Owen Family Saga Box Set: Books 1-3

by Ward, Marsha

  Ned compressed his lips, then licked them. After a moment, he spoke in a rough voice. “That’s not something I can promise. We don’t see eye to eye.”

  “You can be civil to him.”

  Ned cocked his head sideways. “I reckon I can do that, so long as he understands that when this journey’s done, you’re marrying me.”

  “I said so, didn’t I?” Jessie replied, shrugging. “What James understands or doesn’t understand is not in my power to guarantee.”

  Ned seemed satisfied, and after spending another quarter hour in Jessie’s company, he went off to check the stock.

  When Ned had gone, Jessie took the needle from the cloth and flicked it with her thumbnail as a thought came to her. What does James understand? It’s certain that he made a point to seek me out this afternoon. And the thing he said! If he was my man. She brought her hand toward her face, remembering the long-ago touch of James’s lips on hers, but she pricked herself with the needle and dropped it.

  “Oh drat!” she said, cross with herself. She pulled a piece of wood out of the fire to light her search for the needle, then got on her knees and carefully felt over the ground beside her seat.

  “What’s amiss?” James Owen stood beside her. He leaned over and took the wood from her hand. “Have you lost something?”

  His voice brought her upright, and her face flushed as she recalled where her thoughts had recently strayed. When she tried to speak, nothing issued from her throat. She cleared it and tried again, dismayed at the squeaky sound. “I dropped my needle. It’s the only one I have.”

  “I’ll help you look.” He knelt down alongside her, holding the firebrand first high, then low. Though they spent several minutes going over the ground thoroughly, the needle remained lost.

  “That is so vexing,” Jessie said as she climbed to her feet, ignoring James’s proffered hand. “But I thank you for making the attempt.” She turned her head away from James and wiped her eyes, not wanting to share with him that her frustration had brought out tears. She glanced back at him just as he spoke.

  “It’s the least bit a man can do,” he said with a lingering look at her, and walked away into the darkness. He left Jessie feeling faint and breathless, wondering what he’d meant to imply. The warmth in her vitals confirmed her notion that he’d continued his tactic from the afternoon. James had set out to court her.

  Chapter 38

  The next day, James arose early and checked the same ground he and Jessie had covered the night before. He found the needle and was about to seek out Jessie and give it to her when he noticed that Ned had her attention.

  James gritted his teeth and carefully wove the needle into the inside lapel of his coat. He had plenty of time later to give it back.

  He went to saddle the black mare, but he found that another horse had bitten her on the hock during the night, and she was not fit to ride without treatment and rest. He shook his head over the matter, patched up her wounds, and saddled the sorrel.

  Just as James put his foot in the stirrup, the dog chased a raccoon into camp, and they both ran under the sorrel’s belly. The horse began to buck, and James, losing his grip on the saddle horn, flew into the air.

  He woke up some little time later to the sound of Heppie Heizer’s screams, seeing Jessie’s anxious face leaning over him. Actually, Jessie had two faces, and they swirled in front of him, along with those of the rest of the party who crowded about him.

  “She-ah,” he said, trying to rise up.

  Jessie pushed him back to the ground with gentle hands. “Lie still,” she said. “You busted your head.”

  “I’ve got to hunt.” His voice came out in a croak, startling him. His fingers explored his head, and came upon a knot wet with blood. He looked at his fingers. There were several too many of them.

  “Not today,” she insisted, although her voice shook. She turned away for a moment, saying to the crowd, “I’ll get his bed made up, if some of you will carry him over.”

  James closed his eyes, heard the voices of assent. His head did ache. So did his back. He flexed his extremities and they all worked. None of his bones seemed broken. He opened his eyes again and raised himself up on one elbow. “Jessie?”

  Again, she pushed him down. “James, don’t you rise up and hurt yourself more. Stay still. Soon’s I lay out your bedroll, Robert and George will bring you to it.”

  “Stop dancing around, Jess.”

  Her forehead—foreheads—furrowed in concern. “I’m still as a statue, James. It’s your eyes that are rollin’ around. Stay still, now. You’ll be right as rain after you take a rest.” Her voice still shook a bit.

  He shut his eyes, dizzy from the effort of trying to sort out which image of Jessie was the true one. He knew he would regain his strength by and by, but right now he felt that emptying his stomach might settle it down. He fought the impulse. He’d mess up Jessie’s dress. That wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all. Six little beans, but his head hurt!

  James sensed movement as Jessie stood up, but he kept his eyes closed. He remembered how much she disliked blood and wondered if she, too, was battling with her stomach. Still and all, she seemed determined to take care of him.

  After a while, somebody grasped him under the arms and someone else grabbed onto his legs, and they lifted him off the earth. Except for a moment when his trousers bumped against the dirt, the trip seemed uneventful. Be that as it may, James was grateful to be on solid ground again. The swaying motion had increased his nausea to the point that he didn’t know if he could keep down his breakfast or not.

  He couldn’t.

  Hush, he hadn’t felt this weak since, well since he’d been laid up in the jail in Pueblo Town.

  A cool, wet cloth touched the corner of his lips, wiping away the muck he’d vomited up. He opened one eye. Jessie was beside him again. One-and-a-half Jessies, now, not two. Seeing any number of Jessies was a long sight better than looking up from a jail cot and seeing Rand Hilbrands’s face.

  “There now,” Jessie said. “Feel better?”

  James closed his eye and nodded, then wished he’d kept his head still. He breathed out to keep the nausea at bay. After a few moments, he whispered, “Anytime you’re around, I feel better.”

  He felt a fleeting pat on his shoulder, a little shove. “Go on with you, James Owen! Here you lay with a broken head, and you’re trying to sweet-talk me.” Even as she spoke, Jessie lifted his head slightly and dabbed at the wound.

  “Nah,” he said, teetering on the edge of a black void. “No sweet talk. I want you around for all my life and always.”

  Jessie inhaled sharply.

  James felt light as air, his head suspended in Jessie’s still hands.

  He felt the wash of her breath on his face as she let it out. Her fingers began to work quickly to bind up his head as she said, “I’m betrothed to Ned.”

  He opened both eyes, lifted his hand, and touched her cheek. He let his hand fall to his side. “He don’t give you enough respect.”

  “James!” The whispered word exploded in the still air. “Is the pot calling the kettle black?”

  He understood her meaning, and struggled against the looming darkness to find words to lay her worries to rest. “I’ve always found you irresistible, Jessie.”

  “How can you? You love that … Amparo girl.” She bit off the words.

  “Don’t you care for Hannah and Heppie both?” James closed his hands into fists, fighting to stay conscious. “Luke and Max? Your ma and pa, as well?”

  “Oh,” she said, her voice a quiet squeak. “I reckon I do.”

  “I have mighty tender feelings for the two of you,” he whispered. “But you’re here, warm and alive. You can’t say … flat out … you’re not fond of me.” His voice trailed off, but he made a final effort and added, “I need you.”

  James felt his hands relax. He let the blackness enfold him.

  ~~~

  Jessie tried to say, “I’m not fond of you a
t all,” but her voice wouldn’t come out of where it lodged in her dry throat. When James’s muscles went slack, she gasped and put her hand over his heart to see if it was beating. The rhythm was strong and regular under her palm. He still lived.

  She hastened to finish the bandage around James’s head, his last words echoing in her heart. I need you. What was a body supposed to say to that? Ned had never said he needed her. She didn’t think he needed anyone to get along in life. He always carried an air of self-assurance. Maybe he could manage without her. I said I’d marry him, though. She rocked herself up onto her feet and looked down at James. Even if James needs me, I gave my word to Ned. A frantic feeling came over her, and she felt her face creasing into furrows. Who do I need?

  ~~~

  Ned hurried over to take Jessie’s arm when she moved away from James Owen’s bedside. “Can’t you let your ma tend to Owen?” he asked.

  Jessie looked up at him and shrugged off his hand. “I’m handy at taking care of wounds,” she said.

  “What was all that talking about?” Ned felt his face settling into a frown.

  “Ain’t you full of questions.”

  “Yep. I see what’s going on. He’s always hounding you.”

  “The man took a fall, Ned. He’s half out of his head. Concussed, I reckon. A little talk might keep him lucid.”

  “Just take care he doesn’t hog all your time.”

  Jessie made a motion of denial with her hand. “I reckon I’ll spend most of it catching up on the laundry. There’s a good washing pool here. A day or two off the trail won’t harm us.”

  “Well, I don’t agree. We could pack Owen into a wagon and keep traveling on.” He smiled down at Jessie. “I’m anxious to get to the end of the trek.”

  Jessie put her hand over her mouth. He could see a frown behind her hand. “Don’t be unseemly, Ned.”

  “What’s unseemly about wanting to get married? I do look forward to that, missie.” He had more to say, but Jessie had started off, walking away from him. “Hey!” he said. “I mean no disrespect.”

  “Disrespect. Humph!” Jessie said, putting her head down and striding quickly toward her wagon.

  Ned threw his hands into the air. “Jessie?” She didn’t answer.

  ~~~

  Another traveler came down the road late that afternoon, a slovenly man riding an ungainly roan horse and leading a string of three sorry-looking pack horses and a haltered gelding. Ned, who was pouring water from a bucket into the water barrel on the Bingham’s wagon, watched the fellow ride up to the Bingham party’s encampment. Robert strode out to meet him, and the man asked for permission to stay nearby. Robert gave it.

  The stranger settled his animals for the night before he wandered over to Mrs. Bingham’s fire when suppertime drew near. Ned, still hauling water, saw him approach.

  “Howdy, ma’am,” the stranger said, stopping and tipping his beat-up felt hat to Mrs. Bingham. “My name’s Lester. Alphonse Lester. I have a clutch o’ hen fruit here I’d be willing to trade for a meal.” He held up a once-blue bandana, lumpy with eggs, and looked around the camp, counting the people with little nods of his round head. “They won’t stretch for omelets to feed your kin, ma’am, but you could make a nice cake with ‘em.”

  “Mister Lester, set down and take a load off your feet,” replied Mrs. Bingham. “I ain’t seen eggs in a long while. Fresh, are they?”

  “Two days old, ma’am. I traded for them back a ways.”

  She tapped her nose with one finger. “You’ve had them two days. How long did they sit before you acquired them?”

  “Oh no, ma’am. They’re next thing to fresh. I saw them laid, bunked down in the stable as I was.” He scratched his nose with his free hand and added, “I’m a trader, traveling these parts, making one trade here, another trade there. Folks know I’ll be around from time to time.”

  Mrs. Bingham nodded. “As the eggs are reasonably fresh, I reckon we can deal. That is, if you don’t mind beans and venison for supper.”

  “I’d be mighty pleased with beans and venison, Mrs. … ?” The word hung in the air.

  “Bingham. Mrs. Joseph Bingham.”

  Mr. Lester nodded. “Pleased to acquaint myself with you,” he said, handing over the bandana.

  “Ned,” she called over her shoulder. “Would you be so kind as to stow these in the grub box?”

  Ned took two steps and relieved Mrs. Bingham of the parcel. “Surely, ma’am,” he said, not taking his eyes off the trader as he did her bidding.

  “Your son, ma’am?”

  She hesitated, then said, “Near kin.”

  Ned approved of her not spelling out the relationship. It was none of the man’s business.

  Mr. Lester took a seat on the ground, again looking at the camp, his eyebrows raised in a speculative manner.

  Ned thought the man was a bit too interested in his surroundings. A sense of unease raised prickles on the back of his neck. Instead of moving off toward the spring to get more water, he grabbed a stick, sank down on his haunches, and stirred the fire. When he got up, he noticed that Mr. Lester’s eyes were fixed on one location. He looked in that direction. Jessie sat beside James Owen’s bed, blowing on a spoonful of gruel. She’d unbraided her hair after wearing it up all day, and it rippled down her back like a waterfall made of sun-kissed wheat.

  “Now that’s a mighty comely sight!” Mr. Lester said, and Ned whipped his head back around toward the man.

  The hungry look on the trader’s face surprised Ned, and his distrust strengthened. He hovered around the fire, looking for tasks to keep him in camp so he could watch the trader.

  After supper, instead of getting to his feet and going to his own campsite, Mr. Lester drew a pipe out of his pocket and lit it. Ned gritted his teeth. Will the man never leave?

  “Are you folks traveling far?” Mr. Lester asked. “Winter ain’t the best time for making good progress.”

  Robert answered him. “We’re nearly to our destination.”

  “Oh, would that be Santa Fe?”

  “No.”

  Ned felt his respect for Robert Fletcher growing. Being closemouthed was the proper way to treat this interloper.

  “The hot springs down yonder?” Mr. Lester tilted his head and gestured with it in a westerly direction.

  “We’ve got kin waiting for us where we’re going.” Robert had a slight frown on his face.

  He’s getting irritated with the man, Ned thought. Good.

  “Hmmm,” said the man. “I can see you folks been having a hard time of it. You know, I’m a trader. Maybe I can help you on your way.”

  “How’s that?” Robert asked.

  The man leaned back. “You’re short a horse. I have a nice gelding I picked up along my way. A first-rate draft animal. Strong. Pulls good, and all day long, sweet as you please. You wouldn’t go wrong trading for it.”

  George bent forward. “We don’t have much in the way of goods. What kind of trade are you talking about?”

  “You have something here in camp that brightens my eyes.” The trader motioned with his head. “Sitting right over there. That young gal.” He stared at Jessie.

  Ned bounded to his feet and stood above the man. “You disgust me,” he shouted. “Get out of our camp!”

  Chapter 39

  A few days later, James led the party into Santa Fe. They parked the wagons in the plaza, the historic end of the trail from Missouri.

  Robert came up to James and said, “You’ve been here before. Where’s the best place to buy foodstuffs? We’re low on flour.”

  James moved his head carefully to look around and get his bearings, relieved that his head had stopped swimming during the day’s travel. “I wasn’t here long. Just a couple of days.” He pointed. “If I remember right, there’s a mercantile shop two or three blocks over.”

  “Do you need anything? I’d like the company,” said Robert.

  “I’ll go with you. I have a few things to buy.”

>   “Good. Ned and George want to stay with the wagons, in case that trader they ran off shows his face in town.”

  “What was that all about, anyway?” James asked. “I was fairly well out of touch when the yelling started.”

  As they walked along, Robert told James about the disgraceful proposal the trader had made. “Ned was all for dumping him in the pond, but George talked him out of it. He said it would ruin the water for all time.”

  “Six little beans!” James exclaimed. “Did Miss Jessie find out what was going on?”

  “I believe young Luke teased her about it.”

  “I wish I’d been up to pounding the fellow. Sounds like my nemesis did a good job on his own.”

  Robert’s face took on a quizzical look. “The man’s manners were lacking, that’s sure, but what’s your interest in the subject?”

  James didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. His teeth tugged at his bottom lip. He released it and said, “I want Jessie back.”

  “What?” Robert stopped in the street.

  James turned around to face him. He nodded. “I want to marry her.”

  “But you’ve recently lost a wife. Isn’t it early to want another?”

  James took a step closer to Robert. He kept his voice low when he replied. “I reckon some would say that. It’s a fact I’m not finished grieving for Amparo, but I’m running out of time, Rob. Heizer’s anxious to marry once he gets to Albuquerque.” He smacked his leg. “I care too much for Jessie to let her go into a marriage she’s dreading.”

  “Dreading? Are you sure?”

  “Watch her with Heizer. They quibble all the time. There’s not the air of a loving couple hanging about them.”

  Robert began to walk again. “So you’re rescuing her?”

  “No.” James strode along beside Robert for a few steps before he spoke again. “It’s not that at all. I have a great … tenderness for Jessie. I regret leavin’ her behind when I came west. I took the coward’s way, lettin’ Pa run roughshod over our wishes.”