He shook his head. "It wouldn't work. You're an unmarried woman, Jaime. You should not be traveling alone. Everyone would think the worst. They'd figure I'd be slipping in at night—and I probably would," he added with a wink.
Jaime was not amused. "I don't care what people think."
"I do. If I'm to lead them, I need their respect."
"They need you more. Without you, they're helpless."
He searched her eyes. "Would you have me abandon them?"
"You know I wouldn't." And it was so. Despite everything—the scathing words of Thelma Bryson and even having to crowd in with the bratty little boy who had made a face at her—Jaime knew in the final analysis she could never condone leaving these people in the wilderness.
He sighed. "Then it's settled."
Jaime nodded. "I guess I have no choice."
He gave her shoulder an awkward pat, fighting the impulse to draw her into his arms. "I'll go pack the mules and get the horse." He noticed she was carrying her satchel.
He turned away but had not gone far when Jaime called softly to ask, "Will we be able to find some time together in the next weeks? I..." She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat before admitting, "I've got so used to being around you."
And Lord knows, Cord thought silently, miserably, he had got used to being around her too and would miss her terribly. But maybe it was fate stepping in to make it easier to say good-bye. "Sure," he lied, knowing he had to use the time to drift away. "I'll see you every day on the trail."
"That's not what I meant."
He knew that but was not about to dwell on it, instead warning, "Those women are going to be watching us like hawks. I've got trouble enough getting us through the passes without stirring them up, so we can't take any chances."
"Maybe we'll see each other when it's over," she murmured hopefully, "and talk about your helping me find my father."
He saw the longing, the love, in her eyes and could not bring himself to tell her what had to be.
"Maybe," he lied, knowing all the while he would somehow have to find the courage at trail's end to leave her and never look back.
* * *
Living with the Potters was not as bad as Jaime had feared. Too unhappy over being separated from Cord to care much about anything, she wasn't really bothered by the cramped quarters, and the children weren't so bad. When ten-year old Thaddeus had stuck out his tongue at her for the second time, she had made a face back at him. He had burst into giggles, and the two became friends.
After she'd had time to think about it, Jaime had to admit the present situation was best. There was no way she could have continued to sleep with Cord around these people. As it was, the women, with the exception of Jerusha, had regarded her with open scorn and contempt in the beginning. But after a time, and under Jerusha's influence, when they realized she was willing to work as hard as they were, they eventually softened and things became tolerable.
But if Jaime thought the road just traveled had been grueling, she quickly found, as did the others, it was nothing compared to the rough way ahead.
They climbed into a forest, dark with evergreens, where the branches of trees hanging above them were like tightly woven webs. Entering a stone-banked ravine with tall steep sides, they moved around the base of a snow-covered peak.
Days melted into each other as they followed dry watercourses twisting through stands of tall pines, maneuvering between precipitous hillsides, always casting wary eyes toward increasingly snowy peaks.
Cord had meant what he said about using every hour of daylight. When at last he would signal to make camp, everyone was exhausted. The men would muster enough energy to tend the animals and make any needed repairs by lantern light, while the women hurried as fast as their sore muscles would allow to get a meal together. Then everyone would bed down and fall asleep immediately.
Jaime was no exception. Though she missed Cord terribly and longed to be in his arms, there was no time to dwell on her misery. She saw him during the day, of course, but he was always busy, barking orders, pulling a stubborn team of oxen, quickly helping repair a broken axle or free a stuck wagon. When they did happen to see each other, he would nod or wave, but never did he stop to talk.
She knew he met with the men after supper, to talk about anything on their minds, and that he bedded down in the supply wagon to escape the brutally cold winds, when he was not taking his turn at sentinel duty. But she did not dare go to him, even though she desperately longed to.
Jaime had made up her mind: when they reached California, she would tell Cord everything about her father and the map. Till then, it was best they concern themselves only with the arduous situation at hand. She also hoped he missed her so much he would be as anxious as she to resolve everything between them.
The weeks passed in a wearied blur. Spirits were lagging. Except for those acting as teamsters, everyone walked, for the path was far too rugged to be comfortable inside a wagon.
One morning, lost in thought as she trudged along, Jaime did not at first notice the weather. Only when the wind abruptly slammed into her, thrusting her forward, did she look skyward to see a whirling gray fog rushing in from out of the west. Directly above, the sky was still blue but dark and lowering clouds were fast approaching. The wind screamed though the pine trees as it rose higher, sending the branches wildly swaying.
Staring straight ahead, her mouth dropped open in shock as she saw a mountain directly ahead completely disappear as the oncoming storm covered it in blinding snow.
"Pull into a tight circle!" Cord bellowed to those at the reins as he charged by the wagons on his horse, frantically waving his arms. "It's a big storm and a bad one. Get the animals inside the circle. Tie them down."
The men cracked whips and leather and hurried the teams to follow orders. The women screamed for their children to come running and quickly scrambled after them into the shelter of the wagons. By the time Jaime clambered in behind Jerusha and her brood, tiny flecks of ice were stinging her face as she looked into a wall of swirling snow.
They huddled together, the canvas cover whipping crazily in the assailing wind. They feared any moment it would be torn off and disappear into the frenzied blizzard.
Jaime saw the children shivering, despite the woolen coats they wore. She took off her heavy buffalo robe and spread it over them, and Jerusha smiled and whispered, "Bless you, dear, but please share our blankets."
And she did so, also sharing their prayers and softly offered hymns as the relentless storm screamed all around them.
By morning, it had passed. Mercifully, only a few inches of snow were on the ground. It was bitterly cold, and Jaime's fingers ached in her ragged gloves as she helped gather wood from broken tree limbs to get a huge campfire going.
Cord called them all together as they sipped hastily boiled coffee. As always, he avoided eye contact with Jaime, lest his heart betray him in his gaze. "We were lucky," he told them. "The drifts on the trails aren't real deep, and even though we're probably six thousand feet up, the sun will melt off most of the snow by midday, so we can keep moving. I want everybody to get some food in their bellies, and then we roll."
No one wanted to ask how much farther they had to go, and Cord was not about to tell them. Survival depended on their focusing on the day at hand and not thinking about tomorrow.
As they set out, he could not resist reining his horse up alongside Jaime to remark, impressed, "I see you've parted with your robe."
She followed his gaze to where the three Potter children walked close together, the buffalo hide stretched across their backs in a wide cape. Making her voice light, she said, "Well, I just figured it was time to get rid of the smelly old thing."
With a soft chuckle and a tip of his hat in salute to her compassion, he continued on.
Jaime watched him go, chiding herself for experiencing a sudden thrilling rush.
Her mind silently screamed that if it was all ending for them, as she had begun to s
uspect during the past miserable weeks, she had to stop caring.
"So tell that to my heart," she whispered bitterly and kept on walking, head down so no one would notice the tears.
Chapter 15
The storm fully abated, and once more the travelers were blessed with good weather. But while everyone else rejoiced over drawing closer to their destination, Jaime's hurt increased over the way Cord avoided her.
She walked with the women. At first, she had been a source of curiosity. They had fallen eagerly in step every day to ask questions. Some were friendly, while others were prying, but all she would reveal about herself was that she was going west to meet her father. Eventually they gave up, and conversations focused on the journey at hand.
One afternoon, when she was walking with Jerusha Potter, Cord reined in on Jerusha's side. It was his habit to make sure he took time to speak to each and every adult during the day to ensure all was well, and also, Jaime knew, to bolster spirits, if necessary—but never did he address her directly. He always made sure she was with someone else.
Jerusha, who never seemed to need cheering, greeted him warmly. "It's always good to have a chance to chat with you, captain. How about telling us what we'll find when we get to Sacramento? I can't wait. Crossing these mountains has been the worst part of the trip, I tell you."
Cord stole a look at Jaime from the corner of his eye. As always, when he was around her, he could tell she was worried about the way he was treating her. He felt a flash of regret but knew it was best for both of them.
Responding to Jerusha's question, he said, "You're going to find quite a boomtown there, that's for sure. John Sutter settled there first and built a huge fort, but he fell on hard times and sold out. His place is in ruins now, but for a time it was the first bit of civilization the earlier pioneers saw after leaving the East."
"Oh, dear, if it's expensive to find lodging there, we'll have to keep going. We don't have very much money with us."
Jaime grimaced to think how she didn't have any. She hadn't worried before, because Ruth and Martha had promised they would persuade their new husbands to help her when they got to California. Now she had no one and didn't know what in the world she was going to do when she reached San Francisco to keep from starving and have a roof over her head till she could locate her father. Still, she figured she was actually in no worse shape than she was the night she left home so long ago. She hadn't had a cent to her name then either.
Cord told Jerusha he was taking them to a place they would find clean, fairly comfortable, and most of all, cheap. "It's run by some Kanakas that Sutter brought from the Sandwich Islands, and they offer the same hospitality he used to give the earlier pioneers. It's at the edge of town, away from the gambling halls and saloons. I can promise you'll like it, because I know from firsthand experience." Kicking his horse into a trot, he called with a grin, "We'll be there before you know it."
Still not glancing at Jaime, he rode on to the next group of walkers.
Jaime stared after him with longing but told herself for probably the thousandth time that he had made no promises and owed her nothing. Theirs had been a melding of spirit and body sired of desperation and loneliness. The needs that had brought them together no longer existed; therefore, they had no further ties to each other.
With a determined lift of her chin, she knew she was stronger for the experience, no matter how deep the heartache. She had learned so very much. When it came right down to it, there was nobody she could depend on except herself. Everyone she depended on had let her down.
Yet from deep within, something reminded her that the trip wasn't over. She hated that niggling feeling which kept hope alive. Truly, she yearned to forget yesterday's passion, but her secret self was not ready to let go.
* * *
It started snowing again, and for two days they walked in the swirling flakes, grateful the temperature had not dropped sufficiently to allow accumulation. "Living on borrowed time," was how Cord put it when he spoke to them at night, as they huddled about the huge fire built within the ring of wagons. Any time, the skies could open and relentlessly cover them with several feet of frozen white, so they pushed ever onward, despite weariness and chill.
Finally, they came down a rocky slope and headed up a slight incline. Cord promised they were about to gaze on a landscape dotted with farms and houses leading into the bustling port city of Sacramento. At last, civilization loomed.
Thaddeus Potter ran ahead. "I see it!" he yelled, and pointed. "Sacramento. The river. Everything. It's a real city!"
The men broke into a run to join him, yelling so loudly that horses began to stamp about nervously. Women abandoned their children to run to their husbands in unbridled joy. Some wept with near hysteria, arms tightly about each other. The youngsters broke into cartwheels and dances.
Jaime stood to one side, relieved to have arrived but not wanting to intrude on family celebrations. She noted Cord was also hanging back from the others and wondered how it would have been had they not stumbled on the stalled wagon train. Would they have grown closer? Would they now be clinging together, dizzy with plans for a future they would share? Perhaps not, but at least they would not regard each other as strangers.
As promised, Cord led them to the lodge, situated on the grounds of what had once been Sutter's Fort.
A few buildings still remained but were in great disrepair.
The dark-skinned Kanakas greeted them warmly. The men helped unhitch the mules, oxen, and horses and took them to shelter. The women showed the weary travelers inside the warm lodge, where they reveled in the smell of their first good meal in too long to remember.
The menfolk drifted away to celebrate with whiskey, cider, and cigars, while the women began settling their children before offering help with supper.
Jaime found herself alone once more. It was a time for families, and she had no one.
One of the Kanaka women, a plump, motherly sort, noticed her standing to one side. Walking over, she offered a big smile, said her name was Tolah, and then asked, "Is anything wrong? You aren't joining the others to make merry.''
Jaime was quick to assure her everything was fine, but she had neither appetite nor family to make merry with and would appreciate being shown to her quarters and told where she could take a real bath in a real tub.
Tolah pursed her lips thoughtfully. "By yourself, eh? Well, I just found out all the rooms will be taken by the families, but there's a place we use for storage. I'll find a cot while you get your bath. Then you'll feel like celebrating."
Jaime doubted it but said nothing.
She was led upstairs and down a wide hallway to a room no larger than a closet. It was cluttered, but Tolah began shoving around boxes and crates and remarked, "At least it's better than the back of a wagon."
Jaime was quick to agree.
After bathing, she put on her clean dress. They had camped two nights ago by the river, and, like the other women, she had done her laundry, wanting everything fresh for arriving in Sacramento. Now she realized she actually did feel better. She was also hungry, her appetite whetted by the delicious smells wafting up.
Hiding her satchel way under the narrow bed that Tolah had brought in, Jaime brushed her long gold hair, pinched her cheeks for rosiness, pasted on her brightest smile, and descended the stairs.
With so many crowded into the lodge, it was necessary to take turns at table. The men were served first, then the women, and finally the children, with whom Jaime found herself seated, since she was late.
By the time she finished, the men had disappeared once more with their cigars and whiskey, and the women were starting to bed down the children.
Because so many families needed shelter, they spilled over into cabins in the rear. Jerusha, assigned to one of them, had her brood in tow as she headed out the back door and paused to say to Jaime, "I'm glad you made it down in time to eat. I got worried when you didn't sit with the women, but one of the Kanakas—Tolah, I t
hink her name is—said you wanted to settle in."
"I wanted a bath," Jaime explained, "and now I feel much better. I still can't believe we're here. Do you know how long before we continue on?"
"Lem and the others are talking with Captain Austin about that now." She frowned. "There seems to be some differing opinions as to how long we should stay. Some are so worn out they'd like to rest a week or longer and take in the sights of the town. Some, like me and Lem, want to keep on going after a day or two. I'm sure something will be decided tonight, though." Giving Thaddeus a little push, she continued on her way.
Jaime hoped those wanting to leave won out, for she was anxious to reach her destination.
Tolah set a huge bowl of apple dumplings in front of her. "I don't think I can." Jaime frowned, hand on her stomach to indicate she was full.
"Eat," Tolah said with mock sternness. "You're thin as a rail."
She took a bite. It was delicious, but she had eaten more at this meal than at any other in the past months and was stuffed. Tolah had returned to the kitchen, so she pushed back the dessert and quietly left the dining room.
The men had gone into the living room, but she discovered a small parlor at the end of the hall. No one was around, so she sank down on the couch in front of a cozy fire and began to mull over what she should do. There was no point in asking Lem or any of the others to help her look for her father. They all had families and their own business to tend to. They had no time to concern themselves with her problems. Maybe she should just get up her nerve and confront Cord, despite the way he'd been treating her, and offer him a strictly business proposition. She had no way of paying him now, but if he would wait for his money—
"Well, well, so this is where you ran off to. I been looking for you, little lady."
Jaime jumped, startled at the sight of the bearded man towering over her. He wore an outfit of deerskin, stained and worn, suede boots laced to his knees, and a wide-brimmed felt hat.
Without asking, he dropped to sit beside her. "You're one of Austin's women, aren't you?"
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