by Merry Farmer
Judge Tremaine held Lynne at arm’s length. “Be brave, my girl,” he said, voice rough.
“I will, Papa.” Lynne sniffled. “I love you so much.”
Cade peeked at her long enough to see her swallow and stand straighter, determination accentuating her beauty.
“You always were my brave girl,” her father said.
“And now I’m your brave woman,” Lynne answered.
For a moment they stood looking at each other. Then they launched into each other’s arms once more.
“Mount up, folks!” The trail boss called, passing near them. “It’s off into the frontier for us, and the sooner the better.”
Cade gave the man a quick nod as he passed. Then he took charge.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, stepping forward with their horses. “We need to get going.”
Lynne and her father squeezed each other one last time before stepping apart.
“I’ll write to you as soon as I get to Denver City,” Lynne said. “Sooner. I’ll send updates at the forts that we pass.”
“And I’ll write to you and send it by stagecoach so that my letter will be waiting for you at the other end.”
Lynne made a sound between a laugh and a sniffle. “If only you would send me by stagecoach as well.”
“Go with Mr. Lawson,” Judge Tremaine said. “And stay safe.”
“I will. I love you.”
Cade could see Lynne wanted to say more, wanted to stay there and argue with her father or hug him a little longer, but the time had come. She squared her shoulders and stiffened her back as she turned away from her father and marched toward the wagon. It could be she was every bit as brave as her father had said. The judge lifted a hand to wipe his face, then stepped back through the crowd who had come to see their loved ones off.
Ben resumed his seat driving the wagon and snapped the long whip over the backs of the oxen who would pull it from Independence to Denver City. Oxen weren’t like horses. They responded to verbal commands and prods with a pole or whip, and in the din of dozens of wagons leaving, they were confused. Before they would move an inch, Cade had to hand the horses’ leads over to Lynne so that he could jog to the front of the team and pull them to get the whole operation going. There was no set order to the wagons in their train, but the families and teams of miners and would-be entrepreneurs moved into position smoothly.
Once the oxen were moving, Cade turned back to find Lynne halfway through mounting her horse.
“Just a minute there,” he called, striding back to her. “I was going to take her saddle off and tie her to the back of the wagon to walk.”
Lynne lowered her foot from the stirrup, and gaped at him. “Why ever would you do a foolish thing like that?”
Cade frowned. The last thing he needed was for his charge to go questioning him. “You don’t want to tire her out.”
“Tire her out?” Lynne blinked at him. “Mr. Lawson, Clover is a horse. They were made for riding.”
“Miss Tremaine,” he answered her stubborn for stubborn, “this is a trail. We’ll be walking over seven hundred miles to Denver City, and it’ll take six weeks if we’re lucky and maybe three months if we’re not. You don’t want to wear that horse out before her time.”
Lynne sniffed and resumed her efforts to mount. “I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in my life.” She pulled herself up with surprising ease and plunked into the sidesaddle. It was unusual to see a sidesaddle this far west, but not unheard of. Lynne sat on hers with perfect grace, like a lady. “You’re free to walk if you want to spare your horse, Mr. Lawson.”
She nudged her horse forward, but didn’t get far with the crush of wagons, people, and animals all trying to move in the same direction. Cade fetched his horse from where it had started to wander off and walked it up to Lynne’s side.
“Do you see any other women riding?” he asked, and before she could answer him, said, “No. No you don’t. Because on the trail, women ride in the wagons.”
She sent him an arch look down her nose. “It looks to me as though most women do not ride in the wagons, they walk.”
Cade fought the urge to sigh aloud. She was only being contrary to hide her sadness, he told himself. It would pass. If he could just get through this journey, he would be back where he needed to be to build the rest of his life.
“All right, then,” he said. “Get down and walk like most women.”
“Ah, but you see, Mr. Lawson,” she said with a smile, “I am not most women.”
She had that one damn right.
Before he could argue with her, she tapped her horse’s side. It responded quickly and pushed forward as Lynne steered it around the wagon and set off as though she hadn’t a care in the world. Benjamin had the gall to grin after her as if she was a prize at the county fair. They were a big train, with dozens of wagons, hundreds of dangers. Half of the train was going to Denver City while the other half was in it for the entire months-long journey to Oregon and the Pacific coast. Cade thanked his lucky stars that he didn’t have to escort Lynne all the way. He had an itchy feeling that Denver City would be more than far enough.
He muttered a curse under his breath and swung his horse around to mount. “This is definitely a punishment.”
Chapter Two
Two weeks along the trail, Lynne was still not ready to let go of her sadness. From Independence, they had crossed the miles and miles of flat grassland that made up the northeastern corner of the Kansas Territory. The bustle of the city quickly gave way to the monotony of trail routine. Wake up, walk for four or five hours, stop to rest and eat during the heat of the day, walk for four or five hours, stop to sleep. Every day. The same food, the same strangers, the same gloom settled in her soul. She missed home, missed her family with her whole heart. The trail was an irritating, uncomfortable bore. The only interesting thing to look at all day was Cade Lawson’s devilishly handsome face. But comely though he was and as much as she appreciated a handsome man, she wasn’t about to follow his orders. Every day, he told her she should walk like the other women, so every day she rode. This new day would be no exception.
As the first sounds of morning hummed outside the wagon where Cade had spread her bedroll, Lynne sat up and rubbed her eyes. She smiled in spite of herself and breathed in the crisp morning air and the scent of grass and campfires. Perhaps her papa had a point after all. The cramped space of the wagon was more comfortable than the stagecoach they had ridden in when they moved to St. Louis. It was quieter too. She twisted to kneel, reaching for the fresh clothes she had laid out the night before and shimmying into them. She was getting quite good at dressing in a confined space, if she did say so herself. That and brushing her hair and making herself look presentable in the dim light.
The wagon train was quiet when she unhooked the covering at the back of the wagon bed and peered out into the dawn. A few other pioneers were awake. Most of the chickens and the handful of pigs that had been brought along were up, making enough noise to rouse everyone else. They made the same noise every day. Lynne sighed and climbed down from the wagon to stretch her back. Her long hair ruffled in the morning breeze. She would put it up later. These precious few moments at dawn were as close as she came to a moment to herself. The endless stretches of grassland spread out around her, touched by the soft light of the early sun. She rounded the wagon in search of a cask of water to get herself a drink.
“You’re up early,” Cade greeted her before she had gone two steps.
Lynne started. “I’m always up early. I’m getting a drink.”
Cade didn’t like her answer. He gave her a hard, scolding look. “It’s dangerous for you to go wandering around on your own.”
“Nonsense.” Lynne stood straighter and approached the glowing embers of the dying fire where Cade sat. She pulled her loose hair over her shoulder, wishing she had put it up after all. “There’s nothing aside from your garden variety danger here, and I am perfectly capable of not being ste
pped on by a large animal.”
“It’s not the large animals I’m worried about,” Cade said. “Someone is trying to hurt you.”
Lynne took a few steps toward the fire, holding her hands out and glancing around. “Who? This entire journey so far has been dull at best.”
“This ‘entire journey’ has hardly begun,” he answered her with a wary shake of his head. He raked her with a gaze that took in her loose hair and dusty dress, his mood changing. “Do you want some coffee?”
The way he looked at her sent an odd thrill down her spine. She should call him on the inappropriateness of that look, but she didn’t feel like starting her morning with an argument. “Yes, please.”
She sat on a barrel next to the fire, like the one Cade was sitting on, and quickly plaited her hair. Cade reached close to what remained of the fire and lifted a plain metal pot. He had an empty tin cup nearby and poured coffee and added sugar before she could tell him how she took it. Part of her wanted to take him to task for not asking like a gentleman should, but when he handed her the cup and she took a sip, the coffee was perfect.
“Thank you.” She smiled in spite of herself.
He returned her smile with a weary one of his own.
Lynne studied him over the top of her cup as she sipped. He was easy to look at, in spite of the fact that his face was lined with exhaustion. He had a strong jaw, just enough of a shadow of a beard growing on it to make him seem rugged. But even in the early morning light she could see his eyes were bloodshot and drooping.
“Mr. Lawson, did you sleep at all last night?” she asked.
He jerked his head up to her as if she’d made a horrible accusation and answered, “Yes,” so fast she wondered if it was a lie.
“It’s just that you look so tired. Maybe you should ride in the wagon like you’re always telling me to,” she teased.
“Ha, ha.” He answered her with feigned amusement. “I’m fine. You’re the one who should be watching your back and keeping out of sight.”
“Why? Because some band of thugs made a silly threat?”
“The Briscoe Boys are not just a band of thugs. Their crime spree was enough to make the papers in Denver City.”
“Denver City has a newspaper?” she drawled and took another sip of her coffee.
Cade’s back went up. “Denver City may be a young town, but it’s been growing faster than anyone back East would imagine. It’s certainly sophisticated enough for the likes of you.”
She would not ruin her morning by engaging in a verbal brawl with this man, tempting though the idea was. She would not. And yet….
“And what do you do in this sophisticated city, Mr. Lawson? Aside from wasting your time following independent young women around.”
“I provide security for your uncle’s mining operation,” Cade answered, as serious as the day was long.
Lynne rather liked the strength with which he made the comment. It proved he had ambition. “Security against the Indians?”
He shrugged, considering. “In rare cases. There’s more of a problem with claim-jumpers and thieves than Indians.”
“Oh? What is there so far out on the frontier worth stealing?” She teased him with a grin.
He scowled. “Plenty of things.”
“Such as?”
“Ore. Shipments of silver ore have to be transported to the railhead, since there isn’t a line that runs to Denver City yet. Highwaymen are a problem. Occasionally there’s an attack.” His explanation ended there and his face dropped. Early birdsong and the occasional low of an ox filled the silence. Cade stared into the fire, brow dark, faint splashes of red appearing on his cheeks. It made him look more exhausted than ever… and twice as intriguing.
Lynne finished her coffee and handed the cup across to him.
“Have you ever been involved in an attack?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. He took her cup and rinsed it out with a trace of water from a canteen resting by the side of his barrel. Lynne folded her hands on her lap, waiting for him to say something, bright and eager. He got up and took her cup to an open box resting against the side of one wagon wheel. When he came back to the remains of the fire, he dumped the last of the coffee out and swished water through the pot. His tight expression sent Lynne’s heart pounding to hear the story he obviously had to tell.
“You didn’t answer my question, Mr. Lawson,” she said.
“I’ve been telling you for days that you should just call me Cade. Mr. Lawson is my father.”
Lynne crossed her arms, her lips twitching with a grin. “You were involved in an attack, weren’t you?”
He still didn’t answer, but went on packing the dishes he’d taken out for coffee.
“What was it like?” She leaned toward him when he came back to put out the rest of the fire. “Was there a gunfight? Were the attackers dressed as Indians? I heard outlaws sometimes dress as Indians to confuse people. Do you have any scars from the encounter?”
“They were not dressed as Indians.” Cade sighed as though she was being ridiculous.
Lynne smiled. “So you were part of an attack.”
Cade’s scowl deepened. Then he let out a breath and shook his head. “All right. I was. Late last winter. It wasn’t as interesting as you’d think it would be. And no, I don’t have any scars.”
She stood and followed him to the wagon, where he started repacking the boxes and barrels he’d taken out so she could have a bed. His own bedroll leaned against the side of the wagon, rolled tight as if it hadn’t been used.
“Where were you when you were attacked?” she asked, edging closer. “Did they strike in the dead of night or at high noon? How many of them were there? Did they have pistols or rifles?” She lowered her voice and scooted nearer to him with each question.
Cade stopped what he was doing to glare at her. “You sure do have a morbid fascination with crime for someone who’s been threatened with violence.”
Lynne shrugged, stepping back. “I don’t think the Briscoe Boys are foolish enough to follow through on their threats.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Cade said. “Not all criminals are dumb.”
“So you were attacked by smart criminals, then?”
It was almost fun to provoke him into glowering at her. Cade Lawson certainly did have a short fuse when it came to a little friendly ribbing. He was far more interesting than she’d first given him credit for. Even if he did look as rough and exhausted as the miners traveling with them after a night of hard drinking and gambling. Unlike those miners, Cade was genuinely handsome underneath. Too bad he wasn’t in a mood to play. He turned away and continued straightening up their camp.
“Well, you can save your answers, which I’m sure are fascinating, for another day, Cade,” she conceded. “I have a feeling I’ll be needed elsewhere today.”
“Where?” he asked, suspicious.
Lynne nodded across the line of wagons to one that was set apart from the rest. Her new friend, Callie Lewis, had just woken up and stood from where she had been sleeping out in the open. Lynne’s heart squeezed in sympathy at the sight of her.
“Callie’s brother and his family weren’t doing well yesterday,” she told Cade.
“Cholera?” he asked.
Lynne bit her lip. “Something. They came down with it so fast.”
Cade moved to stand by her side, watching Callie circle around the back of her wagon to check on her sick family members.
“They were probably sick before we started out,” he said. “I’ve heard it happens. They should have stayed behind.”
“Yes, well, I believe Callie would agree. I would have been happy to stay with them,” she added.
Cade turned to her. “I don’t want you getting too close to them. Disease spreads faster than fire on the trail. I don’t want you getting sick too.”
Indignation flared through Lynne. She planted one fist on her hip. “You don’t, do you?”
“No.”
&n
bsp; “Who do you think you are, my father?”
He shifted his weight, planting his hands on his hips, accentuating his fit, narrow waist. “It’s my job to protect you, and that includes from disease.”
“What gives you the right to tell me who I can and can’t be friends with?”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t—”
“Callie needs my help. You have no say in the matter.”
“What about that other girl, Emma?” Cade asked. “Couldn’t you spend your social time with her while Callie’s family is sick?”
Lynne huffed out a breath and shook her head. She’d met Emma Sutton around the same time she’d met Callie and got on very well with her too. At the moment, though, that wasn’t the point.
“You are heartless, Mr. Lawson,” she said. “Lord help your friends when they’re in trouble. I don’t know why my Uncle George chose you to be my escort.”
His cheeks flared red. “Just because I’m cautious doesn’t mean I’m heartless, Miss Tremaine,” he fired back. “Or incompetent.”
“I never said you were—”
“I’m just asking you to stay safe, all right?”
“Safe.” Lynne shook her head. “There are more important things than caution. Compassion, for one. I’m not afraid of getting sick.”
“Bravery has nothing to do with it,” Cade argued.
“Doesn’t it?” she fired back. “Then what do you call helping a friend in distress when it means putting yourself at risk?”
He opened his mouth to reply, but Lynne wasn’t in a mood to hear any of it.
“Oh look.” She rode over whatever he was about to say. “There’s Emma now, going to help Callie take care of her family. I think I’ll take your advice and spend my time with her after all.”
She marched away without waiting for his acknowledgement, and was fairly certain she heard him mumble something unsavory under his breath behind her. For half a heartbeat she regretted being so sharp with him. The man was just trying to do his job. That still didn’t give him an excuse to ride roughshod over her.