Trail of Redemption (Hot on the Trail Book 6)

by Merry Farmer

  Isaiah shook his head and breathed out a sigh. “I’m sorry to say that I disagree with you, Miss Essie.”

  Estelle swallowed, her face flushing hot at the use of her old name. “Please don’t call me that,” she said, barely above a whisper.

  “And why not?” Isaiah went on. “It’s a fine name for a fine woman. It’s a sweet name, a pleasing name, for a woman who was always the soul of sunshine back home.” He smiled as if to prove his point.

  Rather than setting her at ease, Isaiah’s smile burned a hole of anxiety in Estelle’s gut.

  “I appreciate your kindness, but the whole reason I’m heading west is to start over. I need you to respect that,” she said.

  Isaiah stopped, laying a hand on her arm to stop her as well. Estelle caught her breath and turned to him.

  “I do respect that,” he said. “More than you know. And I admire your gumption for attempting to pass. But it’s not going to work.”

  “You don’t know that.” Estelle couldn’t quite lift her eyes enough to meet his.

  “Oh, but I do, Essie,” Isaiah went on.

  A thread of anger wove its way through her fear. “Estelle. Please.”

  “Estelle,” Isaiah said with a nod. “I do know that it’s not going to work, because in spite of this being a new land, it isn’t that new. The old prejudices will still be there, now and in our children’s time and in their children’s time. Some things take time to change, and some things never do.”

  Estelle blinked. Part of her heart agreed with him. The rest couldn’t accept it. The rest thought of Graham and his determination, walking to the West on one leg.

  “I need to try,” she said. “I need to find a new life, be a new woman.”

  Isaiah nodded. “I understand. So how about this?” He shifted his weight, his smile returning as he studied her. “Why don’t we get married?”

  Estelle drew in a breath, taking a stumbling step back. “Married? But I hardly know you.”

  “We work together,” Isaiah shrugged. “We worked together before, though you may not have seen it the way I did. Besides, by the looks of things, people on the trail get married when they hardly know each other all the time.”

  “Olivia and Charlie are different,” Estelle said, shaking her head. Her mind was struggling to keep up with the conversation. How had it gone in this direction so fast? “We have no need to marry.”

  “Depends on how you define need,” Isaiah insisted. “From what I hear tell, it’s easier to build a life in the West if you have two sets of hands to do the work.”

  Estelle wrung her hands, heart still pounding. She glanced back over Isaiah’s shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of Graham. If it were Graham asking her to marry him, the conversation would be so, so different.

  “I don’t love you,” she told Isaiah as soon as she could catch her breath. She stopped short of saying she loved another.

  “Seems to me that love is not a requirement for marriage,” Isaiah said, still smiling. “I know we would grow to love each other over time.”

  He reached out and brushed the back of his fingertips along her arm. Estelle had rolled her sleeves up when she’d gone for water earlier, and Isaiah’s touch against her bare skin raised goose flesh. Her mind recoiled, and it was all she could do not to jump back and flee. The spark in Isaiah’s eyes didn’t help at all. It was too close to the heated admiration she’d seen when she and Graham nearly kissed.

  “I don’t think it would be a good idea,” she said at last, forcing her voice not to shake.

  “And I think it would,” Isaiah said, as determined as ever. “But why don’t you think on it for a while.”

  “I—” Everything in Estelle wanted to put Isaiah off now, to close the book on any possible connection. Isaiah was the past, the old life, the life of being a possession, without belonging.

  Her glance strayed back to the wagons just as Graham came walking unsteadily into the open. Walking. Estelle gasped. Isaiah turned to see what she saw. Gideon hovered on one side of Graham, and Lucy trailed them, hopping and clapping as Graham took a few more steps.

  Isaiah turned to face Estelle once more. His expression had hardened to cold stone.

  “It can’t happen,” he said, keeping his voice low.

  “What?” Estelle blinked her way to meeting his frown.

  Isaiah nodded back to Graham and the others. “If you’re thinking you can snag yourself a poor, wounded soldier to marry, and bury who you used to be forever, you’re wrong.”

  “I don’t know what you’re—”

  “Folks have seen the way the two of you get along,” Isaiah interrupted her. “Sure, they might approve now, but how do you think they’ll react when the truth comes out?”

  “What truth?” Estelle snapped on instinct.

  Isaiah let out a weary laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, Essie. You’re so good at pretending. You always were. Up there on the porch of the big house, pretending that you were the beloved daughter. How’d that work out for you once they put a broom in your hands?”

  A fierce frown darkened Estelle’s expression. “That’s none of your business. And neither is it your business if I am friends with Graham Tremaine.”

  Isaiah’s grin took on a threatening air. “No? And who do you think you’re going to have left to run to when these folks figure out you’re a house slave?”

  His words shouldn’t have hurt, but they did. They hurt as badly as her father’s had the day he explained that she wasn’t a child anymore and it was time to work.

  “How would they find out?” Estelle asked, voice shaking. “It’s been weeks, and so far no one has batted an eyelash.”

  “Folks have a way of figuring these things out,” Isaiah said, leaning close. “Little birdies can spread some mean gossip.”

  She held her breath. Was he threatening her? Threatening to tell? What good would that do anyone?

  “Of course, if you had a strong husband to protect you, no one would be the wiser,” Isaiah went on, answering her question as soon as it came to her. “I’ve heard plenty of stories of white women marrying black men in the West. Seems they don’t mind so much out here as long as the work gets done. I’ll keep your secret, pretend you’re who you want to be, if you marry me.”

  “I don’t love you,” she repeated, desperation twining with her fear now.

  Isaiah shrugged. He took a step back. “I’m not asking for an answer right now. We’ve got months still until we reach trail’s end. It’s just something for you to think about.”

  “I… I see.”

  He twisted to look back at Graham and the others before continuing on toward the waystation. Estelle hesitated, then followed.

  “A man needs a strong wife if he’s going to make something of himself in this land,” Isaiah went on, as if their conversation had been full of nothing but hopes and dreams from the start. “And a woman needs a man who can protect her, not a beat up old cripple.” He smiled at her as he said it. “Keep that in mind.”

  Estelle took a breath. She would. More than Isaiah knew.

  Chapter Ten

  “Just a few more steps,” Gideon said. He phrased it as an observation of what was to come, part of his scientific analysis, but to Graham it felt more like an order. “A few more, so I can take a look from this angle and see how we might improve the fit.”

  “Yes,” Lucy seconded. “This angle.”

  Elation and defeat warred in Graham’s gut—in every part of his body—but he nodded and walked on.

  Walked. It was stiff, slow, and shot searing pain up his leg and through his hip and back, but he was walking. Gideon was onto something with his invention. The contraption he wore was far from being the first wooden leg ever invented, but whatever improvements Gideon had made were better than anything the hospitals back East had suggested. He might not have to look pitiful standing at the election podium with Nelson after all.

  “Let me see if I can get myself down to the ground then back up
again on my own,” he suggested as he completed the circle Gideon had asked him to walk and headed back toward the wagons.

  “Uh, down and up?” Gideon scratched his head, staring dubiously at Graham’s crumpled trousers with the wooden leg under them.

  “Why not?” Graham sighed. “Chances are I’ll take enough spills that getting up again will become a necessary skill.”

  “All right,” Gideon agreed. He reached out to help Graham down.

  “I can do it myself.” Graham brushed his friend aside.

  A few seconds later, he wasn’t sure he could do it himself. His left knee bent the way it always had, but even though he’d kept his right knee when the rest of the leg went, it didn’t move the way it used to. Added to that, the wooden leg had no bend or give in it at all. There were no muscles to stretch, and so as soon as Graham had lowered himself halfway to a squat, his balance was thrown off. A blinding flash of pain radiated up from his stump, and an instant later, he toppled over.

  He landed in the dirt with a grunt, rolling to his side. The wooden leg stuck out at an odd angle. The sight of it, skewed and disconnected, sent nauseating pain through him, along with dark flashes. The smell of gunpowder and horseflesh, the scream of his mount and the shouts of battle, the stab of pain and the wind rushing out of his lungs as they both went down.

  “Hmm,” Gideon hummed above him, the calm of his observations a harsh contrast to the burning panic that rang through Graham’s mind and body. “Perhaps there’s some way to anchor the limb more fully so that it moves with your body should you fall.”

  “Yes, I think that would work,” Lucy added from Gideon’s side.

  The two of them stood watching Graham, or rather Gideon watching Graham and Lucy watching Gideon.

  “Do you need help?” Gideon asked a moment late, stepping forward to offer Graham a hand.

  “No, no I’ve got it,” Graham insisted.

  He balanced on his knees, and would have been able to stand without a problem, but the wooden leg had twisted on his stump. The foot now stuck out to the side at an eerie angle. The whole thing was still strapped on, though, so it wasn’t terribly difficult to lift his right leg to the point where he could stand the false limb upright. Before he risked putting any weight on it, Graham checked around for his crutches. He’d do better if he used them to balance.

  The crutches were resting against the back of his wagon. What surprised him was that Tim was crouched just beside them, behind the wagon wheel, watching. Oddly enough, that set him at ease.

  “Tim, could you bring me one of my crutches?” he asked.

  Tim nodded, a small smile spreading across his face. He grabbed a crutch and scurried across the camp to bring it to Graham. He handed it over with such pride that Graham couldn’t help but smile through his pain as he took it.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  He planted the crutch in the ground and used it and his good leg to muscle himself to stand. As soon as he was towering above Tim, the boy looked up at him with wide, blue eyes. Graham smiled. Every muscle in his body ached, his stump was on fire, and the foot of the wooden leg pointed straight to the side, but with the adoration in Tim’s eyes, he felt as though he could do anything. Pete had been on to far more than he knew when he entrusted Tim to Graham and Estelle’s care. He reached out with his free hand to ruffle Tim’s hair.

  “I think that’s enough for one day,” he sighed.

  “You’re right.” Gideon nodded. “I have a lot of information to study so that I can make improvements.”

  Graham couldn’t help but laugh. At least his hardships stood half a chance of helping others. Estelle would tell him that was the silver lining in this.

  He frowned and stood straighter, scanning the area. Estelle had gone off with Isaiah to search for Tim, but Tim was right here. “Did Estelle find you and send you back to the camp?” he asked the boy.

  Tim shook his head, putting on a frown in imitation of Graham.

  “Where did she get off to, then?” Graham asked. He tried to twist to look behind him, toward the waystation, but his balance faltered.

  “I’ll see if I can find her,” Lucy offered. She jumped forward, cheeks a little pinker and eyes a little wider than seemed right. Her glance flickered off to the side.

  Graham tried to twist the other way to see what had Lucy all excited. He hobbled around and squinted off to the front of the line of wagons. Estelle was up there, talking to Isaiah. She was too far away to judge her expression, but something about the way she stood didn’t sit right with Graham. His protective instincts flared.

  “I should see if she needs help,” Graham said. He tried to take a step, but the wooden leg caught him, threatening to send him right back to the ground.

  “No, I’ll get her. You two finish up here. I won’t be but a minute,” Lucy spoke quickly. “She’s probably just talking about wagon train business anyhow. Tim, do you want to come with me?”

  Tim shied away, but when Lucy widened her eyes and flicked her head in Estelle’s direction, he changed his mind and nodded. He scurried up to Lucy, took her hand, and the two of them darted off to Estelle and Isaiah.

  “What’s that all about?” Gideon asked.

  “I don’t know,” Graham grumbled. He blew out a breath and shoved a hand through his hair. “I don’t like the way that man pays so much attention to Estelle.”

  “A rival?” Gideon asked.

  A grim smile tweaked the corner of Graham’s mouth. Leave it to Gideon to throw it all out there without concern for how it would sound.

  “Maybe,” Graham said, starting slowly for a barrel that sat several yards away.

  Gideon followed. “So there’s something between the two of you?”

  Graham sighed and shook his head. “I should put a stop to it. What would a fine woman like Estelle do with a cripple like me?”

  “Plenty,” Gideon replied without hesitation. He seemed shocked that Graham could even suggest that there would be a problem. Graham reached the barrel and lowered himself to sit with a painful grunt. Gideon sat on the ground in front of him and set to work removing the wooden leg. “I thought women liked war heroes.”

  “Gid,” Graham sighed, watching him, “I can’t decide if you’re a blind fool for not seeing the truth right in front of your face or if you’re the most hopeful visionary I’ve ever come across.”

  “I prefer hopeful visionary.” Gideon smiled up at him.

  Graham laughed. “All right. I’ll give you that. But you’re a visionary who knows nothing about women and what they want.”

  Gideon paused halfway through removing the leg and tilted his head to the side. He narrowed his eyes in thought for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. I know nothing about women.”

  Graham laughed harder. “I bet Miss Lucy would be willing to educate you.”

  Gideon blushed, but remained quiet. He finished unbuckling the leg and eased it off Graham’s stump, which was now red and throbbing. The stitches had long since healed and there was no blood, just an ache where his other calf and foot used to be, reminding him of all he’d lost.

  “I hate being so useless and weak,” Graham muttered in a sudden fit of frustration. “I used to be strong, fearless. This job Nelson has offered me, well, it could be my chance to turn things around, but when I see that….”

  He let his sentence drop and glanced up and across the camp. Lucy and Tim had reached Estelle and Isaiah, and now the four of them were headed back. He would have happily traded his life to take one moonlit stroll with Estelle, to know that they had a steady and happy future ahead of them. But no, she was walking by Isaiah’s side now. Isaiah was the one who could reach out and take her hand if he wanted to. They could be a pair.

  Graham blinked. Narrowed his eyes. A hitch caught in his chest. The niggling feeling that something wasn’t right poked at him. Estelle didn’t seem happy to be walking with Isaiah, but that wasn’t it. There was something more, something he couldn’t put his finger on. A
lmost as if she and Isaiah belonged together somehow. A resemblance.

  All at once, a hundred tiny details formed together into a single picture. The comparison was faint, but as soon as Graham saw it, he couldn’t see anything else. Estelle’s dark, curly hair was the only obvious feature that picked her out. Next to Lucy or Olivia or any of the other women in the wagon train, it wasn’t remarkable, but seen beside Isaiah’s dark skin, it was unmistakable. She was from Georgia, from a plantation—the same plantation as Isaiah, he was willing to bet. But she was no southern belle. Estelle had been a slave. That’s what she was hiding.

  Graham was startled out of his realization as Gideon stood and slapped a hand on his shoulder.

  “Don’t let what’s missing pull you down. A man is only a burden if he lets himself be,” he said. “Too many people limit themselves because they don’t see the potential in what they have. They only look at what they don’t have, the marks against them. But as far as I’m concerned, things are only impossible until you prove that they are, in fact, possible.”

  Graham’s brow flew up. More stunning, sudden sense. That was why Estelle was hiding herself. She wasn’t running from something, she was proving the impossible. Gideon spoke more truth than he knew. And Estelle was even braver than he’d given her credit for. His heart ached for her in so many ways.

  Graham twisted slowly to stare up at his friend. By all appearances, it was the same old ruffled, innocent-seeming Gideon with his head in the clouds.

  “Gid, that’s downright wise of you,” Graham said. Beyond that, it filled Graham with the determination to do whatever it took to fight for the dream Estelle was trying to grasp.

  “We found her,” Lucy called out as they drew closer. “She was just talking to Isaiah farther up toward the waystation. I told her we found Tim, that he hadn’t gone anywhere at all. They weren’t talking about anything important, so we all decided to come back.”

  “Thanks,” Graham said with a grin in response to Lucy’s speech.

  He met Estelle’s eyes. Her expression was guarded, and her cheeks were pink with anxiety. For all her bravery, Estelle wasn’t just reaching for an impossible dream, she was terrified of her own boldness. Graham made up his mind right there that he would keep his peace, let her come to him with the truth in her own time.