by Conn, Phoebe
'That is not a very subtle hint, Mr. Royal. Is it a bribe you expect? Well, if you think I'll sleep with you tonight, or on the way along the Oregon Trail you're wrong! If there is not a place for me with the other brides tomorrow morning, then I will earn my own passage in a respectable fashion! Good night!"
Jason was so startled by her angry outburst that he had to dodge out of the way to avoid being injured as she slammed the door in his face. He could not understand how the remark he'd meant to be comforting could have been so badly misinterpreted, but as he stood there contemplating the question, he realized the innocence of his comment was not the issue—it was the ardor of his kiss. No, damn it! It was the ardor of her kiss which had inspired him to return it!
"Women!"
He swore loudly and with a swift kick he hit the connecting door between their rooms. In response he heard Gabrielle turn the key in the lock and cursed again. Well she could just find her own way to Oregon now, for he'd be damned if he'd take a vixen like that and wish her upon one of the good-natured farmers who was waiting for a bride. That idea appalled him so greatly he turned his back on the door as if it might respond to his anger, but gradually, as his reason returned, he knew he had to take Gabrielle home with him if for only one purpose, to teach her how wrong she was to think she was through with love. Love was for the living to enjoy, and she was far too desirable a young woman to have only the beauty of a memory to warm her nights. That one kiss had been enough to convince him she would be a delight in his bed. He wanted to make her purr with pleasure, to hear her sob his name as the ecstasy he knew he could bring her poured through every inch of her most splendid female body. He had never wanted any woman as
desperately as he now wanted the vibrant beauty in the next room. He had not imagined her to possess such a fiery disposition, and he suddenly felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for her recently deceased aunt. Surely her impetuous niece had driven the woman to an early grave. He vowed not to let Gabrielle get the best of him again and, with a deep chuckle, went to find Clayton. He knew where the man would be enjoying himself. Jason could scarcely wait to sample similar pleasures. Kansas City had many gorgeous women, and if he couldn't have Gabrielle MacLaren that night, he planned to be content with the affection of several others.
"^/u^/i/e^JJ
Rushing from his bedroom toward Jason's, Clayton Home hahed abruptly in the center of the drawing room when he saw his friend seated upon the couch. The young man was dressed in his gray suit, neatly groomed in preparation for the morning's meeting, but he sat with his head in his hands, clearly unready to face anyone as yet.
"You've only yourself to blame for the miserable way you feel, Jason, but that's slight consolation I know."
Although he was fifteen years older than the handsome young man, Clayton regarded Jason as his closest friend. Their travels together had forged a bond of trust which both valued; still, Clayton was fond of giving advice although he knew Jason seldom heeded his words.
Jason looked up with a wicked grin. "It was worth it. Clay, every last minute."
Clayton laughed as he shook his head reproachfully. "At my age, it's a choice between liquor or the ladies, and I can tell you women are one pleasure I will never give up. Besides, I feel better this morning than I have in years which is one boast you certainly can't make."
Jason knew he had not simply gotten drunk; he'd gone way past mere inebriation. He considered himself lucky to have found his way back to the hotel even though it had been after
five A.M. when heM managed to do so.
"You know I never drink a drop on the trail, so I can tolerate a hangover or two when I'm in Kansas City."
Clayton chuckled at that thought for he knew Jason to have remarkable powers of recovery which he'd admired on more than one occasion. Pausing before the mirror, he patted his hair hoping to make the unruly sandy waves follow the shape of his head rather than stick out in all directions as they tended to do despite his lifelong efforts to tame them. His tan skin showed only a few slight wrinkles at the corners of his clear blue eyes and he was quite pleased that he looked so fit that morning when Jason had plainly overindulged himself. Satisfied with his appearance, he turned around.
"That's good to hear, for I need your advice on a problem which has just presented itself. We must make a decision immediately and since you had far more opportunity than I did to speak with Miss MacLaren, I'd value your opinion."
Clayton knew he was the more deliberate of the two. He pondered questions for days while Jason would give a matter no more than a moment's consideration before rendering a decision. That Jason's judgments were nearly always superior caused Clayton considerable chagrin, but he had made no attempt to adopt the younger man's far swifter mode of thinking when he feared he simply lacked the intelligence to do so.
Because of the intense pain which throbbed in his head, Jason doubted he could give a fair opinion on any subject, let alone the volatile Miss MacLaren.
"Why do you ask?"
Clayton pulled up a chair and sat down opposite his friend. "Do you recall meeting a man named Joshua Taylor back home?"
"No. Should I?" Jason asked cautiously. He sat up straight and tried to focus his eyes upon his watch. They still had an hour before the meeting would begin, and he had expected to use that time to rest. He yawned sleepily, then tried to give
Clayton his attention; but that was a difficult task.
"Well, I was hoping you knew him because while the name's familiar I can't seem to place the man/' Tapping a thick white envelope against his fingertips, he explained. ''I found this letter at the desk when I went downstairs for breakfast this morning. Food is something you might consider, by the way. The letter is from Mr. Taylor and he says he's sorry he took so long to make up his mind, but he wants to come in on our venture. He enclosed the amount the others paid plus a little something extra for our trouble. He wants us to bring him a bride too."
"Joshua Taylor is his name?" Jason reached out and took the envelope, hastily scanning the neatly penned letter he found inside. "Well he mentions the names of three of the men we included. Says they're close friends and says he has good land and a sturdy house built. He probably doesn't want to be the only bachelor left among his friends. What do you think?"
Clayton frowned, his worry plain, "We were so careful with the others I was hoping you could vouch for Taylor since I can't. He would make twenty-one and then we could take Miss MacLaren with us. I couldn't help but notice how interested you were in her. Not that I 'didn't like her immediately too, because I did, but she seems to be too elegant a creature to wed a farmer and be content to work from dawn to dusk. I'll leave it up to you: shall we accept Taylor's money and take her, or not?"
Jason shrugged as if the matter were of little importance to him. "Let's wait and see if all the ladies we asked to return actually do so. If we have less than twenty then Miss MacLaren will be a substitute; if all twenty are there at ten, then we'll accept Taylor's money and take Gabrielle for him."
"You mean tell her this Taylor is to be her husband?" Clayton asked incredulously.
"Why not? They both seem to have cut things pretty close. I'd say they are a perfect match."
"Well, I don't know." Clayton refolded the letter and
replaced it in the envelope. 'They'd be the only ones without a choice then and that just doesn't seem fair."
"All right, then don't tell her about Taylor!" Jason replied irritably. "We'll just tell her we've received another bachelor's fee and she'll be among the brides going with us."
After a moment's hesitation, Clayton nodded. "Fine. Were you able to find her a nice room?"
"I gave her mine." Jason nodded toward the door. "I haven't heard a sound from her as yet though. She might just sleep right through our meeting if you don't knock on the door to awaken her." He had no intention of risking such an action himself after the way they had parted.
Startled by that possibility, Clayton got up and walked over to
the door. After listening closely for a long moment he knocked several times. "Miss MacLaren? It's Clayton Home, I don't want you to be late for the meeting, my dear."
Jason waited for what he hoped would be a sweetly worded reply but Clayton's call went unanswered. "She must be a sound sleeper. Try knocking again." When Clayton's insistent pounding again brought no response Jason got to his feet and, after crossing the room quickly, tried the door and found it unlocked.
"Wait a minute, you can't just walk into Miss MacLaren's room!" Clayton cried out in dismay.
"Aren't you forgetting the room is mine?" Jason brushed past him to find the bedroom empty. The bed had been slept in, the towels by the pitcher and wash basin were damp, but the lovely Miss MacLaren was gone and so was her cumbersome valise. Exasperated, Jason threw up his hands in disgust, "Well, that settles it, the lady's gone so whomever Joshua Taylor might be, he's out of luck."
"Damn!" Clayton muttered angrily. "Why couldn't things have worked out as we'd hoped they would? I could have used Taylor's cash for additional provisions!" Disgusted, he jammed the stranger's letter into his pocket and went back to
his room. Meanwhile Jason stood, silently enjoying the subtle trace of the young beauty's perfume which still lingered upon the morning air as an erotic reminder of the intimate moment they'd shared and he remembered all too well.
Gabrielle walked briskly along the crowded sidewalk. She couldn't just sit in Jason Royal's room while she waited for the hours to pass so she'd again left her valise at the desk and had struck out on her own to explore the town and to distract herself from the inevitable rejection she was sure would come. Kansas City was only a short distance from Independence where the wagon trains formed before they set out on the Oregon Trail, and the merchants seemed to be doing a good business selling supplies which would be needed for the trip. Gabrielle could feel the excitement in the air as families swept past her, their faces aglow as they made last-minute preparations for their great adventure, and she envied them. She was so close to making the journey, and yet she knew if only ten of theyoung women Mr. Home expected to attend the final meeting arrived Jason Royal would insist there was no place for her. The more she thought about their late-night confrontation the more mortified she became. She raised her hand to her lips as though people she passed in her walk could see how wantonly she'd behaved. She had never expected to kiss another man the way she'd kissed Beau, with the slow, sweet passion his love had always inspired. Jason Royal had simply caught her by surprise that was all. He'd taken advantage of her mood, encouraged her to confide in him, and then had pushed the trust he'd inspired to it's limit. Well, perhaps not to its limit since she'd come to her senses so swiftly, but had she not been so shocked, she was certain he would have suggested they share her bed. His bed she supposed it was actually. Furious all over again as she thought of the nerve of the man, she forgot to watch the time and then had to lift her skirt and run from the far end of the
town all the way back to the hotel, much to the delight of the gentlemen she passed with no more than a breathless smile.
Clayton Home was pleased to see all twenty young women had returned as promised and nudged Jason. "It's after ten, why don't you begin."
Jason nodded absently as he looked around the room, silently counting the young ladies who were seated in a semicircle in front of him. Coffee and tea had been served when suddenly it seemed to him that he and Clayton had made a terrible mistake. They had selected young women who could sip tea politely, who had pretty smiles and bright glances; but what they should have sought were strong lasses who could not only face the hardships of the Oregon Trail but survive them. Clearing his throat, he began in what he hoped would be such a convincing tone that the assembled ladies would quickly flee.
"Good morning. Mr. Home and I would like to take this opportunity to thank each and every one of you for responding to our advertisement. As some of you know, in the early 1840s, countless numbers of single men braved the rigors of the Oregon Trail to establish farms in the fertile valley of the Willamette River. Last year, by treaty with Great Britain, the United States gained exclusive control of the Oregon country and now, in 1847, the route is traveled by families following in the footsteps of the many gallant early pioneers. However, single women being so few, the men who were among the first to arrive have begun to despair of ever finding brides. Mr. Home, being the sympathetic friend that he is, offered to do his best to bring ladies as charming as you to Oregon City, where you'll find men eagerly waiting to become your husbands." Jason paused for a moment, wanting to be certain he had their rapt attention before he continued. "While that happy prospect is what brought you all here, what lies ahead is beyond imagining. The way is more than difficult; it is tortuous, fraught with perils which will surpass your worst
fears. We will have to cross two thousand miles of inhospitable terrain, brave the harshness of the elements and the fury of Indian tribes who see our passage through their lands as an assault by an enemy force. You will be only a small portion of a wagon train consisting of more than fifty families—the wagons are already assembling just outside Independence—and as soon as we join them we will make plans to depart on what for many will be the last journey they will ever take."
Jason hoped they understood the dangers to which he was referring, but their fascinated stares told him little. "I went to Oregon by the ocean route as a child, so when I first crossed the narrow path that was to become the Oregon Trail I traversed it in reverse, going from the coast to Independence. Had I not known, when I served for the first time as a scout for a wagon train in 1843, that the beauty which awaited us was worth our sacrifice, I would have been among the first to turn back. There were few families on that trip that did not lose someone: a precious child, a dearly loved wife, a pretty bride as each of you ladies will be. The trail has killed the strongest of men, but the suffering it inflicts upon women is especially cruel. I want all of you to take a few moments to reflect upon your own lives, to consider in your hearts the warm and safe homes you are leaving behind, the dear relatives you may never see again. I will not fault any of you who wishes to withdraw her application. I will place them upon the table by the door, simply remove yours as you leave. This decision is the most important one you will ever make, and I caution you to weigh your choices carefully; for once the Oregon Trail is begun, you will not be able to turn back."
As Jason carried the neatly printed application forms to the front of the room, he saw Cabrielle MacLaren standing just inside the^door. How long she'd been listening he didn't know, but he could tell by her expression that she had counted those present and knew she had no chance of being included in the group unless someone left. He had not thought the mere sight of her sad, sweet smile would stir him so, yet he found her even
more lovely than he had the previous afternoon. Walking to her side, he whispered softly, "Please wait a moment longer, some are sure to leave."
Gabrielle disagreed and said so. "After that impassioned plea none will dare admit to having so little courage as to back out. You have your twenty brides, Mr. Royal, I'm certain of it."
Jason was unconvinced, but when, as she had predicted, none of the young women stirred, he turned his back on the room so they might converse with some degree of privacy. "You mean I only strengthened their resolve, my warnings did not discourage them?"
"I am certain their decision was made as mine was, the very moment I chanced to read your advertisement." Gabrielle had been able to observe little other than the young women's proud posture as they sat on the edges of their chairs. "You have a determined group here, but as you can see, there is no place for me.
She lifted her chin proudly, for she was positive he'd not forgotten her refusal to consider some alternative arrangement for her passage. She'd not be going to Oregon with his wagon train. It seemed that her aunt had reached from beyond the grave to ruin her plans for living at least part of the dream she'd had with Beau. She'd not cry again; she'd keep h
er sorrow to herself as she'd learned to do. She extended her hand to say goodbye.
"I wish you good luck, Mr. Royal. I hope your journey is both a safe and swift one regardless of your fears."
"My fears are well founded in experience. Miss MacLaren, but I insist you remain a moment longer to hear what I have to say. It was no mere chance that you happened to see our advertisement, but fate. Another bachelor has joined our list of clients and we need to provide twenty-one brides instead of twenty. If my speech did not have the desired effect upon the others, did it influence you to return to Liberty or do you still wish to go with us?"
Gabrielle tried to read the expression in Jason's eyes. They
were gray—she saw their color clearly now—a deep, piercing gray, and she knew she had to respond with the utmost tact. "I want very much to go to Oregon, to have a home and a husband waiting for me to arrive would make the journey worthwhile no matter what the risk. I only hope that what happened between us last night will not make the trip an impossible one for me.'*
Jason chuckled at that taunt, for despite Gabrielle's poise and composure, she was very young. He could tell she had given the incident far more consideration than it had deserved. She had probably not kissed any man since her beloved Beau had left Liberty to make his way west, and undoubtedly her anguish over their embrace was tinged with guilt. His anger with her had melted away the moment he'd seen her standing at the door, and he teased her now with a ready grin.
"You mean the horrors you'll have to survive on the trail do not compare to the agony of my affection?"
"Mr. Royal!" The auburn-haired beauty's creamy complexion took on a bright blush as she stammered. "There is nothing wrong with your affection, it was merely so unexpected that I-"