Sam’s face hardened the same way it had at the paddock. Then resignation claimed it as he turned away and gained the attention of Jesse and Andrew.
Becca placed a hand on Seth’s shoulder. His muscles were like rocks under her palm. “They’re your friends,” she said softly. “They’ll understand.”
After draping his shoulders with a towel, she took her time trimming his sandy blond locks, running her fingers over his scalp in hopes it would soothe him. By the time she made the last snip, his rigid frame had relaxed.
She gave his upper arm a gentle squeeze. “All done.”
“Thank you.” His reply was quiet and rough.
Seth stood and descended the steps. He dried his hair with the smaller towel hanging near the bucket and buttoned his shirt back on. Without another word or a look in anyone’s direction, he picked up his hat and walked away.
Becca stared out the kitchen window, watching Jesse, Andrew and Seth load the last of the supplies into the wagon.
“Don’t worry,” Sam said from behind her. “He’s got a lot on his mind. He’ll come around.” His boots scuffed the floor, and a chill morning breeze pulled through the sink window as he swung the door open and walked out.
“I hope so,” Becca whispered to an empty room.
She went back to scrubbing the dishes, her mind on anything but.
Seth had returned from his lone walk at nightfall, only to usher her into Sam’s proffered room and sleep on a bedroll outside her door. She urged him to join the men in the bunkhouse, but he refused. He seemed resigned to protect her—insistent—but he didn’t seem happy about it.
At first, she thought the shift in his mood was because the men had seen his wound and found out what he’d done. But as she watched them work together like nothing had changed, a knot of misgiving tied up her gut.
Ray and Tucker learned about her here. If she’d gone with Seth the first time, if he hadn’t had to return for her, he wouldn’t have been injured. And he wouldn’t have been forced to kill.
She was the one to blame.
Becca finished her work in the kitchen and gathered her things. With a last glance at the store, she walked out and crossed the yard to the pile of goods being loaded.
The wagon’s bonnet gleamed in the early morning sun. It was no Conestoga, not even a Schooner, but the sturdy conveyance would more than meet their needs. Having no furniture or other large household items to tote allowed them to take a smaller wagon and team; and being able to leave fully stocked of food and feed, with only weeks to go, gave them a sizeable advantage.
When the men finished loading and went around front to hook up the team, Becca peered into the wagon’s bed at rows of barrels and crates lining a single sleeping pallet. The sight bothered her, but now for a different reason. She’d become the burden she’d never wanted to be.
Everyone gathered together to say their final farewells. They all smiled, but an undeniable sadness lay beneath. It didn’t matter that they’d been friends less than twenty-four hours. A wagon trip west meant they’d never see each other again.
True to form, Jesse spoke first. “Thanks for the haircut, Miss Garvey. The meals, too.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Same goes for me,” Andrew said. “Have a safe trip.”
Both men’s hands twitched alongside their trousers as if debating some manner of contact, then lifted to tip their hats instead.
Sam had no such reservations. He pulled her into a fatherly hug. “I’ll be praying for your safety,” he whispered in her ear. “But I also have faith in Seth. If anyone can get you home, he can.”
When Sam backed away, Becca blinked at the sudden bead of tears in her eyes and noted the sheen in his. “Thank you for your hospitality,” she managed.
After a round of handshakes among the men, Seth looked to her with a wan smile. “Ready?”
At her assent, he lifted her onto the wagon seat and climbed up to join her. Then, with a tip of his hat, he gathered the reins, released the brake and started them rolling on their journey.
Becca stared out over the terrain as they jostled in the direction of the cave. The creak of the wood and the constant bumping and shifting of the seat caused her mind to flood with memories—few of them good.
“You all right?” Seth asked over the noise of the wagon and the team.
She gave a small smile and a nod, but her mind went right back to all they faced. And all he’d sacrificed. “I hope you didn’t spend all your savings on this,” she finally said.
Seth opened his mouth, then closed it again, his expression softening. “No, actually, I didn’t.” His lips curved and he shook his head. “Sam took up your cause and refused to charge me more than cost. Wait. I take that back.” He lifted a finger in the direction of the new bay gelding. “He took a little profit on Zeus.”
Becca couldn’t help but smile.
“I’ve never seen Sam so softhearted toward anyone but Jesse.” Seth glanced over at her. “If you had asked to stay, he would’ve taken you in as his own. No doubt in my mind.”
Her mouth went dry. “Is that what you wanted me to do?”
Seth’s brow furrowed.
“If you’ve changed your mind about taking me to California, you should have said so—”
“Becca.”
“—back at the outpost, before—”
“Becca. That’s not what I meant. I was just making an observation.”
He reined the horses to a stop and engaged the brake, sending a silent cloud of dust swirling up around them. “Are you having second thoughts about traveling with me?”
“No.” She shifted uncomfortably on the bench and lowered her voice. “I thought you were having second thoughts about traveling with me.”
“Why?”
“You’ve been quiet... as if something’s bothering you,” she said, skirting the heart of the matter.
Seth stared off into the distance. “Planning a trip like this isn’t easy. I have a lot on my mind.”
Something told her he was avoiding truth, too.
He looked directly at her. “Let’s settle this right now. Do you still want to go?”
“Yes.”
“Then I still want to take you.”
He released the brake and spurred the team into motion.
Becca faced forward, gripped the seat, and held on for the ride.
Seth parked the wagon as close as he could to the cave. When they woke the next morning, they added the most essential of Rebecca’s belongings and made their way back to the trail. She was pleasant but quiet, and he knew she was reluctant to leave.
“I’m sure going to miss that hot spring,” he said, trying to lighten her mood.
The comment gained him a small smile. “Me, too.”
Becca tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, then fingered the buttons of her old brown wool coat. “I’m curious. Why did you buy a second horse instead of a team of oxen to pull the wagon?”
If something happens to the wagon... “Because they’re easier to steer should we have to ride them.”
She looked thoughtful, then nodded and faced forward again.
Seth turned his attention back to the horizon, the reality of life on the trail weighing heavier than ever before. He’d pressed her for an answer yesterday and insisted the issue was closed. Now he was having second thoughts.
“Whoa.” He reined the team to a stop. “I need to ask you something,” he said, looking at her again. “I haven’t changed my mind about taking you west, but I worry I was too hasty in gaining your approval.
“I know this isn’t your first trip,” Seth added when she turned her puzzled eyes on him, “but it’s your first one alone—without the company of other wagons, I mean. We’ll have an advantage over anyone finding us—no one expects trains to pass through this time of year—but we won’t have the safety of numbers if they do. Whatever happens to us on the trip, we’ll have to deal with it, just the two of us.”
“What other choice do we have?”
“Well, we could hide the wagon and store the supplies in the cave, using the food to get us through winter. Then, come spring, we could replenish everything at the outpost, join a train headed west, and be on our way.
“I’m willing to do either,” he added when she didn’t say anything. “I’m leaving the decision up to you.”
Becca sat and thought a long time. “I want to go now,” she entreated with liquid eyes. “I miss my family.”
Seth grazed her cheek with his thumb. “Don’t worry. We’ll find them.”
He urged the team into motion, equally burdened and relieved. On the trail, he’d have to protect her for weeks from every conceivable danger. In the cave, he would’ve had to protect her a solid six months from himself.
The sight of furniture, trunks, and other belongings littering the side of the trail pulled Seth from his thoughts.
Becca was completely entranced, staring at them.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No.” She turned toward him, her gaze lagging a bit with the movement. “This is where we were camped the day the train left without me.”
He covered her pale hand with his and squeezed. He still couldn’t fathom what it must have been like for her to go for a walk and return to an empty prairie.
A couple of miles later, after passing between two mounds of fallen rocks, they came to a fork in the trail. He didn’t need to check his map—with winter nearly upon them, they were forced to take the southerly path—but the way Becca swallowed and stared at the groves made him think back to something she’d said. When she’d taken off after the wagons, this was the place she stopped running.
Seth glanced back as they veered left and sucked in a breath. Why hadn’t he thought to ask her before?
He quickly reined them to a stop and ignored her puzzled expression. “Come with me.” He helped her down and led her behind the wagon, then pointed to both sides of the Y. “Look at the ruts. See the difference?” Though the ground was mostly rock and the ruts weren’t very deep, the tracks they had traveled were freshly gouged. The other path was pristine.
He watched her look slowly back and forth and waited for her to absorb what she was seeing, but the crease between her brows only deepened.
“Becca,” he said, gaining her attention. “The dirt is freshly turned on this side, but the other ruts are weathered and undisturbed.”
She looked back at the ground.
“The day you ran after the wagons, didn’t you see it?
Her head moved slowly back and forth. “No.” She raised her gaze to his. “Believe me. I looked for any sign that might tell me which way they’d gone. Both trails looked the same.”
“Exactly the same?”
“Yes. Do you think I would have stopped running if I’d known?”
“No.” He put his arm around her shoulders and guided her back to the front of the wagon. “I thought you might have been too upset that day to notice, that’s all.”
She stopped him when he moved to lift her onto the seat, her forehead creased again. “What does it mean?”
“It means the wagons must have split up.”
Becca recoiled and her brows rose with incredulous regret. “I could have caught up no matter which way I chose?”
“Probably. But with whom? You said yourself there were people on that train you couldn’t trust as far as you could throw them. What if you’d made the wrong choice?”
She closed her eyes and nodded.
“I promise you,” he said when she opened them again. “We’ll find your parents. I’ll get you home.”
November 2, 1851
Becca eyed Seth across the field while she was taking up the laundry from its drying place on a cluster of bushes. The argument they’d had on the way to the outpost had apparently done some good. He still carried his penchant for safety too far, but most of the time, he treated her like an equal partner.
But then what choice did he have? It took both of them working from morning till night to do everything that needed to be done.
Heaving the laundry basket onto her hip, she carted it over to a crate they were using as a bench. “What are you doing?” Seth was standing near a pile of wood.
“I’m breaking up an abandoned yoke I found. It’s useless for parts, but it’ll make good firewood.” He lifted his hat and blotted his forehead with his sleeve. “As soon as I’m done with this, I’ll do some scouting, then we’ll harness the team and go.”
Not wanting to draw attention to a wagon traveling alone, they were cautious to circumvent populated areas. They also had to avoid terrain a lone wagon couldn’t cross. Every couple of days, armed with the map Sam had given him, Seth hiked or rode to the top of the highest hill and planned their path. So far, it was working. They’d only been on the trail twelve days and had already traveled nearly two-hundred miles. With ample feed for the team and no other wagons slowing them down, they often gained twenty miles in a day. The weather had been kind as well. Being farther south, the temperatures were milder.
Becca finished folding the clothes and put them away. When Seth returned from the hilltop, she hurried to load the pots and pans from breakfast while he dumped dirt over what was left of the fire and harnessed the team.
She gestured at his face after he’d lifted her onto the wagon seat and climbed on. “That beard looks good on you.”
The skin above the border of sandy blond turned pink. “I let it grow in winter. Keeps my face warm.”
“Where are we exactly?” she asked as they pulled away from camp.
“We’re about one-hundred-fifty miles west of Las Cruces. If we keep making good time, we’ll reach California before the end of November.”
Becca gazed out at the landscape. Sheer cliffs lined the path to their right and the Gila River marked the left—all of it turned a fresh, golden yellow by the morning light. “Do you think there’s any chance of finding my parents before Christmas?”
“I think so. If they didn’t change their destination, or not by much.” Seth leaned back and braced a boot against the footrest. “You said they were headed for a town called Blackwater. I’ll have to check with the locals once we get closer, but, figuring in weather and such, we could probably make it there by mid-December.”
She hoped her arrival would be a welcome surprise. Her stomach knotted at the alternative.
Seth looked over at her. “Is Blackwater where Nathan was headed, too?”
Her stomach tightened more. “Yes.”
“You haven’t mentioned him at all.”
Becca shrugged. “Why would I?”
“He’s your betrothed.”
“Was.”
“You can’t know that for sure. What if he still wants to marry you?”
Her heart and her gut clenched at the same time. “I’m not sure I still want to marry him.” She stared down at her hands. “I’m not sure what I feel anymore.”
When she looked back up, Seth had fixed his gaze on the horizon, his stalwart frame jostling with the wagon as it rattled across the rocky soil.
Armed with empty canteens and a bucket, Becca made her way down the steep bank of a clear, mountain stream that fed into the Gila. If she’d learned one thing on the trail, it was the importance of finding safe sources of water. And plenty of it.
She knelt by the rocky edge and filled the containers, shivering as the chilly current rushed over her hand. The atmosphere all day had been nearly as cold. After asking her about Nathan, Seth had barely said two more words. He’d never been what she’d call talkative, but he’d grown unusually quiet. She spent more hours than not pondering what occupied his thoughts.
Becca gathered the vessels and hurried back up the hill. There were still chores to do before supper. Her boots crunched steadily up the incline, to the stones that marked the upper edge of the bank, until her right foot slid and wedged itself into a deep crevice. The world tilted sideways as she swiftly went dow
n.
The impact forced the air from her lungs and sent her bucket skidding down the embankment, its precious water spilling and seeping into the sand. Becca lay dazed for a moment. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, then adjusted the canteen straps on her shoulder and sighed. She’d have to climb back down and fill the bucket again.
She pushed herself into a standing position. Pain shot through her right ankle like sharp shards of glass. She cried out and tumbled back to the ground.
“Becca?” Seth called from a distance. Boots thudded the ground and he peered over the edge of the embankment.
“I hurt my ankle,” she said, trying not to cry.
He quickly angled down the slope and crouched next to her. “Hold on to me.” He draped her arm around his neck and caught her about the waist. “Let’s get you back to camp.”
She glanced back as he hoisted her up and wrapped his arm around her waist. “The bucket.”
“I’ll come back for it.”
Seth held her steady as she hobbled back up to the trail, then lifted her into his arms and carried her to where they’d parked the wagon. After settling her on a crate near the fire and laying the canteens aside, he began unlacing her boot. “Let me take a look.”
Becca gritted her teeth as he slipped off her shoe and rolled down her sock. Her ankle was turning a deep red and starting to swell. She flinched and bit back a yelp as he examined it, pressing on each of the bones.
“Did I break it?”
He set her heel gently on the ground and exhaled a dismal breath. “I can’t feel a break, but there’s no way to know for sure. You’ll just have to stay off it.”
She let her tears flow freely now. How would they keep going if she couldn’t do her share?
“Stay here,” Seth said, looking worried and a little ill at ease. “I’ll go get something to wrap it with.”
Becca wiped her cheeks with her palms and worked to get her emotions under control while he was gone. If she kept carrying on like this, Seth would think she was a weakling.
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