She inched away from him. "I came with Captain Austin's wagon train, yes," she said uneasily.
"Where's the rest?" He glanced about the room as though others might be obscured by the shadows.
Jaime asked thinly, "What are you talking about?"
"The women Austin told me he was going east to get last time he came through here. All the ones I seen so far look like they got husbands already. You're one of them, ain't you?" He licked his lips in anticipation like a dog about to happily devour a bone. "I was watching you through the dining room window, eatin' with the younguns. I didn't see no man around, so I figured you was on your way to San Francisco to meet up with one."
He did not give her time to protest, slinging a beefy arm about her shoulder to yank her close as he proudly declared, "Well, you ain't got to go there, 'cause here I am. I told Austin to bring me one, that I didn't care what she looked like, just so she was female, but I sure did luck up with you. You're real pretty."
"No. No, you've got it all wrong." Jaime pushed at him, but he held tight. "I'm not one of the brides. They dropped out a long time ago—"
He chuckled. "Well, that don't matter. You got a husband?"
"No, and I don't want one. Now let me go." She pushed at his barrel-like chest with both hands but to no avail.
He ignored her protests. "I can take real good care of you. Give you a good home, lots of younguns too."
She stared at him, wide-eyed and incredulous.
"The name is Cotter. Link Cotter. I got my own place north of here. Got a cabin, too. Winnie, she was my first wife, died last year tryin' to birth our first youngun. It died too. I ain't been able to find nobody to take her place—till now." His lips spread in a snaggletoothed grin.
She saw it coming—the kiss he intended—and ducked in time for his mouth to strike her forehead instead. With a cackling laugh, he caught her chin in his burly hand and held her, viselike. "Aw, come on, little lady. You and me are gonna get along fine. Now give me a little kiss, and then we'll go find Austin and I'll pay him whatever he's askin' for bringing you to me."
His lips, thick and wet, mashed down on hers, and Jaime panicked and bit him. "Let me go!" she cried furiously.
With a delighted yelp, he drew away. "Well, I see I got me a real spirited filly, and that's fine, 'cause there's nothing I enjoy better than breaking a feisty colt." He silenced her protests with his mouth.
Suddenly, he was yanked away and roughly slung to the floor. "What the—" Looking up at Cord's fiery glare, he scrambled to his feet and began backing away.
Jaime stood, angry and indignant. "He thinks I'm one of the women you were taking to California and wants to marry me."
Cord was trying hard not to laugh. "Sorry," he said to Link, "but Miss Chandler is going to San Francisco to meet her father, not a husband."
Caterpillar brows knit together and dark eyes flashed as Link reminded angrily, "You was supposed to bring me a wife, Austin. I been waitin' long enough, and I ain't waitin' no more. When you get to San Francisco, you just tell her daddy she's found herself a husband. He can be our first guest." He shot another grin at Jaime, and she shuddered.
"Forget it, Link." Cord reached out and took Jaime's hand and headed for the door.
"Hey," Link roared, right behind them. "Hey, this ain't right. I want her, and I'll pay you plenty." He sucked in his huge belly so he could reach inside his belt and take out a small pouch, which he waved frantically. "Gold in here, pure gold. It's more'n what I planned to spend, but I figure she's worth it."
Cord kept on going, leading Jaime back to the kitchen and to the porch outside.
She was shivering, and not from the frigid temperature. He dropped her hand, and she stepped away from him.
"Are you all right?" He searched her face in the light spilling from the kitchen window.
She nodded. "He meant no harm."
"No, Link just wants a wife, that's all. Just stay away from him the rest of the time you're here."
"And how long will that be?"
"I've no idea. They're still arguing."
It was the first time they had been alone in weeks, and she seized the opportunity. "Cord, listen, we haven't talked lately, and—"
"And we've needed to," he interrupted, afraid of what she might be about to say.
He didn't want to hear it. If she loved him, he did not want her to put it into words, because once it was said, it would be harder to deal with.
Taking a step away from her, he was almost babbling in his haste to end the encounter. "I've meant to tell you how courageous I think you are. I've really come to respect you, like no other woman I've ever met. I was wrong to think you couldn't make it. You're going to be all right. I know you will."
She felt a rush of panic. It sounded as though he were saying good-bye, and she had to talk fast. "Cord, you have to listen. I need your help to find my father. I don't know a soul in San Francisco, and I've heard it's a huge place. I'll be lost."
"You've got friends from the wagon train. They'll help you."
"But I'd rather you did." She hated herself for begging but was convinced he was her only hope. "And my father will pay you when we find him. You see, he was investing in a gold mine owned by a man in San Francisco, and he was going to make lots of money. If you can help me find that man, he can tell us where to look for my father. His name is—"
"I can't help you." He cut her off. "I've been away quite a while. I've got business of my own to tend to. I'm sorry. Besides, a lot of men have lost everything they had by investing in worthless gold mines. I hope your father isn't one of them."
Their eyes met and held, as they assessed one another. He longed to throw resolve to the wind and crush her in his arms, while she was fighting to keep from bursting into tears.
"I think," he said finally, "you'd better get inside before you freeze,"
Jaime bit her lip. Later, she would hate herself for casting pride to the wind, but, dear Lord, she was desperate. Drawing a deep, ragged breath, she whispered shamelessly, "My room is upstairs, to the left, the back corner. If you'll help me, I'll give you advance payment the only way I can."
"Oh, Jaime."
He groaned and shook his head as he bit back the impulse to tell her money was not the reason he was refusing to help. Damn it, he was afraid if he didn't walk away, and fast, he would never be able to.
"I can't," he said finally. "Take care of yourself." He stepped from the porch to disappear into the night.
By the time she got to her room, she was crying. But, hoping against hope he would change his mind, she left her door unlatched. And if he did come, she vowed fervently, she would find a way, somehow, to convince him to stay.
* * *
Cord was halfway to the bunkhouse where he was bedding down when Lem Potter caught up with him. "Here." Lem held out a handful of bills. "We took up a collection after you left. It isn't much. Certainly not near what you deserve after all you did, but we hope you know we're grateful."
Cord had already told them he didn't want their money, and he shook his head.
"Two hundred and fifty." Lem pushed it at him again. "Take it, please. We'll feel better if you do."
Cord remembered how, when he had gone through Jaime's things, he had not found any money. He was sure she was penniless, and if he'd been able, he would have offered her financial assistance till she reunited with her father. But he'd had to spend more than what he had been advanced to buy what was needed for the whores and the brides. And he had lost it all, having to abandon wagons and teams along the way. He was broke himself.
He took Lem's offering.
"Bless you." Lem shook his hand. "We'll always be grateful for what you did."
Cord stuffed the money in his pocket.
When things quieted down and everyone was asleep, he would pay Jaime one last visit.
Chapter 16
Jaime awoke to sunshine streaming across her face and the delicious aroma of hot coffee from downstairs.
For one drowsy instant, she could not remember where she was. But it all came quickly flooding back, along with painful awareness: Cord had not accepted her bold invitation.
She squeezed her eyes shut, commanding herself not to cry. It had been weeks since he'd held her and made her feel loved, cherished, in his wonderfully strong arms. He could have slipped in during the night. He'd always been adept at sneaking around without a sound. He could have come if he'd wanted to.
But he didn't, the torturing voice nagged from within. On the trail, he had no choice, but it's different now. He's probably thinking about the mistress he left behind. Maybe even a wife. You don't know anything about him, you know. He never told you one thing about his past: where he came from, family, nothing. He used you. You used him. It's over. Forget it, silly girl.
Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she dragged herself out of bed and dressed, then headed downstairs to join the others for breakfast.
As she descended the stairs, she could hear the excited babbling. No doubt, after a good night's sleep, spirits were even higher.
The long dining room table was crowded with the menfolk, but the children had been served and sat any and everywhere with their tin plates. The women stood with their food, and it was impossible to discern any topics of conversation, for everyone seemed to be talking at once.
Jerusha spotted her and came to take her hand, steering her to the back hallway. "I have wonderful news," she confided happily. "Lem met some folks who settled on Sutter's land ten years ago, and they kept on buying land and now they've got such a big spread they need help." She went on to explain how they had been offered a hundred acres and help in building a cabin, plus cows and chickens and pigs to get their livestock going.
"We can't turn it down," she said, giving Jaime an excited hug, "especially since we're almost out of money, so we're staying."
"That's wonderful. I'll miss you."
"Well, me and Lem don't have no family waiting, like Thelma. Her sister and her brood been out here fifteen years, she says. There's lots of others who've either got kin or know folks who plan to help them. Will you be able to find your daddy real easy, dear?"
"Oh, of course," Jaime lied.
Jerusha gave a girlish giggle and whispered, "What about Captain Austin? I should think, now the caravan is breaking up, he'd be coming around to get things started up between you two again."
Jaime laughed nervously, pretending to be shocked Jerusha could suggest such a thing. "Why, we were just traveling together."
"Oh, bosh." Jerusha waved her hands in protest. "I wasn't born yesterday, child. I got sense enough to know what happens sometimes between a man and woman when they're alone together, whether they mean for it to or not. That don't make it right, of course, but it happens sometimes, and it can't be helped. And I imagine if that's the way it was between you and him, the Lord will understand and forgive, especially if you join together in His name in marriage."
Jaime did not like the sudden turn the conversation had taken. Mustering an air of bravado, she said, "You were imagining things. We meant nothing to each other."
"That's right."
They both glanced up in surprise as Link Cotter stepped into the hallway from where he had been listening in the shadows by the stairs. He had seen Jaime come down but held back when Jerusha Potter squired her away, then decided he just couldn't wait any longer to talk to her and followed after them.
"If he cared anything about this little lady, he wouldn't have ridden out and left her behind, now, would he?"
Jaime, stunned at the news, could only stare at him, but Jerusha was quick to protest, "I don't think that's true. Captain Austin would have told all of us good-bye." Good heavens, she wondered frantically, who was this rough-looking man and how much had he overheard?
"Well, he did just that." Link grinned. "Rode out just before day, he did. One of the stable boys told me they seen him, 'cause I was lookin' for him, to make sure he didn't interrupt me again while I'm proposing to Miss Chandler here. So if you'll excuse us"—he glowered at Jerusha—"we got private things to talk about."
Nervously, with a surrendering shake of her head, Jerusha shot a helpless glance at Jaime and retreated back down the hallway.
Jaime was too upset over Cord's abandoning her to be concerned about Link. In fact, she forgot all about him as she turned away, feeling more alone than ever.
"Miss Chandler." Link spoke gruffly. "We need to talk."
"No, we don't." She waved her hand in annoyance. "Now you must excuse me. I have things to do."
He clamped his hand on her shoulder. "Not till we talk."
Lordy, he thought dizzily, she was truly a prize, and there was no way he was going to let them randies in Frisco get a look at her. He was just a poor sodbuster, while some of them had struck it rich. They could afford to give her anything she wanted, and he wasn't about to lose her.
"Now listen," he began, "you ain't being fair to me. I may not be much to look at, but I swear I'll make you a good husband. Like I told you, I already got a cabin and a nice-sized farm. All I need is a wife and some younguns comin' along to help work it. What more do you want?"
"I am not interested. Now let me go." She tried to pry his hand from her shoulder, but he held fast.
The hot, quick temper Link was known for erupted. "Maybe you got another reason for turnin' me down," he said with a sneer of contempt. "Maybe what that woman was sayin' was so. Maybe there was something goin' on between you and that half-breed. And if there was, I damn sure don't want you for my wife. And no other decent white man will either."
Jaime stopped struggling. "What are you talking about?"
"Austin. I heard that woman saying she thought you two ought to get married to keep from sinnin'. And I saw the look on your face when you found out he rode off without a word. You better tell me, damn it. Have you two been to bed together?"
Ignoring his question, she fired back one of her own. "What did you call him?"
He spat the words. "Half-breed. That's what I call him, even though he really ain't got no Indian blood, I'm told. But that don't matter. It's said he was raised by Apaches, and that makes him one of 'em, as far as me and everybody else is concerned. Murderin' savages, that's what they are. And I don't want nothin' to do with no woman that would rut with one of 'em, of her own free will.
"But maybe it wasn't," he said suddenly, hopefully. "Maybe you couldn't help it. Maybe he raped you. Was that how it was? 'Cause if that's so, I'd understand, and—"
"Stop it!" she cried furiously, her mind spinning. If what this horrid man was saying was true, and if Cord had, indeed, been raised by Indians, it would explain so many things. Like how he could speak the languages of different tribes, how he knew native medicines and folklore. And she'd heard how Indians could move so quietly and stealthily.
She knew, also, it would explain his refusal to discuss his past, for there was terrible prejudice, even hatred by some, against Indians. A person with mixed blood was considered undesirable, a social outcast. Obviously, if Cord had been raised by Indians, it would be a stigma. No doubt, he had had painful experiences and therefore was determined to keep that part of his life a secret.
But it wouldn't have mattered to me, she acknowledged silently, wishing she had known back then, so she could have told him so.
Link gave her an impatient shake. "Hey, you listening to me? I asked you a question, woman, and I want an answer. Did you rut with that adopted Apache?"
Jaime slapped him. "I'm sick of your filthy mouth, and I'm sick of you pawing me. Now stay away from me, damn you."
He had released her when her hand cracked across his face, and he rubbed his cheek and fought the impulse to keep from slamming her with his fist. "Bitch," he hissed between clenched teeth. "He did have you, didn't he? And I don't want nothin' to do with you."
Jaime was almost to the end of the hallway when Jerusha came toward her, Lem right behind her. "Are you all right, dear?" they
both asked at once.
Jaime assured them that everything was fine and said Link Cotter would never come near her again. Feeling the need to be alone, she thanked them quickly for their concern and started by, but Lem spoke up to say he thought it would be best if she continued on to San Francisco as soon as possible.
"A young woman has no business traveling alone. The sooner you meet your daddy, the better. I'm going to speak to Norman Bryson and arrange for him to take you with him and Thelma. I think they'll be leaving in a day or two."
Jaime shuddered at the thought. She didn't like the way Norman leered at her when no one else was looking. And once, when she had slipped away by herself to bathe in a creek and discovered someone spying, she'd been convinced it was Norman. She felt no less uncomfortable around Thelma, the only one among the women who had continued to regard her with contempt.
"I was thinking of going by steamer the rest of the way," she lied, for she had not made any plans, daring to believe Cord would have seen her to San Francisco, at least.
Lem and Jerusha looked at each other uneasily, then Lem asked, "You got the money, girl? It costs money to travel by steamer."
Jaime lied again. "Of course. Now don't you worry about me." She started up the stairs.
Jerusha called after her, "Aren't you going to eat breakfast, dear?"
"Later."
Jaime kept going, all the way to the sanctity of her room, feeling a frantic need to be alone and try to figure out what she was going to do.
Thinking she might find comfort in rereading her father's letters, she pulled the satchel from its hiding place. She took out the Bible and began to leaf through it.
And that's when she saw it—the money neatly tucked next to the dried and faded orchid.
With shaking fingers, she counted it. Two hundred and fifty dollars.
Fury began to creep over her.
Only Cord could have got in and out of her room without a sound, and who else would have put it there?
Had he seen the map? she wondered frantically. Or read the letters? No. She shook her head, told herself to calm down. It was dark. She had put the lantern out. But he could have come in the first light of dawn. He had managed to find where she'd hidden the bag and taken out the Bible, so why wouldn't he have seen the papers?
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