake rode into camp. Shorty and Promise were carrying the pans to the fire when they saw him caring for his horse.

  “He has to be worn out, but he keeps going,” Shorty commented to Promise.

  Shorty often voiced his concern for his boss, and she’d come to realize that the burden Jake carried on his broad shoulders wasn’t lost on his men. And she had unwillingly become his biggest burden.

  Watching Jake walk to the campfire, she was struck by his rugged appeal, and thought he would be a remarkable subject on canvas. Without thinking, she ran to the supply wagon and pulled out her tablet and charcoals from her trunk. After finding a small space under the tent where her tablet wouldn’t get wet, and she had a clear view of Jake sitting with his back to a tree, she started sketching. Her fingers moved swiftly and skillfully over the paper. The flickering light of the fire highlighted the chiseled contours of his face. She worked quickly, capturing the square lines of his jaw, the sharp cheekbones, the strong, straight slash of his nose, and those dark eyes fringed in long, lush lashes.

  Her fingers stilled over the drawing. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she was doing something she had always wanted to do. How did she know she’d always wanted to draw a man like Jake? Her gaze drifted from the drawing to Jake’s face. Glancing back down at her work with a critical eye, she thought it was good . . . better than good. She’d captured the very character of the man.

  Shorty leaned over her shoulder. “Dang, you sure can draw. That looks just like him.”

  She smiled at him. “He’s a very interesting subject.”

  “I think this is a good sign,” Shorty told her. “Doing things you used to do will surely help your memory.”

  “From your mouth to God’s ears,” she replied. She glanced back at Jake and saw that he had moved. He was lying under the tent on his bedroll with his head on his saddle, his slicker covering him and his hat pulled over his eyes. Under that rugged exterior, no one would ever guess the gentleness of the man. She’d seen firsthand that side of him when he’d held her while she cried. Her feelings for Jake were confusing. She didn’t know if she was attracted to him because he had saved her life and she felt safe with him, or if her feelings ran deeper. But how could she allow herself to feel these things for Jake with all of the unanswered questions haunting her—questions about the handsome man in the painting. Was he her husband? Should she be grieving the loss of a husband, and possibly other family members? Rationally, she knew she needed answers before she would be ready to move on. Rational or not, she couldn’t keep her gaze from drifting back to Jake.

  Jake wasn’t sleeping; he was too tired to sleep. He’d just pulled his hat over his eyes so he could have some privacy to think things over. The situation could have been much worse, in his estimation. He didn’t know how many cattle he’d lost, but that was nothing compared to what could have happened. Promise and Shorty were safe, and that was what really mattered. He’d told his men he wanted them in pairs for the remainder of the drive. It was going to be difficult because he didn’t have that many men, but it was necessary. It was obvious the killers knew that Promise was the one person who’d survived the wagon train massacre. As he’d suspected all along, they wouldn’t forget someone who looked like her, and they were counting on the money being with her. They had demonstrated their cunning by taking advantage of the stampede to get to her. Fortunately, they hadn’t succeeded. He really wanted to go after them, but he had to consider all of his options. If he rode alone, it would give the killers the perfect opportunity to ambush him and take him out of the equation. If he took a couple of men to track them, that would leave the camp vulnerable, and not enough men to take care of the cattle. He thought about riding into the next town to see if he could pick up some more men for the drive, but that posed a risk in itself. Hiring strangers without recommendations could prove fatal. He hadn’t met every man on this drive before he hired them, but Shorty knew each and every one of them. Shorty’s recommendation carried a lot of weight, and he was pleased with every man he’d taken on. Not many were handy with a gun, but he had hired cowpunchers, not gunslingers.

  He wished his brother Colt was with him. As good as Colt was with a gun, he would make up for ten men. Thinking of Colt made his mind automatically drift to his brother’s new bride, Victoria. He’d never thought he would see another woman nearly as beautiful as Victoria. Her kind and loving nature made her even more so. Odd, but he hadn’t thought much about her over the last few days, and he considered that a good thing. Promise’s face flashed in his mind, and he guessed she was what kept his mind off of his brother’s wife. Whatever the reason, he was happy Victoria was no longer occupying his brain.

  His thoughts drifted back to Promise, and how she’d handled herself after the shootout with those killers. Most women would have been hysterical after such an event, and she had every right. Hell, he’d been scared to death when he’d heard those gunshots. He hadn’t known what he would find riding into camp.

  But it was when he told her the fate of the people on the wagon train that she’d started crying, and her tears were his undoing. He could no more resist pulling her into his arms than he could stop the rain from falling. On hindsight, it was probably a big mistake on his part. He was a man and she was a beautiful woman who needed him at that moment. That was a potent combination for a man, and he’d almost succumbed to the temptation.

  Hearing Promise laugh brought his mind back to the present. Cole was talking to her, and he had a way about him that made everyone relax. After seeing her tears earlier, her laughter was a joyous sound. It didn’t take long for some of the other men to join in their conversation. At least he knew she was well protected with that many men around, so there was a chance he might actually get some sleep. But that proved difficult when Shorty started relating the gun battle to the men, giving a blow-by-blow account. Hearing Shorty’s version of how they traded gunfire with those killers made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. There was no chance he was going to get any rest thinking about how close she came to death again.

  An hour later, Jake was up and ready to face another dismal day. He instructed Shorty not to lag behind; he wanted the wagons within his sight at all times. The cattle traveled three or four wide, and a drive this large often was spread out over a few miles. Jake rode up and down the line on the outside of the cattle to make sure there were no problems along the way, and to check on the drag riders. He wanted the wagons at the midway point so he would pass them each time he rode by. He’d made sure two men were riding drag, and he told Harm not to ride too far ahead today. He wanted to be able to keep up with each and every man.

  When they took their noon break, Promise approached Jake. “Mr. McBride, would it be possible for me to ride a horse this afternoon?”

  Jake sipped his coffee while he contemplated her request. She would be more exposed, but he would be right beside her the whole time. But he doubted this Southern belle had ever ridden astride. “I don’t have a sidesaddle.”

  “I don’t think I need a sidesaddle.”

  Jake furrowed his brow. “I’m not sure you would want to ride astride in a dress. And this rain is not going to stop. You’ll get soaked.”

  “I don’t mind a little water, and I have appropriate apparel,” she assured him.

  At that comment, Jake wasn’t sure what she meant to wear. Was she planning on riding in those thin bloomers of hers? No way, no how. “I saw all of your . . . apparel, and unless you are preparing to ride in your bloom . . .”—he thought better of saying that—“underthings, you would be showing a lot of . . . a lot of . . .” He didn’t know how to finish what he’d started. Lord, why couldn’t she be a man? I’ll just give her a slicker to wear. “Shorty couldn’t find pants that would fit you.”

  Without another
word she whirled around and headed to the supply wagon. When she exited the wagon, Jake saw she had something in her hand. She held up a wide-legged garment. “These are for horseback riding. That’s how I knew I didn’t need a sidesaddle. I’ve obviously ridden astride.”

  Jake stared slack-jawed at the garment. Shorty had shown him those things, but he had never seen a woman wear them before. His own mother didn’t ride, and as far as he knew, neither did Colt’s wife, so he wasn’t too familiar with women who rode horseback astride. “Oh,” was all he said, trying not to imagine how the garment would cling to every curve of her rear end. “If you’re sure you’re up to it, I see no problem with riding as long as you stay right beside me at all times.” And here he was trying to stay away from temptation. Hell’s bells!

  Promise smiled in satisfaction as she climbed into the wagon to change her clothing. It was going to be such a treat to get on a horse and get out of that wagon. It jarred every bone in her body each time they hit a rut or rock, and Shorty hit them all. She didn’t know how he stood it for hours on end, particularly considering his age, but she didn’t dare voice that to him. She heard the men ribbing him about his age, and he didn’t seem to find it amusing.

  She changed and left the wagon to find Jake waiting for her with a saddled horse. After he stopped staring at her in that split skirt, he gave her a leg up, her backside nearly touching his nose. Yep, they definitely show her rear in all its perfection. Walking to Preacher, he grabbed the extra slicker he got from Shorty. “Put this on. I don’t need you coming down with something.”

  She wasn’t sure what precipitated his gruff tone, but she ignored it and asked sweetly, “But what will you wear?”

  “That’s an extra slicker. Anyway, I’ve been wet since I left Texas. It’s not going to bother me.” Looking at that slicker is better than looking at your backside all day. He watched as she shoved her hair under a hat Shorty found for her.