by Merry Farmer
“Honey, you’re not obligated to tell me or Pete or any of us anything if you don’t want to,” Josephine said. She reached out to squeeze Estelle’s hand. Lucy clasped her hand on the other side.
“I don’t care one fig where you came from,” she said. “You’re my friend. That’s all that matters to me. Besides, my family have always been abolitionists.”
Estelle wasn’t sure if the statement was reassuring or not, but she squeezed her friends’ hands and accepted Lucy’s kiss on her cheek when it was given.
“I can’t say that I think much of Mr. Jones now,” Lucy rattled on. “How offensive to want a woman to marry you just because it might improve your social standing. Though I suppose that’s the way they do things in places like England and other lands where titles and estates mean something. But I’m happy to be American, I can tell you, because things like that don’t matter here, only love.” She snuck a quick glance to Gideon, who hung back, content to watch the scene with a smile.
Estelle let out a breath at the end of Lucy’s speech. It would be hard to leave these people when the time came. Almost as hard as leaving Graham when he went on to Denver City. She had made up her mind that she wouldn’t go with him.
“Don’t let it bother you overmuch.” Josephine glared at the ladies with the jugs. “You’ll likely never see them again once we all get where we’re going. If they want to be sticks in the mud, let them.”
Estelle swallowed, reaching deep into her gut for whatever courage she had left. “You’re right. I’ve got other things to concern me.”
The words sounded strong, but there was little conviction behind them. Still, it did no one, least of all Graham, a lick of good for her to give in to the shame that the likes of Ruth Nelson and Viola Riley were trying to heap on her. Besides, she’d been working on an important surprise for Graham as a way to help him and take her mind off of the inevitable moment when she would have to break his heart.
She stepped away from her friends with a soft, “Excuse me,” then headed farther up the slope to where Graham, Charlie, and Pete were studying the river.
“It’ll take all day to get the wagons across,” Pete was in the middle of explaining from atop his horse as Estelle approached. “Once we’re on the other side, we’ll have a stretch of easy going before hitting the mountains.”
“It doesn’t look too difficult,” Charlie said.
“The rafts seem sturdy enough,” Graham agreed. He crossed his arms, one crutch wedged into the soft earth of the riverbank so that he could lean on it. His eyes sought out Estelle, full of concern, but he went on. “Do the oxen put up any resistance to walking out onto them?”
“Well, oxen are funny creatures,” Pete said, removing his hat, running a hand through his hair, then fixing his hat back in place. “They’re docile most of the time. It takes something big—like that thunderstorm last week—to rile them.”
Graham nodded. Charlie hummed in understanding on Pete’s other side. All three men darted glances to her, as if she might burst into tears at any moment.
Estelle couldn’t take the tension any longer. Her life and her standing in the wagon train may have taken a downward turn, but her plans for Graham still stood.
She broke away from the group studying the river and made her way back to the line of wagons. Bob was in charge of the livestock and extra horses that day. She found him brushing down the crew horses in preparation for saddling them for the crossing.
“Bob,” she nodded to him as she approached.
“Miss Estelle,” Bob smiled. He set aside the brush he’d been working with, wiped his hands on his shirt, and strode to meet her. For the last few days, Bob had been treating her as if she were a feral cat trapped under a basket—docile for the moment, but with the potential to turn. He hadn’t pushed her away entirely, though.
“Is the horse ready?” she asked.
A grin snuck onto his face, giving him the appearance that nothing was wrong for a moment. “I got Jackal saddled up,” he said. “I figured he’s the tamest of the lot. Trail horses can be tough, and I know you didn’t want an excitable one.”
Estelle smiled in gratitude. “Thank you, Bob. This means a lot.”
Bob blushed, lowering his eyes and poking the toe of his boot in the dirt. “It’s no problem. I think it’s right nice of you to think of Lt. Tremaine when your own—” He let his comment drop.
Grateful for that, Estelle followed Bob to the temporary corral where the crew horses were tethered. True to his word, Bob had one saddled. The two of them led it on out to the side of the river. Pete had moved on, and Charlie had returned to his wagon to pack up, leaving Graham standing on his own, lost in thought.
“I’ve brought you a present,” Estelle said to announce their arrival.
Graham pivoted to face her. His look of surprise dropped to wariness as the old gelding Bob led tossed his head and snorted.
“Estelle,” Graham began.
“I said I would get you back on a horse and I meant it,” she cut him off. “It’s important for your independence.”
“My independence?” Graham narrowed his eyes slightly.
“Jackal here has a feisty name, but he’s a steady mount,” Bob added.
To prove his point, Estelle stepped over to the horse and smoothed a hand along his neck.
Graham glanced to Bob before moving closer to Estelle. He lowered his voice to say, “I know you mean well, but now? At the river crossing?”
A flutter of uncertainty closed around Estelle’s heart, and with it a thread of doubt. She knew she was right, but questioned how strongly she should force the issue.
“You’re an expert horseman. You can do this,” she said at length. “I know you can.”
Graham blew out a breath. He leaned against his crutch and rubbed the back of his neck. Then he glanced down to the empty space below the knot in his trousers.
“Horses are finicky,” he said. “They need the pressure of a tap with the foot, the stability of balanced weight to be comfortable, especially when riding across water.”
“Well, Jackal here’s got a forgiving temperament,” Bob contradicted him, a look of apology in his eyes. “I figure he’ll carry just about anybody.”
Graham narrowed his eyes at Bob. The sudden urge to laugh in spite of the seriousness of her situation came over Estelle.
“You need to give it a try,” she insisted. “I know you’re afraid—”
Graham balked at the word and shot a warning glance to Bob. Estelle cringed. She needed to choose her words more carefully.
“I know you have your reservations,” she corrected herself, “but I also know that you can’t go on the way things are now.”
“Oh?” Graham arched a brow at her.
“Your back,” she said. “And your shoulder. Don’t think I don’t know that they pain you. Don’t you think that if you got comfortable riding again, you could alleviate that pain, if nothing else?”
Graham adjusted his posture, hips at an angle that were almost cocky. “You’re not going to let it rest until I try this, are you?”
“No,” Estelle said. There was no point in denying it. “But I’ll tell you what. Few people would see fit to question or challenge a man at ease on top of a horse, no matter how much trouble he has on the ground.”
It didn’t take the silent communication they’d developed for Graham to see she was referring to herself. They loved each other, but trouble wouldn’t end just because they wanted it to. Not without drastic measures. Once Graham was back on the horse, she could take those measures without fear for what would happen to him.
“Get back on the horse, Graham,” she told him. Their eyes met. It was an order in every sense of the word.
Graham sighed and turned to watch the activity on the river. The first of the wagons had already been loaded onto a raft. The ferrymen scrambled to get into position and to push it out into the slow current with long poles. Women and children had lined up to watch, to see
what they were in for later. A few intrepid souls had already mounted horses of their own and were walking their mounts into the river to ford across. One of those brave souls was Luke Chance.
“I’ll be,” Bob said, stroking his hand along Jackal’s neck. “That green boy there’s gonna try to ford the river on horseback.”
Estelle peeked at him. Bob winked. She pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from smiling outright. It was good to have an ally.
Graham let out a long, low hum that could have been a growl. He frowned and shook his head at Bob, knowing exactly what kind of jab the man’s comment was. “All right,” he sighed. “I’ll give it a try.”
A thrill of excitement curled through Estelle’s gut as Graham gave up and prepared to face his fears. As he hobbled up to Jackal’s side, Estelle rushed around the horse’s back to stand behind him, ready to help in any way she could.
Graham gripped Jackal’s saddle with one hand, studied the way the girth was buckled and tested his weight against saddle and horse. He then handed his crutch to Estelle. She took it with hands that shook with excitement. He could do this, she knew he could. Balancing on one leg, Graham grabbed the back of the saddle with his other hand. He continued to study what he was about to do, face pale and set with determination. It couldn’t have been easy to work out how to mount a horse with just one leg, no matter how many times he’d done it in his past.
At last, Graham adjusted his grip as high on the saddle as he could reach, drew in a deep breath, then pushed off as hard as he could with his one leg. He threw his weight against Jackal—who jostled slightly—and, clutching the saddle as hard as he could, he slipped his foot into the stirrups. The rest was all muscle as he forced himself up, then threw his bad leg over the horse’s rump. With a grunt, he landed in the saddle.
Estelle clasped her hands to her heart as Graham’s expression changed. For a moment, the pinch of the effort he’d put into mounting was still there. Then he relaxed, his features loosening. A faint smile tickled the corners of his mouth, but that was quickly replaced by the most mournful look of loss Estelle had ever seen.
“Valliant,” Graham whispered.
Another moment passed and Graham took in a breath, sitting straighter. He schooled his expression to neutrality and glanced off across the river, surveying it from the greater height of the horse’s back. Another weak smile touched his lips. Finally, he turned and glanced down at Estelle.
“This doesn’t mean you’re always going to be right,” he said, hinting otherwise with the tone of his voice and the flash in his eyes as soon as the words were spoken.
Graham seemed so tall, so natural atop a horse. His left side faced her, and from her angle, she couldn’t see his missing leg. For just a moment, she knew exactly what he had looked like before, who he had been before. His natural seat on horseback was so proud and so strong that a dizzying quiver of excitement and desire whipped through her.
She countered it by crossing her arms and saying, “If you’d told me about Valliant before, we could have gotten you back where you belong much sooner.”
Graham hummed in response, but his attention was focused on Jackal. He took up the reins and nudged the horse with his thighs and his good leg. Estelle didn’t know much about horses, but by all appearances, Jackal obeyed the commands he was given. All she cared about was the new look of confidence in Graham’s eyes.
“Well look at you,” Pete called across to Graham as he rode over to join them. “Now why didn’t I think to stick you on a horse sooner?”
Graham answered with a dubious look. “Let’s see how I do before we call this a success.”
Pete reached his side and turned his mount to stand beside Graham’s. “You planning to ford the river?”
“N—”
“Yes, he is,” Estelle answered for Graham, all smiles again.
Graham tossed a glance over her shoulder, telling her to be quiet.
“He needs to get familiar with a horse again,” Estelle went on.
Pete nodded with a half-smile. “Well, don’t get too familiar. That’s my horse.”
“He’ll have to buy one of his own soon,” Estelle said.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Graham answered.
Pete laughed at the two of them. “It shouldn’t be too hard. It looks like it’s been a dry year out this way, so the river is lower and more sedate than usual. You’ll be able to wade across if you have—” He stopped, sitting higher in his saddle and frowning out over the river. “What in the devil is that woman doing?”
Estelle turned to see Miss Josephine splashing into the river on the back of a dappled grey pony. Muriel Chance sat behind her, clinging to her back, while Libby and Freddy Chance waved to them from the wagon that had just been rolled onto a raft by the ferry crew.
“We’ll race you,” Josephine called across to Libby.
Pete swore under his breath. “That woman’s gonna kill herself one of these days.”
By the glint in Pete’s eyes, he’d be devastated if that happened. More likely that he’d do everything in his power to stop that from happening.
As if to prove her thoughts, Pete nudged his horse forward, hurrying down to the river toward Josephine.
“Well,” Graham sighed, gathering the reins and holding them tighter. “Looks like I’d better get going.”
Estelle crossed her arms and smiled. “Looks like.”
Graham gave her one last stern look and a nod before focusing his whole attention on Jackal and starting off.
In theory, getting back up on a horse again was a terrific idea. Graham knew that. He knew that Estelle was right, that he’d let his fears and the bitter memories of that nightmare on the battlefield hold him back. It was one thing to know it, and an entirely different thing to act on it.
“Whoa. Whoa there, boy,” he spoke softly to Jackal as the two of them walked down to the river. “Be patient with me.”
The rub of his backside in a saddle, the scent of horseflesh and leather, and the warmth of Jackal’s sides against his thighs brought a thousand memories flying back to him. Some were good, some were bad. Underneath them all was the instinctive certainty that this was where he belonged. And yet, with every step Jackal took, Graham had the eerie feeling that they were falling. It didn’t make sense, but his memories were as powerful as the beating of the sun.
“Would you look at that.”
Graham jerked his head up to find Isaiah striding toward him, arms crossed. Graham had stopped by the edge of the river, hesitating when he should have continued. He fought against his fears to sit tall, glaring down at Isaiah.
“What of it?” he said.
Isaiah shrugged. “Nothing. Are you sure you can control that animal?”
Graham’s brow pinched in a frown. “Yes,” he lied.
Isaiah blew out a breath, shaking his head. “Horses can be awfully tricky. I don’t know that I’d take such a big risk in climbing up on one.”
“Risk? I was raised in Kentucky before moving to St. Louis,” Graham informed him. “Horses were my life.” Were.
“You been on a horse since…?” He nodded to Graham’s leg.
Graham’s patience reached an end. “I have nothing to say to you.” He steadied Jackal’s restless steps with a tug to the reins. “You’ve done your damage to Estelle’s life. It’s time you left this wagon train and found employment elsewhere.”
To Graham’s annoyance, Isaiah grinned. “My work here is far from over. Any day now, Estelle will see where she belongs, and I’ll be there to help her.”
“Help her?” Graham asked through clenched teeth.
“You heard me,” Isaiah said. “Good luck controlling that horse.”
He slapped Jackal’s rump, not hard, but enough to cause Jackal to start.
A bolt of fear shot through Graham’s gut as Jackal jumped forward. Graham was able to clamp his thighs around Jackal’s middle, but he didn’t react fast enough to stop the horse altogether. They surged for
ward, right into the river.
It took only seconds for cold, flowing water to swirl around Graham’s foot. If he stopped now, he’d look like a fool, especially with Josephine and Muriel Chance already at the far side of the river. Pete was scolding them, but Josephine didn’t seem to care, and Muriel was laughing. He couldn’t be outdone by a woman and a girl.
Shifting in his saddle, getting a better feel for the way Jackal moved, Graham nudged him forward. With only one foot, his command confused Jackal somewhat, but between the pressure of his thighs and a few tugs on the reins, Graham set the horse in the right direction. They waded deeper, continuing across. The water rose up past Graham’s calf, all the way to his knee. It soaked the knotted end of his trousers, cooling his stump. The water wasn’t half bad. It was the threat that Jackal would spook and run, that he would be thrown or sent off on a wild chase, unable to control their speed or direction, that bothered Graham.
A hundred dire possibilities whirred through his head, but he deflected every one of them. He kept his eyes straight forward, pushing on. He took it slow. When he risked a glance back over his shoulder to the riverbank, he spotted Estelle driving the supply wagon onto a raft.
She was safe. That was all that mattered for now. And if Isaiah dared to go near her again….
By some miracle—or perhaps just skill Graham thought he’d forgotten—they made it to the other side of the river. Jackal jogged up the far bank and onto dry land. He shook his head and body as best he could to dry off, then turned to face the river at Graham’s command. They’d made it through the slow, muddy current. No one had been hurt or thrown. Everything had gone smoothly, and now here he was, sitting tall as the rest of the wagon train made the crossing. Pride spread through Graham’s chest. Estelle had been right about where he belonged after all.
“Line the wagons going to Denver City up over there as they come off the rafts,” Pete directed a few of his workers behind Graham. His legs were wet from the knee down after making the crossing. “I know we’re still a couple days out, but I want everything ready. The wagons that are heading on to Oregon City should line up over there. I want everything organized and smooth by the time we reach the parting of the ways.”