Augusta saw them coming through the fir and alders. Turning, she frowned into the mirror hung on the side of the wagon. The distinctive perfect Boyd nose was crooked now. And when she smiled, which she seldom did, she exposed two gaps where small white teeth had been. A tiny but noticeable scar trailed from the corner of her lips across her chin.
Every day she practiced smiling without exposing her teeth. She was objective enough to know that her bridegroom would still find her attractive, but she would never again be considered stunning. She had paid for her theft with her beauty. And she would pay for her father's mistakes by surrendering the Boyd name to Owen Clampet.
Mrs. Owen Clampet. Augusta Clampet. The combinations offended her ear and her heart. Clampet sounded like a peasant's name. She stared at her missing teeth in the mirror.
At the end of this arduous, hideous journey, she would have lost everything on which she based her sense of self and importance.
"I've made space for your things in the wagon," she called to Cora, turning in disgust from the mirror. The sound of birds and the noise of Heck Kelsey's hammer seemed very loud as Perrin and Cora approached. Augusta drew a deep breath and pressed her hands together. She was convinced they stared critically at her nose and gloated over the ugly gaps between her teeth.
"I haven't had a chance to say this before," she began. She had thought about what she would say, but the rehearsal didn't make it easier. She wasn't accustomed to being in someone's debt. "Thank you for saving my life."
Cora stopped near the battered front wheel of the wagon. "I have to know. Did you do it?" she asked bluntly, staring at Augusta's nose. "Did you steal that man's money?"
Augusta released a long low breath. Perrin shot a glance at Cora, but she too waited for Augusta's reply. "Yes," she said quietly.
It was the hardest one word she had ever spoken, and it released a flood of moisture beneath her arms. Shame pulsed in her face and dampened her eyes. But she owed them the truth. Without the foolhardy courage of these two women, she would be dead now.
She lowered her head. "My father invested badly and lost his fortune. Then he embezzled from his own bank. When he was about to be discovered, he hanged himself." She touched shaking fingertips to her forehead. Oddly, a hard knot unraveled inside and began to crumble away. To her astonishment, truth was easing the cramps she had suffered from the moment she learned of her father's death.
"I sold everything and paid his debts. I managed to keep his crime private." Raising her head, she faced Perrin and Cora, old enemies both, as she had never faced anyone else, stripped bare of pride. "I began this trip with forty dollars. It's all that was left of the Boyd fortune."
A long sigh collapsed Perrin's chest, and she sat on the wagon tongue. The defiance disappeared from Cora's eyes, and she leaned against the wheel.
"We weren't supposed to come unless we had at least two hundred dollars," Perrin stated in a level voice.
Augusta studied her face, but there was no sign of gloating. "It was either accept a husband in Oregon or become a beggar on the streets of Chastity. I had to come whether I had enough money or not."
Perrin nodded, understanding filling her large dark eyes.
And suddenly, truly for the first time, Augusta understood how an unmarried woman could be desperate enough to invite a man to destroy her reputation. "Oh, God," she whispered. "If I'd stayed in Chastity, it might have happened to me!"
"But it didn't," Perrin said quietly, grasping where her thoughts had led.
"I blamed you." Shaking, she stared at Perrin's tired face. "I hated you. But there was nothing else for you, was there?"
"Not then." Perrin stood. "And maybe there was nothing else for you but to take the Eagglestons' money when you found it. If it's any comfort, none of the others believe that you took the money." She glanced at Cora. "And they won't hear anything more from either of us."
Absurdly, astonishingly, she discovered that she didn't care what the others thought, but something inside her needed Perrin Waverly's understanding. Tears swam in her eyes.
"Why?" she whispered. "Why did you attack him and risk getting killed to help someone who hated you? Why did you do that for me?"
Augusta had asked herself this question over and over while she suffered the pain of healing. She had done nothing but revile Perrin from the first. She had done her best to incite the others against Perrin Waverly, had hated and despised her. She had blamed Perrin as the source of her misfortune and had wished her dead. Even as she thought Eaggleston was killing her, Augusta had hated this courageous woman. And Perrin had known it. Yet she rushed forward and placed herself in dire peril in an attempt to help someone who would have died hating her with the last breath.
Perrin gazed at her for a long time. "Mostly I did it for me," she said finally. "Because I couldn't live with myself if I stood by while a man beat a woman to death."
"Even if it meant that you might die too? Even if that woman was your sworn enemy?" Augusta whispered. There was nothing in her experience to help her understand Perrin's reasoning. "Even if that woman cursed you with her dying breath?"
"And I did it because you asked me to. For once in your life you asked for help."
Cora's smile broke the tension. "Seems like that bastard shoulda been afraid of us, if you ask me." She tossed her dark head and her eyes flashed triumph. "We're here and he ain't! Aren't. Isn't?"
Augusta drew herself up. She would never truly understand Perrin Waverly. And she needed time to reconsider her father's involvement in Perrin's ruin. But she owed this woman her life. Moreover, in an odd turn of fate, she was probably the only bride who could say the following words and mean them right now. "Welcome to my wagon and my campsite. I'm glad you're here."
Sudden tears appeared in Perrin's eyes.
"I made tea. I'd be happy if you both would join me."
"A cup of tea is small payment for all that I owe you," Augusta interrupted. Her need was as great as Perrin's. She was so grateful to have company, even the company of women she had previously despised. "I haven't had the opportunity to thank you for driving my wagon while I recovered. And Cora I'm glad you've come back. You do know it will be different than before, don't you? Weil share the work."
Cora studied her. "It was me that sicced Eaggleston on you. I ain't yet told you I'm sorry, but I am."
"I know. That's behind us now."
Later that night, after the supper dishes were scrubbed and the breakfast things laid out, Augusta and Cora sat by the embers, inhaling the scent of woodsmoke instead of burning chips and listening as the camp settled for the night.
"You're different now," Cora said, breaking the silence. "More like a real person, if you know what I mean. No offense."
A ghost of a smile touched Augusta's closed lips. "No offense taken." The temperature was dropping. They had pulled out the boxes of winter clothing and extracted heavier shawls. "You probably won't believe this, but I'm genuinely sorry they removed Perrin as the women's representative. She helped all of us at one time or another. Losing the position must have hurt her badly."
"I wish I hadn't been part of it. She loves Captain Snow," Cora added in a matter-of-fact voice.
"Oh." Augusta blinked. As old habits died hard, the word harlot leaped into her mind. She shoved it aside with difficulty. If she had learned one thing during this terrible trip, she had learned that she knew next to nothing about the human heart, not even her own. Perspiring slightly from the effort, she tried to assume a nonjudgmental tone. "Does he"
"He does, but he don't know it. Or won't admit it."
"How do you know these things?" Augusta demanded irritably.
Cora chuckled. "I've always had a sense about men and women."
Instantly, Augusta blushed, recalling that Cora had guessed how she felt about Webb Coate even before she dared admit it to herself.
"I've been stupid and foolish," she heard herself confess. "I had a lot of time to think while I was recovering from Eaggle
ston's beating." She drew a long long breath, then said what previously would have been unthinkable. "You were right. I love Webb Coate." She heard Cora's gasp of surprise, but the skies didn't fall, and the earth did not disintegrate at the admission that a Boyd loved a half-breed. "I think he loves me too, I've been waiting for an opportunity to tell him if he still wants me well, somehow we'll work everything out. It doesn't matter that he's penniless. I don't care. I just need to be with him."
"Oh, Lord," Cora muttered in a low voice. She released a long sigh. "Didn't anyone tell you? It's the worst-kept secret ever. I thought sure someone must have told you."
"Told me what?"
"About Webb and Mem Grant."
"Webb? And Mem?" Her face went white as Cora told her that Webb and Mem considered themselves married. She sat as still as a stone while Cora told the whole story in an expressionless voice. Then she stood on trembling legs. Without a word, tears streaming down her cheeks, she walked to her tent and crawled inside.
Webb was an English peer. He was wealthy. He'd been educated in Europe. He owned homes in Devonshire, in London, and in Rome. She had been wrong about everything. She had focused on the wrong things and had refused to see the man. But Mem had seen with clear eyes. Mem had taken everything that Augusta might have had.
She stared at the roof of her tent, tears of pain and regret trickling into her hair. She could have been a countess; instead she would marry a stranger with a peasant's name. She had spurned a fabulous life she had been born to live because a Boyd could not lower herself to love a savage. What a blind buffoon she had been. She had doubted he would recognize a tablecloth, this man who had dined with the nobility of Europe.
And now that she could admit her love for him, now that she didn't give a damn what anyone might think, it was too late. He despised her and loved Mem. Tears ran down her cheeks.
"Good-bye, my love, my savage Lord Albany. I will never forget you." His bronzed face and black eyes were permanently imprinted on her mind and heart, her first, her only love. She remembered him caressing her and kissing her in the moonlight, remembered sensations and yearnings she would never feel again.
"Oh, my dearest, I will long for you every time my husband touches me."
Sobbing, she buried her face in her pillow.
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
My Journal, September, 1852. Augusta gave us her mother's tea set as a wedding gift and wished us a long and happy life together. Everyone has changed so much during this arduous journey. I wept today when I realized how much I will miss these courageous women when we part in three weeks. We have come so far. I pray to God that we complete this last leg of the trip without mishap.
Mem Coate, Lady Albany
Cody stood atop the cliff wall, gazing down at the dangerous, swiftly flowing currents of the wide Columbia River.
There were four possible choices to cover the remaining ninety miles to the Willamette Valley and Clampet Falls.
He could arrange ferries to carry them down the wild Columbia. But drowned passengers were a common result of ferry expeditions. Moreover, the ferries charged a fee comparable to extortion, and he suspected several of his brides had depleted the bulk of their funds.
They could abandon the wagons and hire Indians to float them downriver by canoe, also a soberingly dangerous undertaking, but not as expensive as the ferries. Or he could order Heck Kelsey to break up the wagons and build rafts from the wood. Rafts would eliminate expense, but might increase the danger.
Finally, he could opt to cross the rugged Cascade Mountains by taking the Barlow Toll Road around Mount Hood. Road was an egregious misnomer. The trail was no more than ruts passing over rough-hacked tree stumps, boulders, and daunting inclines. It wasn't a wise choice for travelers as exhausted and weakened as his brides had become.
None of the choices was attractive. Each possibility presented grave perils and mixed advantages.
"I must speak to you!"
Surprised by the tone of voice, he turned to discover Ona Norris standing directly behind him. He hadn't heard her approach. "Miss Norris, I've told you repeatedly that communications must go through the women's representative."
All of the women had changed throughout the journey. Perrin, despite being shunned by most, now carried her head high, and dignity and confidence distinguished her step. Augusta would never be a person Cody could warm to, but she had grown and matured into a capable woman. With the promise of a husband, Cora had bloomed. Hilda and Sarah shared expertise, provisions, and gave generously of themselves. Thea and Bootie were no longer the dreaming scatter-brains they had seemed at the beginning. And Mem had surprised everyone by blossoming into a beauty. All were stronger, tougher, more outspoken and self-sufficient than they had been at the initial interview where he first met them.
These were the courageous women who would tame Oregon and who would sacrifice their labor and their hearts to the territory's future. They would do it well and with distinction.
Except Ona Norris. Ona Norris had begun as a pretty, almost flirtatious girl, but would end the journey as an acid, furious harpy composed of jangled nerves and ugly moods. Cody gazed into her darting pale eyes and recalled a rabid dog he had shot in the Dakotas.
"We're almost there!" She spat the words as if accusing him of something. Bony fingers twitched in the folds of her skirt. Whatever poison she carried inside made her appear ten years older than Cody knew she was. Instead of making her stronger, the journey had robbed her of youth and inner resources.
"That's correct," he said, injecting a soothing note into his tone. Lifting his head, he cast a glance toward the wagons, looking for Sarah to take Ona off his hands. He spotted her momentarily, then she moved behind the wagons. "In less than three weeks, you'll have a husband and a home of your own."
She stared at him, then her shoulders dropped and she covered her face with her hands. "Thank God," she whispered. "I've waited so longso long!to hear you say that. Oh, Cody."
Only Sarah, Perrin, and Mem addressed him as Cody. His attention sharpened. Something was wrong here. "Mr. Riddley is waiting for you," he said carefully, unsure what he sensed. "I've met Riddley, and he's a good man."
Her hands dropped and she glared at him with slightly unfocused pale eyes. A hiss pulled thin lips back from her teeth.
"I'm warning you, no more games! No more! I've done everything you asked, succeeded at the tests you threw at me. I've punished the whore and driven her off. What more do you want from me? I've proven my love again and again!"
His mouth dropped and he stared in astonishment.
"Don't tease me with talk about Nathan Riddley. I need to know about our plans. I need to know, Cody. We're almost there and I can't go on like this." Shaking, she covered her face again. "Sometimes I think I'm losing my sanity. That's what you've done to me. You have pushed me to the edge of darkness with your endless and cruel games! I should hate you for what you've done, but I still love you."
Speechless, he tried to frame words, failed, then tried again. "What in the name of God are you talking about?"
"About us!" she shouted, spittle flying from her lips. "You promised to marry me, don't pretend you didn't! I waited and waited. I tormented myself. I feared our secret love was hopeless. Then Ellen wrote and asked me to keep her company during her confinement. It was a sign from God, blessing our love."
"Ellen, my wife? Ellen wrote you?"
"After she died I waited for you to come for me. But you had to wait out the mourning period. I figured that out. And after the mourning period, I finally realized you were waiting for me to come to you, so I traveled to Chastity to my aunt and uncle. You should have come for me then, you should have, Cody. I wasn't going to say anything, but I'm angry now that you didn't!"
While she ranted about waiting, and her aunt and uncle, and all she had done to prove her love, he stared at her, stunned by what he was hearing. Finally he saw the faint resemblance to Ellen's family that had initia
lly made him think Ona reminded him of someone. Mind racing, he shuffled backward through the years, trying to recall where and when he might have met her. He must have. If she knew Ellen, then she hadn't invented this tale.
Ellen. His wedding day. The home of Ellen's aunt, Eugenia Norris. With a small jolt, he realized Mrs. Norris must have been Ona's mother. The house overflowed with friends in dress uniform and friends of Ellen's family, dozens of people. He remembered entering the house, still a little drunk from all the toasts from the night before, and he had noticed a plain shy girl pressed into a corner gazing at him.
He stared hard at Ona. She was older now, but it could have been her, it must have been. Ellen's cousin. Imbued with the exuberance of the day, he had tried to draw the girl out of her corner. He remembered lifting her chin, smiling into her eyes, and flattering her outrageously. Perhaps he had inquired why the prettiest girl at the wedding was hiding in a corner. Perhaps he had begged for a dance later. She couldn't have been older thanwhat?thirteen or fourteen years? No more than a child who momentarily blossomed in the light of an adult's attention.
To her, he must have seemed dashing and faintly exotic, the handsome young army officer about to marry her beautiful cousin. She had stared at him and blurted the comment, "I worship you." Cody remembered laughing, maybe he had said he loved her too rather than embarrass her. It was possible that, believing he bolstered the confidence of a painfully shy adolescent, he had made some stupid remark that perhaps he was marrying the wrong cousin. Dimly he recalled her saying something about waiting for him in case Ellen died, and concealing his distaste for such a remark by replying that she should wait for a love worthy of her. Apparently she had mistakenly believed he referred to himself.
The incident had been so fleeting, so slight and unimportant, that he had forgotten it, and her, entirely.
"It was you," he said abruptly, putting it together. "You placed the piece of cake in my vest"
"Your own wedding cake!"
"And the ribbon"
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