Ana Seymour

by Jeb Hunters Bride

  Scott Haskell came up from behind her. “Are you all right?” he asked gently, draping a blanket around her shoulders.

  “Yes,” she murmured, giving him a look of gratitude.

  Other passengers had gathered around them, but Kerry was not too aware of their presence. Her attention kept coming back to Jeb Hunter’s light brown eyes. Someone brought a blanket for Patrick. “I’m sorry,” she whispered finally, trying to break the silence.

  “It appears you have reason to be.” The coldness in the wagon captain’s voice sent another chill along her back.

  “Now isn’t the time for this, Hunter,” Scott objected. “These two are freezing. They need to get warm and dry. Then you can talk.”

  “I suppose you knew about this, Haskell?” Jeb asked angrily, waggling a hand in the general direction of Kerry’s front where her most obvious female characteristics had given her away.

  “I knew that Kerry was a woman, if that’s what you mean,” Scott answered calmly. “I didn’t see a need to make a point of the issue.”

  “Kerry, is it? So even the name was a lie?”

  “The train doesn’t take lone women,” Kerry said. Now that her scare was over and she was feeling a little warmer under the blanket, she was more able to cope with Jeb Hunter’s anger. She’d anticipated a showdown with their wagon leader if her disguise was ever discovered. Well, the time had arrived. And she’d be darned it she’d let him intimidate her into backing down.

  “You’re damn right it doesn’t,” Jeb said. “And for many good reasons.”

  Kerry pulled the blanket more firmly around her shoulders, took a step backward and looked Jeb Hunter squarely in the eye. “I’d be interested in hearing those reasons, Captain. But right now I’m more concerned with getting some dry clothes and trying to figure out how we’re going to get my wagon out of the middle of the river. So if you’ll excuse me…”

  She turned her back on him and marched up the bank, looking tiny and bedraggled, the heavy blanket trailing along on the ground behind her. Jeb Hunter felt his gut twist. A woman. Damnation, what a development. A lone woman on his train. And not just any woman—one who wouldn’t listen to orders and who had a stubborn streak as wide as Kansas. One whose campfire he’d looked forward to sharing night after night. One who somehow, inexplicably, had already managed to creep a small ways into the black hole that was his heart.

  The breakdown of the Gallivan wagon meant that the crossing would not be completed that day. The few wagons still waiting on the far side formed their own little camp for the night. Most of the men on the train volunteered to help Jeb, Scott, John Burnett and Patrick with the monumental task of emptying the disabled wagon. When Kerry had waded into the river on her way to help, Jeb had rudely spun her around by the shoulders and sent her back on shore. “The men will handle this,” he told her. “All I need is to have you stumble on that bad ankle. It would break for sure this time.”

  Kerry had looked to Scott for support, but for once he nodded agreement with Jeb. “You stay up on the bank, Kerry,” he told her. “You can organize the crates and supplies as we haul them up to you.”

  So she’d stayed at the edge of the river, dry and warm, as a seemingly endless progression of her fellow wagon train members trekked back and forth ferrying every last box of her possessions to shore. It was a mortifying couple of hours, not helped by Jeb Hunter’s glares every time he caught her eye. By now he’d realized exactly how much she and Patrick had crammed into their wagon. He hadn’t yet commented on it, but she was sure that he would.

  Finally, Frank and Scott led the Todds’ six-oxen team into the water and hitched them to the Gallivan team. A group of men shoved the wagon from behind and after forty-five minutes of struggle, the broken vehicle was pushed and dragged up on the opposite bank.

  Kerry watched helplessly, biting her lip and fighting off tears. She was too preoccupied to notice that Eulalie Todd and Dorothy Burnett were standing just behind her. The older woman put a comforting arm around her shoulders and said, “It’s not your fault, honey.”

  The sympathy almost made the tears fall, but Kerry blinked them away. “Yes, it is. The captain told me not to load the wagon so heavy, and I didn’t listen to him.”

  Eulalie hugged her close. “The important thing is that you and your brother are all right. When you get to my age, you begin to realize that things are of no consequence—it’s people who matter.”

  “But I’m causing everyone so much trouble…”

  Dorothy stepped to her other side and put her arm around her waist so that she was enfolded between the two women like a baby in a warm bunting. “You’ve helped out a lot of people on the train. They’re happy to be able to return the favor, Kiernan. Or…” She faltered a little. “It’s Kerry, is it?”

  Kerry ducked her head and nodded. “I’m sorry I had to deceive everyone—especially you two. I wanted to tell you.”

  She was surprised to hear mild-mannered Eulalie say in spirited tones, “Well, if they wouldn’t make these ridiculous rules against women doing things they’re perfectly capable of doing, you wouldn’t have had to go to all that trouble.”

  “We know why you did it, Kerry,” Dorothy agreed. “And I must say I always thought you were much too helpful and good with the girls to be a male,” she added with a laugh.

  “I appreciate your friendship,” she told the two women. “But I’m afraid our wagon leader isn’t going to share your tolerance.” She gave a great sigh. “And now he has good reason to be angry with me.”

  The late-spring twilight had begun to darken and most of the men working on the Gallivan wagon had not yet had their supper. Jeb thanked them all for their work and told them that they would finish the repairs and bring the other wagons across in the morning. Kerry offered weak thank-yous as they began to disband to return to their own wagons, but most of them made no reply. Their stares were not hostile, exactly, but it was obvious that they weren’t comfortable with her in her male clothing, now that she’d been revealed as a woman.

  Patrick had been helping unload the boxes, but his usual boyish eagerness was missing. He looked small and crestfallen, and Kerry knew he was feeling almost as guilty as she was. All at once she wished they were back in New York City and had never heard of the Overland Trail or California. Maybe their father would still be alive if he hadn’t set out on such an arduous journey. She knew the notion was crazy, but at the moment she was too despondent to be logical.

  Scott came toward her carrying a plate of beans. “You haven’t eaten, lass,” he said. He, at least, was one male who was not looking at her as if she was some kind of a freak of nature. She offered him a smile in gratitude, but shook her head at the plate. “I don’t want to eat anything.”

  Scott took her arm and led her over to a big log that had been placed on the edge of the riverbank. “You’re too tired to know what you want, Kerry. But you need to eat. Sit,” he said, pointing at the log.

  It was easier to do as he told her, so she sat and made a token effort to swallow some of the nearly cold beans he urged on her. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

  Scott put one foot on the log beside her and leaned close. “I should warn you, lass. Jeb Hunter is furious with you.”

  The news didn’t surprise Kerry in the least. “What’s he planning to do about us?”

  Scott shook his head. “I don’t know, but he’s out for bear. It might be wise to stay out of his way if you can.”

  “I’d be happy to, but I don’t think he’ll let it get by that easily. In the first place, I disobeyed his express order, and in the second place, our whole position on this train has been a lie from the beginning.”

  Scott smiled ruefully. “It doesn’t sound too good, does it?”

  Suddenly she decided that she couldn’t swallow one more bite of the greasy beans. She handed the plate back to Scott and stood. “I think I might as well get this over with.”

  “Get what over with?” Scott asked.

&nbs
p; “The showdown. The scolding. Whatever it is our captain has in store for me. It’s not going to do any good to wait until morning.”

  Then she squared her shoulders and headed up toward the wagons to find Jeb Hunter.

  Jeb was exhausted. River-crossing days were among the most difficult on the trail. It was almost as if he used up a little piece of himself with each wagon safely across. When something went wrong, it always made the day worse. In this case, they’d had the bad fortune to have the mishap occur at the end of the day when everyone would normally have been ready to settle in for an evening’s rest. Instead, they’d had several more hours of hauling and shoving. All because of a stubborn female who’d lied to him from the minute he’d laid eyes on her.

  His mood did nothing to ease the aching in his weary body. Eulalie Todd had tried to make him eat something, but he felt as if any kind of food would taste like sawdust at this point. He’d accepted Frank’s offer of a long pull from his flask of whiskey and then had headed to his bedroll. It was another dry, mild night, which meant that once again he could sleep under the stars and leave the Todds alone in their wagon. Though he couldn’t imagine that Frank would have much strength to make use of the privacy this night. He’d worked all day like a man half his age. Maybe Eulalie’s motherly ministrations could revive him, Jeb thought with a tired smile as he shook his blankets out over a level, grassy spot. Normally he tried not to think much about those matters. He’d taken his ease now and then with a sympathetic bar girl at the end of the trail. But in general, his celibate life suited him. It was, after all, what he deserved. If he hadn’t been such a greedy, restless fool, he’d still be living in California and going to bed each night beside Melly’s sweet, warm body.

  “Captain Hunter?” Kerry Gallivan’s voice startled him in the darkness. He whirled around to face her.

  “If I were you, I’d pick another time to talk with me,” he said stiffly.

  “You’re angry. Of course, you have every right…”

  Jeb took a step closer to her, his fist clenched with tension. “No, Miss Gallivan. I’m furious. And if you were only the male you claimed to be, I’d be tempted to give you the thrashing you so richly merit.”

  Kerry forced herself to stare straight into his wrathful eyes. “I’m sorry. I…we didn’t have a lot of time to decide what to do after my father’s death. It seemed like the only way…”

  “And disobeying my orders about overloading your wagon was the only way, too?” he interrupted.

  “Well, now,” she said, sighing. “That was wrong. It’s just that those tools have been in our family since…” Her voice trailed off forlornly, then she pulled herself up and said staunchly, “Go ahead and thrash me if you want, Captain.”

  In the moonlight her perfect features were startlingly beautiful, even now, with her jaw set in stubborn lines and her eyes half-wincing as if she really expected that he might hit her. Jeb felt the anger draining from him like water out of a sieve. Her words and the way she stood before him so defenseless had brought out his most irritating protective instincts. And, Lord, she was beautiful. How in the name of heaven had he ever thought that she was a man? Haskell had evidently seen through her disguise. What had been Jeb’s problem? The anger began to build again, but this time it was directed along a more well-worn path—toward himself.

  “Part of this is my fault,” he acknowledged, his voice less tight. “A wagon captain’s supposed to know what’s going on with his passengers. He’s supposed to know if they’re sick or hurting, happy or sad, tired or strong.” He ran a hand back through his disheveled hair. “And he sure as hell is supposed to know what sex they are.”

  He could see her painful swallow all along the length of her slender throat Her slender, feminine throat. Damnation. “But I deceived you,” she argued. “I went to great pains to be sure you didn’t know, to be sure that no one knew. I felt it would be the only way we’d be able to get on the train.”

  “Haskell knew.” Jeb wasn’t sure exactly why that fact grated on him so.

  She hesitated. “Well, there was the problem with my ankle, you know.”

  Ah, yes. Haskell had tended her ankle. The ankle that was attached to one of those shapely legs that Jeb had not been able to help noticing when she’d been sopping wet today with her man’s trousers clinging to her like a second skin. Haskell had probably held her ankle in his hands, turning it, rubbing it, perhaps…

  Kerry cleared her throat. “And Mr. Haskell has had more chance to spend time with us.”

  “When did you tell him?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “When did you tell Haskell the truth?”

  Her thick black lashes swept down over the blue eyes. She looked as if she was reluctant to answer the question, as if she realized that the fact that Scott Haskell knew the truth was making her deception even more difficult for him. Finally she said, “I didn’t tell him. He…more or less…guessed that first day.”

  “The first day,” Jeb confirmed, his self-reproach mounting.

  Kerry nodded, head down.

  Jeb let out a long stream of air through his nose. Then he leaned down and pulled a towel out of his pack. His bout with the river had left him caked with mud. He’d need to wash before he could crawl into his blankets. When he’d straightened up, he told her, “I’m going to punish myself for my own stupidity by not berating you any further, Miss Gallivan. By not giving myself that pleasure.”

  Kerry’s eyes filled with relief. “I promise I’ll do everything you say from now on, Captain. Patrick and I will keep up and work hard. We’ll find things to leave behind to make the load just right. And we won’t question your orders…”

  Jeb held up his hand with a look of surprise. “Wait a minute. Surely you understand?”

  “Understand what?”

  “Miss Gallivan, there’s no way you and your brother are going to continue on to California. As soon as we reach Fort Kearney, we’ll find an escort to take you back to St. Louis.”

  Kerry took a step backward, feeling almost as if she’d received that blow he’d threatened her with earlier. “Turn back now? You can’t be serious?”

  “I’m deadly serious. A single woman and a raw boy have no business on a wagon train.”

  Kerry couldn’t believe her ears. “We’ve done fine up to now.”

  “Fine, right. Costing the entire train a day’s travel by letting your wagon break down in the middle of the river.”

  Now Kerry’s fists clenched at her sides. “Captain Hunter, my brother and I are going to California…”

  Jeb stepped past her in the darkness and started to walk away toward the river. “Not on my train, you’re not,” he said, and was gone before she could make a reply.

  Dorothy Burnett was waiting for her when she returned to her listing, disabled wagon.

  “He says he’s not going to let us stay with the train,” she told her neighbor in a dazed voice. She still couldn’t believe what she’d heard.

  “He’s just angry, Kerry,” Dorothy said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “In the morning he’ll probably give you one of those superior male tongue-lashings and then everything will be fine.”

  Kerry shook her head. “That’s not how it sounded to me.”

  Dorothy frowned. “Well, he can’t just abandon you. No one would stand for it.”

  “He says he’ll find us an escort back East when we reach Fort Kearney.” Listlessly she picked up the coffeepot and dribbled water over the campfire to put it out for the night.

  “That’s crazy. If you’ve done all right up until now…”

  “I know.” Kerry sat down on an overturned bucket and dropped her head into her hands. “It doesn’t make sense. I knew he’d be angry, but I thought once we were out on the trail, there would be no way he could refuse to take us.”

  “Maybe he can’t. What do the papers say? Maybe you can force him to take you.”

  Kerry stuck her feet out in front of her. She was st
ill in a pair of Patrick’s trousers. Her own clothes were carefully buried at the bottom of one of the soggy trunks that were piled haphazardly around the wagon. She was not sure she could find them even if she wanted to, and after everything they’d been through today, her attire was the least of her concerns. “I don’t want to force him. He’s our leader. I can’t make him into some kind of an enemy.”

  Dorothy kicked at the embers that had scattered from the fire, lost in thought. Finally she said, “Well, then, make him into your friend.”

  “What do you mean?” Kerry asked.

  “I mean, my dear Kerry, as long as everyone now knows that you’re a woman, you might as well take full advantage of it Hunter’s flesh and blood. At least I think he is,” she added with a chuckle. “Go talk to him. Bat those long black lashes if you have to. Didn’t your mother ever tell you about how a woman can get what she wants from a man?”

  Kerry’s face flushed. “I was only six when my mother died. But I hope I know enough about those things to be above—”

  Dorothy interrupted her with a quick hug. “I’m sorry, Kerry. You haven’t had an easy road of it, have you? But don’t get prickly on me. I wasn’t implying anything immoral. I just meant that if you can manage to talk to Hunter on a friendly basis, he might find himself much more disposed to change his mind”

  “Do you really think so?” Kerry looked dubious. She’d always looked down on the girls back in New York who used their looks and female manners to get what they wanted. Plus, whereas Scott Haskell’s head might be turned by a pretty face, she had the feeling that Jeb Hunter was not so susceptible. She’d seen him polite and respectful to the women on the train, but she couldn’t recall seeing him look at so much as one with that flirtatious smile that Scott seemed to use on every woman between ten and sixty.