“No,” Nathan murmured.
She didn’t act as if she’d heard him or even knew he was standing there. Her attention remained on her brother and the stranger.
“Emma, you can’t go away from the caravan alone,” Ben said. He was a whole lot more patient than Nathan would’ve been if she was his sister.
The bugler blew a warning call. It was almost time to pull out.
But Nathan couldn’t force his feet to move from the spot he occupied. He had to know what would happen.
“I promise, I’ll bring her back once she doctors my son.”
No! Nathan’s internal shout rang through him like a musket shot. Ben couldn’t let Emma ride off with this stranger. What they were talking about would put her a day or two behind the wagon train—and besides all that, what if something happened to her?
“Ben, if I can help this boy, I must go.”
Drat the stranger for playing on Emma’s sensitive heart. She would never hesitate to help a child.
And somehow Nathan found his feet moving toward the tableau in front of him. “You can’t go,” he told Emma, even though it wasn’t his business and he’d fully intended to stay out of it.
Emma flicked a glance at him, but acted as if he hadn’t spoken at all.
But Ben also looked up at Nathan, a realization coming to his expression.
Nathan took another step nearer, his heart thundering in his ears and his pulse racing. “Emma. It’s too dangerous.”
Now she did turn toward him, but her face remained curiously blank of emotion.
“Perhaps if you were my friend, your advice would be appreciated. But since that is not the case, I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself.”
He felt as if she’d punched him in the gut.
She turned her face away and maybe his expression had betrayed him.
But Ben was speaking to the stranger in low tones and then turned to the both of them.
“Reed, Emma, c’mere.”
The siblings moved halfway behind the wagon, Nathan trailing behind.
“There’s not a lot of time to decide,” Ben said. “Emma, are you sure you want to leave the caravan?”
No!
But Nathan didn’t get a chance to say anything as Emma nodded. There was the tiniest bit of fear beneath the stubborn tilt of her chin and he knew she must be thinking of all the dangers out there.
Why would she want to risk everything and leave the relative safety of their wagon just to tend to a kid?
“Fine. Reed, I’ll find someone to drive the Binghams’ oxen today. You can ride a horse, right?”
Stunned, Nathan nodded. Where was Hewitt going with this?
“I can’t leave the wagon train. The committee is counting on me. But you could take her, Nathan.”
Ben would trust him to look after his sister?
But Nathan didn’t trust himself. What if he let something happen to her? Failed her?
“I can’t—” Nathan started, but the bugle sounded again. It was time to pull out.
“There’s no time for discussion. Either you take her or she’ll go on her own.”
Emma nodded, her chin set, arms crossed over her middle.
And Nathan suspected she would. She was a caring, giving person. And if a little one needed her, she would go.
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t be responsible for her.
But he couldn’t let her go on her own, either.
Emotions warred inside him but he found himself nodding reluctantly.
“Give me a few minutes. I’ll round you up a horse.”
Ben disappeared.
Emma stood on the crate and rustled around in the wagon, pulling things into a small satchel.
Was he the only one who didn’t think this was a good idea?
“Emma, I don’t think we should go.”
“Quit worrying,” Emma said, her attention still inside the wagon.
But he couldn’t. His mind ran in circles, thinking of ways she could be hurt or even killed.
He met Ben just outside the circle of wagons as the man led a sorrel horse.
“I don’t like this,” Nathan said. Maybe the man could talk some sense into his sister.
“She’s got a compassionate heart.”
She was also afraid of so many things out in the wild, though her brother didn’t know the depths of those fears.
“She’ll go without one of us.”
He was right. If Ben couldn’t accompany her, then Nathan had no choice but to go.
How would he manage to keep his heart from wanting Emma when they were alone together?
* * *
Emma joined Nathan where he’d already mounted up on a large red horse.
He didn’t smile at her. The tense set of his jaw betrayed what he wouldn’t say.
Nerves fluttered in her belly. She’d been prepared to leave the caravan on her own—with only minor misgivings—but felt much safer in Nathan’s company. No, it was nerves at being near the man that had her trembling.
He grasped her wrist and she stepped on his boot in the stirrup. He boosted her into the saddle behind him and kicked the horse into a walk before she’d even really got her arms around him.
They followed Mr. Harrison, their new acquaintance, through the predawn light. The man put his horse at a gallop and they followed, over the meandering hills they’d traversed yesterday. The mountain range to the southwest was familiar, as they’d traveled in its shadow most of yesterday afternoon.
Their caravan had crossed Snake River yesterday and she found the crossing slightly more harrowing on horseback, without the wagon to protect her from getting wet.
She clutched Nathan’s waist a bit tighter until they’d crossed to the opposite side.
She knew he worried something would happen; his tense posture betrayed what he wouldn’t say.
But he was intelligent and a good tracker. She trusted him to deliver her safely back to her brother, after she’d helped Mr. Harrison’s little boy.
She didn’t understand why he’d pushed her away, not really. He had helped Clara for weeks even though she refused it—although her refusals had become somewhat halfhearted of late.
She’d witnessed his patience with Georgie as the boy followed Nathan around whenever they were in camp.
She’d begun unobtrusively watching the boy’s interactions with his family and feared Nathan might be right in his concerns. Georgie’s cousins often left him out of their games, and his aunt and uncle didn’t seem to have an inclination to draw him into the family events.
She thought perhaps Nathan cared about the boy because he’d experienced difficult times and neglect as a child. He had a softer heart than he let on.
He didn’t want to be her friend. But he didn’t want to let her go out of the caravan alone.
He was a mystery to her.
But one thing was true—her feelings for him, friendship and admiration, hadn’t faded with the distance he’d instituted between them.
Hours later, a plume of dust appeared in the distance. The other wagon train was smaller, with fewer wagons than their caravan possessed. The young wagon master welcomed them into the train with a nod, but Emma felt his hard eyes following their progress as Harrison led them to a wagon midway back in the caravan.
A teenaged boy drove the wagon, his face pale and upset. He brightened the smallest amount when he caught sight of his father, but his expression quickly settled into drawn lines again.
With Harrison’s help, the young man guided the wagon out of the snaking caravan line and to a stop.
Nathan pulled up several paces out from the wagon, where they weren’t in danger of being trampled. He swung one leg over the saddle and slid do
wn to the ground, then reached up for Emma.
She went into his arms easily, his hands spanned her waist as he set her gently on the ground. He looked down on her with stormy eyes. The moment stretched, awkward and uncertain between them until he let her go.
He glanced at the caravan, or maybe the Harrison family, uneasily, reaching one hand behind his neck to rub there.
“What am I supposed to do?” he asked, voice low.
She reached up for her satchel, tied behind the saddle. “Make friends?” she suggested with a smile over her shoulder.
She hadn’t meant the words to sound flippant, but his face darkened like a thunderhead.
Harrison was talking to someone in the wagon as she approached, with Nathan a few steps behind.
And then a very pregnant woman lumbered out of the back of the wagon.
“This is my wife, Sarah.”
She was followed out of the wagon by three, no—four children, near-identical with only a few inches between each, except for a gap between the youngest two.
Nathan made some sort of sound behind her as introductions were made. She half turned and extended her hand to him. He took a small step closer to her but stood out of reach. The same way he’d avoided her touch since they’d kissed. As if he thought if he got too close she would grab him and do it again.
“A friend, Mr. Nathan Reed.”
The children all chimed a greeting and his brow creased, but he only gave a silent nod.
“Samuel is in the wagon,” Sarah said.
“You’ll have to examine him as we go,” Harrison said. “It’s too dangerous to separate from the caravan.”
Nathan nodded agreement and Emma moved toward the wagon.
“Can I ride with you?” The boy who looked to be about five had gravitated toward Nathan, who shot Emma a sullen glare.
She hid a grin, shrugging at him.
“You’ll have to walk like the rest of us,” Sarah said to the little boy.
“Aww…”
“Perhaps later?” Emma offered.
“Whoohoo!” the boy crowed.
The relief that had taken over Nathan’s expression disappeared, and he sent her a cross look, to which she laughed.
She felt sure his eyes bored a hole into her back as she made her way to the wagon. It felt good to tease him again.
But she wasn’t laughing when she climbed into the wagon and saw three-year-old Samuel lying prone in a nest of blankets.
His eyes were wide and fearful when he saw her instead of his mother.
“Hello, Samuel. I’m Miss Emma,” she said in a soft voice she hoped was comforting. “I’m here to help you.”
From the front of the wagon, the teenaged boy leaned in to peek inside the bonnet.
“That’s Chris,” the pale boy whispered. “My brother.”
The wagon pitched as Chris called the oxen to move, then rolled into the jostling motion Emma had grown so weary of as she’d cared for Nathan. Sarah’s head appeared in the opening behind the wagon. She must be walking very close, to talk to Emma.
She settled as best she could against one wall of the wagon and reached for the blanket that covered the boy’s legs.
“May I see what’s wrong with your leg?”
Samuel winced as she drew back the worn quilt. Someone had bandaged his leg, but the cloth was dirty and bloodstained in spots. She bit back a wince at the sight and smell of infected flesh.
“I’m going to take this off…”
The boy cried out a little as she unwrapped the too-tight dressing.
She stopped what she was doing, hating the small cry that he had given.
Perhaps if she distracted him, it would help. “How did this happen?”
“Chris—”
She didn’t know if he was calling for help or if his older brother had been involved, but when she glanced out the front of the wagon, she saw the young man jerk as if he’d been struck.
Sarah peered in the back of the wagon “It was an accident. Chris was skinning a rabbit and the knife got away from him. He didn’t mean to catch Sam with the blade.”
Emma had peeled back the bandage as best she could until finally she ripped it free of the wound. The boy cried out again, his head twisted on the pillow.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” she said, brushing her hand over his forehead. He felt feverish and her worry escalated.
Her attempt at comfort didn’t help, as he continued to whimper.
A glance out the rear of the wagon revealed they had rejoined the long caravan line, crawling along. Nathan walked next to his horse, his attention diverted by two of the children who walked next to his horse and appeared to be chattering at him.
He must have sensed her perusal because he looked up and his dark eyes met her gaze. His gaze turned questioning and she shook her head slightly. Harrison had been right. Sam was bad off.
He nodded grimly, acknowledging her. He glanced around, still reading the lay of the land, maybe even the people closest to them.
His protectiveness meant something her. Wasn’t it a sign that he cared for her?
Was she the only one who couldn’t forget about their kiss? She couldn’t forget how safe she’d felt in Nathan’s arms. How cherished.
She had shared secrets with Nathan that not even her family knew about.
But if he was too closed off to admit there was something between them…
Those thoughts were for another time. Samuel needed her attention now.
* * *
The children wouldn’t leave Nathan alone. Emma had disappeared into the wagon and except for the occasional glimpse of her fair hair, he was out of communication with her.
They traveled through a fertile bottom land, good for grazing. He’d already seen it, walked it yesterday as their company traversed this path. Which meant his thoughts were free to go right back to Emma.
He hadn’t been able to relax with her riding behind him, her arms clasping his waist. Part of him had wanted to apologize for his cruel words from before, I can’t be your friend, but he knew that would just raise more questions, questions he didn’t have good answers for. He only wanted to protect her.
His mind ran in circles, except the kids distracted him. Maybe they were a blessing in disguise.
Before he’d isolated himself, he’d grown accustomed to the kids around Emma’s campfire. They treated him with the same watchfulness, wariness even, that their parents did.
These kids were different.
They cavorted around his horse until he was afraid they’d either fall beneath it or start climbing the animal’s legs.
They talked. They wouldn’t stop talking.
He couldn’t remember their names, not with the brief introductions and how much alike they looked. He called them by what he guessed their ages were. Five was a little boy, Seven and Eight girls with long, honey-colored pigtails down their backs. Similar enough to Emma’s hair color that he swallowed hard.
They wouldn’t stop talking. Asking him what the horse’s name was—he had no idea—and where was he from and did he want to know they were from Chicago? until he’d lost the conversational thread completely.
And they didn’t seem to notice. They just kept talking, looking up at him with wide, curious, open gazes as they walked.
Couldn’t they tell he was…him? Rough, uncouth, unused to human company. Grumpy.
Maybe it was because no one had told them to avoid him or that he was a suspicious character. In their innocence, they believed he was a friend.
And he found he sort of…liked it.
Probably they wouldn’t have had the same reaction to him if they’d meet him weeks ago, before he’d shaved off his beard and begun taking better care with his appearance.
Or had his entire attitude changed, as well? Did they find him more approachable, more gentle?
If they did, he knew whose doing it was. Not his. It was all Emma. Being around her made him want to be…more.
Made him want more.
Dangerous.
Even now, when he knew there was no hope for a relationship between them.
The fertile bottom quickly changed to sandy riverbank and the line of wagons slowed. They’d chosen a different crossing for Snake River than the Hewitts’ caravan had used yesterday. Maybe their guide knew of a shortcut.
He’d thought the river slightly swollen this morning when they’d crossed on horseback. Maybe there had been rains in the night, upriver.
Now the wagons needed to stop to ford, when he’d pushed the Binghams’ oxen across nearly dry banks.
Emma leaned out the back flap and he made his way toward the slow-moving wagon.
“I need time—and some boiling water—to wash out the wound. Harrison was right about it being infected and I’m afraid if we wait too long, Sam’s blood could become poisoned.” She spoke in a low voice, probably to keep the boy and his worried mother from overhearing.
Any delay was unwelcome, in his book.
The sun neared its zenith.
“Surely the wagon master will call for a stop after the crossing,” he said.
She watched him with her hooded eyes, as if taking his measure. “Will you help me with Sam? I’m afraid his mama won’t have the strength to hold him down if my actions bring him pain.” The fact that she had hesitated before asking him burned a hole in his gut.
Her face remained creased in concern, as if she was afraid of asking him. When he would give her anything, if he could.
“Yes.”
Relief crossed her expression and an answering emotion, something strong and whole, expanded in his midsection.
“When we stop, could you get a fire going?”
He nodded.
They neared the body of water and Sarah and the children took moments to clamber up into the wagon, while Chris climbed on top of one of the oxen, as Nathan usually did when fording deep water.
Nathan mounted the horse, taking care to stay near the wagon. He’d lost sight of Emma, and there were six of them pressed into the small space.
Wagon Train Sweetheart (Journey West 2) Page 15