Mason peered down at her. “What’s so funny?”
She shook her head as her whole body jiggled with laughter.
“What?” he asked with added emphasis.
Regaining control, Rebekah wiped the tears from her eyes. “I just imagined a glimpse of your face at dinner, trying to eat while sitting fifty feet downwind from the outhouses.”
Mason’s dark eyebrows crinkled in confusion. He pushed his hat up, revealing his pale forehead—an odd contrast to the rest of his tanned face. He looked back at the two little buildings, then turned to face her. His dark eyes glistened like the blue black of a crow’s wing in the bright sunshine. “Oh,” he said.
Rebekah turned her face away to keep from laughing at him. Men had such a different perspective on things. And Mason was all man; she couldn’t deny that. Nor could she deny the way the closeness of him made her get all antsy inside. Their shoulders knocked together as they continued down the rutted road, giving her a sense of security and happiness like she’d never felt around any other man. Thoughts of her stepfather doused the joy in her spirit, sending her mirth fleeing as a pang of regret flooded through her. Her smile vanished, and once again she thought about leaving.
She scanned the crowd of people. Would she be safe from Curtis here? Was he even following her? And if he was, could he find her in this crowd? Children raced about, playing tag and squealing to one another. Jimmy shouted out the rear of the wagon at some boys as they galloped past, whooping like Indians. Tired women hung up faded clothing that looked even more worn out than their owners.
Rebekah shook her head; she didn’t understand it. What could make so many people leave their homes, come to this horrid place, and live in such squalor, just for a chance at a small farm? She had a feeling most of them would leave empty-handed and disappointed. There couldn’t possibly be enough land for all of them.
A nearby train whistle startled the horses. They snorted and whinnied and pranced sideways in their harnesses. Mason had to grip the reins to keep them from bolting. His arm, muscles tight, pressed against hers. He muttered soothing words to his team. She glanced down, realizing just how close she sat to him. She had to start distancing herself from Mason and the children, or she’d be suffering the pain of separation for a long time.
Rebekah slid over to the far side of the wagon seat, wondering how much a train ticket to Wichita, Kansas, would cost. She’d counted her little pile of coins a few days ago. The money she’d made back home from selling eggs and the fowl she’d hunted was pitifully meager. She calculated the amount again. Would it be enough? She could only pray it would.
Luther eased off the trail to an area that looked large enough for both wagons. He set the brake and hopped down before Ella could comment on the spot he’d selected. Mason pulled alongside, leaving about ten feet between the wagons. They could set up their campfire in the middle, giving their little group a bit of privacy.
Rebekah stretched, wishing she could take a nap like Katie had earlier. With her thoughts on leaving and never seeing Mason again, sleep had been hard to come by lately. She hoped Mason could find Jake quickly so she’d be free to leave. No sense in postponing the inevitable.
She shook her head. It was best not to think on those things. Wasn’t there a verse in the Bible that said to think on good things? Tonight, after dinner, she’d try to find it.
Good things. Denver. Jimmy and Katie seeing their dad again. At least she hoped that was good. Mason’s smile—no, that didn’t count. A home of her own. Children someday. A vision of Jimmy and Katie chasing butterflies in a field with her watching from the porch swing of her own little home and Mason sitting next to her flittered across Rebekah’s mind. Ohhh! Thinking good thoughts was harder than she had imagined.
She didn’t even notice Mason had climbed off the wagon until he reached up to help her down, pulling her from her mental battle. Don’t think so far ahead—maybe that’s the key Dinner. Setting up camp. She reached out, holding on to Mason’s broad shoulders as he lifted her down. She noticed his lips were pursed into a tight line.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothin’. Lots of things.” He released her and reached up to adjust his hat. “I’ve gotta find Jake, but I need to get you all settled first.”
“We can set up camp if you want to start searching,” she offered.
A spark flickered in his eyes then quickly faded. He looked up at the sky and shook his head. “It’ll be dark before too long. We need to get supper and get the kids bedded down.”
“All right. I’ll get the food started.” She looked around. “I guess it’s a good thing we gathered up some firewood this morning. I don’t know what we’ll do when we run out, what with all these folks around here needing wood, too.” Mason’s gaze drifted away from her face and focused somewhere behind her.
“Howdy, neighbors.”
Rebekah turned to see a tall, thin man walking toward them. His worn overalls were covered in multicolored patches, and some of the patches had patches. She looked down to his bare feet, filthy dirty from who-knew-how-many days of walking.
“My name’s Homer Banning. You reckon you and your missus could spare some water?”
“I—” Rebekah slammed her mouth shut when Mason squeezed her shoulder. She wanted to set this man straight right off. He needed to know she wasn’t Mason’s wife, but with Mason’s arm hanging lightly around her shoulders, she couldn’t think straight.
“I see that you folks just rode in, so’s I figured you must have some fresh water,” Mr. Banning said.
“Sure—” Mason’s grip tightened on her shoulder, cutting off her words again. He pulled her close to his side, sabotaging her brain.
“I’d like to be hospitable, but we don’t have any water to spare. Sorry.”
“I’m willing to pay—a nickel a cup.” Mr. Banning reached in his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. “Some folks is charging up ta fifteen cents a cup, but I cain’t pay that much. Ten’s more reasonable.”
Horrified, Rebekah gaped at the sea of humanity. People were actually buying water? She’d never heard of such a thing. Surely they could spare a bit of water. Mr. Banning didn’t look like he had a nickel to spare. She turned to face Mason and leaned in close. “Surely we can spare a little water,” she whispered.
Mason glared at her with that look he’d used when she’d first tried to leave his camp. “No.”
“But—”
“I said no, Bekah.” Mason looked past her and scowled. “See why.” He gently turned her around. A group of six or seven people headed toward them. Rebekah took a step back until she could feel her back touching Mason’s chest. Surely all these folks didn’t need water.
“I’m real sorry, Mr. Banning, but we’ve got two kids to care for and four horses. We need all the water we’ve got.” Mason’s voice tickled her ear. She loved his smooth Southern accent. When he said “I’m,” it sounded more like “ah’m.”
“Now see here, you’ve got two barrels. All I want is a canteen full.” Homer Banning moved forward just as Jimmy popped his head out of the front of the wagon.
“Got my boots on. Can I get down?” he asked.
“Back inside, now!” Mason snarled. Rebekah glanced up in time to see Jimmy’s shocked expression, but the boy didn’t argue. He simply disappeared inside. She heard Katie’s little voice talking to Jimmy. He shushed her quiet, obviously hoping to hear what was going on outside.
Mason moved around, then stepped in front of her, rifle in hand. “I don’t want any trouble,” he said. “I’m just looking out for my own.” She peeked around him so she could see Mr. Banning. “There’s a whole river full of water half a mile away.”
Mr. Banning looked at the rifle and scowled. She wondered if the thought of going the half-mile to the river was so much of an effort for him that he’d risk getting shot. He glared at Mason again then turned and stomped off. The small crowd of people gathered around Mr. Banning. “He’s not sharin’,”
she heard him mutter.
In unison, the group of people glanced at Mason. He straightened, raising his chin in the air as if daring them to approach him. After a moment, they turned away, looking tired and discouraged, and dispersed in different directions. Rebekah blew out the breath she’d been holding.
“I want Webekah,” Katie cried through the canvas wagon top.
Mason pivoted around, nearly smacking Rebekah in the head with the rifle because she was so near. “I want you and the kids to stay real close to the wagon and the Robinsons until we know which way the wind’s blowin’ around here. Could be they were just testin’ us to see how soft we are.” He glanced over his shoulder, and seeming to feel the danger was past, he leaned over her and set the rifle on the wagon seat.
Rebekah closed her eyes, savoring his closeness as his chest brushed against her forehead. She suddenly saw Mason’s wisdom in removing his sling. Would those people have forced the issue if he had faced them one-armed? She didn’t even seem to mind that he was bossing her around again.
“Thanks for backing me up, Luther.” Mason looked past her, and Rebekah peeked over her shoulder to see Luther walking around the front of the horses, back toward his wagon. She hadn’t realized he’d been there to support them. Warmth flooded her. It felt good to have friends watching out for her. That was something she’d never had before.
“Bekah.” Mason grasped her chin and turned her face toward him. “I’m serious. Stay close tomorrow while I’m gone.”
She tilted her head back and glanced up at him. By the tone of his voice, she could almost convince herself that he cared for her. “You’re not going looking for Jake tonight?”
He removed his hat, ran his hands through his hair, then blew out a breath that warmed her cheek. “No. I don’t think I can risk leaving you and the kids after what just happened.” He rolled the edges of his hat then slapped it back on.
Rebekah’s spine tingled with excitement as she stared up at his stubbly chin. He wanted to protect her and the children. Maybe he really did care—at least a little.
“I don’t want to lose the water. Did you see that water in the river? It was almost yellow.”
The water. Her excitement plummeted down and mixed with the dust at her feet. She should have known he was concerned for the water, not her.
“Tomorrow I’ll start looking for Jake. That is, as long as we don’t have any more trouble.” Mason walked to the back of the wagon. “C’mon out, kiddos.”
Tomorrow. Tomorrow she’d find out how much train fare to Denver was.
fourteen
Rebekah yawned and stretched, not quite ready for dawn. Half the night, she’d tossed and turned, trying to erase the pain of Mason being more concerned about the water than about her. She didn’t know why she expected more when no man had ever cared for her. Her real father died. Her stepfather was willing to trade her to his old drinking buddy for a few bottles of moonshine and half a side of beef.
Was there something wrong with her? Rebekah shook her head. No, she wouldn’t believe that. Her mother had told her that God loves everyone and that each person is special in their own way. There must be some way that she was special.
Sitting up, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes then peeked at Katie. The toddler lay on her side with her thumb halfway in her mouth. Tears blurred Rebekah’s eyes at the thought of never seeing her sweet smile again. At least Ella had softened her stance on what was respectable and allowed her to sleep in the wagon with Katie.
It would be good for the children to have a real home again. Maybe Jake would get a piece of land in the Run and settle down with the kids. Then she could write to them—if Jake would allow it.
Ignoring the chill in the air, she quickly dressed in the early morning light. Crawling out the back of the wagon, she looked for Mason. She’d heard him walking around outside the wagon until she finally drifted off to sleep. Must have been protecting his precious water.
Rebekah wanted to slap herself for her bad attitude. Come the heat of the day, she’d be thankful for that water. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for all the other people who were running low, but Mason was right: If they started handing out water, it would be gone in no time.
Mason must have been up half the night, because he was still curled up beside Jimmy next to the cold campfire. He rarely slept past dawn. Against her will, Rebekah studied him. She seldom had the luxury of staring at his hair, since it was usually hidden under his big Western hat. Now the ebony locks fell across his forehead, giving him a youthful look. Dark stubble shadowed his firm jaw. Deep breaths of sleep blew across lips that were wonderful to kiss.
She blinked back her tears, knowing she’d never kiss them again. Rebekah turned abruptly. She had to find something to occupy her thoughts, or she’d stumble into the quagmire of self-pity and be stuck for good.
“You ever gonna tell him how you feel?”
Rebekah jumped. She looked up, surprised to see Ella sitting on the tailgate of her buckboard. “I … uh, what do you mean?” She rubbed her eyes, hoping Ella would think she was clearing the sleep from them rather than tears.
“You’re crazy in love with Mason. It’s written all over your face.” Ella pulled her foot up onto her knee and began lacing her shoes.
Rebekah’s hands flew up to touch her cheeks. Did she love Mason? Was that what she was feeling? And was it obvious to everyone else? She glanced around to see if any of their close neighbors were listening. Thankfully, nobody nearby was stirring yet.
“Now don’t go fretting on me. I doubt he knows. Men are slow on the uptake ‘bout things of the heart.”
She moved over closer to Ella. If the older woman kept talking so loudly, everyone in the camp, including Mason, would know how she felt. She was thankful Luther was nowhere in sight. He wasn’t the type to keep information to himself.
“You gotta plain tell a man. Don’t ‘spect him to figure it out on his own.”
“It doesn’t matter anyway.” Rebekah peeked at Ella then glanced back down at her laced fingers. “Mason doesn’t love me; he still loves his dead wife.”
Ella slipped off the wagon and came to stand in front of her. The older woman took Rebekah’s hands in hers. “I don’t know as I believe that. I’ve seen how he looks at you. That man’s just full of hurt and anger at God. Till he gets that out of his system, he don’t have room to love someone else.”
Rebekah absorbed Ella’s words. There was wisdom in what she said. The only problem was that by the time Mason got over his hurt, he’d be out west and she’d be in Denver. At least she could pray for Mason to find peace with God. Knowing he did would make her happy.
“Thank you, Ella.” Rebekah pulled Ella into her arms. She appreciated having a woman to talk to and share things with. “Will you write to me in Denver?”
Ella pushed away. “Denver. Hmpff!” She turned back to her wagon and began pulling out cooking supplies. “Best get that notion out of that pretty little head of yours,” she mumbled.
Rebekah smiled. It felt good to know someone would miss her after she was gone. She turned back to her own wagon—Mason’s wagon—and began hunting for something to cook for breakfast.
Mason wandered from tent to tent looking for Jake. He’d started in the area where he’d seen the man the day before and was now working his way back toward the Conestoga. The sound of hammers echoed behind him. Today he’d witnessed the birth of a town as people began erecting buildings that would make this more than just a tent city. Bekah’s delicious pancakes warmed his belly while thoughts of her warmed his heart. Just as quickly those thoughts grew cold.
Things had been so much easier before she came. No, that wasn’t true. Not easier—less complicated. Bekah’s help had been invaluable. Now he wondered how he’d managed to cook and care for the kids and handle everything else without her help.
But he’d been focused then. Give the kids back to Jake and head west. Simple. He yanked off his hat and rubbed his forehead with his
palm. Why did women always have to mess up a perfectly good plan? He didn’t like his mind being all frazzled, useless like an old frayed rope. A man needed a plan. He needed to think clearly—and women had a way of fogging up a man’s mind.
“Well, well, if it ain’t that no-good brother-in-law of mine.”
Mason slapped his hat back on as he spun around at the sound of the familiar voice. Jake stood there, dressed in nearly new black pants and a fancy pale blue shirt with frills on the front. He looked like a dandy—a gambler. Mason narrowed his eyes. He could handle his brother-in-law’s restlessness and inability to settle down, but to find out he was a low-down gambler sparked Mason’s short fuse. He clenched his teeth together to keep from saying something he’d regret.
“Whoa, now.” Jake raised his hands in defense. “That’s not a very friendly welcome for a relative.”
Mason fought the urge to plow his fist through that big, toothy grin of Jake’s. “We’re no longer relatives—or did you not get my telegram?” The man finally had the decency to look chagrined, and his smile faded.
“Yeah, I got it.”
“And you couldn’t see your way clear to come home and visit your wife’s grave?”
Jake pulled off his bowler hat and fiddled with the short brim. “I didn’t get the message until about a month afterwards. By then it was too late to do anything about it.”
Mason ground his teeth together. “And what about your kids? Did you think even once about them and what they were going through losing their mother after they’d already lost their father?”
“They didn’t lose their father,” Jake ground out defensively. “I’ve been working—trying to make some money for ‘em.”
Mason noticed people staring as they walked by, giving a wide berth around them. He turned his gaze back on Jake and lowered his voice. “And just what do you think would have happened to Jimmy and Katie if I hadn’t been around to care for them?”
Jake shrugged. “I knew you would, so I didn’t worry.”
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