White Wolf

by Susan Edwards

  She smiled to herself when she remembered her shock the first time Rook had ordered her to “keep the bitch filled,” and her discovery that “the bitch” was a hide stretched under the wagon, creating a hammock for storing firewood. Jessie knew the importance of keeping it filled. The time would come when trees gave way to dried grass, small twigs and, finally, the hot-burning buffalo chips. Rook had pointed out several nails hammered into the sides of the wagons, which would be used to hang canvas sacks filled with the dried buffalo dung.

  By the time Jessie rejoined Rook, he’d already dug a slit-trench in the ground, laid out the wood and unloaded a large box that held several days’ worth of food so they didn’t have to open the sacks of flour and beans each day. She grabbed a couple of fry pans and slabs of pork to fry but Rook’s voice stopped her.

  “Leave it, lass,” he said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure they were alone. “Take some time off,” he ordered gruffly. “We’ll start supper a bit later. I’m jest gettin’ things ready, so go on an’ enjoy the afternoon. When I’m done here, I’ll have me a nice, relaxin’ smoke ’n’ a nap, and if you’s here, you’ll jest yak my ears off.”

  Jessie laughed. “Hey, you shouldn’t be such a wise old man.” During their long days of traveling, she’d eagerly encouraged Rook’s trail stories.

  Rook grunted. “Off with you. Go climb the mound. Maybe it’ll git rid of some of yer cheekiness.”

  Jessie needed no further urging. Since leaving Westport, Wolf had kept them on the trail until the gray cloak of dusk fell. By the time chores were taken care of, the meal was prepared and eaten, and clean-up was done, it was too late to do anything but go to bed. She glanced around, looking for the bossy wagon master, and spotted him brushing his black stallion.

  Awareness rippled through her skin as his hands moved down the horse in gentle strokes. From where she stood, she heard his voice: low, soothing and tender. Tender? Wolf? Ha! Not him. Frustrating and formidable. That was how she thought of him. She wrenched her gaze away and headed for her wagon, unsure what it was about him that drew her but determined to ignore it.

  She climbed into the back of her wagon and located her journal. Warm afternoon sunlight streamed in through the canvas opening as she took full advantage of daylight to complete her daily entry. Today she added the names of two California-bound families who had passed them, then logged emerging daily patterns within their own party as everyone adjusted to life on the trail. Her stubby pencil flew across the page as she put into words her impressions of the day and added another one of Rook’s outrageous stories for flavor.

  Smothering a yawn, she stretched her arms over her head. “Lord, but I could use a nap,” she muttered. She and Rook, along with the other women, rose at four each morning to begin preparations for the first meal of the day. When the aroma of fresh-roasted coffee and fried bacon filled the crisp morning air, the men stirred, and by the time the meal was ready, the oxen had been rounded up and hitched and the wagons readied. By seven, they were ready to hit the trail.

  Jessie leaned on the tailgate and rested her chin on her cupped fingers as she stared out into the wide-open space. Spotting gray clouds scudding across the horizon, she grimaced. They’d suffered their first rainstorm on the open prairie earlier that afternoon. She was thankful it hadn’t been a hard, driving rain, but it had slowed them nonetheless.

  Hooking one leg over the back of the wagon, Jessie dropped to the wet ground and winced when the damp bindings flattening her breasts bit into her chafed skin. She’d already exchanged her wet shirt and jeans for dry clothing, but she didn’t dare change the bindings around her breasts. That was too risky to attempt in the daylight.

  Jessie stuck her thumbs in the waistband of her pants and surveyed the area surrounding their camp. She spotted Anna and Eirica along with their children heading toward Blue Mound in the not-so-far distance. A small, secret grin played at the corners of her lips. The two women had pegged her from the beginning and thought her masquerade a hoot. If she ran, she could catch up with them. Or she could take a walk along the Kansas River and maybe even indulge in a refreshing dip.

  Staring at the gentle slope that was but a bump on the wide-spreading prairie, she recalled that her guidebook promised that the view from Blue Mound was well worth the effort. She decided to see for herself. They’d be following the river for many days. Plenty of time later to sneak in a swim. Plopping her hat on her head, she set off.

  Across from her, she noticed Jordan unloading supplies from the back of the wagon. “Perhaps he’d like to go too,” she said to herself. Since leaving Westport, she hadn’t seen much of her brothers, except for a few minutes at mealtimes. She missed them, missed the good-natured arguing and fussing.

  The sound of Coralie’s screeching stopped her. “Now what’s wrong with the queen of snobbery?” Jessie didn’t understand how her brother put up with it. Quickening her pace, she hurried by.

  Elliot glanced up from rummaging through a long narrow box fastened to the outside of the wagon. He looked ill at ease, and they exchanged pained looks when Coralie’s voice rose an octave. “Jessie, wait,” he called out.

  Jessie stopped. A deep sigh of appreciation pushed past her parted lips; Elliot was such a handsome man. Her hand lifted to smooth her tangled mass of curls, but she remembered her role, and her arm fell back to her side.

  Elliot joined her. “Where are you off to?”

  “Rook gave me the afternoon off. Thought I’d go exploring. Want to come?”

  He sent her a pained look. “You’re not going to climb the mound, are you?”

  Jessie laughed. “You bet I am. Come on, it won’t be that bad.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re used to all this.” He paused. “But it sure beats staying here. I love my sister, but she’s behaving like a spoiled brat. I sure feel sorry for Jordan!”

  Jessie bit her lip to still the bubble of laughter that threatened to erupt. Earlier, she’d gotten a good look at Coralie’s ruined dress. What had been a lovely rose-and-cream day dress this morning was now muddy and ripped after a day of walking over the rough and rutted prairies. Even the matching bonnet, more suited to shading the wearer from the sun than a sudden rainstorm, hung as limp as Coralie’s long blond hair.

  Jessie grinned. “Come on. Let’s go. At the rate Coralie’s going through her dresses, she won’t have any left before the week is out.”

  Elliot grimaced. “Pa and Jordan tried to tell her they weren’t suited for trail travel but she wouldn’t listen.”

  “Such a shame.” She snickered. “Coralie just doesn’t seem to be able to keep her dresses for very long.”

  Elliot reached out and cuffed her gently on the arm. “You brat. You really put her in a snit by ruining that last dress.”

  Jessie scowled. No way would she admit to Elliot why she’d lost her temper.

  “Look, Jessie. Pa and I heard what Coralie said to you. Pa was furious with her and even refused to let James pay for the dress. My dear sister goes too far sometimes.” He looked uncomfortable for a moment, his face flushing. “I want you to know that I don’t hold anything against you. Accidents happen.”

  Jessie sighed. “That’s right nice of you, Elliot, but I made a fool of myself even before I tripped and fell into you. I should never have tried to be what I’m not. Let’s not talk about it. Some things are better forgotten!”

  Elliot ruffled her hair. “Come on, Jess, don’t be so hard on yourself. You didn’t look that bad. In fact, you looked rather fetching in that dress.”

  Snorting, Jessie sent him a disbelieving look. Silence fell as they walked up the incline. She slid an admiring look toward the man walking beside her. He’d be such a perfect husband, so kind and gentle. It wasn’t hard to imagine him as her husband, but when she tried to picture their children, they had deep blue eyes, tawny brown hair and rich honey-colored skin.

  Startled, Jessie realized she was envisioning Wolf’s children. She frowned. Why was she so obse
ssed with the wagon master? He wasn’t gentle, kind or even handsome. And he certainly was much too bossy to make a good husband, she thought sourly, thinking of the extra chores he seemed to find perverse pleasure in dumping on her.

  Making an effort to put Wolf from her mind, she concentrated on the view. One of the things she loved best about trail life was the constant change in scenery. She loved the outdoors. It brought peace to her soul. She forced herself to relax, inviting the beauty of the afternoon to flow through her. Glancing around, she stretched her arms overhead, working the kinks out of her neck and shoulder muscles. “I can hardly believe we’ve come forty-five miles in three days.”

  Elliot grimaced and held out blister-covered palms. The welts were red and angry. “I don’t know about that. My hands and feet feel like we’ve come at least a hundred! Makes the mind spin when I think how many more miles we’ve got to go.”

  “Poor Elliot. Except for those nasty blisters, trail life seems to agree with you,” she commented, noting the light tan that was beginning to replace the redness caused by walking in the sun all day.

  Elliot drew a deep breath, his blue eyes lighting with boyish eagerness. “It’s not as bad as I’d feared. Who would have thought I’d enjoy being outdoors all day?” He slid her a conspiratorial grin. “But I can’t say Coralie shares my newfound appreciation of nature.”

  Jessie giggled, recalling their first day. “Didn’t take her long to decide that walking is much easier than riding in the backs of those wagons. I heard her complaining that she had bruises upon bruises that first night.” Her lips twitched, and suddenly the two of them were laughing and talking like the best of friends.

  During that shared moment of understanding, Jessie realized that even though she’d known Elliot for eight years, she’d never felt as close to him as she did right then. She’d always been the to-be-tolerated sister of the Jones boys and treated as “one of the guys.” But on the trail, formality, status and all other veneers of society faded. The struggle to keep up with the grueling pace left little energy for airs—something her sister-in-law still hadn’t figured out.

  They reached the top of Blue Mound, and Jessie let out a gasp of pleasure. Spread before them were miles of flower-spangled prairie. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her gaze soaking up the wonder before her. Even Elliot seemed awestruck by the view.

  “Rook said we’d be able to see the next week’s travel from here. I didn’t believe him, but look.” She waved her hand, indicating the vastness. “It’s so open, so endless.” She spread her arms wide, as if she could grasp and hold on to the beauty before her. “Oh, Elliot, it’s a grand adventure. Something you’ll be able to tell your children.”

  After several minutes of companionable silence, Elliot spoke. “Jessie?”

  She looked into his soft, pale blue eyes. “Yes?”

  “I want to apologize on behalf of Coralie. I know she’s caused you more trouble with Wolf.” Elliot glanced away. A slow flush stained his neck. “It’s not right for you to do her dishes along with all those pots and fry pans you have to wash from cooking for the men. Hell, I’m the one who ends up doing our cooking while she takes credit for it. I should be doing them, but—”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Jessie shrugged. It warmed her inside to know Elliot cared about her feelings. But reminders of Wolf and his meanness toward her intruded and kept her from basking in that knowledge. Despite her good intentions to enjoy her free time, a shadow had been cast over her and Elliot. Jessie sighed and trained her gaze out onto the miles of endless prairie.

  As if sensing her mood change, Elliot wandered to the other side of the mound, leaving Jessie to stew. That first night on the trail, Coralie had whined and wailed that her dress would be ruined if she knelt at the stream to wash her dishes. She’d tried ordering Jessie to do them, but Jessie had refused. Wolf had joined them, demanding to know what was going on.

  Even now, the mere thought of her sister-in-law playing the helpless damsel in distress angered her. Coralie had let loose with big, welling tears, as she was so good at doing, and had the gall to lie, telling Wolf that she, Jessie, had reneged on a promise to do Coralie’s dishes in return for an earlier favor.

  Jessie made a rude noise. Wolf had bought the lie, and she’d been ordered to do her sister-in-law’s dishes—and if that hadn’t been enough, later that night she’d overheard Wolf telling Rook that if the boy was kept busy, he couldn’t cause trouble. So every night and morning for the last two days, Coralie pranced over to dump a load of dirty pans and tin plates on her with a satisfied smirk. Jessie glanced at her red hands, raw from dishwashing.

  Glancing up, the deep indigo sky reminded her of the color of Wolf’s eyes. But the blue above her was soft and dreamy, strewn with fluffs of cottony clouds. The wagon master’s blue eyes were hard and cold. It was so unfair, she fumed. What had she done to earn his disapproval?

  After a while, Elliot wandered back to her side and they retraced their steps. Halfway down they met Wolf and Rosalyn Norton coming up. The married woman had her arm threaded through Wolf’s, her hungry gaze fixed on him as she chatted. Jessie pulled the rim of her hat down farther over her eyes and ducked her head, prepared to walk by without a word, but Wolf stopped them.

  “Enjoying the view, Elliot?” he asked.

  “Yep, it’s quite a sight. Makes a man feel small and insignificant when viewing the vastness of nature spread out before him.”

  Jessie studied the ruggedly handsome wagon master. He radiated vitality. Some invisible force drew her to him like a moth to a flame. Unlike the other men, who wore denim, woolen or homespun pants, Wolf favored the buckskin breeches more common to mountain men and trappers. Her gaze roamed his lean form. She understood why. The garments sheathed his lean legs and outlined the bulging strength of his thighs.

  Her eyes absorbed each tiny detail: wide brows, long brown lashes with golden tips, a shadowy cleft on his chin and a tiny mole near his jaw all softened the rugged lines. Though he couldn’t compete against Elliot’s fine-boned, fair-skinned aristocratic good looks, Wolf wore a savage wildness that held a beauty all its own. To add to his untamed appearance, he rarely wore shirts, favoring a leather vest instead. And as on the night in the barn, the front edges gaped open in the breeze, affording her a tantalizing view of bronzed skin.

  Jessie felt a curious longing take hold. But a longing for what? she wondered. She swallowed, suddenly afraid of the answer, but fear didn’t stop her fingers from twitching with the most irresistible urge to follow the path of the cooling breeze as it feathered through long strands of hair that gleamed molten gold under the bright rays of the sun. Her cheeks grew warm and her pulse quickened as a spark of desire caught fire. She gave herself a mental shake. What was wrong with her? It had been Elliot who drew her admiring looks and made her heart flutter. Then why did this man affect her so? She didn’t even like him!

  Feeling someone’s eyes on her, Jessie tore her gaze from the overbearing taskmaster and found Rosalyn’s hard brown glare boring into her. Jessie quickly lowered her gaze and frowned at the toe of her boot. Rosalyn was the only woman in their party who hadn’t discovered her secret, which was fine with her.

  For reasons she didn’t understand, she didn’t trust Rosalyn. While she knew Anna and Eirica wouldn’t give her away, something about this woman spelled trouble. And her mistrust wasn’t just because Rosalyn was a married woman trying to seduce Wolf. No, what made Jessie keep her distance was Sadie’s reaction to the Nortons. Her dog normally liked everyone, but she had taken an immediate dislike to the reclusive trio. That was enough for Jessie.

  Rosalyn tipped her head back and fluttered her dark lashes. “Are we going to stand here all afternoon, Wolf?”

  Jessie narrowed her gaze. Why did Wolf put up with this woman? Jessie reminded herself that what those two did had nothing to do with her. She nudged Elliot with the tip of her boot.

  Wolf allowed Rosalyn to lead him forward. Relieved, Jessie started
down the hill, but she didn’t get far before Wolf called after her. “Jess!”

  She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “Ride out and help Shorty check the horses. I want every hoof checked. That should keep you busy until Rook needs you to help with the meal.”

  Jessie whirled around, ready to protest the end to her free afternoon. Elliot’s fingers gripped the back of her neck and prevented the rash, angry words from spilling from her lips.

  “Not now, Jess,” Elliot hissed in her ear. “Turn around, and for God’s sake, just keep your mouth shut and do what you’re told.”

  Jessie glared at Elliot, then stalked off, her enjoyment of the afternoon ruined.

  “My dresses and shoes are in ruins,” Coralie screeched at Jordan. “And I don’t have anything else to wear. This is your fault for not letting me bring more,” she accused loudly.

  Jordan struggled with his temper. He was bone-tired. Last night, with the herd restless from the distant rumbling of thunder, he and the other hired hands had spent the night rotating on a four-hour watch, which had resulted in very little sleep.

  He sighed. “I tried to tell you that your fancy town clothes weren’t suitable for this journey. You’re going to have to wear the dresses Mrs. Newley made for you.”

  Coralie’s hands went to her hips. She opened her mouth, but Jordan held up a hand. “Look, Coralie. She went to a lot of trouble to provide them with so little notice. She even made them the shorter, washday length so the hems wouldn’t drag on the ground like your other dresses. And as for shoes, your father provided you with a suitable pair. You’ll just have to start wearing them,” he snapped.

  Coralie stomped her foot and shook a finger at him. “I won’t wear farmer clothes,” she scoffed contemptuously, folding her arms across her chest.

  Jordan removed his hat, ran his fingers through his hair and turned to stare out at Blue Mound, his thoughts in turmoil. He didn’t know what to do. Marriage wasn’t what he’d envisioned. Hell, so far they were man and wife in name only.