by Merry Farmer
Isaiah only shrugged. “I have every right to keep an eye on the folks that get close to Miss Essie.”
“And what draws you to that conclusion?” Graham was losing patience with the man’s innuendo.
A slow smile spread across Isaiah’s face. It managed to make the blood in Graham’s veins run cold and pump harder at the same time. There was a mystery there, a connection.
“You know her,” he said. “From before the wagon train.”
Isaiah merely shrugged. “Maybe. But like you just said, other people’s friendships are nobody else’s business.”
If he could have, Graham would have come up with some excuse to challenge Isaiah to a fight right there. He would have looked for some way to outwit him, show him up, or knock him down a few notches. To win Estelle away from him as though they were rival beaux, which couldn’t be the case. But any of the things he would have done a year ago to prove his mettle over Isaiah would take more effort than he had to give now. He was forced to swallow his pride, wait things out, and look for a smarter way to prove himself.
He and Isaiah remained silent as the oxen finished drinking and plodded back to the wagons. Tension rippled between them all the same.
Estelle had lunch ready—cold stew and day-old bread with a thin layer of butter—and was halfway through the process of putting Tim down for a nap when they reached their wagons. Graham was still too frustrated to speak, and could only give Estelle a half-hearted nod in reply when she sent him one of her questioning glances. It would have been heaven itself to sit and talk to her about his frustrations, to ask her why Isaiah thought he had a place in her life, but she was busy, and he needed to get busy himself.
“Did you think of anything I could do to lend a hand?” he asked Pete after lunch was finished, as Isaiah and the rest of the crew settled into shady spots until the train got moving again.
“Well.” Pete removed his hat, wiped his brow, then tapped his hat against his leg. “Some of the horses could use a good brushing.”
Horses. Graham’s gut squeezed tight. Of all the things Pete could have asked. Graham would have laughed at the irony if the idea of being around horses again didn’t fill him with such dread.
“Hank hasn’t had time to see to all of them with so much resting to do,” Pete went on with a wry grin.
“I’ll do it right now, boss,” Hank said, pushing himself up from his shady spot.
“I’ll take care of it,” Graham said, shaking himself to his senses. He’d have to face the fear and the memories at some point.
He drew himself up and took a deep breath before marching around the edge of the wagon to where Pete’s gelding and the rest of the crew’s horses were tethered to one of the crew wagons, in as much shade as could be found. They looked like they’d seen better days. They were well-fed and healthy, but the heat took a toll on everyone, and their coats were ragged and sweaty. Graham found a brush in the bucket of tools someone had left out near the horses and approached Pete’s gelding.
The horse huffed and shied away, as if it could sense how disturbed Graham was.
“Whoa there. Whoa there, boy,” Graham tried to reassure it, but his voice shook. “It’s just a quick brushing. You’ll like it.” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince the gelding or himself.
He swallowed, and raised the brush to slide it along the horse’s flank. Each muscle and contour evoked a memory, picked at an old wound. The motion of brushing a horse, the care and the skill that was needed, came back to Graham as if he were home in his family’s stables—or hidden away in the army stables with Valliant, avoiding reality.
Valliant.
“Need help?”
Graham jumped at the sound of Estelle’s soft voice—startled so badly that he lost his balance and dropped the brush as he grabbed his crutch. By the time he righted himself, he was panting as if he’d run a mile.
“I can do it,” he said, gruff with shame.
He bent, but it was Estelle who leaned over to pick up the brush for him. “I don’t know much about horses,” she said with a smile so kind it hurt Graham’s already shredded nerves. “You look like you do, though.”
Graham cleared his throat. “I used to. I used to be quite the horseman.”
“Oh?” Estelle’s brow rose with interest.
“I was in the cavalry,” Graham nodded. His hands hadn’t stopped shaking. The whizzing of phantom bullets in his ears and the cries of the wounded hadn’t stopped either.
“Then why don’t you ride on the trail instead of pushing yourself to walk?” she asked.
Graham winced. If she knew the answer to that, then everything Isaiah had implied about him not being worthy of her, worthy of anything, would be proven true.
“It’s too hard on the horses,” he said, a little too quickly to be honest. “Even Pete doesn’t ride all the time. It’s bad enough that the humans have to walk the whole way. Making the horses walk and carry us too is tantamount to cruelty.”
He hoped she believed his answer. He hoped she wouldn’t ask any more questions or dig deeper.
His hopes seemed answered when all Estelle did was nod and shift closer to him. Her expression turned anxious as she glanced up through her dark lashes and met his eyes.
“I saw you talking to Isaiah down by the river earlier,” she said.
A whole different kind of anxiety pumped through Graham. “Yes.”
Estelle bit her lip. “The two of you didn’t look… friendly,” she went on. “He didn’t say… he isn’t bothering you, is he?”
The same sinking feeling of mystery looped back on Graham, only this time with ten times as much protectiveness as before. “I could ask you the same question.” He shifted his weight, ignoring Pete’s horse for the moment to shift closer to her. “If he’s behaving inappropriately toward you.”
“Oh, no, it’s not that,” she answered, glancing down.
She didn’t add anything. When the pause between them grew awkward, Graham said, “He implied that he knew you before this wagon train.”
Estelle blushed scarlet. “Well, yes. That is, we lived… near each other. In Georgia.”
There was more to the story. So much more. The truth was close to the surface, yet at the same time, Graham was certain beyond a doubt that Estelle didn’t want to talk about it. She was hiding something. He could press her about it or he could trust her… and keep his eyes open. He could keep her close, hold her, shelter her, if only he dared.
At last, she raised her eyes to meet his. “You see, the truth is—”
Whatever Estelle had been about to say was cut short as Olivia rushed into their camp. In an instant, the mood shifted from warm and intimate to buzzing with curiosity. Olivia was red-faced and panting. She had her hands balled into fists at her sides, and if Graham wasn’t mistaken, her lips were extra pink, as though she’d been thoroughly kissed.
Estelle moved away from Graham to meet her friend. “What’s wrong?”
Olivia took a few more short, shallow breaths. “I need your help. I have to get married.”
“What?” Estelle blinked.
“I’m getting married,” Olivia repeated. “Right now.”
Estelle shook her head, looking as confused as Graham felt. “To who?”
“Charlie Garrett,” Olivia said, her voice rising.
Chapter Eight
Estelle blinked, not sure she’d heard Olivia correctly.
“You’re getting married—right now—to Charlie Garrett. The gambler?”
Olivia nodded rapidly, then sucked in a breath. Estelle rested her hand on Olivia’s arm, not knowing what else to do. Olivia didn’t look as though she was about to break into tears or any other form of hysterics, but she was clearly upset.
“This is sudden. I didn’t even know you and Mr. Garrett were acquainted,” Estelle said.
“We’re acquainted, all right.” Olivia’s voice pitched high at the pronouncement. “And now we’re getting married. I need you to help me g
et ready.”
“What’s this I hear about you marrying Charlie Garrett, Olivia?” Lucy came charging into the scene, spooking some of the horses. “I just heard him talking to Mr. Evans and that nice Rev. Kilpatrick a moment ago. It can’t be true, can it?”
“It’s true.” Olivia’s shoulders sagged at last. She shook her head. “I was foolish, and now I’m going to pay for it.”
Estelle glanced over her shoulder at Graham. He watched with inquiring eyes, but any story that began with “I was foolish” and ended with “Now I’m going to have to pay for it” was likely not the sort Olivia could explain in mixed company. Estelle took Olivia’s arm and steered her away from Graham and the horses. Lucy followed, and Graham went back to work. Now wasn’t the time to ask what was eating at him or to ask if Isaiah had let her secret slip after all.
“What can I do to help?” she asked Olivia.
Olivia squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her fingertips to her temples as though her head ached. “I can hardly think,” she said. “I suppose I need a pretty dress, a veil, some flowers.”
“I should say,” Lucy added. “At the very least. Oh, we can be bridesmaids, Estelle and I. We’ll need flowers as well. Does Mr. Garrett have a ring? What on earth prompted him to propose so suddenly?”
Olivia huffed a dire laugh. “Cards.” That was it. She didn’t say anything else.
Estelle tightened her grip on Olivia’s arm. “You don’t have to do through with this if you don’t want to,” she advised her. “If this is some sort of misunderstanding, or if he’s importuned you in some way, I’m certain Graham or Mr. Evans could sort it out.”
She wasn’t quite sure why Graham had popped so quickly to her mind as a man who could iron out a sticky, personal situation, but once the thought was there, Estelle couldn’t help but smile at the rightness of it.
“No,” Olivia sighed. “I want to marry him. In a way.” She laughed at herself and shook her head. “Land sakes, I run away from one man who was pursuing me against my wishes and fall straight into the arms of another. One would think a serious schoolmistress would be exempt from these sorts of muddles.”
A grin tweaked the corners of Estelle’s mouth. One might think anyone with a serious turn of mind would be spared the heartache of love, but apparently Cupid didn’t work that way.
They reached Olivia’s wagon and went straight to work sorting through her things. Olivia hadn’t brought much with her on the trail. The sum total of her worldly belongings were packed away in a single, small trunk.
Pete wanted the train to move out as quickly as possible, now that the afternoon heat was diminishing, so within fifteen minutes of her startling declaration, Estelle and Lucy walked a resigned Olivia—dressed in her Sunday best, a lace handkerchief draped over her hair to serve as a veil, and a handful of wildflowers clutched in front of her—to the clearing in the prairie beside the parked wagons where Rev. Kilpatrick had set up shop.
“Isn’t this a surprise,” Josephine joined the three of them in their final approach, a makeshift wedding march.
“Surprise, yes,” Estelle murmured.
A group of older girls—who thought the whole thing was delightful—had gathered at the side and were singing hymns in their sweet sopranos to serve as a wedding march.
“I told you the three of you would be married before we reached the end of the trail,” Josephine whispered as Olivia and Lucy walked on to where Charlie was waiting, Pete by his side as best man.
Estelle’s brow flew up and she whipped to face Josephine. “Did you have something to do with this?”
“Oh. Well, no. Not exactly,” Josephine said. She sounded disappointed by the fact. “I might have mentioned to Olivia last night that Charlie was all alone, since no one wanted to play cards, but I doubt that had anything to do with it.”
Estelle wasn’t so sure. Any meddling could produce a whole realm of unexpected results.
As if agreeing with her unspoken thought, Josephine’s smile grew. She nodded past Estelle’s shoulder. “Looks like Miss Olivia isn’t the only one who has a guaranteed husband by the time we reach trail’s end.”
Estelle turned to see what Josephine was nodding at. In her heart, she already knew the answer, and when she turned to find Graham making his way toward her—Tim close by his side—she wasn’t surprised. Instead of indulging in the fluttering deep in her chest, she noted to herself that he was walking much more smoothly with his crutches. His arms seemed to have grown in strength, and since he had given up wearing his uniform coat due to the heat, his chest was visibly broad under his thin cotton shirt. What would it feel like to run her hands over those hard muscles?
“This is a strange turn of circumstances,” Graham commented in a low voice as he came to stand next to Estelle. Tim wedged himself to stand between the two of them, leaning into Estelle’s skirts.
Estelle cleared her throat and took Tim’s hand to banish the heat that now infused her. With the overwhelming presence of Graham standing so close, one simple throat clear didn’t do a lick of good. Her rebellious body ached in the least convenient places.
“I still haven’t figured out exactly how it happened,” she murmured in return, pretending Graham’s presence didn’t affect her at all. “Olivia’s close-lipped about it. She says she wants to go through with it, though.”
Graham grinned. “I’d say she doesn’t have much choice at this point.”
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here this afternoon to celebrate the union of two fine souls who have found love on the trail, Mr. Charles Bartholomew Garrett and Miss Olivia Marie Warner.”
Graham was right. There was no way to back out now. Rev. Kilpatrick hurried through the standard marriage ceremony, prompted by Pete’s impatience as he studied the horizon and the wagons as people packed up to move out after midday. Charlie seemed to be in a hurry too, as if he was afraid Olivia would change her mind. She didn’t. The “I dos” were said, the two of them kissed, and then it was done.
Within ten minutes, Pete had the wagon train rolling on toward the western horizon.
“It seems a shame,” Estelle commented as she guided her oxen into line with Graham’s wagon in front of her.
Graham had given his goad to Tim, ostensibly to teach him to drive the ox team, but Estelle suspected his true reason was to free up his hands so that he could walk with two crutches for a spell, even though he hated it.
“What does?’ he asked.
“Every girl dreams of her wedding day,” she went on. “The dress she might wear, the guests she will invite, the flowers and the food. A wedding day should be a celebration. Poor Olivia didn’t even have her parents with her today. The wagons barely stopped.”
Graham tilted his head to the side, considering. He dropped back enough to walk by Estelle’s side, keeping an eye on Tim and his wagon.
“She had her friends, at least,” he said. “In spite of what you might think, I believe Charlie is a decent fellow. He won’t be cruel to her, that much is certain.”
“Maybe,” Estelle conceded with a sigh. “But for Olivia’s sake, I hope this day is not a disappointment.”
There was a pause. Somehow, the air between them grew more charged.
“Do you dream about your wedding day?” Graham asked—voice soft and distant—when the silence between them went on too long.
She could see it almost before he finished his question—the two of them standing up before a preacher. Graham would stand tall, handsome with or without two legs. And she… she might look fine and fancy in a white dress, but in her imagination, a faceless voice amongst those who came to witness the union shouted, “Liar! Abomination!”
“I don’t plan to marry,” Estelle confessed, just above a whisper.
Graham jolted in surprise. “You don’t?”
“No.” She refused to explain. Words would only complicate things, raise suspicions.
“But you still dream about a wedding day,” he pushed her on. “You said every
girl does.”
Estelle let out a long, shaky breath, her eyes fixed on the horizon. “I suppose I’ve imagined it a time or two.” Such as right then, with Graham walking by her side, as if they were marching down an aisle. “But it doesn’t seem practical.”
“Practical?” Graham balked. “Not practical for a woman as intelligent and beautiful as you to marry?”
Estelle blushed to the roots of her hair. “Life has another path for me, I think,” she said. That much was the truth, even though it made her heart ache.
Graham shook his head. She waited for him to protest, to argue with her and tell her that she was sure to make some man fall in love with her. She waited for the subtle hints and bashful looks that would tease her, flirt with her, and put her heart at ease.
“I think you’re wrong,” he said, simple, hopeful.
Estelle’s heart flopped hard into her stomach, twisting both organs into an aching mess of temptation. “That seems like a mighty confident pronouncement,” she said, voice nearly failing her. The problem was, she wanted it to be true.
Graham shrugged, his lips twitching into a mischievous grin. “If there’s one thing this trail journey has taught me, it’s that things that we don’t expect wait for us around every corner. Right, Tim?”
Between them, Tim nodded emphatically.
Estelle stopped for a beat and planted her hands on her hips shaking her head. When the wagon rolled a few feet ahead of her, she continued walking.
“I do believe I’m outnumbered,” she said. It didn’t bother her nearly as much as she thought it should. After all, the other side of being outnumbered was never being alone.
What if she took Graham aside and told him the truth after all? What if it didn’t matter to him who she was or where she’d come from? At this point, she ought to know him well enough to know that he wouldn’t shun her for her mother’s people. It was hard to let go of a fear that had nestled so close to her heart for so long, but if the time was right, if the moment came upon her, she just might do it.
“It’s a shame that Olivia and Charlie won’t get much in the way of privacy for their wedding night,” she went on, resting her hand around Tim’s back as they walked. The movement brought her closer to Graham on Tim’s other side.