The Trail to Love (The Soul Mate Tree Book 4)

by Tina Susedik

  “Do you have a clean hankie?” Jack’s query interrupted her overheated thoughts.

  “Tommy, could you get a handkerchief from the wagon? You know where they are.” Sarah kept her gaze away from the man kneeling before her. What would he think if he knew what was going through her mind and body? Would he think she was behaving the wanton everyone thought widows were?

  “Sarah?”

  Refusing to look him in the eyes for fear he would see her desire for him, she focused her attention on his chest. His broad chest and shoulders. A chest that she itched to run her hands over. “What?”

  “Do you believe in fate?”

  “Fate?” Her body vibrated at the deep timbre of his voice.

  “You know—things happening for a reason.”

  Sarah shrugged. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “I wasn’t going to work the trip this year. When one of the other men was injured, I was forced to come along. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met you.”

  Fate or destiny. It didn’t matter. “I’m going to get married once I reach Oregon City.” Where was Tommy with that handkerchief?

  Jack frowned. His grip tightened on her hand. “You are?”

  “Yes. To Mister Sampson.”

  “Do you love him?” he asked, releasing her hand.

  She rested her palm in her lap. “I don’t know him. I’m a mail-order bride.”

  His eyebrows disappeared into his hair.

  “You’re going to get hitched to a stranger?”

  “It’s a long story.” One she wasn’t sure she ought to share with a man she hardly knew.

  “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

  “Here, Mommy.”

  Thank heavens for children and their interruptions. Talking about Peter and her disastrous marriage wasn’t how she’d planned to spend the evening. She hadn’t planned on burning supper, either—that was inevitable.

  Jack took the cloth and wrapped it around her hand, tying a knot at the top.

  Greta chose that moment to rush from her wagon. “My gracious, Sarah. Whatever did you do?”

  “I was trying not to ruin supper and burned myself—and ruined the stew.” She cringed when her friend spied the spilled pot, then her injured hand.

  With barely a nod, she turned to Jack. “We have plenty. Why don’t you join us?”

  He rose slowly. “I don’t want to impose, Greta.”

  Greta laughed when his stomach growled. “Oh pish-posh. With Sarah’s help, there’s plenty for everyone.”

  Tommy yanked on Jack’s shirt. “Please, Mister Bard. We eat with them lots because Mommy doesn’t cook very well.”

  Heat rose to her face. Jack’s eyes twinkled and his lips played into a small smile. Was he going to laugh at her? He held out his hand. Her fingers tingled when she placed them in his.

  “By all means, let’s join them for supper. Can I help with anything?”

  Greta winked at her. “Why don’t you bring the delicious rolls Sarah made.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Sarah played with Tommy’s hair as he lay across her lap. Despite her rock-hard rolls, which Jack graciously and not very convincingly said were the best he’d ever eaten, the evening passed in laughter with him regaling them with tales of his various trips across the wilderness. He seemed like such a kind, warm man. But then, so had Peter when she’d first met him.

  The stories progressed from traveling to childhood antics. Being an only child, she reveled in the fights, games, and tribulations children in large families went through with each other. Her sides hurt from laughing.

  “One time,” Greta said, “one of my younger brothers was teasing me about a boy he’d overheard me say I liked. I chased him around the house and out the back door. There was a large oak tree right outside the door. He stood beneath it pointing his finger at me making kissing noises and sticking out his tongue. Right at that moment a bird, sitting on a branch above him, pooped. Said poop landed right on my brother’s tongue. While he was spitting and crying, I laughed until I fell down. After that, whenever he teased me about something, I just looked at him, flapped my arms up and down, and tweeted like a bird. Stopped him every time.”

  After the laughter died down, the crackling fire was the only sound filling the air. Tommy lay heavy in her arms. Her neck and shoulders ached from holding him in place. Jack stood before her.

  “Here, let me take him.”

  Not knowing how she would be able to rise from the low stool with her son’s sleeping weight in her arms, she let Jack lift him. The tender way he pressed Tommy’s head to his shoulder, and rubbed his back in slow circles, warmed her heart. It was probably the first time a male had held her son, let alone comfort him.

  The short distance from Greta’s wagon to hers was covered much too quickly.

  “For a little squirt, he sure can get heavy.”

  Tommy leaned back in his arms. “What does bird poop taste like?”

  Sarah let out an unladylike snort. Jack’s deep chuckle rumbled through her system. Her nerve endings spiked and zapped their way to her core. The man was dangerous—physically and emotionally.

  “I don’t know, young man, and I don’t plan on finding out anytime soon.” Jack set him on the ground. “Where’s his bedroll?”

  “We sleep inside.”

  “Whatever for? It has to be a lot cooler sleeping beneath the wagon. It’s only going to get warmer as we head further west.”

  Jack’s sharp look made her squirm. Was it safe to tell him why, or would he side with the skunk, Horace? “I feel safer inside.”

  “Safer from what? Coyotes and wolves don’t come near because of all the noise. The Indians leave us alone most of the time.”

  Sarah nudged Tommy to the wagon. “Climb inside, sweetie. I’ll be there in a minute.” Once he’d disappeared, she sighed. Jack wasn’t going to let this go. “It’s not the animals I’m afraid of. There’s someone who gives me the shivers.”

  “Let me guess. Horace Manny.” At her nod, Jack yanked his hat from his head and slapped it against his leg. “That bastard! I’m going to have another talk with him.”

  “No. Don’t.” Sarah grabbed Jack’s arm. “Greta and Jed keep an eye out for me. And if we sleep in the wagon, we’ll be safe.”

  “I don’t like this.”

  “Me, neither. I don’t think he’ll hurt me with all these people around.”

  Jack put his hat back on and took a step closer. “You let me know if he bothers you.” He paused, leaning forward.

  Was he going to kiss her? Her breath caught in her throat. Should she let him? If everyone thought she was a hussy, she might as well enjoy the reputation. She closed her eyes in anticipation, then snapped them open when he spoke again.

  “I’d best be going. Morning will come too soon.” With a tip of his hat, he strode into the evening sunset, his body a silhouette against a darkening sky.

  What a fool. Thinking he was going to kiss her. She glanced around. Several women stared at her, shaking their heads as if she’d done something wrong. Busybodies. When she smiled at each one as if they were her best friends, they ducked their heads and went about their own business.

  Biddies.

  Using a cloth, Sarah grabbed the handle of the blackened pot full of water she’d left sitting on the fire. Within a few minutes, she’d washed their dishes and put them back in the side storage box. She hung the pot on a hook on the side of the wagon. Tomorrow, she and Tommy would have a simple breakfast. With thoughts of possibly seeing Jack in the morning, she climbed in beside her son, thinking about the man and waiting to fall asleep.

  ~ ~ ~

  Jack enjoyed the swirling colors of the evening sunset as he headed to Papaya and his bedroll. Sunrises and sunsets were tw
o of the things he enjoyed the most during these trips. Engrossed in the beauty and thinking how it didn’t compare to Sarah’s beauty, he barely noticed a man step from behind a rock.

  “Sniffin’ ‘round the widder woman, Billabard?”

  Shit. Horace. The last man he wanted to see when he needed some sleep. It wasn’t his turn for night duty, so eight hours of sleep was within his grasp. “What do you want, Manny?”

  “I want you to stop sniffin’ ‘round my woman. I saw you with her tonight.”

  Jack tipped back his hat and planted his hands on his hips. “Your woman? Since when is Miz Nickelson your woman?”

  Horace spat a stream of black chaw, barely missing Jack’s boots. The man had better stop aiming at his boots. He was tempted to take up the disgusting habit so he could spit one back at him—right in the eye.

  “Since I seen her first.”

  Jack held back a chuckle and looked closer at Horace. His brows were turned down, lips stretched in a sneer. The man was serious. “Since when does seeing a woman first make her yours?”

  “Since I said so.”

  “Well, now, Horace.” He glanced down at this boots. “Since I was invited to have supper with her and her son, I guess that means she favors me over you. Has she asked you to join her for a meal?”

  Even in the dusky light, Horace’s reddened face and narrowed eyes were obvious. His hands clenched into fists. Jack held back a flinch when the bounder took a step closer. Even though the man’s stink made his eyes burn, he held his ground.

  “She probably felt sorry for you, is all. Once she gets to know me,” he pointed at his chest, “I’ll be eating with her every night.”

  Jack rolled up on the balls of his feet. If he wasn’t afraid he’d lose some fingers by coming into contact with any part of Horace’s body, he’d let him have it. The idea of Horace being anywhere near Sarah and Tommy was enough for his temper to erupt. “And how do you propose getting to know her better?”

  Horace ran a finger beneath his nose and wiped it on his shirt. Jack’s stomach rolled.

  “Well, now. That’s for me to know and you to find out. I’m just tellin’ you, leave my girl alone.”

  “And I’m telling you one more time, she’s not your girl. We’re to leave the womenfolk alone.” The glint in Horace’s eyes set Jack’s teeth on edge. He’d have to keep better track of the man.

  “You didn’t exactly leave her alone, Billabard.”

  What part of ‘he was invited’ didn’t the idiot get? “Like I said before, Horace, I was invited. Besides, we ate with the Olsons, so we weren’t alone. Even if we hadn’t, Tommy would have been with us, so it wasn’t as if I was sniffing after her.”

  With a dirty look and a snarl, Horace stomped off.

  Maintaining better caution over his surroundings, Jack headed to his horse and bedroll. Dark had nearly fallen by the time he reached Papaya. He grabbed his bedroll, and instead of hunkering down right away, took it back toward Sarah’s wagon. After finding a spot close enough to see if Horace would pull anything, yet far enough away not to be seen, he lay on his blanket, locked his fingers behind his neck, and stared at the stars. The long day caught up with him and in the twinkling of those stars, he was asleep.

  ~ ~ ~

  A creaking sound seeped into Jack’s dream. His eyes popped open, and he peered through the morning mist. Except for the persistent squeak and a few snores coming from several wagons, the camp was quiet.

  A pair of man’s legs appeared between the slats on the other side of Sarah’s rear wagon wheel. Jack had a good idea of the person’s identity as he squatted, then stood. A few seconds later, the person disappeared. Even though Jack wanted to run after the bastard, it would be better to wait until light to see if any damage had been done to Sarah’s wagon and what needed to be done about it. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her—not on his watch.

  Chapter 7

  The blare of the morning trumpet roused Sarah with a start. Usually she woke before it sounded, but she’d struggled to sleep during the night, only to drop off as dawn approached. For some reason every sound was amplified, and she couldn’t shake the sense of someone lurking outside.

  Jack’s stories and laughter replayed over and over in her mind, only to be interrupted by Horace’s leers and innuendos. The skunk’s presence in her dreams had been so strong, she thought she’d smelled him during the night. Without waking, Daisy growled in her sleep.

  “Wake up, Tommy.” Sarah nudged her son, then finger-combed her long hair and twisted it into a bun. “We need to get ready and have breakfast.” She straightened the small area they slept in, and after another poke in his ribs, pulled back the fabric in the front of the wagon and climbed out.

  Then jumped and slapped a hand to her heart. Someone knelt by the rear wheel.

  “Jack.” After her initial surprise at having a man squatting near her wagon, ripples of desire flickered through her. Her damned nipples hardened. Refraining from making sure her hair was in place, she stepped toward him. “What are you doing here so early in the morning?”

  “To see you, of course.” He rose and faced her.

  Sarah’s heart tripped at his comment, but she rolled her eyes at him anyway. “With all you have to do, you walked all the way down here just to see me?”

  He stared at his boots. Was that a blush creeping up his neck? Why would he be blushing? And why was he here so early?

  “Uh. I wanted to get a start on the day.”

  Something didn’t quite ring true. He’d been studying her wheel. In all the mornings he’d come by, he’d never checked her wagon. Was he the one she’d sensed skulking during the night? “Is there something wrong with the wheel?”

  “Uh, no.” He didn’t look her in the eye. “It’s always good to check them occasionally to make sure they haven’t loosened. With these ruts and bumps, that can easily happen.”

  Why didn’t she believe him? This was the first time she’d been told to check the wheels. She’d have to ask Jed if it was something she should have been doing on a regular basis.

  “Does it seem okay?”

  Jack nodded, again not looking at her. “Well, I’d best get moving and let you get ready for the day.” Without another word, he disappeared around the wagon.

  Before she could ponder his strange actions, Tommy called to her.

  “Was Mister Bard here?”

  Sarah lifted him from the wagon. She resisted the urge to cuddle him against her. Lately he was less and less inclined to snuggle. Her arms ached to hold him, keep him a little boy as long as possible. Tommy squirmed and jumped to the ground.

  “How come he didn’t say hi to me this morning?”

  Sarah smiled. Even though he was growing up, Tommy still pouted like a baby. “I think he was in a hurry.”

  She stared into the morning light, searching for his tall, lanky body. The only things moving were people from other wagons going about their morning activities. “I’m sure he’ll stop by later.” She tapped a finger against her lip. Had he checked all the wheels, or just the one? She’d best keep an eye on that fellow. Maybe he was right when he’d told her she needed to be careful with men. Now, she had to watch out for Horace and Jack.

  Tommy tugged on Sarah’s skirt. “Mommy, I’m hungry.”

  Sarah’s heart filled with love. Thank heavens Tommy didn’t look like his father, so she didn’t have to be reminded daily of the man. Tommy more resembled her father, a man Sarah had always thought was quite handsome. Someday, Tommy would be a real heartbreaker. She needed to make sure he grew up to be kind and gentle to women. It would be nice for him to have a decent father figure to guide him into manhood. Hopefully Mister Sampson would be.

  “Mommy!”

  “All right.” Since she’d wasted time woolgathering, it lo
oked as if they would be having boiled eggs, leftover, rock-hard biscuits, and dried beef for breakfast. “Get out the plates and cups for us.”

  Tommy frowned as he followed her instructions. “Are we having the same thing to eat again?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Can I go eat with the Olsons?”

  Sarah poked him in the belly. “No, you can’t go eat with the Olsons.” It was a sad day when a woman’s child didn’t want to eat her cooking. She set the dishes on the small table and handed Tommy a pail. “Go milk George.” Maybe if she soaked the biscuits long enough in the milk, they’d be able to chew them without losing any teeth.

  ~ ~ ~

  Several hours later, Sarah walked alongside the oxen. They had acted up again while she hitched them up this morning. Using the whip Jed had given her, she gently swatted at their legs to keep them in line. Since it hadn’t rained in a few days, the wagons traveled zigzagged to keep from walking in clouds of dust from the wagons in front of them. While it helped, dust and dirt still covered her face, hair, and clothing. Her skin was dry, cracked, and itchy.

  How she longed for a long soak in a tub filled with hot water and lavender oil. The promise of stopping by a river tomorrow afternoon for bathing and washing clothes couldn’t come soon enough. She had a feeling her body odor was close to Horace’s.

  “Sarah,” Jed called from behind her. “You need to stop.”

  Her heart lurched in her throat. Was it Indians? More buffalo? Tommy was with Greta’s gang. Should she call him and have him climb into the wagon? “What’s wrong?”

  He ran up beside her. “Your rear wheel is wobbling.”

  A vision of Jack squatting by it this morning ran through her mind. “Whoa, Rose. Whoa, Tulip.” Since no one was directly behind her, holding up the train wasn’t a problem. As she stepped to the rear, a rider galloped to her and Jed.