Ana Seymour

by Jeb Hunters Bride

  Dorothy’s expression became stern. She threw the dress carelessly over her arm and faced Kerry with her hands on her hips. “Which is where you’ll never get to if you don’t start making some effort to stay on this train.”

  Dorothy looked exactly like she did when she was cross with her daughters. Kerry had a sudden urge to laugh, which made her mood lift several notches. “What do you mean, effort?”

  “Effort, woman. Come out and talk to people. Make a show. Get some people on your side. Talk to that loutish captain of ours and make him understand that you’ll not meekly let him throw you off.”

  “I don’t think he wants to talk with me. Maybe no one else does either after the problems we caused.”

  “Horsefeathers. Everybody’s fond of you and Patrick. You’d have lots of support if you just got out and looked for it. And as for Captain Hunter, I think he’s more interested in talking to you than you think.”

  Kerry walked over to Dorothy and took the green dress from her arm. It would feel good to put a dress on again, to feel soft fabric against her skin instead of Patrick’s rough trousers. “What makes you say that?”

  “He’s a man, isn’t he? It’s like I told you the other day, Kerry. You’re a lovely young woman.”

  Kerry had a sudden memory of the night by the riverbank. “I don’t think Jeb Hunter is interested in things like that At least, not with regard to me.”

  Dorothy took a step back and studied her friend with disbelief. “Kerry Gallivan, didn’t any boys ever court you back in New York City?”

  “I was usually too busy…”

  “Well, now you see. There’s your problem. It’s all a matter of experience. Self-confidence. A little bit of feminine intuition.” She took the dress from Kerry again and held it up to her, cocking her head and squinting to picture how it would look on her. Then she handed it back to Kerry with a smile and a wink. “Honey, forget all that, everything I just said. I have a feeling that in this dress, all you’ll need to do is show up.”

  The days were growing longer with the approach of summer. The sun was still hanging brightly in the sky over the western edge of the fort when Kerry arrived at the supper dance with Dorothy and John. When Kerry had finally been persuaded to don the green dress, Dorothy had watched her friend’s transformation with amazement. Kerry was about to cause a sensation, Dorothy declared, and insisted on completing the picture by fixing her friend’s hair.

  “I don’t think there’s much you can do with this disaster,” Kerry had said ruefully, looking in her mother’s mirror. But Dorothy had brushed and brushed until the short locks curled glossy and full around her face.

  “It’s not too bad,” Dorothy had said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Different, but it suits you somehow. Makes you look kind of like a pixie.”

  She wished she could disappear like a pixie, Kerry thought ruefully as she walked toward the group that had congregated in front of the supper tables. Most people were still eating. The dancing had not yet begun, and there was a lot of laughing and shouting back and forth as Frank Todd passed around mugs of hard cider and the travelers in general showed the effects of a day’s break from the trail.

  In front of the barracks, several of the fort’s soldiers were watching the festivities with good-natured smiles. They were used to the scene by now, and they knew that the travelers had many tough times ahead of them. It would do them good to let off a little steam with a lively party.

  Kerry and Dorothy’s arrival caused a number of the soldiers to straighten up on their benches. One poked another in the ribs and gave a nod their way. Another gave a low whistle that was loud enough to reach their ears.

  “See, Kerry,” Dorothy said with a proud smile. “You’re already causing a commotion.”

  “They’re looking at you, Dorothy,” she objected.

  “Not likely.” Dorothy put her arm through John’s, who was walking by her side. “I’ve already got my beau.”

  Even Kerry had to admit that as they drew closer it seemed that every single one of the soldiers had his eyes on her. It was a heady feeling that she’d never experienced before. “They must not see many ladies out here,” she said to the Burnetts, embarrassed and pleased at the same time.

  “They don’t see many ladies that look like you do, Kerry,” Dorothy corrected gently.

  The soldiers weren’t the only ones impressed. As they made their way toward the food tables, a number of the emigrants commented to Kerry on her transformed appearance. Some of the men who had been resentful after the revelation of her deception were now looking at her, most under the watchful eyes of their wives, with carefully banked admiration.

  Even Patrick noted the change, whirling by with some of his friends and shouting, “Hey, sis, you look grand!”

  Kerry looked around for Scott, feeling an unfamiliar anticipation at the thought of seeing his reaction to her cleaned-up and dressed-up appearance. But he didn’t seem to be anywhere in sight. Instead, as she scanned the crowd her eyes met Jeb Hunter’s. He visibly started when he saw her, then laid his empty plate on the table and started toward her.

  Kerry wasn’t sure she wanted to talk with him just yet. She wished she could have run into Scott first. She didn’t know why, but tonight, feeling feminine and pretty, she would have preferred to face Jeb on Scott’s arm.

  Jeb tipped back his leather hat as he reached her. “This is Miss Gallivan, I presume?” he asked in formal drawing room tones underlaid with a slight touch of amusement.

  Damn the man, Kerry thought. He tied her tongue in knots. “I’m not so different that you can’t recognize me, Captain Hunter. I’ve just changed my clothes.”

  Jeb took one of her hands and held it to one side as if expecting her to do a pirouette to model her dress. She stood stiffly and waited as his eyes roamed over her and warmed. “Yes, I can see that,” he said. “Banishing forever the specter of Kiernan Gallivan from the minds of the men here tonight.”

  She looked around for Dorothy and John, but they had drifted off toward the supper tables. She was on her own. Turning back to the captain, she asked, “Does it really make so very much difference—what a person wears?”

  Jeb hesitated a moment, dropping her hand. He rubbed a hand across his whiskers, then answered, “I think it depends on what person and what they’re wearing.”

  “Well, I’m the same Kerry Gallivan and I’m wearing a three-year-old dress. Nothing fancy.”

  “Your hair’s different, too.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s just…fluffier.” She ran her fingers up the side of her head as she spoke.

  Jeb laughed and once again Kerry noticed how much he changed when his expression wasn’t so serious. It wasn’t only clothes that made a difference in someone, she decided. “Well, I like it…fluffy,” he said, giving her a teasing smile that if she’d seen it on one of the Flanagan brothers she would have called downright flirtatious. It made her feel giddy, and she had to tell herself sternly that there was no way the serious and stern Captain Jeb Hunter was flirting with her. It was simply the spirit of the evening.

  “It’s a beautiful night,” she said lightly. “And everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.”

  “Yes.” Jeb’s smile dimmed a little. “This is good for them. They’ll need to remember the good times during the days ahead. We’ve just barely started, you know.”

  “Yes.” Was now the time to bring up her staying on with the train? she wondered. Now, when Captain Hunter was relaxed and in a good humor, and when he was still regarding her with that…look that was making her cheeks as pink as those of little Molly every time she looked at Patrick? “You plan to start out again in three days?” she started carefully.

  His expression became guarded. “Yes, three days. Don’t worry, by that time I’ll have the arrangements completed for you to get back to Westport. You can sell your wagon back to Boone’s there and have enough money for transport to New York, if that’s where you and your brother want to go.”r />
  “You know very well that’s not where my brother and I want to go, Captain.”

  Jeb looked down at his boots. “Are we to spoil this beautiful evening with an argument, Miss Gallivan?”

  Every time he said her name, it was as if he was reminding himself anew of her deception. “You called me Kiernan before, Captain. I guess you could call me Kerry.”

  He looked up at her. “Kerry, then. You’re right that sometimes it seems foolish to continue to observe the proprieties out here in the middle of the wilderness.”

  “And, no, I don’t want to argue with you,” she added.

  Jeb’s face had resumed its normal, serious expression, but his eyes continued to regard her with a kind of leashed intensity. The setting sun made them look almost golden, tawny, like a watchful lion’s. “Good,” he said briskly. “Then we won’t argue. How about if I get you a plate of supper instead?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

  Jeb made a clicking sound of disapproval. Once again his eyes swept discreetly down the length of her green dress. “You have to eat something, Miss…Kerry. Lord, in that dress you look as flimsy as a milkweed drifting across a meadow.”

  “Flimsy?”

  “Well, slight. Fragile.” Jeb looked nonplussed, almost embarrassed, which did not sit well with his usually authoritative demeanor. “Hell, I meant it as a compliment, not an insult. When I think of all the hard work, the lifting and hauling you did when we all thought you were a lad…”

  “I’ve done hard work for as long as I can remember, Captain Hunter. Most women I know do. Harder than men, sometimes. I don’t know why that should come as a surprise.”

  Jeb Hunter grinned. A downright grin. Kerry couldn’t believe her eyes.

  “I don’t think anything you do would surprise me, Kerry Gallivan,” he said. “And now, if I’m to call you Kerry, I guess you’ll have to be calling me Jeb.”

  He’d cocked his head and was smiling down into her eyes. It was flirting, Kerry decided. She might be a novice about these things, but the signals were unmistakable. The way he was looking at her was making her feel warm inside. And feminine. Maybe it was the dress. She’d feel stronger if she were still facing him in men’s trousers. She didn’t like this weakkneed, melting sensation. It was just this kind of female debility that made it possible for men to make laws and regulations such as the one that was keeping her from traveling west with the train.

  She drew herself up, which still only brought her as high as Jeb’s broad shoulders. “Perhaps I will have some supper after all,” she said. “But I can get my own plate.”

  Then she turned away from him and sent stern messages to her legs to begin walking toward the food tables.

  The sun had sunk behind the fort with a spectacular burst of color, as if showing off for the merrymakers. Each member of the wagon train knew that the benign prairie they had crossed was not even a test of the trials that awaited them as they crossed the near desert of the western plains and then the mountains. But for this night, they could forget what lay ahead and celebrate the triumph of completing the first step toward their dreams of a better life.

  The evening had started off segregated, with the men hovering around the cider jars, the children scampering about with early-evening energy and the women bustling back and forth with more food. But by now the group had come together for the dancing, old and young alike. Fathers danced with young daughters and old women with the single men.

  Kerry had had a constant procession of partners since the dancing began. She was breathless and exhausted. It had been easier than she had thought to follow the simple country steps of the reels and rounds the two fiddlers played, and she was surprised to find that she was enjoying herself immensely. She had not talked further with Captain Hunter. He did not appear to have joined in the dancing.

  But she was happy to see Scott when he made a tardy appearance and practically snatched her out of the arms of Ole Estvold, just as the portly Norwegian gentleman had been reaching out a hand to swing her into a Kentucky reel.

  “You look wonderful, lass!” Scott said at once. “If a bit breathless.”

  Kerry laughed. “I am—breathless that is. In fact, would you mind if we sat down for a minute?”

  Scott’s eyes were lit with admiration. “Let me get you something to drink.” He tucked her hand in his arm and pulled her away from the crowd of dancers. At the nearly empty food table, he stopped, poured a cup of cider and offered it to her.

  The apple-flavored liquor burned all the way down her throat. “Strong,” she gasped.

  Scott took the cup from her and sipped. “It’s pretty hard,” he admitted. “But it seems to be all that’s left,” he added, looking up and down the tables. He put the cup back in her hands. “Go ahead. It won’t hurt you.”

  It was wet, at least. Kerry scrunched up her face against the taste and drank several swallows. “Where have you been?” she asked Scott.

  “Jawing,” he said with a grin, “as they say out in these parts.”

  “With the soldiers?”

  “Soldiers, old-timers. There are a couple of real live mountain men who’ve stopped here after their spring trapping. Foxy and Daniel.”

  “Foxy?”

  Scott chuckled and took her arm again to lead her away from the table and out toward the center of the now dark quadrangle. “Foxy,” he confirmed. “That’s what they all call him. I suppose it’s not his given name. They’re colorful characters—both of them.”

  Kerry reached backward to leave the cup on the table as Scott pulled her along. “Where are we going?”

  “Do you want to dance some more?” He nodded back at the circle of emigrants. There were fewer now, for some of the group had started straggling back to their wagons.

  “No. I’m still winded. I had more fun than I would have thought”

  Scott gave her arm a little squeeze. “I have a feeling there hasn’t been an excess of fun in your life, Kerry.”

  “My father was fun,” she said a little defensively. “He’d tell us stories about the little people in Ireland that would have Patrick and me laughing until our stomachs hurt”

  They’d continued walking along the row of barracks down to the opposite end of the fort from where the Hunter train was encamped. They were now out of the reach of the lanterns that had been lit back by the dancing, and the only lights were the dim reflections from inside a few of the fort’s rough wooden buildings. But the moon shone brightly in the clear sky, and Kerry had no trouble seeing Scott’s smile as he shifted his hand from her arm to the back of her waist. “I didn’t mean any criticism of your childhood, Kerry. My people came to this country several generations ago. Until I started this journey, I wouldn’t have been able to imagine what it would be like to leave your home and travel halfway across the world to seek a new life.”

  “But now you’re doing much the same thing yourself.”

  “Yes. Which only makes me appreciate more what it must take for all the immigrants like your father to make that move with a family to support”

  “With two young children,” Kerry emphasized. “Patrick was just six.”

  “And you were only twelve. Pretty young to have to learn to adapt to a whole new world.”

  “Papa and Patrick were my world. I didn’t care about anything else. Papa told us that things would be better in America.”

  “And were they better?”

  “Well, back home, people were starving. So I guess they were a little better. We always had enough to eat in New York, as long as we were content with fish.” She gave a little shudder at the memory, or at a sudden evening chill of air. Scott’s arm slipped the rest of the way around her waist.

  “I like walking with you this way, Kerry,” he said, his voice suddenly grown husky.

  The buzz of the insects out on the prairie lent a tranquilizing undercurrent to their conversation. Scott’s body felt stable and warm at her side. “I like it, too,” she said simpl
y.

  And that was evidently enough response for Scott, who stopped walking, gently swung her around to face him and lowered his head to kiss her gently on the lips. He straightened up almost immediately and let out a long breath, at the end of which he said, “I’ve been thinking about doing that for a long time now, lass.”

  It was over so quickly that Kerry hadn’t had time to even be surprised. But now she could still feel his touch lingering on her lips. The sensation was mildly pleasant. “Have you, now?” she half whispered.

  “You’re not offended?”

  She shook her head. It had been her first kiss—her first real kiss. But to her surprise, she wasn’t even flustered.

  “Good,” Scott said, his grin back to normal. “Because I intend to do it again soon.”

  Kerry put the back of her hand up to her still sensitive lips. “Do you, now?”

  “Soon,” he said with a firm nod. Then he tucked her hand once again into his arm and turned back toward the bright lights of the circle of dancers.

  Chapter Eight

  Jeb sat in the darkness on the edge of the sidewalk in front of the fort dispensary. The only sidewalk at the fort, it was bounded by two log pillars that held up a bright green awning. The unusual amenities had been insisted upon by the fort’s doctor, Arthur Featherstone. Earlier Jeb had purchased a few supplies from the chatty old major and had sat a spell listening to his various medical stories. Finally Dr. Featherstone had bidden him good-night, and Jeb had gone outside with the intention of rejoining the members of his train. But by then it had grown dark, and something about the circle of warm lantern light and the joyful bouncing of the dancers made him feel particularly lonely. So instead he sat on the sidewalk and looked up at the moon. It was, he decided, more fitting company for him tonight. Any night.

  His thoughts drifted to his encounter earlier in the evening with Kerry Gallivan. When he’d first seen her across the crowd of people, smiling and walking along with that natural sway of hers in a new green dress, he’d felt as if a fist had slammed into his middle. He’d already dealt with the fact that she was attractive. But the sudden appearance in a dress had caught him off balance. It was sculpted to the upper part of her body, then cinched at a waist that had never looked so impossibly small when she’d been parading around in men’s trousers. A wave of pure desire rolled through his stomach at the memory.