The humor remained in her eyes as she patted the Colt revolver he’d seen her pull from her skirt pocket when danger loomed. She even glanced back toward camp again, where he knew her rifle rested against her saddle in the Ladue wagon.
“But you’re no rival against me in a contest of survival in this wilderness,” he said. “Big cats, wolves and bears roam this land.”
“As they did where I grew up.” There was a challenge in her voice. She’d always loved a dare.
“Sometimes I’ve seen poisonous snakes on the forest floor as thick as bees in a hive,” he said, knowing he could meet that dare but fearing she still wouldn’t listen. “Your horse could fall into a wolf trap—deep holes dug into the ground and covered by brush, with deadly spikes aimed upward to impale the unwary.” He noted that her cheeks lost some of their color. “That’d be the end of you both,” he said. “This isn’t the settled land you knew.”
She closed her eyes briefly, but when she opened them again the resolve in her expression remained. “What my father and brothers didn’t teach me, Matthew did.”
“I don’t think you understand what it can mean for a woman such as yourself to be alone out in the wilderness. You won’t be able to help anyone if you’re dead.”
The battle against fear was obvious in her eyes. “I...I know. Joseph, you’re making this more difficult.” Her voice had gone hoarse, as if she could barely get her words through her tight throat.
He hesitated for a long moment. His first priority was to the wagon train. Their safety was of utmost importance, but she was part of that wagon train. And part of his heart. “I’m telling you that you don’t have to go alone, Victoria.”
She broke the tension with a brief smile up at him. “Spoken like a true gentleman. I have to say it’s not easy to resist that Southern drawl of yours. It charms the challenge right out of me. But this time it’s different. I can’t drag someone else into the consequences of my choices.”
“Were those your choices, or were they Matthew’s?” Never in his life had he wanted so badly to reach out an arm of comfort and tell her everything would be okay, but she couldn’t do this, and it wouldn’t be okay if she tried.
“I chose to follow through for him.”
“Then you have friends who will help you make good on that promise,” he said.
“Who do you think I should drag along with me? One of the Johnston boys? Who else’s life should I risk for my personal convictions?”
“Now you’re telling me you know your life could be at risk?”
The parted lips, fingers quickly covering them, told him she’d said more than she’d intended to. Now he was getting somewhere.
* * *
Victoria stepped away from Joseph, irritated that she’d betrayed herself so thoroughly. Hadn’t she suspected this could happen?
“Have I explained the name of Jolly Mill?” Joseph asked.
She frowned. She hated being caught off guard. Now what was he up to? “Only that the name was shortened to make it easier to say.”
“That’s because when the men have had their fill of the hard liquor so abundant in the mill town, the longer name is as hard for them to pronounce as it is for them to walk,” he told her. “That’s what one of the drunks came up with when he came tumbling out of the dram shop one night. Not a pretty sight for a lady such as you.” His voice deepened, grew softer and gentler, and his last few words felt like a caress.
“Do you think Thames went to the mill town?”
“Last time I rode through it was crawling with border ruffians, and you saw from his tracks that he was headed in this direction. It’s likely that’s where he would wait for us if he’s aware we’re on the trail. I’ve seen two or three wagon trains camped there at a time, and that will draw the troublemakers.”
Victoria paused to breathe. “You never mentioned that.”
“I’m telling you now. It’s why we’re keeping to the south.”
“I understand what you’re saying, but all I have to do is treat my patients and pick up a couple of travelers along the way before Thames can catch wind of their whereabouts.”
“Hold on.” Joseph pressed his hand against her arm, and that touch was a definite distraction. “What did you say?”
All she could focus on was the firm feel of his hand. “About what?”
“About a couple of travelers you plan to take with you. Did you mention this to me earlier?”
She paused, then withdrew from his touch so she could think straight. “Perhaps not, but with God on my side, what could go wrong?” She spared a hesitant glance at him and found him staring her down. Had he caught the sarcasm she’d been unable to keep from her voice? Or how his nearness was affecting her?
“When did you and God suddenly start speaking again?” he asked.
“Mine is a righteous cause, so why wouldn’t the Almighty be on my side?”
“Maybe because you’re not on His?”
“But if I’m completing my husband’s plan—and Matthew did know what was right—”
“For you?” Joseph gave a soft sigh. “Victoria, you can’t know God’s will for you without being led by God, Himself, not the intentions of a man who no longer walks this earth.”
Victoria pressed her lips together. Now Joseph had taken to preaching to her.
“How long have you been this angry?” Joseph asked more gently. “This blaming God for Matthew’s death. How long?”
The presence of this man so close to her, his warm strength, his insistence on protecting her... She should have known better than to allow him so close in the first place. She turned away.
“Victoria—”
“He could have stopped it.” Long-held anger streaked through her as if lightning had flashed.
“Do you claim to know the mind of God?”
She stepped away from him, needing a chance to breathe properly. “I know that if He’s the Almighty, Matthew could still be alive.”
Joseph followed. “You’re speaking as if God turns His head from evil on a whim, but you know your Savior better than that. He doesn’t work that way.”
“I’m afraid we’re doomed to opposite sides of that argument.”
“I disagree.”
Despite her wish to remain serious, Victoria turned and looked up into Joseph’s earnest face at last. She chuckled, and then she watched his expression as he realized what he’d said. She enjoyed his sheepish grin.
“Maybe you have a point,” he said. “For now.”
When she thought of her laughter reaching the others, she was glad they’d walked so far from the burial site. Her fellow travelers were grieving. This was no time for frivolity.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Despite all, I find it charming that you’re this concerned about my welfare.”
He gazed at her for a moment and, though he didn’t take a step, it seemed as if they were nearly touching. “It’s good to hear I’m charming you,” he murmured. “I’ll continue the debate if you wish, for the sake of charming—”
“No need.” She felt her face flush. “It feels good to have a man...someone....” She sighed. “It’s good to feel less alone.”
“I’m glad. I understand loneliness.”
“Sometimes we pay dearly for our convictions. Had I known the trials I would encounter after Matthew’s murder—had we known he would be murdered for his fight to free the slaves—would we have backed away from the fight?”
Joseph touched her chin and lifted it until she had to meet his gaze. The fire of his touch trailed a path down her neck, though his fingers remained where they were. “I’ve never known you to back away from any fight.”
She could so easily lose herself in those dark eyes and the tender passion she saw in them. Everything within her faltered as she considered giving in to the temptation to cede their debate.
Even so, how could she place any more people from this wagon train at risk?
She couldn’t. Buck and Francine needed t
o be warned. John Brown’s adopted son, Naaman, and his wife, Josetta, had to be moved away from danger. There was no other way to do it.
“I should warn you.” Joseph released her, and once again her mind cleared. “If you take justice into your own hands against Matthew’s killer, you’ll be surprised how difficult it is.”
She met Joseph’s gaze. She’d never doubted that he knew her well, but they were venturing into new territory, and still he could read her thoughts. She had considered the prospect of dark revenge more than once. Often, when tracking Thames, she’d questioned her inner motives. But a man like that needed to be stopped from hurting others. If she had the opportunity to be the one who stopped him, she could do it.
She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling again, then paused, unable to resist riling Joseph. “I don’t believe it’s as bad as you say.”
She glanced up and winced at his glower. Despite the seriousness of this whole conversation, she felt warmth throughout her body. More was at work here than simple friendly concern for her welfare. The powerful attraction that sparked between them could become addictive.
Though she and Matthew had used whiskey as medicine over the ten years of their practice together, she had seen the power the alcohol could exert over some of their patients. For that reason, she had attempted to use alternative medicines whenever possible and avoided the brew herself, lest she turn out to be one of the unfortunate who became dependent. She grinned up at Joseph. Perhaps it would be a good idea to avoid her growing addiction to this man, as well.
But first, just a few more things to discuss. “Captain,” she said, using his title intentionally, “how much would you be willing to give up to be sure that Kansas will be a free state?”
“My life, of course.” He said it without hesitation, as if she should know that. And she did. He frowned and took a step closer. “I would risk my life to ensure Kansas becomes a free state, just as I believe you’ve decided to risk yours. Isn’t that what you’re planning to do?”
“Most definitely. I’ve learned from the best. You’re an excellent teacher. You’ve portrayed your true character in every wise move you’ve made, every person with whom you’ve spoken, every patient whose forehead you’ve cooled.” She enjoyed watching the skin flush around his beard and mustache. The ways he had impressed her were too abundant to mention, some of them even too private to mention.
She felt heat prickle her own face.
He quietly cleared his throat. “The admiration is mutual, I assure you, though I do wish you would trust me with your plans for Jolly Mill.”
Time for a bit more distraction. “Perhaps I’m simply following the example you set years ago.”
“What do you mean?”
“When you returned home to take your father’s place at the plantation. I thought you were gone for good, especially when you sent word to Matthew—and not to me, by the way—that your father wanted you to marry a childhood friend.”
He straightened. Obviously, the technique worked. “Tell me, was that before or after you and Matthew married?”
“Before, of course. Until then I held out hope that you might change your mind and return. I had heard you were engaged to Miss Sara Jane many months before I was willing to consider a partnership with Matthew.” She boldly held his gaze. “I was going to travel with my brother to California when I decided you weren’t returning to St. Louis. Matthew offered to make me his partner if I would stay. Of course, you hadn’t told us your plans.” She was surprised by the sudden testiness in her voice.
Joseph frowned, but he didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he gazed across the valley, his jaw muscles flexing, eyes brooding. He pulled off his hat and looked down at it as he rubbed his fingers over the brim. “I never intended to marry anyone else.”
“You didn’t see fit to tell me that and you left me behind. What was I supposed to think?”
“My letters should have told you everything.”
“And as I’ve told you, I never received a single letter from you.”
“I can’t help wondering why. Where could those letters have been stopped, and why didn’t you receive them?”
“Please don’t tell me you’re placing the blame for that on a dead man.”
“No.” He sighed. “Maybe. I have no reason to believe Matthew would hurt us this way.”
“You were the one who left, Joseph. You can’t blame Matthew for hurting us.”
“I came to my senses not long after arriving home, and I did write to you about my change of heart.” Joseph put his hat back on and caught her gently by the shoulders.
She shook her head, aware only of the warmth of his hands. “Even then, when you were barely twenty, you were a man who knew what he wanted,” she said softly. “Why would I have expected you to change your mind?”
As if just then realizing he was holding her, instead of releasing her, he drew her closer. “You know about honor, don’t you? That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To honor your dead husband’s memory.”
She bit her tongue. Joseph could always bring the subject back to where he wanted it. And yet she’d never felt safer than right now, in the circle of his arms. Times like this she didn’t want to let him go. She wanted to think something could work between them, and she wanted his support in her endeavor.
“You know others have gone before us into Kansas for the same reason, not only from Missouri but from the rest of the country, migrating there with family and friends.” She hesitated. “Francine and Buck Frasier also believe in our cause.”
“I don’t expect you’d be so intent on this visit if you thought they didn’t.” Again, that see-all gaze, and then his expression changed and realization struck. “And this valuable cargo you mentioned?”
She held his gaze. “What do you think John Brown would call precious cargo?”
“His sons.”
“What could be more precious than a son, and possibly his wife?”
He hesitated, let out a heavy breath and looked away, his dark eyes intent on the horizon, his strong jaw muscles still working beneath the neat beard.
For a moment her own breath refused to come and she realized how badly she wanted this man on her side. Maybe even more than that. Maybe she simply wanted him beside her. Guilt once again prickled along her arms as she thought of Matthew. She’d never experienced this kind of powerful awareness of Matthew even after their marriage metamorphosed into something more than a business arrangement.
Overcome by a sudden wave of sadness, she turned to walk away from Joseph—the man who had once rejected her. Matthew never had. The very direction of her heart betrayed her. Was she also betraying Matthew?
Chapter Seven
Joseph watched the woman he loved strolling slightly ahead of him, her golden-red hair glowing in the sunshine, the scent of honeysuckle scattering in her wake. “I’ve realized I can’t hog-tie you to a wagon and force you to continue with us,” he said.
She walked in silence for a moment, her shoulders drooping, her head bowed. What had he said wrong? Why was she so downcast now?
“Of course not,” she said after an uncomfortable hesitation. “Matthew learned after our first week of marriage that I don’t take kindly to commands.”
“Haven’t I respected your wishes to this point of our trip?” he asked. “Try me, Victoria. If I interfere, you can shoot me with that little pistol of yours.”
He thought he heard her sigh, but she continued walking and her speed increased as if she didn’t want him to catch up with her. So naturally, he did. She had entered the shade of a giant pine when he reached out for her hand, grasped it and held it. He heard her catch her breath, but she didn’t pull away. He thought he could sense her wavering, and then she stopped and turned to look up at him.
What was it that made her eyes shine even in the shadows? Or maybe it wasn’t her eyes but something in her expression, her thoughts, her heart, in the feel of her hand in his. He raised her hand and kisse
d it, never taking his gaze from hers. She held it with characteristic boldness.
As if the touch of his lips on her skin drew her, she stepped forward until he could smell the subtle fragrance of the herbs she collected and turned into healing balms. She had always been the healing balm in his life. It was why he’d wandered alone for so many years.
She reached up and pressed the back of her hand against the side of his face, sending warmth through him. “I want to tell you a story.”
“I love stories.” And he wanted this moment, this touch, to last forever. He could listen to her stories all day long.
“Our friends Francine and Buck Frasier were attacked one evening last year by a drunk outside a saloon in St. Louis. A slave came to their rescue and was shot by a black-hearted hate monger for his kindness. They came to our clinic for help. That’s how we became acquainted. We found we had similar interests.”
Joseph no longer winced at her references to Matthew and herself as “we.” She often spoke of Matthew, and Joseph no longer experienced the sharp sting of jealousy that had attacked him at first. He knew that if he loved her he was going to have to love everything about her, including her past, her memories and the fact that she was no longer the young, inexperienced woman who had wound herself around his heart.
Would that be a challenge for him? Would he be willing to wait until she was ready to love again?
“Joseph? Am I boring you?”
He glanced at her. “Of course not. You could never bore me. Please continue.”
She seemed mollified. “Among other things, Francine and I both wished for children. She taught me how to knit and crochet, and Matthew taught Buck several things medical.”
“Who was this blackheart who shot their rescuer?”
“A plantation owner by the name of Otto Duncan.”
Joseph knew that name, and it gave him a chill. “He has a lot of productive land in the Missouri River Valley.”
“He defended himself later with the excuse that no slave should ever be allowed to attack a white man, no matter the reason.” She looked up at Joseph. “What else do you know of him?”
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