Trail of Destiny (Hot on the Trail Book 5)

by Merry Farmer

  They were innocent questions, normal questions, but they were also the last things Alice wanted to think about.

  “It was busy and fussy,” she said, then shot on with, “How about you? What was your life like in California?” before he could pry any deeper.

  “It was… um….” He stumbled, unprepared for the switch in the conversation. It didn’t stop him for long. “It was different than this, but not so different as I’m sure a big city was for you. Did you—”

  “How was it different?” she cut him off. They’d talked about her enough in the last few days to last a lifetime. She wanted to hear about his world, for a change.

  Jarvis chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, home is not the militia, for one,” he said. “My family owns a farm, a big farm, in the middle of California.”

  “So you’re a farmer?” Alice asked. It was more than casual conversation. Something warm and buzzing in her chest wanted to know a lot more about him than she should.

  “Yes, if by ‘farmer’ you mean my family owns extensive tracts of land and feeds half the county and more.”

  Alice blinked. “Are you rich?” She instantly regretted the question. “I’m sorry, that was rude.”

  “Not at all,” Jarvis laughed. “And no, I’m not rich. My father does very well for himself. He’s determined to make an industry of our land. He’s particularly invested in our vineyards and the possibility of growing grapes for wine. But like everything else out here, it’s new. Pretty much any enterprise this side of the Mississippi is all about potential and making the most of things.”

  “Have you ever been east of the Mississippi?” she asked.

  He smiled at her—that modest smile of his that sent her heart skipping off to places it definitely shouldn’t be going.

  “No,” he admitted. “Can you believe that? I was born on the ship my family took from Virginia, down around through Panama and up to the Pacific Coast. My father blames the fact that we were so far from doctors for my mother’s death in childbirth.”

  “I’m sorry,” Alice said, her heart going out to him. It seemed everywhere she went, death followed. She shouldn’t have changed the subject away from her background, but now it was too late.

  “I never knew my mother.” Jarvis shrugged, staring down at his feet for a moment as they walked. “My oldest sister, Aileen, raised me. I was the youngest, and Father never remarried.”

  “Of course,” she said. Why would he? Love only came once.

  So why did that thought seem pale and lifeless when she peeked up into Jarvis’s eyes?

  No, she was just being silly. She shouldn’t be letting her thoughts interrupt his story anyhow.

  “How did you end up in Ft. Bridger?” she asked.

  “The war broke out back east,” he explained, thrusting his hands into his pockets and staring off across the eastern horizon. “I wanted to do my part, but my father was dead-set against it.”

  Alice started, stopping in her tracks. “Against it? The war?”

  “Sure,” Jarvis answered. He stopped too, pivoting to face her. “He claimed it was a bunch of nonsense and politicking, and that none of it had anything to do with him or his interests. He may have been raised in Virginia, but his family never had slaves. He didn’t see why he should send his money or his kin off to fight someone else’s battle.”

  “But it’s everyone’s battle,” Alice argued. The very idea that someone could dismiss the cause that had taken her husband’s life was horrific to her.

  “I’m inclined to agree,” Jarvis said, “but Father forbade me to enlist.”

  “And you care so much what he thinks that you would go against your conscience by not enlisting?” Again, as soon as the words had left her lips, guilt struck her. It was none of her business.

  “Well, I sort of did,” he said before she could apologize. “I joined the militia, didn’t I?”

  She folded her arms in front of her. “I suppose you did. And what did your father say about that?”

  Jarvis’s clever grin dropped. He started walking again. “He wasn’t too pleased, I’m sorry to say. We had words.”

  “Oh dear.”

  Jarvis shook his head. “It’s all in the past. Father and I never really…. We’ll make it up someday.”

  Alice had the impression that was more of a wish than a certainty.

  “In the meantime,” he went on, his smile returning, “I just want to think about the future.”

  He paused and turned to her. Something in his smile sent a jolt of giddiness straight through her chest to her toes.

  “The future?” She would not admit that her voice shook when she said those two words.

  “Absolutely. I know as much about farming as the next man, and I hope to build my own farm one day, when I leave the militia, that is.”

  “Do you?” Her voice squeezed even higher.

  “Like I said, just about everything out here in the West is ripe with possibility. All I need is a bit of land to start, and I’m sure I could make a success of things.”

  “I’m sure you could,” she said.

  Her support spread his smile even wider. “Of course, I don’t think I could do it alone.”

  Her heart quivered in her chest. The image of him undressed popped back into her mind. No, no, she couldn’t. She shouldn’t. She pushed the image away.

  “As full of potential as this land is,” Jarvis went on, inching closer to her, “it’s not the kind of thing a man can do alone. No, the best thing he can do is start out with a helpmate, someone to share the load. Someone who likes the land and feels drawn to it, who doesn’t mind working, but has a strong head on her shoulders.”

  Was he… was he suggesting that she… that she was that helpmate?

  No, it was impossible. They’d known each other for a week at most. And Harry….

  “I’m sure you’ll find just the right person. Someday,” she said, trying to look everywhere but in his eyes.

  “I’m sure I will,” he said.

  He stepped closer to her, so close she could feel the heat of his body, smell the sharp scent of his sweat. It wasn’t as off-putting as she thought it would be. In fact—

  “Jarvis, I… I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” she began, so flustered she could hardly form words.

  “What wrong idea?” His smile was teasing now. He brushed her arm. It was a brief, light stroke, but it left goose-bumps in its wake.

  “I like you.” She forced herself to meet his eyes. “The kindness you’ve shown me, well, it… it’s meant so much.”

  “You’re more than welcome.”

  That smile, those eyes. The sheer size and power of him, coupled with his gentle nature. She felt as though a war was waging inside of her, a war she was destined to lose.

  “The problem is,” she pushed on, “I don’t know if—”

  He slid close to her, closing his arms around her waist and pulling her up to her toes. She tilted her head up to his, only to have his lips brush against hers. More than a brush. His mouth closed over hers, kissing her with a sudden passion that took her breath away.

  And it was wonderful. She couldn’t stop herself from slipping her arms over his and reaching to clasp her hands over his shoulders. A tiny cry escaped from her lungs as she opened her mouth to him, letting him nip at her lips and drink her in. His tongue felt so good against hers, that before she knew it, her body heated and melted, wanting him in every way. The force of that wanting was so sudden and so strong it left her mind reeling.

  She pressed into him, reveling in his kiss. He knew exactly how much pressure to use to ignite her full desire. She hadn’t been kissed so well or so thoroughly in ages. All at once, she remembered how much she liked kissing, how much she had loved the few, precious intimate moments she and Harry had stolen. When Harry had kissed her she had—

  Harry.

  Like a flash of cold lightning tearing through her soul, she pushed away from Jarvis.

  “I
don’t believe I did that,” she panted, pressing her fingers to her lips.

  “I’m sorry I got so carried away,” Jarvis answered, his voice as rough and ragged as hers. “It was good though,” he went on. “Very good.”

  He swayed closer to her, his arms reaching for her waist. It would be so perfect to have those strong arms around her again, to lean back into his kiss. But she couldn’t, she couldn’t let herself do it. Only there she was, swaying toward him again all the same.

  Her resistance was close to crumbling around her feet, her shaking hands reaching for him, when a cry of, “Hello! Hello there,” and the pounding of hooves nearby yanked her back to her senses.

  Chapter Five

  Every fiber of Jarvis’s body groaned and longed for Alice. Kissing her was a mistake, but it was the best damn mistake he had ever made. He’d expected her to haul back and smack him for his lack of self-control, but when she’d melted like snow in August in his arms, he knew there was no way he would be able to stop himself.

  No way, that is, unless someone else stopped him.

  “Hey, you,” the rider charging toward them hollered as he grew close. “I need your help.”

  Alice had pulled away from him at the rider’s first call, but now, at his second entreaty, she marched toward the horse and rider, and away from him. If he was honest, it served him right. He’d pushed too far too fast.

  “I need help,” the rider repeated as he drew his horse up to a stop in front of the two of them.

  He was younger than Jarvis would have thought at first glance, barely a man, if that. His face had the softness of a youth who had only been shaving for a few years, or maybe even a few months. He was well-dressed, if dusty, and the wide-brimmed hat he wore was a touch too fashionable for Jarvis’s tastes. When the young man dismounted, he came up to Jarvis’s chin.

  “What can we do for you?” Alice asked. The fact that she turned her back on him so thoroughly to help the young man made Jarvis suspect she was trying to dismiss their kiss.

  The young man glanced to her, then to Jarvis, then did a double-take and fixed his gaze on Alice. A boyish smile lit his features, making him seem even more like a kid right out of the schoolhouse.

  He lost that grin in a hurry, though, and turned back to Jarvis.

  “I need to speak to your commanding officer at once,” he said, as high-and-mighty as a man twice his age.

  Jarvis had a hard time keeping a straight face. “Well, all right,” he said. Part of him badly wanted to add the word “son” to his address, but it was too close to the way his father had talked down to him. No one deserved that, not even this little gentleman. “Right this way.”

  Jarvis gestured to the fort and started walking. He checked back over his shoulder, tempted to hold out his arm for Alice so he could escort her. She kept her eyes pinned to the ground and her arms stiff at her sides. It took a mountain of will-power for Jarvis not to sigh and kick himself in his backside for rushing things.

  “What’s your name, so—” Jarvis cleared his throat to cover his mistake. “What’s your name, sir?”

  “Franklin. Franklin Haskell,” the young man answered.

  Haskell. Something about that name tickled at the back of Jarvis’s brain.

  “What seems to be the trouble, Franklin?”

  Franklin glanced sideways at Jarvis, mouth pressed in a tight line. His horse huffed and shook its head as Franklin led it. Alice jumped and walked wide of both horse and men.

  Franklin frowned. “Are you the commanding officer here?”

  “No,” Jarvis answered. He peeked at Alice in time to catch her watching him. If he wasn’t mistaken, the arched-brow look she gave him said she didn’t think much of Franklin’s curt attitude either.

  “I should only speak the commanding officer,” Franklin went on, proving both Jarvis and Alice right. “But,” Franklin sniffed and shot a sideways glance to Alice, “I guess I could give you the generals.”

  “Please do,” Alice said, as smooth as the finest diplomat. “We might be able to help.”

  “I’m here to stop a war,” Franklin said, pulling himself to his full height.

  “Oh.” Alice lowered her head, clasping her hands in front of her.

  It wasn’t the reaction Franklin was looking for. “It’s a land dispute, you see,” he explained, “but if someone doesn’t step in to do something about it, things could get out of hand.”

  They reached the fort’s front gate. Exercises had broken up half an hour ago, but, lucky for them, Col. Connor was still out in the yard, directing a group of men who were unloading a supply wagon. It must have come in while he and Alice were otherwise engaged outside the fort.

  “Col. Connor,” Jarvis called across the yard. He picked up his pace when the colonel noticed him.

  “Flint,” Col. Connor called back. He left the men with the supplies and strode to meet Jarvis, Alice, and Franklin. Jarvis had known Col. Connor since he first volunteered for the militia. It was Connor’s militia to begin with, formed in California and sent east, where they were needed. “Who’s this?” he asked as they all met in the center of the yard.

  “This is—”

  “Franklin Haskell.” Franklin dropped his horse’s reins and shot forward, holding out his hand without waiting for Jarvis to finish introducing him. The young man’s eyes shone with the kind of admiration rank inspired in some men. “I’m Howard Haskell’s son. From Green Stream Ranch?”

  The pieces clicked into place in Jarvis’s mind as Col. Connor said, “Howard Haskell’s son?” He took off his hat and wrapped his brow before fixing his hat in place again. “Well I’ll be.”

  “Who is Howard Haskell?” Alice whispered, inching closer to Jarvis.

  A grin tweaked the corner of Jarvis’s mouth. Franklin Haskell could be as grand as he wanted to be if it meant Alice would press close to him to ask questions.

  She didn’t ask quietly enough. Franklin turned to her with a combination of distain and delight.

  “Howard Haskell, my father, is only the richest and most powerful landowner in this part of the Rockies,” he said.

  Alice sent Jarvis a doubting glance.

  Jarvis shrugged. “He does own a lot of land. From what I heard, he settled out this way over ten years ago, when there was no one and nothing here but Indians and potential. He’s built a considerable farm and keeps buying up more and more land. He does something with cattle, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Franklin bristled. “Something with cattle? Why, I’ll have you know that between my father and my aunt, Virginia Piedmont, we have enough livestock to feed half the frontier. Father is convinced that cattle are the future of Wyoming, and that the open range is the perfect place to raise and breed champion livestock. He’s not just some pioneer, he’s a visionary.”

  “Oh,” Alice said, sounding and looking duly impressed. “I’ve read a little bit about the prospect for raising livestock in the West. I’ve only just arrived here, though.”

  “I’d be happy to tell you all about it, Miss?” Franklin leaned closer to him.

  It was a challenge for Jarvis not to guffaw outright. Franklin Haskell was hardly old enough to be out of short pants, let alone attempting to charm widows.

  “Mrs. Alice Porter,” Jarvis answered on Alice’s behalf.

  Franklin’s face dropped. “Oh. I see.” He cleared his throat and turned to Col. Connor. If Jarvis wasn’t mistaken, he blushed while he did. “Actually, my father and my aunt are the reason I’m here,” he went on.

  “Your father and your aunt?” Col. Connor crossed his arms and rubbed his chin.

  “Yes.” Franklin sighed and his shoulders dropped. “They’re about to kill each other. And I’m afraid that’s not much of an exaggeration.”

  “Why?” Alice asked.

  She sounded genuinely curious enough that jealousy bit at Jarvis’s gut. He hadn’t been able to get her to show that much interest in his affairs, in his kiss.

  Franklin sent Alice
an apologetic look before going on. “Father’s ranch and Aunt Ginny’s ranch used to be one property. That all changed when Aunt Ginny married Cyrus Piedmont. Father gave them a huge grant of land as a wedding present. The problem is, no one knows where the boundaries are. Father claims the property line is in one place, but Aunt Ginny swears it’s in another. They can’t see eye to eye, and things have gotten so bad that I’m afraid they’ll start shooting at each other if someone doesn’t come out and help settle the dispute.”

  “Hold on, son.” Col. Connor shifted his weight. Jarvis coughed to hide the smirk that twisted his mouth as the colonel addressed Franklin the same way he’d wanted to. “What makes you think that I can solve this dispute?”

  “Well, you’re an authority figure, aren’t you?” Franklin said. “And you’re an uninterested party.”

  Col. Connor raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be talking to a lawyer and not me?”

  Franklin lost some of his swagger and kicked at the dirt. “The thing is, Father doesn’t know I’ve gone looking for someone to settle things. I told him I was going down to Great Salt Lake City for supplies.”

  “Well,” Col. Connor let out a breath and shook his head. “I’m sympathetic to your problem, but not sure there’s much we can do for you. But you’re welcome to stop here for a while to rest.”

  Franklin frowned. “Thank you,” he said, but it was clear he was put out. “Is there someone who can take care of my horse?”

  “I’ll see to him,” Jarvis offered. He stepped over to run a hand down the horse’s neck. The poor thing was tired and needed to be brushed.

  “I should check on my father,” Alice said, not much more than a whisper, then turned to head off across the yard.

  Disappointment filled Jarvis’s chest as he watched her go. There went his chance to apologize for kissing her… or to kiss her again.

  Col. Connor tipped his hat to Franklin, then headed back to the men with the supplies. Franklin wavered where he was for a moment before jumping after Jarvis.

  “Mrs. Porter is pretty,” he said to strike up a conversation.