Cassandra Austin

by Trusting Sarah

  River was astonished. He had been prepared to ask her intentions, not have her question his.

  She misunderstood the look and continued quickly, “For all his size, he’s still a boy and too young to be completely on his own. What will you do when this train reaches its destination? Does the boy figure in any of your plans?”

  River tried to look serious in the face of Sarah’s growing anger but failed and laughed.

  Sarah couldn’t understand why. He couldn’t have become so heartless that he didn’t care about the boy. No, she had seen how much Rice meant to him. Maybe he thought she was treating him like a baby. How dare he make light of her greatest concern! She was so angry she could hardly speak. “I won’t see that boy abandoned!”

  River raised a hand to ward off the daggers her eyes were throwing. “He won’t be. I promise.” He got control of his laughter and watched her. If this wasn’t genuine anger, she was an accomplished actress, indeed. Finally he spoke, “Don’t be mad. I didn’t mean to laugh at you. I just didn’t expect a lecture.”

  Sarah hadn’t forgotten his question of the night before with its unspoken accusation. Anger gave her a resolve she hadn’t felt much lately. She looked unseeing at the scene around her and spoke with as steady a voice as she could manage. “You asked last night what I wanted from Rice. There is something, and I’m willing to lie to get and keep it.” She turned her face in his direction, and he watched the anger slowly fade to sadness. “Friendship,” she whispered.

  He hadn’t known what she would say, but somehow he wasn’t surprised. “God knows why, but I believe you. You won’t lose it because of me.”

  Sarah sighed deeply and relaxed for the first time. River watched her a second before pulling his hat down firmly over his brow and mumbling, “Now where’s that boy ridden off to?”

  Not all of Sarah’s anger had been spent. She was still disgusted with herself for being attracted to this man who so obviously disliked her. “Get down and look for him.” The words were out before she thought.

  River was secretly pleased. This was closer to the Sarah he remembered. “All right, I’ll do that.” Before she had time to protest, he put the reins in her hands and climbed over the side, jumping away to avoid the wheels.

  Sarah wanted to call after him, but she was afraid to look back, afraid, in fact, to move at all. What was she supposed to do? Her arms began to ache almost immediately, she was holding the reins so stiffly.

  The oxen plodded on as if they hadn’t noticed any change, and she began to relax. As long as nothing unusual happened, she would be all right. As long as she didn’t need to turn, stop, slow, hurry...

  Before she had quite panicked, Rice rode up. She watched in horror as he went from the back of the horse onto the wagon seat. The horse turned quickly and trotted off, answering River’s whistle.

  Rice grinned as he took the reins from her wooden fingers. “River teaching you to drive the team?” he asked cheerfully.

  * * *

  “I almost forgot.” Eli emerged from the supply wagon with a small brown bottle. “Rice, take this to that German fella. He’s got a toothache, and I want him to try it. Ya remember how we used it?”

  “Yes, sir,” answered Rice, closing the book and setting it beside Sarah’s sewing basket. “But it didn’t do my tooth no good.”

  Eli put the bottle in the boy’s hand as he came to his feet. “Well, it might help his. Just go, and don’t argue. Ya got some way of making him understand what to do?” At Rice’s nod he continued, “Stay till yer certain he understands.”

  The boy grinned at Sarah’s wink and started away. Eli called after him, “On second thought, ya best stay and watch him do it so yer shore.”

  Eli sat down where Rice had been and watched Sarah intently. She went back to her sewing, trying to ignore him. He wouldn’t let her. “Wanna tell me how ya know Daniel?”

  Sarah stabbed her finger with the needle and gasped, bringing the wounded digit to her mouth. Had he said Daniel?

  Eli came to his feet. “I didn’t mean to scare ya!” He sounded disgusted. He went to the fire and lifted the coffeepot, mumbling to himself, “Never seen a gal so jumpy.”

  “Everything’s quiet,” River announced, coming out of the shadows. At the fire, he held his cup under the pot so Eli would fill it.

  Eli grumbled harder.

  “What’s wrong with her?” River asked, indicating Sarah, who still clutched the bleeding finger.

  “Nervous as a treed ‘coon.”

  Sarah glared at them both.

  After one sip, Eli set his cup aside. “Now, where is that fool boy?”

  Sarah looked at him in surprise. “You just—”

  “Yer right. I’ll just have ta go look for him.”

  Before Sarah could speak he stomped away. “He...” she began, pointing after him.

  “What?” River sat down beside her and picked up Rice’s book. He absently turned the pages, stopping at an illustration of a castle with a knight in the foreground.

  “He—oh shoot!” A drop of blood formed on her fingertip. Concerned she would stain her sewing if it didn’t stop, she pressed her thumb against the wound. River gently pulled her hand toward the light. “It’s just a scratch,” she said, trying halfheartedly to pull away.

  “Must have gone pretty deep.” He wrapped a handkerchief around the finger and closed his hand over it.

  “It’s nothing,” she protested. “I just didn’t want to ruin the dress.”

  River eyed the small pile of gray cloth on her lap. “That’s a dress?”

  Sarah laughed, and River found himself captivated by the sound. “A doll’s dress,” she clarified.

  Their eyes met, and River found he didn’t want her to turn away. “You don’t laugh much, do you?”

  His voice had dropped to a softer tone, a seductive tone that she well remembered. His nearness, his blue eyes, the warm touch of his hands produced a nearly forgotten quiver in her stomach. She basked in it a moment before she remembered what had caused her to poke her finger. “Daniel, does Eli know your real name?”

  River shrugged. “Maybe. Probably. Why?”

  Sarah tried again to pull her hand out of his grasp, but he held it fast. “I thought he might have heard me call you Daniel.”

  River grinned. “You do it all the time.”

  Sarah’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s asked me where we knew each other. Just now, he set us up to be alone. He’s probably listening.”

  River seemed unconcerned. “He’s asked me, too. It gives him something to think about.”

  “But, Daniel, what do I tell him?”

  River turned her hand loose and came to his feet. “I don’t care, Sarah. You said you could explain. Try it out on him.”

  “But he won’t care about an explanation.” Her voice dropped to a whisper again. “I’ve been in prison. That’s enough to...”

  River saw her perplexed look as she searched for words. “Enough to what? It won’t make any difference to Eli.”

  “Then why does he keep asking? What will he do with the information?” Sarah watched him intently, unaware that she unwrapped and rewrapped her finger.

  River shrugged. “He’s a nosy old man. He likes to know everything, but he’s not a gossip. He’ll keep it quiet if you ask.”

  Sarah took a deep breath. “He didn’t want me working for him in the first place. He’ll want to leave me in Fort Kearny when he finds out I’ve been in prison and I’m a...a...”

  River saw her cheeks turn pink as her quiet voice trailed off. A slight smile touched his lips. He didn’t stop to wonder why his voice was suddenly soft. “What? A fallen woman?”

  Sarah turned her face away, and he knelt beside her. “Leave out that part,” he teased.

  “Daniel, be serious.” She looked into the handsome face and longed to reach out and touch it. This was the Daniel she remembered, the Daniel she missed.

  “All right,” he said. He took her hand and unw
rapped his handkerchief from the finger. He told himself this was getting dangerous; he should move away from her and quickly. He also wanted an excuse to stay. He used the handkerchief to wipe away the blood and gently tested the wound. “I’ll be serious,” he promised. “But you have to relax. If you don’t want to tell him anything, don’t. But don’t expect him to quit asking questions while you’re so jumpy. You’ve let him spook you.”

  He took his handkerchief and stood. She wanted to tell him that everything spooked her. Even him—maybe especially him. Instead, she tried to sew, but her hands shook. Her stitches would be crooked, or she would poke herself again.

  He retrieved his coffee cup and found a place to sit that put the fire between himself and Sarah. He didn’t want to watch her but there was little else to watch. She looked frightened and lost, and he began to feel sorry for her. Perhaps she had already been punished enough; perhaps she truly wanted to start a new life.

  He cursed himself for a fool, being taken in again by those big brown eyes! Why did she insist she had an explanation? Was she forgetting that he had been there? In a way, he would like to hear this crazy tale. He wondered if he could get Eli to repeat it after she told him. He didn’t question that she would tell Eli, he only wondered why she hadn’t already. Maybe she hadn’t figured out anything plausible yet.

  He watched her carefully fold the tiny pieces of cloth and place them in the sewing basket. Damned if he didn’t find himself liking this woman who sewed doll dresses for little neighbor girls and worried about the well-being of young boys.

  Sarah was glad to see Eli and Rice return. They strolled leisurely into camp together. Eli, looking from Sarah at one side of the fire to River at the other, seemed disappointed. She was more convinced than ever that he had intentionally left them alone.

  Rice took his place beside Sarah, pleased with his visit to the von Schiller wagon. He related it to her eagerly, managing to leave out any mention of Mr. von Schiller’s toothache.

  * * *

  The next day, the train left the Little Blue and followed the divide toward the head of Elm Creek. As the wagon rocked along, Sarah listened to Rice. “All of a sudden it just don’t seem right,” he concluded.

  “Do you think the girls are unhappy? Are they fighting?”

  Rice shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, unless you’ve started liking one more than the other, I don’t see anything wrong with the way things are.”

  “But I thought you was just supposed to have one girl.”

  Sarah tried hard not to grin at him, he looked so puzzled. “When one girl becomes special, she should be your only girl, but for now, you and the von Schiller girls can all be friends.”

  “I don’t want to be just friends, not like I am with you and River.”

  Sarah nodded her understanding. “I’d just give it time, then. Maybe one of the girls will suddenly seem special.”

  “Or one of them will decide I’m special.”

  “Exactly,” Sarah said. “Until then, enjoy their company.”

  Rice was grinning at Sarah and almost missed the fact that Eli’s wagon was slowing to a stop. He pulled back on the reins and stopped the team a little too close to the lead wagon.

  Rice leaned over the side of the wagon to see what was ahead of Eli. Sarah leaned over her side, as well, then drew back with a gasp. She grabbed Rice’s sleeve, pulling him upright, and pointed.

  “What?” Rice asked, straightening. A half-naked Indian rode past their wagon. His head, held high in pride and defiance, had been shaved except for a strip down the center from forehead to neck. A long lock of hair hung down his back. Two other Indians followed, and they positioned themselves at intervals along the side of the wagons.

  “Pawnee,” Rice said. “We got to pay them tribute.” Even as he said it, Sarah saw River ride toward one of the Indians. They talked, using mostly gestures, then River wheeled his horse and rode toward Eli’s wagon. In a moment he returned carrying a sack, which he handed to the Indian.

  “Does this mean we’re safe from them now?” Sarah asked.

  “We weren’t never in much danger,” Rice said. “If we decided not to give them nothin’, they’d probably just let us move on. But maybe they would follow and steal what they want in the night.”

  Sarah shuddered at the thought of the savages sneaking into camp in the dark. “I’m glad River paid them,” she said.

  “‘Course, they might try it anyhow. You can’t never tell,” Rice went on. “I heard once about a Pawnee sneaking into camp and stealing a blanket right off a fella without never waking him up.”

  While Sarah was trying to decide if Rice was teasing her, River rode up beside their wagon. After a brief greeting, he looked back toward the receding band of Pawnee. “I guess I can understand why some folks call them beggars, but to them, sharing food is a sign of friendship. Most whites would say they think so, too, though they forget it when they’re asked to share with Indians.”

  “I was just explaining it to Sarah,” Rice said.

  “Don’t be scarin’ her with Indian stories,” Rice warned his young friend.

  “No, sir,” said Rice seriously. Sarah wondered if he was afraid he had already said more than he should have. She wanted to reassure him that she wasn’t close to panic yet, but she would wait until River had left.

  “We’ll camp outside the circle tonight,” River said before he put spurs to the pinto and rode toward the next wagon.

  “Outside the circle?” Sarah asked.

  “That means the stock will be corralled inside the circle of wagons. Indians like to stampede the cattle, but it’s the horses they want. They won’t likely try nothing if the horses are all inside.”

  Sarah thought this arrangement would make the travelers themselves more vulnerable.

  “Hey!” the boy shouted. “There won’t be no dancing if we’re outside the circle!”

  Rice was right. They made a late camp, corralled the stock and posted extra guards. The next morning, River announced the train would travel at noon, giving them the morning to check their wagons. A small party went out to hunt but didn’t venture far from the camp.

  Sarah took the opportunity to call on the Williams family and deliver the doll dress she had finished. Amy skipped to the wagon to find her doll. “I’m grateful for all you’ve done for Amy,” Martha said.

  Sarah smiled. “I haven’t seen her around as much lately. You know she’s always welcome, in spite of what Eli says.”

  Martha brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “She’s finally decided to play with the Hess boy. He’s five. She didn’t like him at first because she’s used to being the oldest. He won’t let her boss him like she does her brothers.”

  They didn’t visit long; both women had work to do. Sarah left, reminding Martha to send Amy over to visit anytime. After the noon meal, Rice and Sarah sat on the wagon seat for nearly an hour, waiting for River to give the word to pull out.

  “They sure don’t like traveling on Sunday,” Rice commented.

  A voice behind them seemed to rise an octave. Rice leaned over the side of the wagon to watch the argument. “It’s the doctor’s wife. She just joined her brother. River’s starting to get real mad.” He sat up and grinned at Sarah. The arguing made Sarah uncomfortable, but Rice seemed to think it was fun. She was afraid these new malcontents would lead another revolt. In a moment the voices were ominously silent, and Rice looked behind them again. “It’s over,” he announced.

  Sarah wished she could see, too, but she didn’t want to climb out of the wagon and be caught watching River again. “He didn’t hit anyone, did he?”

  “Nobody hit anybody.” River’s voice made her jump. He appeared on Rice’s side of the wagon, and she turned away to hide her reddening face.

  River walked past without further comment and untied his pinto from the side of the lead wagon. Once in the saddle, he waved to Eli, and the wagon started forward almost immediately. Ric
e cracked the whip above the backs of the oxen, and they were on their way.

  Sarah had tried not to watch River as he rode in front of them, but the white patches on the horse’s painted coat caught the sun and drew her eye in his direction. Rice was right, he was angry; it showed in every line of his body as he sat on the restless horse, rifle across his lap, watching the wagons pass.

  Rice’s grinning face came into her line of vision. She hadn’t realized how intently she had been watching River. She turned away, embarrassed.

  “Bet he give them what for, huh, Miss Sarah?”

  Sarah nodded her assent.

  The boy went on, “I can’t see how come they’re so upset. River gave them the morning and promised them a day at Fort Kearny.”

  “I’m sure it’s the principle of working on Sunday that bothers them,” she said. Rice shrugged, and Sarah smiled to herself. At least she didn’t have to worry about a theological debate with Rice.

  Chapter Six

  Wednesday morning found the train camped two miles above Fort Kearny. They had passed the fort in late afternoon, and Rice had observed that the last two miles had been about the longest all day. Whether he was referring to his desire to get to camp or the way the sand dunes slowed the wagons, Sarah had agreed. Now, as she helped Eli fix the breakfast, she knew Rice was hurrying through his morning chores, eager to go into the fort.

  “Well, here’s the list and some money.” Sarah turned as Eli stuck his head out of the lead wagon and began to climb down. She looked around before she realized he was talking to her. “You and Rice better take the supply wagon. Got a brake beam worrying me on this one.”

  Sarah tried to cover her surprise as the old man put the paper and coins into her hand. She hadn’t expected to be going into the fort, but the prospect of seeing it with Rice made her feel as eager as the boy.

  When River and Rice came to the fire to eat, River made himself comfortable, as if he had been looking forward to a leisurely breakfast. Rice, on the other hand, grabbed up his food even more quickly than usual, and Sarah was afraid he would choke.