by Vivi Holt
Just then, the wagon jolted and moved forward. She stopped chewing and sat upright, listening intently. She could hear the bellowing of the cattle and the whistles and calls of the cowboys – they were moving out. She wondered where they were headed. Never mind – wherever it was she hoped it was as far from Fort Worth and Quincey Ewing as she could get. She lay back down and took another bite.
Chapter Two
With a grunt, Thomas O’Reilly heaved a large sack of oats from his shoulder onto the dry ground, causing a cloud of dust to halo around the sack and hover a moment before slowly resettling again. He reached for the place where the canvas cover joined the timber bed of the chuck wagon to untie it, but the canvas flapped open, revealing a gaping hole where it should have been secure.
He frowned and shook his head. He’d only hired Cookie two days ago and already he was beginning to wonder whether it had been a wise decision. The cook’s attention to detail was a little lacking, and he hadn’t seen the man at all between breakfast and when they’d set out from Fort Worth just before noon. He wondered where Cookie had been all that time, and thought he’d smelled liquor on the man’s breath when he took the reins of the chuck wagon. Now that they’d stopped to rearrange the supplies since the chuck wagon was leaning heavily to one side, Cookie had disappeared yet again. He’d have to keep an eye on him during the cattle drive.
Not for the first time, Tom thought about the woman he’d seen earlier. She’d locked eyes with him and the look had sent his heart racing. It made him tingle all over now just thinking about her. But then she’d ducked behind the chuck wagon and disappeared. He’d followed her back there, just to see where she’d gone to, but he hadn’t been able to find hide nor hair of her. She was beautiful, with long dark hair and wide blue eyes. Her skin was a touch too pale and she looked as though she might break in her worn clothing, but her eyes had caught him with their magnetism. He wished he could see her again, just to ask her name.
Thomas pulled the canvas back away from the frame of the wagon and bent to lift the sack of oats onto his shoulder once more. With a grimace, he pushed up under the canvas and was about to throw the sack into the wagon bed when his eyes fell on the girl. She was asleep in the back of the chuck wagon with a tattered bag beside her. A trail of food scraps lay in a circle around her torso on the cheese wheel beneath her – apple cores, bread crumbs and even drips of jam. The look of contentment on her face was sealed with the slightest trace of a smile around the corners of her mouth.
He stared at her a moment in astonishment. What was she doing back here? They’d left the stockyards four hours ago. She must have climbed into the chuck wagon there and fallen asleep, not realizing they were leaving town. He frowned in consternation when he realized the predicament he was now in. He’d have to escort her back to the stockyards and they’d lose hours of travel time. It seemed as though nothing was going right for him today.
He dropped the bag of oats back on the ground, cleared his throat and watched for her response. She shifted without opening her eyes and rolled onto one side, slipping her hands beneath her head and gathering her knees up toward her chest. One long leg protruded from beneath her full skirts, and he saw pale skin above her knee-high stocking that sent a flush of heat to his cheeks.
He coughed, more loudly this time and she sat upright with a start and quickly pulled her skirts close around her ankles. “Excuse me! I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep.” Her cheeks reddened. At the same time her eyes flashed, almost daring him to admonish her.
“Never mind that – what are you doing in the back of my chuck wagon?” he asked with one eyebrow arched.
“I … well, that is to say, I … I guess I was just hoping to catch a ride. That’s all.”
“A ride?” His eyebrow rose higher still. “To where, pray tell?”
“San Francisco.”
“Is that so? I hate to be the one to bring bad tidings, but we’re not going to San Francisco. And even if we were, it’s highly unlikely we’d want a young girl such as yourself tagging along for the journey.”
“I’m not a girl – I’m eighteen. And I’m not afraid to work for my keep. I’ll ride north with you – you’re going north, aren’t you? – and I’ll find a way to get myself to San Francisco. You won’t have to worry about me.”
“I’m not worried about you, apart from the fact that you’ve mightily inconvenienced me now. I’ll have to return you to Fort Worth, and you’ve apparently already eaten your weight in my food supplies.”
“Well, I’m sorry about that, truly I am – I didn’t mean to. I knew I shouldn’t do it and I wasn’t going to, only I tried one of the apples since they’re so small and you have plenty of them and it really seemed to just whet my appetite more than anything. Anyway, I’ll work off the cost of what I ate, I promise you that. You just tell me what I’m to do and I’ll do it.”
Her eyes narrowed and she moved past him to climb out of the wagon. He offered her his arm, and she leaned on it as she stepped down, her eyes on his. He felt his pulse quicken at her touch, and moisture broke out on his brow.
“Thank you.” She stood in front of him and dropped her gaze to the ground below.
He folded his arms over his chest and surveyed her with his head tipped to one side. He pulled his hat from his head and scratched absently at his thick chestnut locks. “Well, now, I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Let’s just forget about the food. You’ve got to get back to town and I suppose that means I’ve got to take you. It’ll set back my cattle drive at least half a day and I’m none too pleased about that, but there’s nothing can be done about it now. You can ride with me and I’ll tell the men to continue on for a bit until they find a place to set up camp for the night.”
She crossed her arms to match his and stamped a foot in the dust. “I’m not going back and you can’t make me.” She glared daggers at him.
He took a step backward, his hands raised. “Whoa there, what’s the problem? Aren’t you from Fort Worth? Isn’t that where you live? And what’s all this about San Francisco? I’m sure your folks won’t be any too keen on you traveling there alone, or with a bunch of rowdy cowboys. You’d best head back on home and fix whatever rift you have with your loved ones. The trail is no place for a young lady.”
Her face fell and she lowered her voice to almost a whisper, her eyes downcast. “I don’t have any folks, and my problems are my business, I believe. I’m meeting someone in California, and all I’m asking from you is a chance to work my way north. You can leave me wherever you wish, and if it doesn’t work out you can send me home.” She lifted her eyes to his, and the sadness there sent a chill through his chest. “Please, I’m just asking you to give me a chance.”
Thomas knew what kind of trouble a young woman traveling alone could bring to his drive. This was his first time heading up a cattle drive and it was a big one. He had bought three thousand head of longhorn cattle with a large portion of the twenty thousand dollars’ worth of gold he’d found mining in Alder Gulch, Montana the year before. This was his big chance to make something of his life, something Pa would be proud of. He didn’t want anything, or anyone, to make a mess out of all he’d worked so hard to achieve.
Pa was a hard man who’d never given him a word of encouragement in his life. He expected Thomas to make something of himself under his own steam, and he wouldn’t settle for less – he’d told him so a hundred times. The family ranch in Ohio was one of the most successful and prosperous in the entire region. His older brother Harold would inherit it one day, and Pa expected Thomas to build his own business; one hide at a time, as he always said. This drive was his chance to show Pa he could do it. He could make it on his own. And maybe Pa would finally be proud of him, the way he was of Harold.
He swallowed and considered his options. If he took her back to Forth Worth, she might turn right back around. There was no way he could physically stop her from coming back or following them. Then there was the time he’d lose – ev
ery day they spent on the trail cost him money and time, lowered the condition of the cattle and raised the likelihood of something going wrong. He had to get this entire herd bedded down in Paradise Valley before the cruel weather of the cold Montana winter hit hard.
That gave them only three months to get there. They’d left much later in the season that he’d hoped to, and though he estimated they’d be able to travel fifteen miles per day and still keep the stock in good shape, they’d be pushing it to make it in time. In fact, it was highly unlikely they’d make it before the first snow fell even at that rate. They couldn’t afford to miss even one day of travel if they wanted to reach Montana Territory before the weather changed.
“All right, I’ll give you a chance. I hope you can cook, since you’ll be working with Cookie to feed a crowd of hungry cowboys – but so help me, you cause me any trouble at all, you’re going back.” He slapped his hat with his hand to emphasize the point, then pressed it firmly on his head.
“Oh, I can cook, don’t you worry about that. Thank you so much … Mister …?”
“O’Reilly – Thomas O’Reilly. And you are?”
“I’m Genevieve Waters, but you can call me Genny. I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. O’Reilly. You won’t regret this, I promise you – I’ll cause no trouble at all and I’ll work hard.” She stretched out her hand and Thomas shook it.
Her touch sent a pulse of electricity through him, and he quickly withdrew his hand. He nodded and lifted the heavy bag of oats into the back of the chuck wagon, settling it beside the wheels of cheese, then fixed the canvas back in place, pulling it taut against the timber frame. “You’d best come with me to meet Cookie, then.”
She followed him to the front of the wagon.
What in heaven’s name have I gotten myself into now? He shook his head silently and grimaced. It was likely they’d have any number of trials ahead of them on this journey. The last thing he needed was a pretty young woman to distract the men and potentially cause division. Well, there was nothing he could do about it now – and truth be told, he was relieved she’d be helping Cookie. There was something that felt not quite right about that man, and it would be good to have a backup, just in case.
He turned his head to take in her profile – she really was very pretty.
I can’t think of her that way. I can’t afford to be distracted. This cattle drive is my chance, an opportunity to really make something of myself. I can’t let anyone, not even a beautiful woman who makes my breath catch in my throat and my skin tingle with a single touch, get in the way of that.
Chapter Three
Cora Hapsberg pulled the door to her room closed and turned the key in the lock. Mr. and Mrs. Cole had been so kind as to allow her a padlock on the door to the room she rented from them, and she took every opportunity to ensure she used it. Not that she didn’t trust them, but their teenage son Harris had been caught snooping in her room on more than one occasion, and his pimpled face and vacant eyes gave her the chills.
She shifted her reticule into one hand and balanced the apple pie she’d baked earlier that morning on the other. She needed an excuse to drop by Genevieve’s and the pie was just that excuse. Fred could never turn her away when she brought baked goods with her, and she was beginning to worry about Genevieve.
She’d waited for her outside the church after the service the previous morning, but Genevieve never showed up. It wasn’t like her to miss a church service – she was there every week without fail. Genevieve hated spending her days in the house with Fred and got away whenever she could. He only let her go out on occasion – church events being one of the few things he allowed her to attend.
Then this morning, Genevieve was supposed to meet her before school. They’d planned to walk to the school together – Cora taught there, and Genevieve had a few things to buy at the market for supper. They got so few chances to speak with one another that they often walked places together, including to school every Monday. It gave them an opportunity to catch up and Fred would be none the wiser. She had never understood his insistence upon shutting Genevieve off from the rest of the world, but she knew how much it pained Genevieve to discuss him, so she tried not to pry.
She hurried down the lane and up the country road. She boarded with the Coles on the outskirts of Fort Worth, and Genevieve’s house wasn’t more than a mile out of town on a small parcel of land. By the time she got there, the pie had cooled in her hands and beads of sweat had formed along her forehead. She wiped a sleeve over her face to dry the moisture and raised her knuckles to knock on the door.
Only silence greeted her. She scanned the front yard, noting the broken plow overgrown with weeds, the dilapidated fence surrounding the small pigpen and the dirty brown chickens running and scratching around the driveway. Fred’s horse was missing. The wagon sat empty by the barn behind the house. She hurried over to it and peeked inside the barn. Fred’s saddle and bridle weren’t where they usually hung on the wall.
She strode back to the house and pushed open the front door. Fred had never felt the need to get a lock, other than the latch key that would hold the door closed once they were inside. She wandered around the living area, noting the bottle of moonshine on the table beside two empty cups and dirty plates.
Where are you, Genevieve? It was obvious that Fred had left. But where was Genevieve? He hadn’t taken the wagon, and she couldn’t have ridden on the horse for long with him.
She walked outside, still carrying the pie, and scurried across the road to a shack that sat on the road’s edge. Its broken porch was an eyesore, and she noted the absence of smoke above the cold chimney. Perhaps Quincey was home - although it didn’t look promising. If he was there, he’d know where to find Fred. “Quincey, are you there?” she called.
No answer. She didn’t like the idea of entering his house – she was sure she’d catch some kind of infectious disease just by stepping inside. She pushed his front door ajar and poked her head in. The stench of rotting food and body odor hit her full in the face and she coughed. She covered her mouth with one hand and called out again. “Are you there, Quincey?”
There was no response. Where is everyone?
Back outside, she looked for his nag of a horse, but the yard was empty. She saw his milk cow, skinny and forlorn, tied to a broken fence paling, and a dog nosing around the water pump. Poor creatures. How long since they were fed, I wonder? She lay down her reticule and the pie and set about feeding every animal she could find. She let the cow loose and filled its water trough, fed the dog and the chickens and the three shoats in the pigpen, then quickly washed up before gathering her things to head back into town.
Now she was more worried than ever about Genevieve. Perhaps Genevieve was simply in town, or visiting someone. It seemed highly unlikely she’d gone anywhere with Fred, but she supposed it was possible. She’d check again the next day. Hopefully Genevieve would be back at home and she’d find that nothing terrible had happened to her friend after all.
Chapter Four
Bill Hanover tickled Sarah’s ear with his beard and nuzzled into her neck to kiss her golden skin. “I love kissing you right here, Sarah Songan-Hanover,” he laughed, and kissed again, enjoying the goose-bumping of her skin beneath his touch.
“Mmmm …,”she murmured, then laughed. “We’ll never catch up with the cattle drive this way. We’re already running two weeks late. Come now, husband, we have to focus.” She playfully swatted him away from her neck and smiled into his dark eyes.
He’d grown a beard since they left Cutter’s Creek on the day of their wedding, and she thought it suited him. He looked like a true cowboy now, with his scraggly beard, weathered hat, red neckerchief and black leather chaps. He sat beside her on the hard wagon bench seat, the reins dangled loosely in his hands as Purdy plodded on. It had been a long journey from Cutter’s Creek, Montana into Texas. They’d stopped at various places along the way where Bill could find work.
The last place they’d settled was i
n Kansas, on a ranch where Bill helped with odd jobs around the place. Then when they’d left for Fort Worth, Purdy had gone lame, setting them back a couple of weeks. But they’d managed to stop in the nearest town to send a telegram to Thomas O’Reilly, Bill’s soon-to-be employer, to let him know. Thomas had told them to meet up with the rest of the group on the banks of the Red River, at the border between Texas and the Indian Territory, where the drive would meet the Chisholm Trail – a trail that would take them all the way into Kansas.
“Yes, my darling wife – you’re right, of course. Hiyaaaa!” He slapped the reins lightly on Purdy’s back. Sarah snuggled into Bill’s side and slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. She leaned her head against his strong shoulder and hummed a soft tune as they rode.
Before long they came to a small clearing beside a river where a group of schooners had congregated. The drivers of the wagons were conferring together as they pulled up alongside them. “Afternoon,” Bill greeted them with a wave.
“And to you,” called back one of the men. “Where’re you headed?”
“Red River.”
“Well, you found it. We just crossed and are setting out on the Chisholm Trail now. Good luck to you.” The man turned his wagon around and the group rolled off across the plains.
“I guess we’re here then,” said Bill. He pulled Purdy to a halt and jumped from the wagon seat to the soft sand of the river bank below. The river stretched out before them, winding around the clearing, with sandy islands tracing the edges on either side. It narrowed where the wagon tracks and hoof-prints disappeared into the water, but swam out widely on either side of the crossing, falling fast over a small set of rapids and hurrying down toward the fast moving tributary beyond.