by Merry Farmer
“Ah, but the trains don’t go all the way through to Denver City,” he said. “Not yet, at any rate.”
A mischievous smile tilted the corners of her mouth. That mouth was downright kissable.
Graham cleared his throat. Where had that thought come from?
“So you’re going to walk all the way to Denver City along the trail, as a favor for you sister?” she asked.
“Looks like it.” Graham nodded.
Estelle’s smile grew. He blinked, then realized how foolish he sounded. A man with one leg, walking to Denver City.
“I admire your pluck, Mr. Tremaine.”
“Graham,” he corrected her, fighting the shame that rolled through his gut. “I should be using two of these,” he nodded to his crutch, “but I like having a hand free so I can help out. I’m probably just being stubborn. I’ll hold everyone up and lag behind.”
“I don’t think so,” she said and moved away from the wagon. She turned to the side and reached up to make sure the canvas covering was secure.
Graham watched her, watched the fluid motions she used as she reached and tugged. She was sturdy, but still managed to be feminine and graceful. Her bonnet hid her hair, but wisps of soft, curly black escaped around the edges. She had a lovely shape. Her hands had long fingers. He caught himself wondering what those hands would feel like along his skin.
At the first stirrings of his body’s reaction, Graham jolted. He stood straight and leaned his weight on his crutch. What was that all about? It’d been months since he’d felt anything when he looked at a woman. Even the pretty nurses at the army hospital hadn’t provoked so much as a sigh from him. Of all the inappropriate times to feel the old itch of desire—but there was something about this woman, something unusual.
“Since you have a hand free, would you mind handing me that bit of twine up on the seat there?” Estelle asked him.
“Sure,” he answered.
He started for the front of her wagon, still lost in his surprisingly heated thoughts. He tried to step with his missing leg and ended up stumbling. Estelle didn’t notice, so he pretended nothing was wrong and kept going using his crutch. Ten months he’d been crippled, and he still forgot that his leg wasn’t there.
He made it to the front of her wagon and reached with his left hand for the ball of twine. A few more wobbly steps and he was able to hand it to her. Estelle took it without noting the effort Graham had put into fetching it, measured out a length, and bit it off before handing the ball back to Graham. He smiled. She had the accent and demeanor of a fine, southern lady, and yet she’d used her teeth to cut a length of twine. He liked her.
“Do you need me to do anything else?” he asked, unable to take his eyes off of her as she tied a corner of the canvas to the bow underneath.
“I’ll let you know,” she said with a dusky smile.
Graham scooted across the space between their wagons to stand beside his. Activity among the wagons had picked up. Somewhere down the line, he could hear the trail boss hollering for people to line up and get ready to move out. This whole journey had felt like a fool’s errand to him—up until this point. But now, something about the din of shouts and laughter in the background, the noise of animals and wagons, and especially the industrious form and smiling face of Estelle Ripley made him feel as though the journey was really happening.
He was just about to say something to the effect when a small, towheaded boy came tearing through the lane between their wagons just as Estelle turned around and stepped away from her work. The boy crashed into her with a force that made both of them yelp in surprise and stumble.
Without thinking, Graham reached out to catch Estelle. Miraculously, his arms closed around her and both of them remained upright. The boy gasped and gaped at them, eyes wide, then darted on as though he would have his backside swatted if he stayed.
Graham hardly noticed. Estelle Ripley was pressed against him. His arms were around her waist. She smelled of fresh linen and a hint of flowers. Her arms rested against his chest. Nothing had felt so good in months.
It was even better when Estelle broke into rich, pealing laughter that shook her body against his. Graham almost protested when she righted herself and stepped away. He’d been lucky enough not to lose his crutch, and was able to stand on his own as well.
“Well then, Graham,” she continued to laugh, the personification of hope and cheerfulness. “I’ve caught you and now you’ve caught me.”
A smile spread across Graham’s face. The first he’d felt in a while. “It looks like it.”
“Seems like we might be able to keep each other out of trouble on this trip, don’t you think?”
His heart sped up, no matter how hard he tried to stop it. “I guess so,” he laughed.
She turned back to the wagon to finish her work, but peeked back at him over her shoulder and smiled. The journey hadn’t even started, and already Graham’s heart was lost.
Chapter Two
What was she thinking?
Estelle nodded one last time to Graham and circled around to the other side of the supply wagon to be sure the canvas was secured there. Foolish. She couldn’t just go and take a shine to a man on the trail. Being close to people meant they learned things about you—things you’d rather keep hidden. Things you needed to keep hidden. It was bad enough that Pete’s lone black crew member kept looking at her as though he knew those things.
And yet, something about Graham spoke to a deeper level in Estelle’s gut than the place where her fears rested. He felt… safe.
“Let’s move out.” Pete’s call came from closer to where she stood. “Line ’em up.”
She took a breath. Nothing had happened yet. A few friendly words did not mean she would throw herself at Graham and expose the truth. It was important to be friendly with her fellow pioneers on the trail. They would have to rely on each other through hardships to come, if the stories she’d heard were right.
“All right there, Essie?” Pete nodded to her as he approached the wagon.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Evans. Though I do wish you’d call me Estelle,” she said, heat filling her face.
“Oh. Right. Sorry,” Pete said with a sheepish grin. “Essie just sort of comes naturally.”
And that was the problem. Estelle put a hand over her gut to still the roll of butterflies. Essie was someone else from another time. Estelle was who she was now.
“I came over this way to grab my horse,” Pete went on, “and to get you and the other ladies in line. I figure I’ll put the crew and supply wagons in the middle of the train, along with Miss Lucy’s wagon and Miss Josephine’s, and we’ll stick the orphan wagon in there somewhere too. That way everyone can look out for the more vulnerable folks, begging your pardon.”
He stood a little taller and glanced around, assessing the pioneers. His gaze settled on Graham, and his brow knit in thought.
“I reckon I’ll put Mr. Tremaine in with the middle lot too,” he said.
He paused when Graham glanced up, a trace of offense in his expression. Estelle didn’t know whether to feel sorry for Graham or to tell him to ignore what was surely simple concern from Pete.
“That way, uh, you ladies will have a little extra protection from a soldier,” Pete finished his sentence. He peeked over to Graham—who had deliberately turned away—then checked with Estelle to be sure he’d said the right thing.
Estelle nodded.
“Right.” Pete cleared his throat and was in motion again, moving to the back of the cluster of wagons where his horse waited. “Let’s move out.”
One of the lessons Estelle had had from Pete and his assistants in preparation for the journey was how to drive an oxen-pulled Conestoga. There were several ways it could be done, though it wasn’t at all like driving a horse-drawn carriage. Oxen were slow and plodding, not particularly prone to bolting, and would keep going once you got them started. They could be driven from a seat in the wagon bed—similar to horses—if necessary, but as
often as not, it was easiest to walk beside them, keeping them in line with an occasional tap from a goad on their flanks. Walking saved the beasts the trouble of pulling more weight. Estelle was determined to walk as much as she could.
Around her, others in the train had different ideas.
“You there. Help me up,” Miss Josephine Lewis stopped Pete halfway through mounting his horse.
“Ma’am, I got a heap of things to do,” Pete tried to argue.
“You can start by helping me up,” Josephine told him in no uncertain terms. She even waited by the front wheel of her wagon until Pete dropped what he was doing to stride over and shove her up into her wagon’s driver’s seat. He smacked her backside in the process. It may not have been an accident, judging by the spark in Pete’s eyes.
Estelle covered her mouth to hide her grin. She circled around her wagon one more time to retrieve the goad from the back, then took up her spot by the oxen up front. The wagons were already stretching in a line that reached toward the horizon, traveling along dry, rutted ground where hundreds of other journeys had started. The wagon full of orphans bore a distinct resemblance to a can of worms that had been opened, with all the pink and squirmy children climbing through the wagon or on the tongue where the oxen were yoked, or just running in circles around the wagon and their caretaker, waiting to get going.
“Settle down, settle down,” Mrs. Gravesend hollered at them. “We’ll be on our way soon enough, and you can run until you’re tired. Then I’ll tie you to the back of the wagon and drag you behind.”
A few of the kids groaned in protest, but most ignored her as two of Pete’s assistants steered the wagon into place in the line. Estelle wondered if the children would ever settle.
“I can help if you’d like,” Olivia, the quiet woman with the blond braid, approached Mrs. Gravesend with a cautious smile. “I’m a teacher.”
“You blessed thing,” Mrs. Gravesend replied.
“Here we go, Estelle.” Pete came up behind her. He was mounted now, but his expression was stiff with concentration. “Let’s get you in line.”
“Yes, sir.”
The next several minutes were spent with her attention focused as she goaded the oxen into motion and set them in line with the rest of the train. It wasn’t as hard as all that. She assumed she’d get better at it as they went along. The oxen knew what they were about more than she did, and lined themselves up behind Lucy Haskell’s wagon, which was behind the orphans’.
Once she was settled, Estelle checked on Graham over her shoulder. Pete was helping him guide his oxen into place behind Estelle’s supply wagon. In fact, Pete was doing most of the work from atop his horse, while Graham limped and struggled to keep up with the slow pace. Estelle bit her lip, wondering if there was anything she could do to make the journey easier for Graham. Of all people, he should be riding in his wagon or on a horse. But instead, he was doing his best to walk just like everyone else. It was a huge effort, and she found herself smiling with pride in him.
Graham looked up at just that moment and caught her smile. He stumbled slightly, but focused and kept on going, returning her smile with one that lasted for only a heartbeat before flickering back to concentration.
“Why is he trying to walk on his own?”
Estelle blinked and turned to find the black man walking on the other side of the oxen. He was tall enough to be seen over the oxen’s backs.
He must have noticed Estelle’s wary expression. He smiled and said, “The name’s Isaiah Jones. Pete didn’t have a chance to introduce us, since I was held up and only just got here in time.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Jones,” Estelle greeted him cautiously.
“A wounded soldier has no business walking like that,” Isaiah went on. “He should drive. Or better still, have someone else drive him. The railroad would have been much more suitable.”
“He’s taking a wagon of his sister’s thing to her in Denver City.” Estelle felt the need to explain, to defend Graham. “He didn’t want to take the train because it doesn’t go all the way.”
Isaiah shook his head. “Seems a mite foolish to me. Could be an inconvenience for the crew if he needs help.” He spoke loud enough for Graham to hear.
“I don’t mind helping,” Estelle said, also loud enough to be heard.
“Oh, oh, look out!”
A half-naked child who couldn’t have been more than three zipped toward Estelle, Olivia and Lucy chasing after him. Lucy reached for him, but it was Olivia who caught him and snatched him up. The boy giggled and squirmed, but Olivia held him fast. The brief chase left Olivia and Lucy walking beside Estelle and the supply wagon. Isaiah sped up to keep Lucy’s wagon in line.
“That was a good catch,” Lucy said, laughing. “You’re an angel for helping to take care of those children, Olivia. I’ve had my eye on them since we arrived here yesterday, and they’re a great, big handful.”
The squirming boy threw his arms around Olivia’s neck and squeezed.
“They’re not so bad,” Olivia said. She looked past Lucy to Estelle. “I’m Olivia Walters.”
“Oh, and I’m Lucy Haskell,” Lucy added. She extended a hand. “My father is Howard Haskell, of Wyoming.”
Estelle was so startled that she was slow to react. “I’m Estelle Ripley,” she managed at last, with a smile for Lucy and a nod for Olivia. “I’m part of the wagon train’s crew.”
“How lovely,” Olivia smiled, kissing the naked boy’s head.
“You ladies might want to move out of the way,” a harried voice called from behind them.
Estelle and the others turned in time to see Josephine Lewis drawing closer to them, her wagon out of line and her oxen wide-eyed. They were as close as oxen came to running. Lucy squealed. The boy in Olivia’s arms managed to wriggle free, jump down, and run ahead. Olivia would have followed him, but Josephine’s wagon came rushing up, blocking her.
“Where are the brakes on these things?” Josephine shouted.
“Whoa. Whoa there.” Estelle broke away from her own, sedate oxen to reach out for Josephine’s. She managed to come up beside the pair, holding the goad in front of them and slowing them with soft words and an easy touch. “It’s all right.”
The oxen responded to her by huffing and slowing to their usual plod, and Josephine’s wagon rolled up beside Estelle’s and Lucy’s.
Josephine laughed. “Not ten minutes out of Independence, and already I’m having an adventure. My family would say that’s typical, I’m sure.”
“You have adventures?” Lucy piped up, skipping across from the front of Estelle’s wagon to walk beside Josephine’s. “You’ll have to tell me all about them. I’m Lucy Haskell, by the way. My father is Howard Haskell, of Wyoming. I’m going home. I hope we have a whole bushel of adventures on this journey.”
Estelle’s lips twitched into a grin as Lucy found a new target for her enthusiasm.
Lucy went on. “I was born out West, if you can believe it, but I haven’t been home for years. I can’t wait. I haven’t asked yet where Estelle and Olivia are going, but I’d like to know. Where is the trail taking you, Miss Josephine? Why are you here?”
“Gracious, child,” Josephine exclaimed, shaking her head. “You’ve got enough words in there for three young women, don’t you?”
Lucy laughed. “Papa always said I talk too much, but I can’t help it. I’ve got things to say, and besides that, there are so many questions to ask.”
“Well.” Josephine arched a brow. “If you must know, I’m heading out to live with my niece in Denver City. She came through this year and married some fellow on the trail after my nephew, her brother, and his family died.”
“Oh dear,” Lucy gasped. “What happened? Did they get sick? Was it Indians? I certainly hope we don’t die.”
Estelle chuckled. “Mr. Tremaine back there is heading to Denver City too,” she said, turning back and waiting for the other wagons to catch up.
“Oh?” Josephine twisted i
n her driver’s seat to get a glimpse of Graham behind them. “The soldier?”
Graham looked up at that minute. His glance flickered between the ladies—all of whom were now staring at him—before settling on Estelle with a smile. At least he was smiling. She shouldn’t have brought all the attention on him.
“I’m heading to Oregon City myself,” Estelle said to draw focus. “Since Mr. Evans has employed me, I’m going all the way to the end of the line with him. I’m looking forward to seeing the Pacific Ocean.”
“Ooh. What a treat,” Lucy exclaimed. Since Olivia was the only one left who hadn’t divulged her plans, Lucy turned to her and said, “Are you going all the way to the Pacific Ocean?”
“I—” Olivia gaped. An overwhelmed look filled her eyes. “I’m going west to be a teacher,” she said.
“That’s it?” Lucy asked. “Just a schoolteacher?”
“I’ve been teaching for five years already.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Josephine defended her from her perch on her wagon’s driver’s seat. “The world needs teachers.”
Olivia went on, quieter than Lucy or Josephine. “I was teaching in a school in eastern Ohio, where I’m from.”
“Oh. Then why come out West?” Lucy asked, crossing to walk beside her. “Why go through all the trouble of a journey like this if you’re already doing what you want to do?”
Olivia swallowed, eyes darting between the women. Estelle resisted the impulse to take her hand to tell her everything would be all right, that she was among friends, new as they were. It might not have been a welcome gesture, but Olivia looked like she needed it.
“There was a man, you see,” Olivia spoke at last. “He… he wanted to marry me, but I….”
“You didn’t want to,” Lucy finished her sentence. She shrugged. “Perfectly natural. I wouldn’t want to marry a man I didn’t want to marry either.”
She paused as if hearing the muddle of words that had just come out of her mouth, then laughed. Estelle shook her head, chuckling to herself. There wouldn’t be a dull moment on this journey with Lucy there.