THE Prairie DREAMS Trilogy

by Susan Page Davis

  “Certainly.” He took the harness to the wagon and bundled it inside. When he faced her, he offered his arm. “Shall I take you back to your wagon, or would you like to take a shortcut?”

  She smiled at that. There was no shorter way to her wagon than the way she’d come, unless they went directly across the circle seething with oxen and mules.

  “Is there such a thing as a long-cut?”

  “I think we could find one.”

  They walked away from the wagons, toward the verge of the forest. She pulled her shawl close without releasing his arm. It felt good to be near him again, to be touching him and knowing he enjoyed it.

  His pinto was picketed near the edge of the meadow. Nearby, a fire pit held cold ashes, and a small pile of gear lay tumbled on the grass.

  “Rob and I are camping here. Care for a chair?”

  Eb steered her toward a fallen log. She sat down, careful to leave him plenty of space, and he sat beside her.

  “What can I do for you?”

  She drew a deep breath and gazed out over the sloping meadow. “It’s lovely here.”

  “That it is.”

  “I imagine it’s even more beautiful in the valley.” She sneaked a glance at him. Eb was watching her intently. “I want to stay here in Oregon, Eb.” She held her breath.

  His eyes widened, and he reached over to enclose her hand in both of his. “You mean that?”

  “Yes.”

  He squeezed her hand.

  “If you can just wait a little bit until I deliver Anne to Mr. Stone, why then…”

  “You’ll marry me?” he asked softly.

  She nodded, unable to trust her voice.

  “I know you can’t leave her yet,” he said.

  “But you’ll wait? You won’t forget me or…or be angry?”

  “The only thing I’ll be is waiting. When you say the word, I’ll be there.”

  “Oh Eb, I love you.”

  He pulled her into his embrace, and she squeezed him. He smelled of pitch and sweat and horses, but she didn’t care.

  “If it takes awhile, I’ll be getting the ranch into shape,” he said. “Just let me know.”

  “I will.”

  He kissed her, and Elise let him hold her for a long time before she remembered her instructions.

  “Oh! Anne is fixing our dinner.”

  He didn’t move. “There’s one more thing.”

  “What?” She didn’t want to leave their spot either, although she felt vaguely wicked for staying out here with Eb.

  “What will you do if her uncle has passed away?”

  Elise sighed. “I refuse to think about that.”

  “But you should.”

  She pulled away from him. “I don’t know. I suppose I’ll try to talk her into staying with us—if you’re agreeable to that.”

  “I am.”

  She smiled. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

  He pulled her back against his shoulder. She rested her head against him for a moment.

  “We really should go.”

  “Huh.” Eb stroked her hair. “It’s a tough choice. Of course, I haven’t had much of a meal for three days now.”

  Elise laughed and stood, brushing her skirt into place. “Come, Mr. Bentley. You need to keep up your strength.”

  She took his arm and walked with him toward the wagons.

  Eb sniffed. “Somebody’s burning something.”

  “Likely it’s Anne.”

  “I expect you’re right.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Oregon City knelt on the eastern bank of the Willamette River, beckoning to Elise’s heart like paradise. After six months on the trail, sleeping in the little tent and eating the plainest of provisions, caring for their mules, and driving the wagon over every inch of the inhospitable trail, she and Anne had arrived.

  “I can scarcely believe it,” Anne said, clutching her hat with one hand as though it would fly off and sail onward to the Pacific. “We’ve done it, Elise!”

  “Yes, we have. Now we’ve only one more task to accomplish.”

  They were twentieth in line, more than halfway back on their depleted train. Anne leaned out to the side, gulping in the sight of the businesses and solidly built houses that made up the town.

  “Rob said this was the first city incorporated west of the Mississippi,” Elise said.

  “The Mississippi—that crossing seems like another life.”

  Elise smiled. “It was. We’re pioneer women now, not the two fine ladies who left England last spring.”

  Anne’s musical laugh burbled out, lifting Elise’s spirits to new heights. “I wouldn’t trade this journey for anything. When Uncle David and I get back to London, we’ll be the most popular party guests in town.”

  “Everyone will want to hear your tales.” Elise had let the team slow as she scanned the signboards on the shops. She snapped the reins on the wheelers’ rumps to make them quicken their pace and close the distance between them and Mr. Leonard’s wagon.

  Eb rode up beside Elise. “The store Mr. Stone kept is on the next street. Turn right up yonder. Folks filing land claims will keep on going straight. I’ll show you where you want to be though.”

  “Oh dear, I haven’t said good-bye to everyone.” Anne’s stricken face mirrored Elise’s confusion.

  They’d camped ten miles out last night, and everyone had visited other people’s campfires, jolly and hopeful for the morrow. Elise had learned how to send letters to families who had no address as yet. The Harknesses hoped to settle near Oregon City and would pick up mail sent to them there in care of general delivery. The Adams boys had plans for farming near Champoeg, twelve miles to the south. The Libbys hoped to join their son and his family up the Clackamas River.

  But still, she’d expected somehow that they would all be together one last time, not flake off one by one as the train progressed.

  “Where will you and Rob be?” she asked.

  “I’ll stick with you for a while,” Eb said. “Rob will go as far as the land claims office to help anyone who needs it. After you ladies are settled, I’ll go and find him and help out wherever I’m needed. But I hope to leave for my ranch by tomorrow.”

  Elise’s heart dropped. Eb would leave them, and she and Anne would be alone again. Unless they found David. And then?

  “You’ve got my instructions on how to find me,” Eb said.

  She nodded. His ranch was south of Oregon City, a few miles outside the flourishing town of Corvallis. He and Rob had both bought land there several years back. She could send Eb a message at Corvallis, or make her way up the river to that town. But the prospect of doing that alone after so long with the close-knit wagon company frightened her.

  Eb’s eyes narrowed. “You send me word, and I’ll come back here for you.”

  She nodded, her mouth so dry she couldn’t speak.

  He reached out and touched her shoulder just for a moment. “All right, here’s where you turn off. I’ll go ahead and scout you a spot near the haberdashery—six mules and a schooner need space.”

  He and Speck trotted off and rounded the corner.

  “Gee,” Elise called. She tugged on the reins, pulling the mules’ heads to the right. The leaders swung around, and the swing team and wheelers followed.

  “Good-bye! Good-bye!” Anne shouted, leaning far out over the side of the seat, so she could wave to the Adams brothers. “Thank you! You, too!”

  She settled back beside Elise and smoothed down her skirt. “I shall miss them.”

  “Yes.” Elise glanced at her. Anne was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Are you sorry you let Dan get away?”

  “No. I don’t think so.” She sighed.

  Buggies, farm wagons, pack mules, and saddle horses filled the street. Elise guided the mules while trying to keep track of Speck’s brown-and-white rump ahead of them. Footsteps pounded up from behind, and Ben Harkness’s head appeared on Anne’s side of the wagon.

  “Ma
said to give you this!” He thrust something into Anne’s hand.

  “Oh, thank you,” Anne said. “Give her my best.”

  “And remember, if you ladies need anything, we won’t be far away.”

  “Bless you, Ben,” Elise called.

  Anne leaned out over the street again and waved. “Good-bye!”

  Elise squinted ahead. “I’ve lost Eb.”

  “He can’t be far.” Anne unrolled the cloth Ben had given her. “Oh, look. It’s one of Rebecca’s knitted dishcloths.”

  Elise glanced over at it. “She was knitting that last night, bless her heart.” Ahead, one of the larger buildings sported a sign reading VALLEY MERCANTILE.

  “That must be it.” As she spoke, she glimpsed Speck. Eb was still in the saddle, waving to her.

  The mules lumbered past the store, which seemed to be a popular shopping place. Eb gestured for her to pull around to the far side of the building. Two minutes later, Elise and Anne stood on the front porch of the store. Elise’s lungs burned. How must Anne be feeling now? She looked over her shoulder. Eb was right behind them.

  “Are you ready, Miss Anne?” he asked.

  Anne nodded. “Yes, though I wish I had changed into a promenade dress.”

  Elise smiled. Last night they’d discussed what they would wear on their arrival at Oregon City. They’d decided not to cast aside their calico dresses, out of deference to the many women in the company who had nothing better.

  “You mean you’ve still got all your gowns?” Eb eyed her with amusement.

  “Not all, but several, and not much else. We got rid of just about everything but the mules’ rations, enough food to get us here, the harness, and our clothing. Our wagon is really quite empty,” Anne said.

  Unfortunately, her purse was, too, Elise knew. If David was inside this building, all would be well. If not…well, they could sell the team and wagon.

  Anne squared her shoulders and stepped to the door. Eb held it for them, and the ladies entered the dim building.

  A woman stood behind the counter. Anne walked directly to her.

  “Excuse me. I’m looking for David Stone. Would he happen to be here?”

  The woman looked at her for a moment then turned her head and yelled in a rusty screech, “Nathan!”

  Elise jumped. Anne glanced at her and smiled. They waited in silence until a dark-haired man of about thirty, wearing a long, white apron, emerged from among the shelves of groceries.

  “What is it, Nancy?”

  Elise exhaled. She hadn’t admitted how much she was counting on finding David—at once, while Eb was still at her side.

  “This woman wants to find Mr. Stone. She talks like him.”

  The young man turned to Anne. His eyebrows lifted, and a gleam lit his eyes. “Well, now. Mr. Stone? Mr. David Stone?”

  “Yes.” Anne sounded a bit flustered. “Is he about?”

  “No. I’m sorry, he’s not.”

  “But…” Anne swung around with tears threatening to spill from her eyes and looked to Eb.

  “David Stone used to own this store, I believe,” Eb said gruffly.

  “Yes, he did.” The man smiled. “I’m Nathan Daley. I bought out Mr. Stone about a year ago.”

  “A year ago?” Anne sagged against her, and Elise slipped an arm about her.

  “Do you know where he’s gone?” Elise asked.

  Daley shrugged. “It’s my understanding he bought a spread down near Eugene. He sold out to me, lock, stock, and pickle barrel, you might say.” He chuckled, but Elise couldn’t raise a smile.

  “Do you have an address or directions to his property?” she asked.

  “Can’t say as I do, but I expect you could reach him through the post office at Eugene. It’s quite a ways south of here….”

  “I know where it is,” Eb said.

  Anne opened her handbag. “Just to be certain, this is a miniature of David Stone. It was made when he was about twenty.”

  Daley took it and carried over to the nearest window. “Yup, that’s him.” He turned and grinned at Anne. “He looked like you, miss.”

  “Yes.” Anne took the picture back, somber faced. “As far as you know, then, he’s in good health?”

  “He was when he left here. I’m sorry I can’t tell you anything more recent.”

  “It’s all right.”

  Eb drew them aside. “What do you ladies want to do? Eugene is a far piece.”

  “Perhaps we should take rooms for the night,” Anne said doubtfully.

  Elise couldn’t help noticing the bins of cabbages, carrots, beets, and other fresh vegetables at the front of the store.

  “Should we buy a few supplies?”

  “The sight of those cabbages makes my mouth water,” Anne said. “But unless we have a place where we can cook…We don’t want to go on camping, do we?”

  Elise hesitated, not sure how much cash Anne had left.

  “There’s a boardinghouse or two,” Eb said.

  The door opened and a tall, thin man strode in, heading straight for the counter. Daley had gone to aid a customer, and the woman behind the counter eyed the newcomer.

  “May I help you, sir?”

  “Yes. I understand this establishment is owned by David Stone.”

  Elise grabbed Anne’s arm. “It’s the mustache man.”

  Anne caught her breath. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Elise took Eb’s arm and hustled the two of them behind a rack of harness. “Eb, that man was on our train out of New York, and our steamship across the Mississippi. Anne spotted him watching us near the dock in St. Louis.”

  “And you think he followed you all the way out here?” Eb’s face looked less than credulous.

  “I don’t know how,” Elise said, “but I’m sure it’s him.”

  Eb walked to the end of the aisle and stood watching the man at the counter.

  “Wonderful,” the man said with great sarcasm. “And how far away is Eugene?”

  “You’ll have to ask Mr. Daley,” the woman said. “He was just explaining it to someone else.”

  “Someone else?” the man asked. “Not a Mr. Thomas G. Costigan?”

  “Why, no. I’ve never heard of that person. This was two women.”

  “Two women?” the man snapped. “Two English women?”

  “Yes, I’d say so. Very pretty accents.” The clerk nodded toward where they stood, partially concealed by the racks of merchandise. “They’re still in the store.”

  As the man turned in their direction, Elise squeezed Eb’s arm.

  “Can you talk to him and detain him?” Eb whispered. “I’ll go for the marshal.”

  Anne strode to the open area before the counter and planted herself before the man with the mustache.

  “Who are you?”

  “I beg your pardon.” The man darted a glance toward the door as though looking for escape. Eb was just closing in behind him.

  “You followed my companion and me halfway across this country to St. Louis,” Anne said, “and now we arrive here in Oregon City after an arduous journey and find you here—inquiring for my uncle.”

  “Aha.” The man gulped and looked her up and down.

  Elise stepped up beside Anne and glared at him. “You’d best explain yourself, sir. Start with your name.”

  “I…er…Charles Peterson.”

  “And how did you get here?”

  He seemed relieved at that question. “I came by ship. Most of the way, that is.”

  “Why?” Elise asked.

  He hesitated then said with an air of confession, “I was employed to search for Mr. Stone.”

  “By whom?”

  “That is a private matter.”

  “Is it?” Anne asked. “Because my family’s solicitor told me the trustees of my father’s estate would not spend any more money looking for my uncle. If they are not paying you, I demand to know who is.”

  “I am not at liberty to say, miss. Now, if you will excuse me—”r />
  “No! I will not excuse you.” Anne held his stare, and Elise slipped around the man and stood solidly in front of the door.

  “Nathan,” screeched the woman behind the counter.

  Mr. Daley hurried toward her, wiping his hands on his apron. “What is it?” He looked at Anne and Peterson. “May I be of some assistance?”

  “We would like the marshal to question this man,” Anne said.

  “Oh dear. The marshal? Whatever for?” Daley glanced at Nancy. “What’s this about?”

  “This man inquired about my uncle,” Anne said. “In practically the same breath, he asked for a man we know is a criminal.”

  “What are you talking about?” Peterson asked. “I did no such thing.”

  “Yes, you did. Thomas G. Costigan is now in the marshal’s custody. If you’re an acquaintance of his, then you should speak to the marshal as well.”

  “I don’t know what you think you know, but I shan’t be a part of this scandalous scene.” Peterson backed toward the door and bumped into Elise. “Oh excuse me, ma’am.” He looked at her and gave a start. “Oh, my.”

  “Yes,” said Elise. “We’ll all wait here until the marshal arrives.”

  Daley looked in dismay at the crowd of customers gathering to watch. “Please, ma’am, if you could just take this dispute elsewhere…”

  “I’m afraid we can’t,” Elise said.

  She felt a shove on the door behind her, and then someone knocked.

  “It’s Eb!” Anne was looking out the window. “He’s got Rob and some of the boys with him.”

  Elise opened the door. Eb strode in and gave Peterson a stern look. “Stay where you are, mister. I’ve sent a young man to fetch the marshal. Dan, watch the door.”

  Dan Adams took up his place next to Elise. Hector Adams, along with Rob Whistler, Wilbur Harkness, and Eb, formed a ring around Peterson. The store seemed very small and crowded. Anne edged over to Elise and groped for her hand.

  “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, folks,” Mr. Daley called to his customers. “Just continue your shopping. I’m sure this misunderstanding will be clarified soon.”

  The shoppers drifted back to the displays of wares. Within minutes, Ben Harkness came to the door with another man.

  “Here’s Marshal Nesmith,” Ben said.