“Thank you, but I ate with the Rogerses.”
“Yes, I saw that.”
Doing his best to ignore the young woman, Dillon concentrated on his present task of securing the wagon. His gut feeling said Lavinia Millberg was up to no good… as usual. Dillon didn’t trust her—spoiled and pampered as a queen’s house cat, with a temperament to match. In fact, if he were a betting man, he’d wager that the thick-wasted brunette was, at this minute, trying to work her wiles on him so he’d be fired. Mr. Millberg had warned him that his hirelings were not to consort with his daughter— not that he had a mind to. But Miss Lavinia seemed the type who liked to watch people fail as a direct result of her actions. He’d seen in the past how she’d tried to come between Josh Rogers and his sweet bride, except the doc was quick to recognize a scheme from a mysterious virus. And she bore false witness against Megan Crawford to that Pinkerton detective… of course, Bernie wound up marrying Miss Megan, which ruined Lavinia Millberg’s sordid plans. Furthermore, Dillon had personally witnessed Miss Lavinia’s shameless flirtations with the preacher after last Sunday morning’s service—with his new wife by his side, no less! Of course, the preacher handled the situation in a manner befitting his station.
Yessiree, Lavinia Millberg was up to no good.
“I can cook, you know,” she stated defensively. “I’m just not accustomed to such… such primitive means.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Dillon wasn’t about to argue the point.
“Shall I expect you at noon?”
“No, ma’am… but I thank you for the offer.”
When no reply was forthcoming, Dillon assumed she’d stomped off in one of her usual huffs. But when he turned to fetch more rope, he found her staring at him, her head tilted in a calculating manner.
“Don’t tell me you’re sweet on Penny Rogers.”
Dillon couldn’t help a small grin. “I ain’t ‘sweet’ on anyone, Miss Lavinia,” he drawled. “Sweet don’t describe anything about me.”
“Humph. Well, that’s good. I would hate to tell Daddy that you’re distracted by a silly blond who quotes Shakespeare incessantly and, therefore, are unworthy of your position as his driver.”
Gritting his teeth, Dillon pivoted and finished tying down the wagon’s tarp. “No, ma’am. Wouldn’t want you to have to tell your daddy anything of the kind.”
Moments later, he heard Lavinia’s swishing skirts and, glancing over his shoulder, he saw her walk away. He let go a frustrated sigh.
Lord God, I’m sorry I took this job—sorrier than a Mississippi flood in springtime. I only ask that You see me to Oregon. Leastwise I won’t make it. Dillon scowled. And neither will this here piano.
Chapter 2
All set to pull out?”
Penny swiveled and stared up at the wiry wagon master. She gave him a nod. “We’re ready to go.”
“Where’s your pa?”
“He’s returning some rope to one of the Cole brothers, but he’ll be back in no time.”
“Just see that he is, cuz we’re leaving. I hope to make Salmon Falls by this evening.”
“Yes, Mr. Rawhide.”
He smirked, his left cheek bulging with chewing tobacco. “How many times do I hafta tell ya that I ain’t no ‘Mister’? I’m plain ol’ Rawhide.”
Standing beside the wagon, Penny felt herself blush. “Yes, sir. I’ll try to remember that.”
“See that you do.” The grizzled man with sharp whiskers and leathery skin that matched his name turned and spit out a dark brown wad. “And I ain’t no ‘sir,’ neither.”
“Yes, si—I mean, Mis—I mean… Rawhide.”
“That’s better, little lady.” With that, he spurred his horse on to the next wagon and the next, making sure the entire train was ready to break camp.
Penny sighed with relief when he was gone. The man scared her—always did. His fierce presence caused her to feel all flustered and tongue-tied, a trait that didn’t exactly belong to Penny.
Suddenly Dillon’s light brown head peered around the Millbergs’ wagon just up ahead. “You all right back there?”
Embarrassed, Penny lifted her chin. “Of course I am!” Instantly, she regretted her harsh tone. “I’m fine, but… well, I’m just a bit uneasy around Mr. Rawhide.”
“Only for the last four months,” Dillon said with a charming grin. “In fact, I’d say you’re downright petrified around the fellow.”
“Oh, go on with you,” she replied, waving a hand at him. “The last thing I need is teasing. You’re as bad as my brother Josh.”
To her shock and surprise, Dillon jumped from his perch. In several great strides, he was standing right in front of her.
He removed his hat. “My humble apologies, Miss Penny. I’d never have a laugh at your expense.”
She looked into his eyes and saw only sincerity, no mockery or ridicule. “Apology accepted.”
“Thank you.” Donning his wide-brimmed hat, he added, “Don’t be afraid of Rawhide. He might be as hard and worn as the buckskin he wears, but he’s a decent man.”
“I appreciate you telling me that, Mr. Trier. I feel ever so much better now.”
He grinned. “Maybe I should’ve told you that back in Independence and saved you some worry.”
Penny returned the smile, unwilling to share the fact that Bethany had been saying much the same thing. Besides, Dillon’s boyish charm and rugged gallantry touched her heart for the umpteenth time, causing him to seem more believable than her friend, precious as she was. After all, Bethany’s experience around men was nearly as limited as Penny’s—well, until she married Josh, anyway.
In the next moment, a cloud of dust kicked up by horse hooves settled down upon them. “You gonna stand there and make moon eyes at each other, or are you two gonna get these wagons rolling?”
Penny peeled her gaze from Dillon and looked over at their frightful wagon master. Then, before she could utter a sound, Dillon took hold of her wrist and led her to the front of the wagon. His hands moved to her waist, and he hoisted her up so that she could easily climb into the seat.
“Th–thank you, Mr. Trier,” she said somewhat breathless.
He nodded, handing her the reins. Turning to Rawhide, he said, “We’re set to go.”
“’Bout time,” came the clipped reply.
“Papa!” Penny called, seeing her father casually strolling toward their wagon. “Papa, hurry! We’re leaving.”
The older man quickened his pace, climbing onto the seat just as Dillon began to roll out the Millbergs’ wagon ahead of them. Penny gladly handed over the reins.
“Lovely morning, isn’t it, Penny-lo?”
“Yes, Papa, it is.”
“And just look at this landscape! Makes me wish I were a painter like Leonardo da Vinci.”
Penny glanced over at her father and noticed how his billowy white hair stuck out from beneath his leather cap.
“As magnificent as this area is,” Papa continued, “it’ll be rough going through the rock and the sagebrush until we reach the Snake River.”
“Who said that?”
“The Cole brothers. Just this morning, in fact.”
Penny let out a weary sigh and forced herself to look forward to the noon hour when they would stop to eat and rest. Then she could talk to Dillon again….
“Papa, I think I’m in love.”
“With one of the Cole brothers? Heaven help us! Which one of them?”
Penny laughed. “No, Papa, it’s neither of the Coles. I’m in love with—”
“Wait. Don’t tell me. Let me guess.”
“He’s tall, handsome, brown eyes, courageous chin….”
“No more hints. I’ll guess. I’ll guess.”
“Shouldn’t be terribly difficult.”
“I know. I know….”
Papa took the rest of the morning to ponder his first guess—which was incorrect. The noon meal and rest time proved equally as disappointing since the Millbergs kept Dillon so busy that
he barely had time to grab a couple of the charred biscuits left over from breakfast before the wagons pulled out onto the trail again. But, nine miles later, when they stopped for the night and made camp, Papa declared he knew the one who had conquered Penny’s heart.
“John Wentworth.”
“Who?” Penny furrowed her brows.
“John Wentworth. He’s with the other circle of pioneers.”
“Oh, yes, of course. Mr. Wentworth.”
“I took the liberty of inviting him to share our meal this evening.”
“You… what?”
“Here he comes now!”
Penny glanced over her shoulder in time to see the strapping young man headed their way. True, he wasn’t unpleasing to the eye, but in Penny’s opinion, he couldn’t hold a candle to Dillon.
“Papa, I’m not in love with him,” she muttered under her breath.
“No?”
“No.”
“Oh dear…”
Penny rolled her eyes before looking at Bethany. Her friend was hard-pressed to contain her giggles. Then, lifting her gaze, Penny spotted Dillon making his way toward their camp. What would he think with Mr. Wentworth here? Would he assume incorrectly, as her father did, that she was interested in him?
“This is a fine mess, Papa.”
“What mess? We’re just being neighborly.” He stuck his right hand out in welcome. “John! Glad you could join us.”
“Yes, sir, I’m grateful to have been asked.” He shook Papa’s hand. “Not often that I get a decent meal. My cousin and I have been taking turns, but he’s a worse cook than me.”
“Well, go fetch your cousin. He can eat with us, too.”
“He can?”
“Certainly. The more the merrier.”
By now Dillon had reached them, and Papa gave him a friendly slap between the shoulder blades. “We might make our first crossing of the Snake River sometime tomorrow.”
Dillon grinned at the older man. “With all due respect, sir, I think it’ll be another two days.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because we’re not traveling as fast as Rawhide anticipated on account of a woman giving birth over in the other circle of wagons.” He turned to Josh. “They said they’d call for you if they need you. She’s got her mother and sister helping out.”
Joshua nodded. “Very well.”
Penny stepped toward him. “And how is it that you’re privy to all this information, Mr. Trier?”
He smiled down at her, causing Penny’s heart to flutter in the most unusual way. “I reckon I’m just a good listener.”
Penny matched his smile, and they stood there in adoring regard until Bethany cleared her throat loudly.
Penny turned to her friend.
“Will you help me with our meal?”
“Of course, Beth.” She glanced back at Dillon. “Please excuse me.”
He gave a single but courteous nod.
Following Bethany to the end of the wagon, she began to help form the baking soda biscuits.
“I pray I won’t burn these again. I want to impress Mr. Trier with my culinary skills.”
“I’ll take care of the biscuits,” Beth said. “I have finally learned the secret, thanks to Granny Willodene.”
“Well, her secret didn’t work with me. I still burn them every time.” Penny looked over her shoulder to see if her father and Dillon were engaged in conversation. They were, along with Josh. Moments later, John Wentworth and his cousin joined them.
“Imagine Papa thinking I was in love with Mr. Wentworth. Anyone can see who I’m really crazy about.”
“And he’s crazy about you, too.”
Penny stopped forming the dough. “Really? Do you really think so?”
“Yes, and I’ve told you that a million times, if once at all. Whenever are you going to listen to me?”
Penny did her best to look contrite.
“I knew all along that Mr. Trier didn’t have eyes for Katie O’Neil—er—Cole. Katie Cole.”
“You were right. He admitted as much.”
“He did what? When?”
“This morning.” Penny shifted uncomfortably at having to confess her blunder. But at last she divulged this morning’s conversation with Dillon.
“You said you were… thankful that he didn’t marry Katie? Oh, my soul! You are too bold, Penelope Rogers!”
“I didn’t mean to be. But you know how I am, Beth. I couldn’t help it. The words just tumbled out of my mouth.”
“Mrs. Throckmorton would be shocked.”
“It’s a good thing she’s not here.”
“I’ll say!”
Then Penny began to laugh, imagining their starchy headmistress traveling like a primitive pioneer along the Oregon Trail. She laughed so hard, in fact, that she nearly knocked over the pot of venison stew.
“Honestly, Penny. Mind your manners. We have hungry men to feed.”
Penny, as usual, ignored the scolding. “Oh, Beth, can you see it? Mrs. Throckmorton cooking biscuits over a campfire? Bathing in a river wearing nothing but her chemise?”
“Or how about coming face-to-face with a rattlesnake like Mr. Rawhide said he once did?”
“Pity the snake!”
At that, the two burst into a fit of giggles and, once again, the biscuits were burned.
Chapter 3
Dinner was served and, thanks to Bethany’s catering skills, the ladies were able to disguise the blackened biscuits by splitting them on each plate and ladling over a portion of hot stew. The men raved about their supper, and even Penny didn’t think it tasted all that bad.
Dillon approached her as she was collecting empty plates. “Meal was delicious. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said with a pleased smile.
Josh kissed Bethany’s cheek. “Sweetheart, how about a little stroll around camp before we turn in for the night?”
“Yes, I’d enjoy that.” Looking at Penny, she asked, “Would you mind cleaning up tonight? I’ll take on the chore tomorrow after breakfast.”
“I don’t mind a bit. The two of you go on.”
Penny stood there watching her brother and her best friend walk away, but she was very much aware of Dillon still standing beside her. Would he ask her out for a stroll, too?
“Miss Penny?”
She whirled around at the sound of John Wentworth’s voice. He now stood on the other side of Dillon.
“Much obliged for the supper tonight.” He handed her two empty plates and then scratched his scraggly light brown beard. “My cousin, Paul, and me ate two helpings each.”
“Glad you enjoyed it, Mr. Wentworth.”
“Oh, you can call me by my given name. I’m not fond of formalities and such.”
Penny smiled a reply, feeling suddenly very uncomfortable. Where was Papa? Glancing in between the two men, she saw him conversing with Orson Millberg.
“Would you care to take a little walk with me, Miss Penny?”
She looked at Dillon. “What?”
“I said… would you care to take a walk with me?”
Slowly, she turned to John. To her disappointment, it was he who did the asking, not Dillon.
“It’s a nice evening,” John persisted, his hazel eyes sparkling with hope.
“Thank you, but no,” Penny said. “I… I have to clean up.”
“Here, I’ll give you a hand.”
She swallowed hard and glanced at Dillon only to find him studying the toes of his dusty boots. Couldn’t he speak up? Couldn’t he come to her defense in some way? Perhaps he didn’t care at all.
Penny set a forestalling hand on John’s arm as he reached for the dirty dishes. “I appreciate your offer, Mr…. I mean… John, but my father has a list of chores for me that’s a mile long and I’m afraid they’re women’s work and nothing I’d allow a man to help with, if you know what I mean.”
Judging by his puzzled expression, he didn’t. But, to Penny’s relief, he didn’t p
ress the matter.
“Maybe another time.”
She just smiled. She didn’t want to take a walk with him “another time.” She wanted to take a romantic stroll with Dillon. She wanted to hold onto his arm and gaze up at him beneath the moonlit sky….
“Well, I guess I’d better leave you to your chores, Miss Penny,” John said. He looked over at Dillon. “How ’bout a game of cribbage, Trier?”
“I’d like that. Thanks.”
“Come by our wagon when you’re ready.”
“Will do.”
Grinning like a boy, John strode away, while Penny felt the wind leave her lungs. He’d rather play a board game than take a stroll with me?
“I’ve got a bit of a problem,” Dillon said softly. He took a step closer to Penny. His hat in his hands, he worked its brim in a circle as he spoke. “While I’m in the Millbergs’ employ, my life is not my own. Orson Millberg made it clear that he won’t pay me if I… well, if he senses that I’m ‘distracted’ from my job.”
“I see,” Penny replied, although she wasn’t sure that she really did.
“I’m counting on the money from Millberg to pay for the supplies I’ll need to start a ranch in Oregon. Without it…” He looked at her, meeting her gaze straight on. “… without it, there’ll be no ranch and I won’t be able to support a… a wife and family.”
Penny wet her suddenly parched lips. Did he mean her? He wouldn’t be able to support her as his wife? Was he really thinking along those lines?
“Do you want a wife and family, Mr. Trier?” She couldn’t help but pursue the question.
He smirked in a charming way. “I reckon it’s high time you called me Dillon, and… yes, I do want a wife and family. But I’m not in a place where I can even court a lady proper-like.” He glanced over his shoulder. “If Millberg catches wind of my interest in a… a certain lady,” he said with an intensity darkening his brown eyes, “he’s liable to fire me on the spot.”
Protest rose up in Penny. “Then who would drive his wagon?” She smiled. “I think you’ve got the upper hand.”
“No, Millberg would find someone. He already hired a girl to cook for him, his wife, and Miss Lavinia.”
“Really? Who?”
Where the Heart Is Romance Collection Page 22