Trail of Redemption (Hot on the Trail Book 6)
Page 4
Estelle opened her eyes and stood, water dripping down her sides. Lucy and Olivia were undressing on the bank. They must have had the same idea she had. Farther down the river, Lyle, Hank, and Isaiah were bathing as well.
Isaiah turned his head to watch Lucy and Olivia, his eyes traveling on to Estelle. He was far enough away that Estelle couldn’t read his expression, but he gave off the feeling that he was keeping an eye out for them, for her. It wasn’t as reassuring as it should have been.
“I think it’s grand that Mr. Evans hired a former slave for his crew,” Lucy chattered as she waded into the water. “My family has always been full of abolitionists, of course. Papa has even talked about advertising for workers of all colors to come to his ranch. I like to see good people who have been downtrodden making a life for themselves. The war was horrible, but it did some good. In fact….”
As Lucy rambled on, Estelle frantically gathered her hair, squeezing out the water and braiding it as fast as her hands could work. Her bonnet was still on the bank. When she focused her gaze on it, Olivia noticed and walked to fetch it.
“Would you like this?” she asked, interrupting Lucy’s discourse on how she would have joined the Union army to free the slaves if she could have.
“Yes please.” Estelle smiled, but it was shaky. She waded closer to the riverbank, coming nearly all the way out of the water where Olivia stood.
As she stepped out of the shallows and stood to reach for the bonnet, Graham tottered around the edge of the bush. Both he and Estelle stopped short and tensed at the sight of each other. Estelle stood before him in only her chemise and drawers, both of which were dripping wet and sticking to her skin. Nothing at all was hidden beneath the clinging fabric—not the curve of her waist and hips, not the swell of her breasts, nipples tight, and certainly not the dark flush of her skin.
She couldn’t move. Shock kept her frozen, but underneath that, a hot, tingling pull hooked through her. It was reflected in the spark that caught in Graham’s eyes. Before sense and manners could catch up with either of them, Estelle saw a look of hunger in Graham—one that matched the pulsing pleasure within her.
“I’m so sorry,” Graham said, pivoting away so fast that he lost his balance.
Estelle reached out to steady him, but the firmness of his side as she grabbed him, the heat radiating from him, and the sudden proximity, made her breath come in shallow gasps.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I was going to wake you and ask you to come down here to guard me as I bathed, but Lucy and Olivia came along.” She was babbling as badly as Lucy.
“I didn’t mean to look,” Graham fumbled on. He regained his balance and stood stiffly, leaning on his crutch, his back to her. “That is, I didn’t see much. You have my deepest apologies.”
“I suppose things like this happen on the trail,” Estelle said with a tight laugh. “We’ll have to get used to seeing each other in compromising positions.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Her mind instantly conjured images of Graham with his shirt off and more. Leg or no leg, the man was well-formed, and without clothes—
She huffed out a breath. No. Absolutely no. She couldn’t entertain even the ghost of those thoughts. They were inappropriate and dangerous. She barely knew the man.
“I’ll leave you ladies to your bathing,” Graham mumbled. Without waiting for further niceties, he pushed himself into motion and started back toward the cluster of wagons.
Lucy burst into peals of laughter. “Oh dear,” she managed to say through giggles. “Poor Lt. Tremaine. Did you see how he blushed? I didn’t know men could blush like that. Though it was rather fetching. For a man with one leg.”
A snap of anger cracked through Estelle like a whip lash. “He behaved like a perfect gentleman,” she defended him.
Her plan had been to wade back into the water once she retrieved her bonnet, but as she put it on her head to hide her hair, tucking her braid in the back, she lost all desire to swim. Instead, she reached for her clothes.
“I don’t think Lucy meant any harm,” Olivia said, just above a whisper.
It was still loud enough for Lucy to hear. “Oh! Oh no, I didn’t mean anything like that by it at all. He’s a lovely, handsome man, and he made almost the ultimate sacrifice for the cause. He’s a noble man, a good man.”
“Yes, he is,” Estelle said to silence her.
Lucy pressed her lips shut, her brow knit as she fretted. “I’m sorry, Estelle. I say things I don’t mean. Words fly out of my mouth faster than I can stop them. It’s disgraceful, and I shall do my utmost to stop.”
To prove her point, she closed her mouth in a smile and planted her hands on her hips.
“It’s all right,” Estelle assured her as she continued to dress. “I was finished anyhow.”
“You will stay with us for a few minutes, won’t you?” Olivia asked.
Whatever offense Estelle had taken melted. “Of course I will.”
Olivia smiled, then turned to wade into the river, joining Lucy, who seemed positively ready to burst with words. Estelle began to mentally count to see how long Lucy would keep silent. She finished dressing, then sat on the riverbank.
“You know what I think?” Lucy practically gasped just as Estelle’s backside hit the ground. “I think that you and Lt. Graham Tremaine make a handsome couple, even though he was a Union soldier and you’re from the South.”
Estelle exchanged a knowing grin with Olivia.
“And you remember how Miss Josephine said that she would find husbands for all of us before we reached our destination?” Lucy went on.
Estelle tensed all over again. “I’m not looking for a husband.”
Lucy wasn’t deterred. “You and Lt. Tremaine suit so well, though. As for Olivia,” she sped on, and perhaps it was Lucy’s way of letting the issue drop to spare Estelle’s feelings, “I think there are at least half a dozen men that would be perfect for you.”
Olivia blushed. “I’m not looking for a husband either, I’m running from one.” As soon as the words were past her lips, she clapped a hand over her mouth to stop them. “That is, I’m not married, I’m trying my best not to be married.”
“Don’t tell that to Miss Josephine,” Lucy went on, leaning back and floating. “I still think we need to turn the tables on her and find her a husband. Although the only man I could imagine her with at this point is Mr. Evans.” She gasped and thrashed in the water to stand on her feet. “Mr. Evans. What a lovely idea.”
For the next twenty minutes, Estelle and Olivia were treated to a discourse on all the reasons why Miss Josephine Lewis and Mr. Pete Evans made the perfect couple. Estelle smiled and laughed over Lucy’s fanciful notions. She loved to talk, but at least the things she said were entertaining. After several minutes of it, though, Estelle’s attention drifted. She bent her knees and rested her arms atop her legs and her chin on her arms, then turned to watch a couple of families farther down the river. They splashed and joked with each other with a carefree joy that tugged at Estelle’s heart.
How she had wanted to be a part of something like that, a community, growing up. She could still hear the songs of the slaves in her heart, still smell cornbread cooking over woody fires. She could still see the curiosity and the censure in the eyes of the field hands as they stared at her when she stood on the porch of the big house. Not the same, not belonging.
But she belonged now, in a way. Estelle took a deep breath and focused her attention on Lucy again.
“And there’s that well-dressed gentleman who rides along with that group of men heading to Oregon City,” Lucy was in the middle of saying. “The one who’s been playing cards every night.”
“Charles Garrett?” Olivia asked, back straight, voice almost a squeak.
Lucy’s brow flew up. “You know him?”
Deep, bright color painted Olivia’s face. “We spoke,” she said, but that was it.
Lucy narrowed her eyes at Olivia and chewed her lip, then gave it u
p with a sigh. “I think he’s a professional card player. I could have sworn Mr. Evans mentioned that the other day.”
She and Olivia were finished with their bath and slogged out of the water. Estelle stood by as they dried off and dressed, then the three of them headed back to the wagons together. Estelle cast one last look at the group farther down the river. If she was careful, she could have friends too.
Graham was waiting in the camp space between the wagons. The blush had died down from his face. He met Estelle’s eyes with sheepish apology. Estelle replied with a silent smile of forgiveness. Graham nodded.
A giddy thrill thrummed through Estelle’s chest. She’d just had a conversation with a man without saying a word. Dangerous though it was, Lucy was right. She and Graham did suit each other. It was as exciting as it was disastrous. She would have to keep that entire part of herself in check for months of close travel.
“Miss Essie—I mean, Estelle,” Pete met her at the supply wagon as Lucy and Olivia peeled off to return to their own wagons. “My compliments on a delicious breakfast this morning.”
“Thank you, sir.” Estelle smiled.
“So I was talking to Clarence Nelson about that trail council of his,” Pete went on. “You want to join it?”
Estelle blinked in surprise. “Me, sir?” She glanced to Graham. He smiled from ear to ear.
Pete chuckled. “Don’t act so surprised. Councils like that could use a few strong, competent women on them. And you don’t have to call me sir. Pete will do.”
Estelle couldn’t help it. She burst into a smile, one that touched her heart. “I would be honored to play a part,” she said. She sent Graham a look of excitement.
“Good.” Pete nodded. “Because the first thing the council needs to do is make sure church gets set up on Sundays.”
Estelle laughed. “You could have asked me to help with that without asking me to be on the council.”
“Yep.” Pete winked. “I could’ve. But I still think a woman like you should be given her due.”
A woman like her. Estelle’s heart twisted at the thought. Pete Evans was a good man, but she wondered what he would say if he knew just what kind of woman she was. She wouldn’t let it kill her joy at being asked, though. Not yet.
Preparations for church were simple enough. All that was really needed was for benches to be set up and a few wildflowers gathered to decorate. The men handled the benches, and Estelle wandered away from the wagons, closer to the river, to pick flowers. She was so caught up in her thoughts, the sudden honor of Pete asking her to serve on the council, the shock of Graham seeing her soaking wet, that she didn’t realize she wasn’t alone in the field.
“Miss Essie?”
Estelle sucked in a breath and whipped around, heart pounding.
Isaiah stood behind her. He took one look at her and broke into a wide smile that was a little too close to a leer for Estelle’s comfort. He closed the gap between them at an easy pace.
“What did you just call me?” she asked. A quick glance around told her they were too far away for anyone to hear their conversation, even though two dozen people or more could see them.
His eyes glimmered with recognition as he stopped a few yards from her. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
“Notice what?” Estelle asked. Her shoulders felt suddenly heavy, her pulse too rapid.
Isaiah chuckled. “I know our jobs out here don’t cross that often. Our jobs back home didn’t cross hardly ever. So it’s no wonder you don’t recognize me. I should have said something before, after supper some night maybe.”
No. No, no, no. It couldn’t be. Not now, not here. She was free now, free.
“I’m sorry, you must have mistaken me for someone else,” she answered with as much calm as she could muster. She even tried adding a smile to her words as she turned to head back to the camp.
“I know it’s you, Miss Essie,” Isaiah continued, a little more serious, following her. “I knew it from that first day. I’d recognize your beautiful face anywhere.”
Estelle stopped and spun to face him.
“Please,” she begged, not sure what she was begging for. For him to go away? To forget he’d seen her? Or maybe just for things to be different.
“It’s all right, I won’t tell anyone,” he said. “I understand how things are.”
“Do you?” She met his eyes, finding a boldness that she didn’t know she had. “Do you know how things are for me?”
His smile dropped to solemnity, though not the kind she trusted. “I believe I do, ma’am.”
Isaiah held himself with a relaxed posture that said he feared nothing. He couldn’t have been much older than her, and he was handsome, all things considered. The clothes he wore were new, and certainly not the kind of rags a poor freedman thrust out on his own might wear.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Of course you don’t remember,” he answered, laughing and shaking his head. “I was a field hand and you were… well, you were in the big house.”
“I don’t want to discuss it,” Estelle said, turning away. She picked up her pace, hoping she could make it back to the camp before anyone noticed the conversation.
“I just want you to know that I know who you are,” Isaiah continued, keeping up with her. “That’s all.”
She stopped again and turned to him to hiss, “Is that a threat?”
Isaiah balked. “No, ma’am, no it’s not.”
Estelle eyed him warily. She didn’t believe him, not for a moment. It was a threat, but what did he want?
He went on. “You were in such a difficult position back home. It’s no wonder you bolted as soon as you had the chance.”
“I did not bolt, I was told to leave,” Estelle said. She glanced around to make sure no one was near enough to overhear. “My father gave me money to start a new life, and that’s what I did.”
“He cared for you,” Isaiah said. “We all knew that. He cared for your mamma too. No one thought any less of you.”
“Didn’t they?”
Estelle turned away, fighting the urge to run.
“Plenty of people in your position have tried to pass, now that slavery has been done away with,” Isaiah said. “Plenty have succeeded too. Looks to me like you’re well on your way to doing just that. I just wanted you to know that I know.”
Estelle bit her lip to keep from snapping a reply. She continued on. Isaiah walked with her, but didn’t say anything else. If he had anything else to say, he was keeping it for later.
Try as she did to hide how unsettled the conversation had made her, by the time she walked back into the circle of wagons where church was being set up, her nerves were raw.
“Something wrong?”
She let out a vocal breath of relief when Graham turned away from the benches he was lining up to greet her.
Estelle smiled in relief, wanting to weep.
“Nothing’s wrong.” She took a quick breath. “Did Pete tell you that he asked me to be on Mr. Nelson’s trail council?” she asked before he could delve deeper.
“That city slicker asked you to be on the council?” Isaiah asked. He’d veered off to the other side of the church benches, but was still within earshot.
Graham frowned at him, then smiled at Estelle. “That sounds like a fine idea to me. They couldn’t pick a better woman to be a part of it.”
He let the compliment rest for a moment, then shifted his frown to Isaiah.
“I’m sorry, with all the bustle of getting used to the trail, I don’t believe we’ve officially met.”
“Isaiah Jones.” Isaiah stepped forward with a smile and reached out to shake Graham’s hand.
Graham had to shuffle his crutch and adjust his stance to take the offered hand. “Pleased to meet you. So what’s your business here on the trail?”
To Estelle, it sounded like a subtle threat, a way to protect her. She couldn’t decide if she appreciated the gesture or dreaded where it could lead.
“I see,” Graham said.
Isaiah didn’t reply. Graham continued to stare him down. A chill passed through Estelle’s gut. She knew very little about men and their rivalries, but if this wasn’t one popping up between Graham and Isaiah, she didn’t know what it was. Considering what she stood to lose if Isaiah let slip one hint of what he knew, she would have done anything to stop it.
“Hey, Isaiah,” Pete called from the other end of the rows of benches. “Could you help us lift these crates down from the supply wagon? Rev. Kilpatrick says they’ll make a good pulpit.”
Isaiah broke eye contact with Graham to turn to Pete with a smile. “Sure thing,” he said, and added, “I’m able.”
Graham muttered something under his breath. Estelle ignored it. One snippy exchange between two men was not enough to cause a disaster. Some people just didn’t get along.
Then why did the whole thing turn her insides to jelly?
“I’m not sure I trust him,” Graham murmured as Estelle walked past him to find a cup to put her flowers in.
“Who, Isaiah?” She feigned ignorance.
Graham wasn’t fooled.
“Estelle, if you need someone to look out for you,” he began in a quiet voice, glancing over his shoulder to where Isaiah was now helping Pete, “just let me know, all right?”
Estelle caught her breath. No matter how kind Graham was, no matter how brave and bold, she would not let her guard down. And she certainly wouldn’t give her heart away.
“I’m fine,” she said with a smile and continued on her way.
Fine? She was anything but.
Chapter Four
Graham spent the rest of the day exhausted down to his soul. After more than a week on the trail, walking as long as he could every day and driving the wagon for the rest, his body was worn out and beat up. Part of him was beginning to think that he was a damn fool for not taking Lynne’s things on the train to Denver City, even if it did mean he’d have to cart them across places where there were no tracks and where the lines didn’t meet up. Another part of him was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’d made the right decision. After the odd conversation he’d witnessed that morning before church, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Estelle needed his protection.