THE Prairie DREAMS Trilogy

by Susan Page Davis

  “This is our scout, Eb Bentley,” Rob told the others. “He’ll be with us from Independence all the way to Oregon City.”

  The two nodded at him, and Eb sized them up. Farmers, both with brown hair and eyes, both solidly built. Brothers, maybe.

  “These gentlemen are outfitting their wagons here. They want to bring their families with me to Independence,” Rob said.

  Eb nodded, keeping his own counsel. Most folks took the riverboat to Independence, up the Missouri. But some—usually those trying to save money—drove their wagons the two hundred miles across the state. The river journey on a steamer was certainly easier, and faster, too. But it did cost money, and some people didn’t want to be confined so closely with others that long. He recalled a few years back when cholera ran through the ranks of emigrants and decimated the passenger population on the riverboats. Personally, he’d rather take his horse and make his own peaceful way to the rendezvous. Never liked boats much.

  “Well, sir, I guess we’ll see you tonight,” one of the men said.

  “Sure enough. Be at the field where I told you by sunset. Eb and I will come around and make sure everyone’s ready. We head out at dawn.” Rob shook hands with the two men and waved them off as they left the hotel.

  “How many wagons?” Eb asked, plopping down in the chair one of the men had vacated.

  “Eight so far, and I’ve sent several families on ahead by boat.”

  “There’ll be three or four times that waiting when we get to Independence.”

  “I expect so.” Rob put two fingers in his vest pocket and extracted a folded paper. He opened it and squinted down at the writing. “I’ve had thirty-three families speak for a place on the train so far. There’ll be more, and some of them will have more than one wagon.”

  “Don’t let it get too big,” Eb said.

  “I plan to cut it off at fifty.”

  “Lot of wagons, even so. It’ll be hard to find grazing.”

  “We’ll be one of the first trains out.”

  Eb shook his head. “I dunno, Rob. You go too early, and there’s no grass yet.”

  “Go too late, and it’s all eaten up,” his friend retorted. “It’s all in the timing, and I think we’ve planned it just right this time. Not like last year. Waited too long last year, that’s for sure. Now, I’ll head out with these eight wagons tomorrow morning, and you make sure you’re here every afternoon for three more days, in case anyone else comes to see about joining the train.”

  Eb nodded. They’d been over the plan a dozen times. Any latecomers would have to take the riverboat to Independence or catch a later wagon train.

  Rob’s forehead wrinkled as he gazed toward the entrance.

  Eb swung around and looked over the back of his armchair. Rob was watching two women who had come into the lobby and now approached the desk.

  They looked like quality—Eb wasn’t an expert, but the fabric of their skirts looked rich and ample. They wore the spreading crinoline skirts that at first had seemed to him such an outlandish fashion. Every time he came to a city, he had to get used to the style again. The ladies seemed to puff their skirts out wider every year. They must have to work hard, carrying all those starched petticoats around with them. It made him wonder if the ladies wore those huge skirts to keep fellows a good distance away. They both wore bonnets, too. Not cotton poke bonnets, like the women on the wagon trains would wear, but fancy things with short netting veils and furbelows that probably served no practical function. Those hats wouldn’t keep either sun or rain off the women’s faces, so what good were they?

  “That’s a sight to behold,” Rob said softly.

  “You got no call to stare.”

  “No, you don’t.” Rob chuckled. “Did you get our supplies all laid by?”

  “Sure did. I got a little extra horse feed.”

  “Good. We’d pay more in Independence. I’ve arranged with one of the wagon owners—a Mr. Leonard—to stow our grub in his wagon. It’s just him traveling alone. He was glad to get a bit of cash for the space.”

  Rob raised his chin and stopped talking. Eb turned to see what he was staring at now.

  The two women had walked over and now stood close behind Eb’s chair. One hung back, a young woman of twenty or so, and pretty as a spring morning in the mountains, with dark hair, huge brown eyes, and a flawless complexion, so far as he could tell through the little veil. The older woman was past the flower of youth, but she’d held on to her beauty, with golden hair and rosy cheeks. Handsome woman, some would say.

  “Mr. Whistler?”

  Rob jumped up. “Yes, ma’am, I’m Robert Whistler.”

  Eb unfolded his long frame and stood, too.

  “I am Elise Finster.” The older woman sounded just a mite stuck-up, but in a flash Eb realized it was her accent. She sounded like a Britisher. She held out her gloved hand, and Rob took it—just the fingertips—and nodded.

  “Ma’am.”

  “My friend and I”—she glanced fleetingly at the young woman—“have come to inquire about the wagon trains.”

  Eb almost choked. These two? On a wagon train?

  Rob kept his composure. “Won’t you sit down, ma’am? I’d be happy to answer any questions you may have.”

  Before Eb could have tightened a saddle cinch, the two ladies were seated on the chairs the farmers had sat in earlier. Rob resumed his seat, but Eb moved over near the wall and leaned against it, studying the two women. True quality, unless he was missing something, and definitely English. What on earth were they doing here?

  “Allow me to introduce our scout, Mr. Edwin Bentley, usually known by his initials as ‘Eb.’ ”

  Both women looked at him. Eb nodded but said nothing. When he caught the older woman’s frank gaze, he wished he’d put on his other shirt and washed off a layer of trail dust. Blue eyes with mysterious shadows in them—like the Blue Mountains in eastern Oregon, when you saw them from a distance.

  “We understand you’ve led many wagon trains over the plains, Mr. Whistler,” Miss Finster said.

  “That’s right.” Rob leaned back a little and smiled. “This summer’s trip will be my ninth across the plains.” He craned his neck around. “What is it for you, Eb?”

  “Seven.”

  Rob nodded. “Between us, we’ve got more experience than most anyone else you’ll find, ma’am.”

  “That is just what we hoped for. You see, we’re seeking a gentleman—my companion’s uncle, actually—who we believe may have immigrated to Oregon. Or California. Or…well, you see our dilemma. We don’t know exactly where he’s gone. But we hoped you might, in all of your travels, have come across him.”

  Eb let out a deep sigh. So they weren’t planning on going west themselves. That was a huge relief. All he and Rob needed was a couple of tender-skinned ladies to look after on the trail. But Rob wouldn’t accept women unless they had men to drive and do for them. They’d talked about that after their first trip together and decided it was imperative that every wagon have at least one man attached to it.

  “Ah, so you don’t wish to make the journey yourselves,” Rob said.

  “Oh no, sir.”

  Rob nodded. “What is the name of the man you’re looking for?”

  “David Stone.”

  Rob’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head slowly. “I don’t recall anyone by that name.” He looked over at Eb again. “Eb? Have you—”

  “Don’t think so. What’d he look like?”

  Miss Finster smiled. “Miss Stone has a small portrait. Of course, the picture was made twenty years ago.”

  The younger woman opened a fancy mesh handbag and extracted a framed miniature portrait. Her friend took it and handed it to Rob.

  “He’s tall,” Miss Finster said. “Your height or taller, and a very handsome young man. Well proportioned.”

  Was she blushing? What stake did she have in this quest other than acting as spokesman for the man’s niece, who seemed quite timid?

>   “Did he have an English accent?” Eb asked.

  Both women stared at him.

  “Well, yes,” Miss Finster said. “I suppose he did, though by then he’d been in America ten years or more. He owned a store here in St. Louis for a few years.” She glanced at the younger woman and went on. “You see, he left England shortly after his niece was born. The family had several letters from him over a period of ten years. Half a dozen in all, perhaps. And then they stopped. The last one came from St. Louis, in early 1845.”

  Miss Stone nodded. “That’s correct. We haven’t heard a word from Uncle David since then.”

  Rob leaned back in his chair. “Ladies, I wish I could give you some definite news. I don’t recall having this man along on any of my emigrant trains, and I think I’d remember an Englishman like that. But I have met a few English fellows in my travels.” He turned to Eb. “Do you recall those two fellows who tagged along with us in 1850 until we came to the cutoff? They were headed for California, hoping to find gold.”

  “Irish,” Eb said.

  Rob frowned. “Are you sure? I thought they were from England.”

  Eb shook his head.

  Rob shrugged. “Oh well. There are a lot of British people out in Oregon. England used to lay claim to the territory, you know.”

  Something stirred in Eb’s memory. “I remember one fellow who had a general store in Oregon City for a while. You said this Mr. Stone ran a store here in Saint Louie?”

  Both women turned eager faces toward him, and Eb’s heart twanged. Lord, don’t let these ladies land on a wagon train. None of the men would want to do a lick of work between here and the Columbia. They’d all stand around gawking at the pretty faces.

  “The last time I was in that store must have been two or three years ago.” Eb rubbed his chin and frowned, trying to think what the man had looked like.

  “Do you recall his name?” Miss Finster asked.

  “No, ma’am.”

  Rob said, “You must mean the man at Valley Mercantile.”

  “Right.” There was no use getting the ladies’ hopes up, but still…it could be the man they were looking for. Miss Stone’s poignant expression heightened Eb’s anxiety.

  Nope, can’t let our herdsmen get a look at these two.

  Rob’s face wrinkled. “I only saw that fellow once or twice.”

  “Same here,” Eb said. “But he was tall, ma’am. Had light hair.”

  “That sounds like Uncle David,” Miss Stone said.

  Eb shrugged. “I don’t know if he looked like that picture you have. Of course, I didn’t know him well. I went in his store a couple of times. But it almost seems as though the last time I went in, somebody new was running the place.”

  Rob said, “You ladies are welcome to talk to the folks preparing to go with us on the wagon train. They’re forming up at a field west of town.”

  “When will you leave?” Miss Finster asked.

  “Early in the morning. It’s not likely any of them knows Mr. Stone, but you never can tell who has connections out West these days.”

  Eb pushed away from the wall. “One other thing you could do.”

  “Yes?” Miss Finster and Miss Stone swiveled toward him.

  “Seems to me that one Englishman would gravitate toward another. You could ask around for other English folks in the city. They might know your gentleman.”

  “Yes,” said Miss Finster. “We could ask the hotel keeper and the postmaster and the police department for names of other British people. That makes sense, Mr. Bentley.” She gathered her skirts and stood. “Thank you so much, gentlemen.”

  Miss Stone rose as well, holding her ridiculously tiny handbag before her.

  “You’re very welcome, ladies,” Rob said heartily as he rose. “If you want to go out to the rendezvous field this afternoon, you’ll find several emigrant families there you can talk to, but you might have better luck following Eb’s suggestion. We pull out for Independence at dawn. That is, I do. Eb will be here a few more days, and then he’ll catch up to us at Independence. If he can be of further assistance to you, just come here between one and four in the afternoon.”

  Miss Finster shook his hand as Rob rambled. Then she turned toward Eb and held out her dainty hand. He looked down at her spotless white glove and slowly reached out to grasp her fingers.

  “Thank you, too, Mr. Bentley. You’ve been most helpful.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Oh, it’s something indeed. It’s sound advice and courage you’ve given us. Isn’t that right, Anne?”

  The girl nodded—she wasn’t much more than a girl. Though she was pretty, Eb felt she hadn’t the substance her companion had. Miss Finster might be a highfalutin’ lady, but there was something real about her. She probably couldn’t make pie worth eating, but she wasn’t going to quit looking for this David Stone until she’d exhausted all avenues. Whether her resolve was for the young lady’s sake or her own, he couldn’t tell.

  “Good day, gentlemen, and thank you,” Miss Stone said.

  Neither Rob nor Eb pretended not to watch them as they glided smoothly toward the hotel entrance.

  Rob let out a deep breath. “Now, those were ladies, Eb.”

  CHAPTER 5

  We have to go to Oregon.”

  Lady Anne nodded slowly, surveying Elise with troubled eyes.

  “That was my third plan all along,” Elise said. “I know it’s crazy, but we’ve tried everything else.” She sat on the patchwork counterpane in her hotel room and spoke earnestly. If she couldn’t persuade Anne now, the adventure was over, and David’s fate would remain unknown. “We can’t learn any more here, and we can’t go home empty handed.”

  Lady Anne swallowed hard. “It’s such a foreboding thought. I don’t know if…”

  “If what, dear?” Elise rose and went to stand beside her. They’d drawn so close over the last few weeks, sharing close quarters and their hopes and dreams. She laid a hand gently on Anne’s shoulder. “What is it?”

  Lady Anne’s eyes glistened. “I’m not sure I’m strong enough.”

  Elise pressed her lips together for a moment, considering what she was asking of the young woman. “Before we left England, I might have agreed, but you’re stronger than you were. I have confidence that you’ll be able to find David. You were magnificent when we questioned all those people yesterday. I could see how the gentlemen at the newspaper office admired your pluck.”

  “I did feel as though they truly wanted to help us. It’s a shame no one answered your advertisement.”

  “Yes. I had such hopes for that possibility.” It seemed David Stone was forgotten in St. Louis. Elise tried to summon her own courage so she could keep buttressing Anne. “My dear, I don’t think you could be content to go back across the ocean without knowing you’d tried everything.”

  Lady Anne drew in a shaky breath. “Perhaps you’re right. But I was so seasick….”

  “You’re over that now.”

  “I know, but to catch Mr. Whistler and his caravan, we’d have to go to Independence. The only way to get there quickly and have time to buy a wagon and outfit it would be to go by riverboat, and I’m afraid I’d be ill again.”

  “The trip to Independence is only a few days. You can survive that. And you’ve done so much better since we arrived in St. Louis. Well, except for that one rainy day.”

  “Yes. Since the sun came out, I’ve felt quite well.” Lady Anne stood and walked to the window. “Do you really think we could survive the rigors of the trail, Elise? The men we’ve spoken to have talked about huge mountains, and wolves, and—and Indians.” She swung around and faced Elise. “What about the savages? Do you believe the stories?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Anne’s eyes brightened. “Maybe we could go see Mr. Bentley again. We could ask him how difficult the trip really is.”

  “I fear we’re too late. They said he’d be at the hotel three more afternoons. Wasn’t today his last day?”


  “Too bad.”

  “Yes. But Mr. Whistler’s made the journey nine times.” Elise smiled. “Either those men are superhuman, or the trip is doable for mortals like you and me.”

  Lady Anne squared her shoulders. “Well, we can’t give up now. If we sail to Independence and can’t find Uncle David, we have no other choice. We haven’t any other promising leads. Only the man who rented the store to him.”

  “Yes.” The man running the furniture store had directed them to his landlord, and that man had remembered one vital bit of information. “He sent David some money in Independence.”

  “But that doesn’t mean he stayed there.” Anne eyed her bleakly.

  “No, and the store owner thought he recalled David saying he wanted to see Oregon. He sold the last of David’s inventory for him and posted David’s share to him in Independence. It’s the first clue we’d found that named a destination.”

  Anne grimaced. “I had hoped that couple from Dorset could be of more help to us. And the newspaper ad didn’t help. I’m sure if Uncle David was still in the vicinity, we’d have caught wind of him by now.”

  “I think so, too. So then…we’re agreed?” Elise watched Lady Anne’s face carefully.

  Her young mistress nodded. “I only hope I shall not fail you, Elise. You’ve done so much for me.”

  “But this is for you. For the Stone family.”

  Lady Anne’s smooth brow furrowed. “It’s for both of us. I dare you to say otherwise.”

  Thomas G. Costigan looked over his shoulder before entering the Horsehead. No one was following him—but then, why would they? He smiled grimly and ducked inside. The low-ceilinged room was dim and smoky. He saw Peterson at a small table in the back corner. Thomas stopped at the bar for a glass of whiskey and carried it to the table and sat down.

  “Well?” Peterson asked.

  “They’ve made inquiries all over town, but they haven’t turned up anything solid.”

  Peterson swore. “My own efforts have been no more successful. Where did they go today?”

  “They hired a buggy and driver and went to several private residences and a few shops. And they went back to the newspaper office. I was able to hear a snatch of their conversation when they left there. Seems that ad they took out a few days ago hasn’t gained them anything.”