One True Love

by Lori Copeland

  “I’m going with you,” she repeated in a tone far more docile than her intentions. Nobody told Redlin what to do; not even Copper Wilson. But she decided she could have Sadie or Adele saddle a horse and take her to the trailing wagons if Redlin refused. She would get up before sunrise and be there and back before Josh rolled out of bed. After all, it was her welfare at stake, not his.

  Josh met her defiant look. “You’re not going. Richardson will ride out with me. We don’t know who’s in those wagons or their purpose.”

  “I’m going. Like I said, you won’t be firm enough. I’ll show them my ankle, and if they’re decent folk they’ll know we don’t have time to get them across the river. They’ll just have to wait their turn to join up with another train. Apparently they’ve decided to avoid the military and travel alone, so they’ll have to face the consequences of their actions.”

  A muscle worked in his jaw. “We don’t know their purpose, and you’re not going.”

  She took a deep breath. “The only way you can stop me is to shoot the horse out from under me, and you wouldn’t do that to good stock.” She’d seen him with animals. She remembered how he had treated a jackass’s ankle when most men would have disposed of the animal.

  “Don’t be so sure. I might not value the animal if something or someone is on it, refusing to listen to me.”

  She sighed and reached for the crutches. “Good evening, Mr. Redlin.”

  “Sleep tight, Miss Wilson. And bury this thought in your mind. Deep. You’re not to go near those wagons.”

  Let him think what he liked. He wasn’t about to become a cripple. He didn’t live with the pain day in and day out.

  Come morning, she was getting to those wagons if she had to crawl.

  Chapter 11

  “Sadie, you have to take me.” The sun wasn’t up and Sadie refused to budge.

  “No ma’am, I don’t have to do anything but answer to the good Lord on Judgment Day, drive this wagon, and keep my nose out of other folks’ business. It’s a long way to Colorado, and I don’t intend to be thrown off this train because you and Redlin butt heads.”

  Copper turned to Adele.

  The older woman shook her head. “Same goes for me, young’un. You know if I could I’d help, but I’m getting old and I shore can’t walk to Colorado. Besides, the last thing you need to be doing is cavorting around the countryside on horseback.”

  “Fine.” Copper reached for her crutches. “Traitors.”

  “You ain’t near as pretty when you’re in this mood,” Adele advised, and proceeded to make her bed. “But I will loan you some britches if you got your heart set on aggravating Josh this early in the morning. Can’t ride a horse in a dress and with that ankle.”

  Copper had to admit that further antagonizing Redlin wasn’t the smartest idea, but those four wagons sorely grated on her. She was so close to relief. Only one obstacle now stood in her way: the river. After that, help was close by.

  Dressed in Adele’s old trousers and a shirt, she eased from the wagon and spotted the young Irish lad hitching a team. Copper called out, “Mike!”

  He glanced up. “Yes ma’am?”

  Copper made it to the wagon, breathless. “I have a favor to ask.” Her gaze scanned the area for Redlin. Richardson was standing beside the fire drinking coffee. Good. The men hadn’t left yet.

  “Sure thing.” The boy dropped a harness and approached. “What can I do for you?”

  “Would you saddle a horse for me?”

  Confusion flickered in his eyes. “A horse?”

  “Something small—a mare.”

  “What for, Miss Wilson? If you need to go somewhere I’ll take you. We won’t be pulling out for a while.”

  “Thank you, Mike, but I’d just enjoy an early ride—a brief trot around the corral to stir the blood?”

  Flashing a grin, he nodded. “Sitting gets pretty old, eh?”

  “Aye. Real tiresome.” She wasn’t fibbing—exactly. Sitting did get old, and she could think of nothing more enjoyable on this morning than a ride through the foggy haze.

  Within minutes he’d saddled a horse and led it to her. Lifting her into the saddle, he warned, “You take care. This one’s gentle, but we don’t need for you to aggravate that ankle.”

  She wouldn’t. She kept her aggravation for Redlin. “Thank you, Mike, but don’t worry. I’ve been riding horses all of my life.” She reined the animal, and the mare trotted around the corral with a steady, easy gait. Completing a second turn, she called, “I’m taking her out a little farther!”

  She wasn’t going to lie to accomplish her purpose. She just didn’t intend to say how far outside the camp.

  Mike nodded, waving her on.

  Kneeing the horse, she set the animal into an easy gallop through the gate opening. Her heart kept rhythm with the pounding hooves, feeling lighter than she’d felt in months. The brisk predawn air loosened her hair, and tendrils whipped her face. She’d forgotten how freedom felt, how it felt to be one with the animal. Urgency filled her now. She had to reach the wagons before Redlin, and state her case. She’d be polite but resolved. Those wagons must allow the Redlin party to cross the river and reach the fort before their party followed.

  She galloped the mare to within a short distance of the intruders and reined up. The pain from her ankle was more than she had expected, but it was secondary to the urgency of her mission. Nothing stirred. She glanced at the sky, dark with gathering rain clouds. Drat the weather. The last thing they needed was more rain.

  Her gaze scanned the quietness. Nobody was up. Perhaps that meant they planned to stay in camp today. Her spirits rose. There wouldn’t be a confrontation; the Redlin party would be pulling out early and these folks would still be abed. But—and this thought elated her more than the party’s laziness—she’d beat Josh at his game.

  Wheeling the horse, she came face to face with her adversary. A grim-faced Frank Richardson sat beside Redlin. Both men looked anything but happy to see her.

  Looking away, the wagon master apparently reined his anger before he turned back. “Miss Wilson.”

  She nodded. “Mr. Redlin.”

  “I see you’re up and about early this morning.”

  She braced for the explosion that oddly enough failed to come.

  Inclining his head toward the four wagons, he asked, “Is anybody home?”

  “I’m not sure.” Copper turned to trace the men’s eyes. “I assume they’re all still sleeping.”

  Her mare snuffed, shaking its mane.

  Strained silence settled over the three riders. Finally Josh kneed his horse forward, and Richardson and Copper fell in behind. As they approached the camp, Josh called out, “Friend!”

  A man’s voice came back. “Over here!”

  The animals rounded the lead wagon, and Copper spotted a well-dressed gentleman standing in front of the fire holding a cup of coffee. The bone china cup and saucer caught her attention: flow blue pattern, and exquisite.

  The man frowned, curiosity etched in his aristocratic features. “May I help you?”

  Copper eased forward in the saddle, ready to argue her case, but Josh’s strident glance rendered her speechless.

  “Name’s Redlin. I’m head of the party in front of you.”

  “Oh yes.” The man extended a hand. “Reginald Newsome, from Shreveport. What can I do for you?”

  “Noticed you folks have been following us pretty close for the past few days.”

  “Following you?” The man shook his head and sipped from his cup. “I believe this is a public road. One does occasionally have to follow other wagons if they’re headed in the same direction.”

  Josh remained pleasant. “You’re right, but I thought you might like to join up with us. We’d be glad to have the extra hands.”

  Join up? Copper seethed. She knew he’d do something like this. Join up indeed! They needed to drop back. Way back.

  “No, there’s only the two wagons. We’re doing fine.�
�

  Copper’s eyes focused on four wagons.

  “Two?” Josh’s gaze followed hers. “One of us can’t count.”

  “Only two containing my family and myself. The other two contain supplies.” He bent closer, whispering. “I have a young daughter. She requires more—er—room, shall we say? The remaining two wagons hold her clothing and frivolities. You know women.”

  A black woman appeared, carrying a supply box. She bent and set to work frying bacon.

  Josh met the man’s direct gaze. “You’re aware that it’s wise to travel with a larger train.”

  “Yes. So they say, but we prefer to do it our way. We haven’t spotted an Indian, and as you can see”—he flashed an indulgent smile—“we prefer to sleep late and get a tardier start than you people.”

  Yet they were always half a mile behind their train. Copper bit her lip, determined to let Josh handle the situation. She wouldn’t step in unless forced to, and this elite snob, though naive, appeared harmless.

  Josh smiled. “Want to invite you again to join us. River’s coming up, and more rain will likely have it out of its banks. It’ll be hard to move your wagons across with so little help.”

  “There’s a river coming up?”

  Richardson glanced at Redlin.

  “Buffalo. Be coming to it soon. When it’s out of its banks, it’s hard to cross.”

  “Well, you needn’t be concerned for our welfare, but we thank you for the invitation. My girls.” He inclined his head to the lead wagon, where all was quiet. “They abhor rules and regulations, and quite frankly, they’ve spoiled me. I don’t like guard duty.” He chuckled and lifted his cup to sip. “I’m afraid I’ve grown quite slothful in my waning years.”

  Josh reined his horse around. “If you change your mind let us know. Otherwise, keep your wagons back a day or two from ours.”

  “A day or two?” Reginald’s features sobered. “I think not. This is a public roadway. You don’t own it.”

  “No sir, I don’t, but neither do you, and in these parts there’s no law except the ones we make for ourselves, and I’m telling you to keep your wagons back two days from ours.”

  He visibly stiffened. “I shall not. You have no call to ask such a thing.”

  “Then join up with us, do your share of work, and we’ll help you ford the river.”

  “I’ll do no such thing.”

  A young woman parted the back canvas and peered out, blinking sleep from her round blue eyes. Copper took note of her stunning beauty. She wasn’t much younger than Copper, but her porcelain skin, blond hair, and stunning shade of ocean-blue eyes could turn any man’s head. Glancing at Josh, she noticed he hadn’t missed the sight. She glanced at her hands, red and rough from hours of washing clothes in a cold stream. She quickly stuffed them into her pockets. And she hadn’t bothered to comb her hair this morning.

  “Daddy!” the daughter complained. “It’s so early! You woke me.”

  “Sorry, Pudding.” He turned accusing eyes on the Redlin party. “Now you’ve wakened Milly.”

  The flap dropped back into place and Reginald lowered his tone. “I believe our business is concluded. We shall not join your train nor shall we keep our wagon two days back. We’re not accountable to you, and I would appreciate it if you’d ride out. Milly and Florence are trying to sleep.”

  Copper couldn’t hold her tongue another moment. “If you intend to keep up with our wagons, how can you sleep this late?” Redlin pulls out at eight o’clock sharp.”

  The man lifted his nose. “Our niggers take care of the mundane. The women sleep as long as they’re so inclined.”

  Copper had to bite her lip to keep from lashing out at the man like a coiled rattler. Indeed. She had helped fight a war over the attitudes inherent in that ugly term. Men like Reginald Newsome should be strung up and horsewhipped.

  “Miss Wilson,” Josh softly warned.

  She drew a deep breath and clamped down on her tongue.

  He nodded. “Like the man said, our business is over.” Reining the mare, Copper fell in behind Richardson and Redlin and the three galloped out.

  “Mean enough for you?” Josh asked Copper on the ride back to camp.

  “You were a kitten—a meek little kitten. He’s a thoughtless, vile snob. But I suppose he got the message.”

  “That’s what you think.”

  She glanced over. “Don’t you think you made your point?”

  Redlin shrugged. “We understand each other.”

  “Well, at least we won’t be delayed,” Copper said. “You say the fort is within a day’s ride once we cross the river?”

  Josh nodded. “We’re nearly there.”

  The three horses galloped into camp, and Mike ran out to meet them. “I was about to ride out looking for you.”

  Copper handed him the reins. “Why? I had a splendid ride, and I haven’t been gone long.”

  “Just splendid,” Josh mocked her.

  Mike’s young features closed. “We got big trouble.” The urgency in his tone turned heads.

  Josh frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “The Sniders’ toddler. She wandered out of camp half an hour ago. We’ve been searching everywhere but we can’t find the little girl anywhere.” Mike paused. “And she’s not wearing shoes.”

  Chapter 12

  Fourteen-month-old Carrie Snider had walked barefoot away from her wagon and disappeared. A lost child struck terror in the hearts of all fathers and mothers, and the weather had turned mean. Rigging and teams were forgotten as almost everyone spread out to search for the girl. Those that remained with the wagons formed a supportive cluster around the hysterical mother.

  Against everyone’s wishes, Copper insisted on participating in the search. With all the confusion she barely noticed the pain in her ankle. She was aboard the mare, and no one, not even Redlin, was going to talk her out of looking for that baby.

  When full daylight arrived a cool west wind blew through the camp. The baby was shoeless on a windy, overcast day. The thought of the darling cherub, with her sunny disposition and chubby cheeks, drove Copper farther and farther away from the circle of wagons. Three men rode with her, friends from neighboring rigs. Grim-faced men scanned every bush, rain-swollen ditch, and creek.

  The party passed the Louisiana wagons that strangely enough were now hitched and awaiting departure. Only the thought of the lost child prevented Copper from stopping long enough to give those folks a tongue-lashing they would not soon forget.

  An hour passed, then a second. Threatening clouds roiled overhead. A sense of urgency was present in the faces of each of the searchers.

  By mid-morning, Copper could no longer ignore the torture radiating from her ankle. Her foot was puffy inside her bandage, yet she refused to give in to the agony. She could sit in camp and help comfort Lil Snider, but her nature wouldn’t permit it. Children were God’s gift. She was gaining a better understanding of why she had chosen to teach young minds. She’d come from an affluent family, her papa from a line of “old money” as some were known to say. She had been given two choices: Choose any man within her realm of society or (to her socialite mother’s chagrin) further her education. She chose the latter. She’d been told that she was a gifted student, completing her early education by the time she was fifteen. Papa and Mother had turned absolutely green when she informed them that she wanted to move to Texas and teach, but Papa had never denied his only child a single thing. Only now was she starting to realize that perhaps through her parents’ love and complete devotion, Mama had raised a selfish daughter and Papa had created a self-centered individual.

  During noon hour, the clouds opened and the rain began again. Not a single sign of the missing child had been found. Not a lost bonnet, a strip of torn dress, or the rag doll the child carried constantly.

  Richardson insisted that the mother be given something from the train’s medicine box to calm her. The young woman’s collapse was hard to witness, but if the child w
asn’t found soon the mother would be inconsolable. She tossed fitfully on a pallet in her wagon while the distraught husband searched or paced back and forth in front of the wagon.

  “You shouldn’t be doing this, Miss Wilson.” Mike helped her back aboard the mare and settled her injured foot in the stirrup.

  “Don’t fuss at me, Mike. You know I can’t sit by and watch. I need to be doing something.”

  “Just don’t ride off on your own,” he warned. “I haven’t seen an Indian but they’re out there.”

  Yes, they were out there, and the thought haunted every member of the search party. Little Carrie would make a fine Comanche trophy, or a thoughtful gift for a childless mother. She nudged the horse to catch up with the rest of her group.

  Mid-afternoon her party caught up with Redlin’s group. The searchers paused in a willow stand, their horses blowing white breath in the falling temperatures.

  A man from Copper’s party said, “We’ve searched every inch of the area, Josh. She’s nowhere to be found.”

  Redlin nodded, openly confirming everyone’s unspoken fear. “We’ve covered it well. She could have fallen into the stream. With this rain, the current would have swept her downstream.”

  Copper’s heart caught in her throat. The woman riding beside her turned her head away.

  Redlin glanced at the sky. “We have a couple hours before dark. You take the riverbank leading north and we’ll take the south bank.” He pulled the brim of his hat lower. “Be back in camp an hour before dark.”

  Copper protested. “But we can’t just leave the child out here.”

  Josh reined his horse. “An hour before dark.” Nudging the animal, he rode off, and his party fell in behind him.

  Copper’s group rode the south bank. Occasionally the searchers would form a huddle and one or the other men led them in prayer. “God, we need your help” sounded so many times, the phrase echoed over and over in Copper’s mind. The huddle would break up, and the riders would continue the search down the bank. Rain thrummed the ground and the small stream swelled to new heights.