"I never want to see another potato as long as I live," Hannah grumbled as she dropped them, one by one, into a kettle of water to boil.
She was talking to Jaime, who crouched inside the wagon, counting the minutes till it was dark enough to slip outside and join the others. She ached all over from the cramped, bumpy ride. Everyone had wanted to keep going, anxious to cover the remaining distance to Fort Laramie, so they had not stopped as long during the noon time for lunch and to water and rest the animals.
Hannah continued her griping. "It wasn't my idea to join up with those whores," she said.
Jaime knew then that Hannah was really at the breaking point. Normally, she was more tolerant.
"They're just anxious to get their laundry done, too," Jaime said in an attempt to pacify.
"That's not what I'm talking about. If it weren't for them, some of the husbands would give us some meat when they kill a buffalo or a deer. All we have is potatoes and onions and what's left of the meal to make johnnycakes. I can't remember the last time I had a bit of meat, but the men aren't going to come near us, thanks to the whores. Their wives would have a fit."
Jaime tried to lighten her mood by teasing, "Would you even know how to cook buffalo, Hannah?"
"Of course I would. I see the other women. They cook it just like regular beefsteak, only a little bit longer. It smells wonderful." She swiped at her hair with the back of her hand, pushing it back from her forehead, then reached for the bag of onions, wincing as she began to peel them and wailed, "Look at my hands. It makes no difference if I wear those hot and heavy buckskin gloves. I still get blisters. Somebody else needs to take a turn with those reins—"
Jaime's eyes bulged and every nerve went taut as she shrank back into the shadows. Hannah had not seen Cord approaching, but she had, thank God, in time to keep him from spotting her. But a chill of horror swept as she thought of the consequences if Hannah wasn't soon aware of his presence, for she might speak her name, and he was staring at her like she'd gone daft anyway, thinking she was talking to herself.
"…not right I have to do all the work around here, anyway. If you—" Hannah turned to glare at Jaime, and tell her once again it was time she let her presence be known, and saw Cord standing there, a strange look on his grime-streaked face. "I... I didn't know anyone was around," she stammered.
"Obviously." He flashed a crooked smile and held out a bowl containing a hunk of dark red meat. "Here. One of the sentinels killed a buffalo earlier in the day and just caught up with us. You and the other ladies should enjoy some meat."
Hannah broke into a grateful grin and without thinking blurted out, "I was just saying how we never have any meat—" then caught herself and countered self-consciously, "There I go. Talking to myself again. I guess I'm more tired than I thought."
"We all are." He reached out, gently took her wrist, turning her palm up, and frowned to see the oozing blisters. "I'm going to try and hire some extra teamsters at the fort to help out, and I'll try to take a turn at your reins myself. Meanwhile, it's time the other women on your wagon started taking turns whether they like it or not."
She drew her hand back. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."
After he walked away, Hannah angrily turned to the wagon, knowing Jaime could hear. "See what trouble you cause? If he can't hire extra men, I'll have to keep at it myself. The others won't do it; they've said so. And it'd be taking too big a chance for him to do it with you hiding inside. He'd probably roll back the cover like he's been after me to do anyway. I'd sure get a better breeze coming up behind me, but no, we have to keep it up 'cause of you."
She railed on and Jaime kept silent, washed with guilt to be the cause of such discomfort. Still, she had come this far and felt compelled to hide out a little longer. It would be horrible to have to turn back now, and Cord might just be angry enough to see that she did.
* * *
Toward sundown the next day, slightly above the gently rolling prairie, whoops and cries went up from the weary pioneers as the turreted and picketed ramparts of Fort Laramie came into view.
An adobe wall, fifteen feet high, surrounded the fort. Long before the wagons began to roll into a circle on the green meadows just east of the wall, those walking broke into an excited run and fell into the welcoming arms of strangers amid shouts and laughter of greeting. Cord had announced at the previous night's meeting that he would allow two layover days, instead of one, and everyone was in a festive mood.
Jaime could only stare wistfully from inside the wagon as activities got under way inside the fort. During the day, wearing the big slat bonnet, she didn't worry about being noticed so much anymore, but she still dared not mingle socially. Through the open gates, she could see the dancing as the soldiers were given liberty to socialize with the unmarried women. The lively music of banjos, guitars, and harmonicas filled the air, along with the tantalizing odor of pigs being roasted over open pits.
She had hoped Ella and Hannah would bring her a plate of food, but as soon as they found out there were bath facilities—barrels of water with pull ropes positioned over a neck-high wooden pen—they grabbed up the gingham dresses they had washed in the river the night before and took off. Joining the merriment, they forgot all about their hungry stowaway.
But Wilma Turnage remembered. As soon as it was dark, she carried Jaime a tin plate, heaped with meat, boiled cabbage, crispy fried bread, and a delicious mug of cold cider.
Jaime ate ravenously as Wilma enthusiastically described the inside of the fort. "The men have the means to mend both wagons and harnesses, shoe horses and oxen, and there's also a trading post. Flour is going for fifteen dollars a hundredweight, and a dollar will get two cups of sugar or two cups of coffee beans."
"Oh, I wish I could go inside. I'd give anything to be able to dance—not that I even know how," she added.
"Well, your friends certainly know how. Hannah latched up with one of the army scouts and hasn't let him out of her sight. Ella is just as bad. It's a sight. And I can tell you, the captain doesn't like it. I saw him standing off to one side watching, face like a thundercloud, because all them promised brides are having themselves a time. I'll bet he's wondering if he's going to be able to get any of them out of here."
Jaime shivered, but not from the chilly night of late July.
Cord didn't know it, but he wasn't the only one concerned.
Feeling terribly worried, she wrapped a blanket around herself and finally drifted off to sleep. Sometime later, she was abruptly awakened by angry voices outside and hurried to peek out. Cord, she soon realized, was telling three irate soldiers they could not enter the prostitutes' wagon. And once again, despite everything, her heart went out to him for the burden of the responsibilities he had inherited.
"I've got an agreement with the commander that the ladies won't conduct any business on the post," Cord informed the men.
"This ain't the post," one of the soldiers grumbled. "We're outside."
Cord told him it didn't matter. "He agreed they could visit inside. That's all. If I let you boys come here for pleasuring, the ladies living on the post are going to raise hell, and I've heard enough already from the ones on the train."
"Well, you shouldn't have let 'em come in, captain, and get us all stirred up," another furiously protested. "You seen the way they was dancin' and flirtin' and carryin' on. If you wasn't gonna let 'em take care of us, you shouldn't have let 'em inside in the first place."
The others grunted in agreement.
The first man who had spoken complained again. "Some of us ain't had a woman in months."
At that precise moment, Imogene stuck her head out and laughed shrilly. "Oh, come on, Captain Austin. We need a little fun. Besides, we could use some money to spend at the trading post tomorrow."
Cord swore. She was deliberately teasing them, allowing her breasts to spill from her robe as she held it together just enough to cover her nipples. "Get back inside," he ordered harshly, reaching to yank the c
anvas closed.
"Hey, you leave her alone."
Cord was caught off guard by the man's sudden shove.
Stumbling backward, Cord rebounded to clip the man's jaw with his fist before whipping out his gun, all done so quickly that those watching would later swear they never saw him move.
"All of you. Out of here," he commanded through tightly clenched teeth. "And don't come back around this wagon."
Wilma Turnage, having heard the commotion, came rushing up. Seeing Cord with his gun pointed at the soldiers, she shrieked hysterically. "I knew it. I knew sooner or later there'd be trouble over those strumpets. You had no business bringing them along with decent folk."
Cord kept his eye on the enraged soldiers as he quietly directed Wilma to get back to her wagon and mind her own business.
Undaunted, she fired back, "This is my business. It's everybody's business. For over two months and six hundred and forty miles, we been looking forward to getting here so we could relax a little, but it's being ruined by them whores. I say you leave them here."
Others were gathering, women in robes or shawls wrapped about their gowns, the men bare-chested and wearing long johns. A few were emerging from their wagons carrying weapons.
Cord saw that sentries at the fort had noticed the goings-on and alerted others. Soldiers were starting to run across the grassy slope to investigate.
Jaime groped in the darkness for Hannah and Ella, softly calling to them. Only Ruth and Martha were there, and it was Ruth, beside her, who whispered that Hannah and Ella were still inside. "They met two men and seemed to really like them."
Just then, Jaime saw her friends coming from the fort. With a stab of apprehension, she noted that Hannah was clinging to the arm of a man clad in buckskin, while Ella held hands with one wearing the uniform of an officer.
Outside the wagon, Fletcher and Henderson showed up to stand beside Cord. The drunken soldiers had been gathering their nerve to jump him but began to back away.
Holstering his gun, Cord said, "All right, everybody back to your wagons and tents. It's over."
"Not as long as those whores are around," Wilma cried, striking the air with her fist. It made her even madder the way Imogene continued to poke her head out the wagon, watching with a smirk on her ruby-painted lips. "We're going to keep on having trouble. It's time you did something about them, got them away from decent Christian folk."
Wearily, Cord attempted to reason with the woman. "Mrs. Turnage, this isn't the first time prostitutes have been transported to California. It won't be the last. And you're wasting your time and mine griping about it."
Muttering to those around her, she joined them in leaving.
The officer who had been walking with Ella left her to ask what was going on. Cord told him, saying he thought it would be best if the wagon train was declared off limits to army personnel.
The officer assured Cord it would be done. It was the policy of the Army to maintain good relations with the passing wagon trains. Since Fort Laramie had become an official government post in 1849, between nine and ten thousand wagons had come through each year. From time to time, there were incidents and altercations, but for the most part peace prevailed.
Jaime was disappointed when the officer led Ella back to the fort, with Hannah and her scout right behind. She was lonely and wanted to hear all the details of the party.
But something else happened to keep Jaime and the others peeking out of the wagons.
Cord, careful to keep his voice low despite his fury, whirled on Imogene. "You almost started a riot. I told you before we left Independence you wouldn't carry on any business till we reach California. I should have known better than to let you go inside, but I thought you could behave yourselves. No more, understand? You and the others are not to leave this compound."
Imogene gave her long hair a haughty toss and downed the rest of the whiskey she was drinking before informing him airily, "There won't be a next time, captain. I've talked to the other girls, and we're fed up with being treated like lepers. We're not going any farther."
Any other time, Cord might have argued, but right then, he just didn't give a damn. A seemingly simple assignment had turned into nothing but aggravation, and he wished he could just saddle his horse and ride out and let them all go to hell. "Fine, if that's what you want, but I hope you realize you women won't stand a chance out there alone."
She gave a careless shrug. "So we'll stay here till we decide what to do."
"And I don't suppose you care about the money that's been spent to get you this far."
"Honey," she drawled, smiling, "you know I'll be glad to let you take it out in trade."
Cord knew then what the oxen must feel like at day's end when the yoke was lifted from their shoulders. He didn't care about the whores or the money. All he knew was relief to have one less problem to deal with.
Without another word, he stalked away.
And Jaime, still spying, felt a great wave of compassion as she watched him go.
The news that the prostitutes were staying at the fort spread like wildfire. The post commander was just about to declare it would not be allowed when several families announced they were turning back. The prostitutes decided to join them.
When the commander learned that Cord had never led a wagon train before, he told him he should not feel bad to be losing some of his people. "Every time a caravan comes through, it happens. They're worn out and weary and homesick. Don't blame yourself."
Cord was quick to answer. "Believe me, I don't. To be honest, it would suit me fine at this point if they all wanted to turn around. But they can damn well find somebody else to lead them. This is my first and last wagon train."
Jaime was deeply disappointed to hear that Imogene and her friends would not be continuing. Despite everything, she had liked walking with them from time to time. They had known her secret and kept it well.
Ella and Hannah had not been around much during the layover, but they came to the wagon the night before they were scheduled to depart and she was able to bring up the subject of the prostitutes and how she would miss them.
Ella and Hannah exchanged uncomfortable glances. They were dressing to join their new men friends for dinner at the fort. Jaime wondered why they were acting so strange but before she had a chance to ask, Ella made a shattering announcement. "We aren't going on to California either. We're staying here, at Fort Laramie. Tom has asked me to marry him, and Charlie proposed to Hannah."
Hannah added, "Most of the other brides are staying, too. If they haven't already found somebody to marry, they will. There are lots of men looking for wives right here. Why should we keep on with this miserable trip?"
Jaime went pale and could only stare at her two friends in stunned disbelief.
"You see," Ella rushed on, putting an arm about Jaime in an attempt to console her, "Hannah is just plain worn out. And since the whole idea was for us to make a new life somewhere else, it doesn't have to be all the way out in California."
"But here?" Jaime gestured, eyes wide. "An army post in the middle of nowhere? And you only met these men two days ago—"
"At least we met them," Hannah defended. "We were on our way to marry complete strangers, remember? At least I've had a chance to get to know Charlie and see what a fine man he is. And it's the same with Ella.
"It's our lives," she said, lifting her chin, "and we can do what we want."
Ella spoke up to remind, "Once you get to California and find your father, you'll have a new life, too. You won't need us then, and you really don't need us now. You've got Ruth and Martha. Even Wilma is your friend, and though she and her husband grumble a lot about Captain Austin, they've decided to keep going since Imogene and her girls are turning back.
"You'll be fine," Ella went on, giving her another hug. "You've got to believe that."
But Jaime did not know what to believe anymore, for emptiness had already begun to gnaw at her.
And all of a sudden Califo
rnia seemed farther away than ever.
Chapter 7
As they continued onward, with Ruth and Martha finally taking turns driving the oxen, Jaime saw the road beyond Fort Laramie was littered with still more discarded household goods from those who had passed before. Soon they learned the reason, for they had begun the ascent of the Rockies in earnest, and it was better to lighten their loads as much as possible than to curse and beat the exhausted animals onward.
Barren land surrounded them. From a distance the mountainsides appeared green and lush, but as they drew closer, reality became dry sand and rocks, accented by stunted sage clumps and greasewood. A fifty-mile trek along the North Platte took them to the Sweetwater River; from there, the trail led deeper into the Rockies, and the scenery became more spectacular.
With so many having turned back, and only two women supposed to be in her wagon, Jaime had to be very careful lest she be noticed by Cord and his sentinels, Fletcher and Henderson. Gradually, the others learned of her presence, and they all conspired to keep her secret. As a result, she started feeling as though she were part of a huge family. It was wonderful. Despite the grueling trip, she was happier and felt better than ever before.
She had taken to spying on Cord whenever possible, a diversion she enjoyed. Hiding in the shadows, she would watch for him to drift away from the circle of wagons to take his nightly walk. She would follow, keeping a safe distance. Eventually, he would stop—to meditate, she supposed. If they were near water, a river or a stream, he would sit down, light up a cheroot, and stare quietly into the night.
Sometimes he would stay for hours, and so would she, playing a game with herself as she tried to guess what he was thinking. If it had been a particularly grueling day, she could tell by his restless fidgeting, the occasional sighs of disgruntlement. But after a good day, which meant one without incident, such as a broken wheel, collapsed animal, or sickness, he would sit quietly, obviously at peace with himself and the world around him.
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