Trail of Aces (Hot on the Trail Book 8)

by Merry Farmer

  “Just like my heart.” Charlie winked, and Olivia huffed and turned her attention to the plate that Luke set in front of her, much more gracefully than he’d delivered Charlie’s.

  “Oh.” Muriel tilted her head to the side. “I like it. I like words. I want to be a teacher someday too.”

  “And I’m sure you will be, my dear,” Charlie said. “There’s nothing finer than being a teacher. Isn’t that right, Sweet Pea?”

  Olivia sighed over a bite of steak. She waited until she had chewed and swallowed before whispering, “I wish you’d stop calling me that.”

  “Why?” Charlie shrugged. “Plenty of men have pet names for their beloved. Why, I’m certain Gideon here calls Miss Lucy sweetheart and honey bee and sugar lips and all sorts of other endearments.”

  Gideon choked on his potatoes. Lucy snorted with laughter and slapped a hand to her mouth, bumping the table and knocking her glass of water over as she did. Josephine clucked and shook her head.

  “You’re as bad as the children,” she scolded Charlie with a playful wink.

  “As a wise man once told me, you’re only young once, but you can be immature forever.”

  Lucy’s laughter doubled. Even Graham and Estelle chuckled.

  “Really.” Olivia sighed. “You would think that a man of your age would have matured by now.”

  “I would have, if I’d had a teacher as fine as you, Sweet Pea.”

  Olivia clenched her jaw and took a slow breath, but she didn’t snap back at him. Charlie grinned. Progress. Before too long he would have his sweet, upright—and uptight—wife laughing right along with him.

  “Can I eat my supper now?” Luke’s sullenness was a sharp contrast to the laughter around the table. Only Olivia seemed sympathetic to his mood.

  “I suppose so,” Josephine told him. “As long as you’ve learned your lesson.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I have.” Luke shuffled back to the fire to take one of the last two plates that Pete had dished up.

  Pete brought his plate to the table and sat next to Josephine. “Enjoy your laughter while you can, folks. In a few days the trail starts to get harder.”

  “Oh?” Olivia snatched up the gloomy line of conversation so quickly that Charlie had to hide his amusement behind a fake cough. “What can we expect from the rest of the journey?”

  Pete settled into his chair, taking a bite of steak, then gesturing with his fork as he said, “We should reach the river crossing in a couple of days. Once on the other side of that, we make our way toward the mountains.”

  “I would love to see the mountains someday,” Lucy interrupted with a fond sigh.

  “Didn’t you grow up in Wyoming Territory? Graham asked her.

  “I did, but not in the highest of the high mountains. Although I suppose my father’s ranch is much closer to mountainous terrain than, say, here.”

  “Well, we have to cross through the heart of the Rockies to get to Oregon City,” Pete went on. “And even though we can wind our way through valleys and avoid any actual mountain climbing, it’s tough going. We run the risk of snowstorms the higher elevation we reach.”

  “Snow storms?” Olivia shivered as if she could feel the cold wind now.

  Charlie fought the urge to put his arm around her to keep her warm. He settled for saying, “Never fear, wife of mine. I’ll keep you warm.” He added a wink for good measure.

  Olivia’s jaw went tight. She slowly turned his head and pinned him with a stare that held a combination of disapproval and gratitude so potent that he could barely keep his composure. Lucy, Josephine, and Graham burst into giggles entirely.

  Olivia cleared her throat, faced Pete, and ignored the rest. “What kind of provisions have you put in place to keep us all safe?”

  “You have a devoted husband to keep you safe,” Charlie reminded her.

  Pete glanced to him before telling Olivia, “The best provision is to make good time across the prairie and to reach the mountains before any chance of snow. Trouble is, at those sorts of altitudes, snow is less predictable and can come earlier in the season. We’ll do our best, though.”

  As Pete spoke, grabbing Olivia’s undivided attention, twin itches of concern and envy crawled up Charlie’s back. “Is it really so risky?” he asked. He wanted to know, but beyond that, sense whispered that it was high time he stopped with the jokes and impressed his dear wife some other way.

  Pete shrugged. “It can be, but the route I’ve been taking these last few years seems to avoid the brunt of the snow, even if it takes a bit longer. Once we hit the Snake River, we’ll be fine.”

  “What a relief.” Olivia treated him to her best smile, then focused on her supper.

  If ever there was a cue for someone else to take over the conversation, that was it. Fortunately, Estelle caught on quickly. “How have the Chance children been doing since the storm?”

  “Better than I would have expected.” Josephine reached over to the children’s table and ruffled Freddy’s hair. “Though Muriel swears to me she will hate lightning and thunder for the rest of her life.”

  “I will!” Muriel twisted in her chair and launched into an explanation of how terrified she’d been of the storm. As she spoke, Charlie turned his attention to Olivia. Her shoulders had smoothed out now that she was no longer the center of attention, and her frown lines were gone. Really, he shouldn’t tease her the way he did in public, but underneath her frowns and disapproval, Charlie was certain that his wife had the strength to stand up for herself and to give as good as she got.

  Still, Pete’s forecast of the troubles that lay ahead of him were something to be concerned about. River crossings, high altitude, snowstorms, and who knew what else. He’d expected as much, but now that he was responsible for someone besides himself…well, that was something to think about.

  On the other hand, he thought as he shifted in his chair, spearing peas on his plate with his fork as Freddy joined the story of their ordeal in the storm, hardship might be another tool he could use to get closer to Olivia. It all depended on what he did next.

  Chapter Six

  True to Pete’s prediction, the wagon train reached the crossing of the Platte River a few days later. Charlie saw the crossing for what it was, his opportunity to prove to Olivia that he could take care of her like a good husband would.

  He approached the spot where she stood, arms crossed, watching the first of the wagons being loaded onto rafts and pushed across the river by men with poles, using a rope as a guide. For once, the tension in her expression wasn’t directed at him.

  “Don’t worry your pretty head about any of this, Sweet Pea,” he began, as grand as any king. “If the river worries you, then you can ride in the back of the wagon and I’ll steer our oxen and wagon onto the raft, like those river men are doing.”

  He expected some sort of grateful reply. Instead, Olivia narrowed her eyes at him, lips pressed tight. Those lips had spent far too much time pressed tightly together in the last couple of weeks. As soon as they were safe on the other side, he would have to coax them apart.

  “I am nervous,” she nodded, shaking him out of the pleasant image his thoughts produced. “But I’m not going to let something as trivial as a river defeat me.”

  Charlie blinked, his brow rising. “I had no idea I’d married a woman of such stalwart determination.” His usual smile danced across his lips, in spite of his efforts to be serious for a change. “Are you certain you feel up to the task?”

  She let out a breath and faced him. “You haven’t known me long enough to see just how determined I can be, Charlie. I’ve faced much bigger challenges than this.”

  The prospect both thrilled him and kicked up his protective instincts. “I see,” he said aloud.

  With her hands planted on her hips, she said, “I promised myself when I made the decision to leave home and come out west that I would face every challenge head-on. I would not back down, and I would not go running to someone stronger for help.” She hesitat
ed, swaying on her spot, eyes cast down for a second before continuing with, “That would only prove my mother right.”

  “Ah.” Charlie hummed. “Never underestimate the power of a woman’s relationship with her mother.” He leaned closer, putting on what he hoped was a sympathetic look. “I take it she never saw how indomitable you really are?”

  Olivia hesitated, those tight lips of hers relaxing. “Oh, she saw, all right. She just didn’t think it was proper for a woman to be so…unbending.”

  There. The spark of deep emotion flashed in her eyes. Charlie wanted to raise his hands in victory. He’d broken through one of Olivia’s walls to see something true about her soul. It felt as good as a kiss.

  Olivia must have sensed the veil between them dropping as well. She let out a sigh and admitted, “You should have seen the way she carried on when I refused to marry Silas.”

  The same pinch of jealousy Charlie had felt before when Silas had been brought up got him again. He hid it with a smile. “You must tell me about this ex-prospective fiancé of yours.”

  “I’d rather not ever think about him again.”

  Just like that, the wall was back up. Olivia faced the river once more, crossing her arms as tight as if they’d never had that brief moment of closeness.

  Well, if they had one moment, they could have another.

  “It doesn’t look terribly difficult,” she went on before he could come up with a way to recapture their closeness. “The river men know what they’re doing, it seems.”

  “And nothing is more reassuring than someone who knows their job and performs it well,” Charlie finished her thought.

  “Exactly.” She followed his statement so easily that a warm buzz filled Charlie’s chest. Yes indeed, they were getting somewhere. “It looks as though all we need to do is sit on the driver’s bench with the goad to keep the oxen calm and in order.”

  He inched closer to her, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arm around her waist, but resisting the temptation. “And you want to be the one on the driver’s bench, don’t you?”

  She smiled, her face lighting with strength. “Of course.”

  He chuckled. “Nothing would make me happier than to have you driving our wagon, Sweet Pea.” He meant it too, on so many levels. Heaven knew she’d do a better job of driving his life than he’d ever done. That thought opened up new worlds of possibility.

  “Charlie, Olivia, you’ll be in the next batch,” Pete called to them from the edge of the riverbank where he was overseeing operations.

  “Ready, Mrs. Garrett?” Charlie asked.

  Olivia drew in a slow breath, then let it out. “As I’ll ever be.”

  He couldn’t help himself. Before Olivia could march off to the front of their wagon to take charge, he dipped closer and stole a kiss. It was barely more than a peck on her cheek, but it carried with it all his excitement and hope for the two of them.

  As soon as the first set of rafts was across the river, the men who were helping the pioneer across poled them back to pick up another round. Charlie encouraged their oxen from the ground while Olivia tapped their backs with the goad to keep them in line. They were the third wagon of the second set to be led aboard one of the rafts. Each raft was made of thick, sturdy logs, but in spite of the solid construction, it was clear as soon as the wagons and oxen rolled aboard that they were nothing more than piles of floating sticks. Charlie managed to keep his footing and feign calm by gripping one of the wagon wheels with white knuckles.

  Olivia met the raft’s wobbling with far less certainty. Her expression pinched with fear and her face lost its color. She kept her eyes straight forward, but from the way she gripped the goad as if it was the only thing between her and a watery grave, Charlie could tell just how affected she was.

  “So tell me about this Silas fellow,” he said once the river man had poled them several yards away from the bank. “If he was as much of a catch as your mother seemed to think, why didn’t you marry him?”

  Olivia’s jaw worked silently. Her eyes remained fixed straight forward. Charlie was about to give up and try another tactic to distract her when she said, “He was considerably older than me.”

  “How much older?” If he pretended that they were on solid ground, conversing over tea, then maybe he could hide his own nerves

  The raft glided over the muddy, slow-moving river. “He was near forty,” Olivia said at last.

  Charlie chuckled. “I’ve mentioned that I’m thirty-five, haven’t I?”

  Her gaze flicked in his direction and her brow lifted for a split-second before she deepened her frown of concentration. “You haven’t.”

  He leaned against the wagon wheel, letting himself relax. “So much for escaping the curse of marrying an old man.”

  Another tense pause as Olivia focused, then she said, “You don’t seem as old as Silas seemed. He was vain too.”

  “And I’m not?” This time, Charlie stood straighter, smoothing his free hand over the fine fabric of his jacket.

  Olivia’s shoulders lowered a fraction. Her tight mouth twitched. “Your vanity is different. At least you have something to back it up.” Instantly, her pale face splotched with color. She stole another furtive look his way. “I mean, you have substance.”

  “Do I?” This journey was getting more and more enjoyable by the minute, and they were only halfway across the river.

  “Silas may have had money, but it was old money and dwindling because he did nothing to increase it. You’re a man who has made his own fortune.”

  “That much is true,” he drawled. Bless his dear, innocent wife, but she didn’t know the half of it. If she knew how far he’d come, the muck he’d been raised up out of, she would either be doubly impressed with his current state of financial security or appalled. Best to keep that part of himself under wraps.

  He shifted his weight to stand straighter, balance much more certain now that they were almost all the way across. “But surely, if this Silas fellow had old money, a woman as intrepid as you could encourage him to renew it.”

  Olivia hummed, something between doubt and bitter amusement. “Silas wanted a wife who would sit at home minding her business, raising children, and looking pretty.”

  No wonder she had run all the way out west to get away.

  Aloud, Charlie said, “Come now. Where’s the harm in a life of familial leisure? Most women would sell their eye teeth to be kept in a fine house, surrounded by doting children.” But not Olivia. Never Olivia.

  True enough, she turned her head and snapped. “Are you on my mother’s side now?”

  It was the most emotion he had seen from her since they started across the river, and it hit Charlie squarely in his chest. That warm glow spread lower.

  “My darling, I wouldn’t dare take your mother’s side against you in any argument,” he said with mock solemnity. “If you wanted to boil your knickers with cabbage and serve them to guests for lunch, I would defend your right to do so to anyone.”

  Her eyebrows lifted in shock and indignation. A heartbeat later, her expression settled into a narrow-eyed shake of her head. “You are partial to hyperbole, aren’t you?”

  “Absolutely.” He laughed. “Why settle for the mundane when you can act and speak with extreme examples? Going to extremes gets the point across.”

  “Going to extremes is risky,” she countered.

  “And yet, here you are, halfway to the Pacific, all to get away from an unwanted suitor. Isn’t that going to extremes?” And wasn’t it going to extremes to insist on making good on a debt of honor by marrying a virtual stranger?

  The guilty sideways look she darted to him was as much of an admission of agreement as Charlie was going to get. In spite of the rocking of the raft as it bumped against the far riverbank, he grinned from ear to ear. What a lovely thing to find out you had more in common with your surprise wife than either of you would have suspected. It was enough to set Charlie wondering whether they would have twined their lives toget
her, with or without that hand of cards.

  Whatever was causing Olivia to say such bold things and to think such scandalous thoughts, it needed to stop. Charlie may have been her husband, but they were both old enough to treat that fact with the seriousness that it deserved. So why, when their wagon rolled up the riverbank and into the field where the others were waiting for the rest of the train to cross and when Charlie reached up to close his hands around her waist and help her down, did flutters of excitement race through her body?

  “You are a true adventurer, Sweet Pea,” he told her as her feet met solid ground. He kept his hands tight around her waist as she steadied herself. Why was it taking so long to find her center? “That river didn’t stand a chance against you.”

  She gazed up into his teasing face, swallowing the tremor of longing that pushed her to lean closer to him. “The river was just a river, not an adversary.”

  “On the contrary, many a man has been taken down by a river.” His hands inched further around her back, and he swayed into her. “Why, I once played a tournament on a steamboat on the Mississippi, and when one of the players chose to drown his sorrow in scotch and wandered too close to the rails after losing his family’s fortune, the river reached up and claimed him.”

  In spite of the horror his story sparked, Olivia grinned. “I would believe that a drunk man fell off a boat, but not that the river ‘reached up and claimed him’.”

  “I’ve seen stranger things than that.” Charlie shook his head, a shade more serious. “Why, the Brothers of the Saint Benedict near Baton Rouge scared me to death as a boy with tales of swamp creatures that lived in the waterways of the delta.”

  Olivia’s jaw went slack halfway through his teasing. “Brothers of Saint Benedict?”

  The teasing vanished from Charlie’s eyes. “Didn’t I mention to you that I spent part of my childhood in the monastery of Saint Benedict?”

  “You most certainly did not.”

  “Why then, I shall have to tell you all about it,” he said, smile returning with a vengeance. “Perhaps some night on the road through the Rockies.”