by Jenna Brandt
Randall joined them and nodded. “You have a fine-looking horse there, Mister Westcott.”
“Thank you. He’s well-tempered as well. I daresay the best horse I have ever owned.”
“If you do not mind my asking, what are you doing all the way out here?”
Margaret waited for a response, which did not come immediately. Several moments passed as she watched Cortland. He seemed distant, as if he were thinking of something ominous, and he had a troubled expression on his face. Finally, he looked up and said, “I was tracking the Indians that attacked your traveling party. They are wanted dead or alive for attacking a homestead in Boulder.”
Before she could question him further about the incident in Boulder, Randall blurted, “I find it serendipitous we should meet you all the way out here, considering our family is planning on starting a horse farm on our land when we reach Boulder. Margaret plans to organize the breeding and training while I manage the business end of it. How fortunate, we will be breeding horses nearby one another.”
“It will be nice to share similar endeavors as neighbors, but right now, we have to focus on the task at hand. We need to get on the road within the hour, in case any survivors of the raiding party decide to come back to finish what they started.”
As the group finished fixing as much damage from the battle as they could, Margaret took Henry into the back of one of the wagons to get him ready for his morning nap, telling him a short story and singing him a song before he went to sleep.
Margaret thought about the budding possibilities she was beginning to see in regard to Cortland Westcott. Was it possible they had found an ally in the most unlikely of circumstances? Had God brought him into their lives for a purpose and, if so, what was it?
Detecting a murmur from Henry, Margaret looked down at her sleeping son. His little hand was resting in her own. She smiled as he shifted in his sleep, yet continued to hold tightly to her hand. Each day he was growing and settling more and more into his appearances. With his blond hair and brown eyes, he was looking more and more like her first husband.
From outside the wagon, her brother murmured, “Maggie, we need to be on our way.”
She whispered back, “All right, Rand, I will be right out.”
Gently removing her son’s hand from her own, she laid it down beside him on the cot, then stood and leapt down from the backside of the wagon. Straightening her split skirt as she moved toward the driving bench, she hopped up and grabbed the reins to the oxen. The sun was already blazing above her head and she knew it was going to be a long day.
Chapter 4
They were getting close to the Colorado Territory. Excitement rose in the pit of her stomach, and she was not sure how long she was going to be able to contain it. Their new future was just over those mountains.
As they traveled, Margaret fought against her desire to get to know Cortland Westcott. He was the type of man she could easily find herself caring for deeply, which scared her. Watching him from a distance, she had learned, through his conversations around the nightly campfire, that he was a devoted Christian and attended church regularly in Boulder. His faith was also made evident by the way he conducted himself, showing kindness to everyone around him while being willing to help at every task. He was patient, always putting everyone else’s needs before his own.
But even though she knew he was what she would want in a partner, she avoided him at every opportunity. She did not want to take the chance of getting hurt again if something were to happen to him. They were in the wilderness, and it was a real possibility that he could be killed at any moment in this wild place. They had already been attacked by Indians, been deserted by their hired help, and lost a huge portion of their supplies, leaving them dangerously close to running out of food before they reached Boulder. She was afraid to get close to Cortland because every person she had ever cared for left or hurt her. She did not want to get involved with a gun-toting cowboy and have him do the same.
The sun was starting to descend and it was time to set up camp. Margaret brought the wagon to a stop and Sarah hoped out from the back, coming around to talk to her.
“Mistress, I am going to go fetch some water at the nearby river, if that is all right with you?”
“Yes, Sarah, thank you. How is Henry doing?”
Sarah shook her head. “Same as before, I’m afraid. He is resting now.”
“I think I will check in on him for a moment before getting everything out for the evening meal.”
Heading to the back of the wagon, Margaret climbed inside. She looked at her son, who was pale and had beads of sweat resting along his hairline and brows. The rugged conditions of the trip, along with the excessive heat, had taken their toll on everyone, but most harshly on her son. She had hoped he would start feeling well enough for her to be able to point out animals and types of formations they passed by, but his fatigue had dashed her desires for a majority of the journey. When she was not taking her turn driving the wagon, she was in the back trying to help her son feel better.
Today had proved to be a particular difficult time for Henry. After coaxing him to drink a few sips of water and placing a cool wet rag on his forehead, he fell back asleep.
Margaret began to pray. “Dear Lord, please help my son. He seems so weak, and you say in your word that when we are weak, you are strong. He needs your strength right now. Please help him to feel better.”
Pulling out a canteen of water, she hopped down, found a spot in the shade, and leaned against the side of the wagon. She savored the feeling of the water sliding down her throat, knowing she probably would not get any more until evening since they were rationing the water.
Licking her lips, she scanned the area ahead of them. The mountains did not look too far off, but she had learned from experience on the trail to never assume anything. Looks could be deceiving, and from what she heard Cortland telling Randall, this was going to be the hardest part of the stretch.
She was still taking in her surroundings when she saw Cortland heading toward the nearby river. Just as he was about to enter the surrounding trees, Sarah came out with two large buckets in her hands. He said something that made Sarah laugh, and then she gave him a friendly smile. He reached out and took the buckets from Sarah and they headed back to camp to join the others.
Margaret did not like the resentment she felt at seeing Cortland interact with Sarah. It unnerved her because it meant that, on some level, she already cared what he did and with whom he did it.
Trying to distract herself from her disconcerting feelings, Margaret rushed to the back of the wagon and roughly pulled out her last set of clean clothes, a bar of soap, and a fresh towel. Briskly, she marched toward the river.
When she reached the riverbank, she stared at the still, calm water for several seconds and was suddenly taken back to another time. She remembered when she and Henry had gone swimming together at their lake. It never failed that, whenever she was near a calm flow of water, she thought of that time. Reminiscing, she thought fondly of the time with her late husband. It had been so wonderful swimming with him there at their countryside estate in Brighton, not having a care in the world. It seemed like such a long time ago. She could not even remember how it felt to be carefree anymore. All she knew now was worry and fear. They consumed her, and no matter how hard she tried, she could not get free from the nagging fear that one day she would lose everything.
Sighing softly, she took off her outer clothes, stripping down to her undergarments. The anger the envy caused had dissipated and now was replaced by sadness. It was going to be a long time before she ever felt safe again.
Stepping into the water felt even better than the water she had just tasted. Finally, her body was able to cool down and begin to relax; the throbbing knots in her back were loosening up. It had been over a week since she had been able to take a bath. It was a luxury she had been warned none of them could afford with the Cheyenne still nearby. But needing to feel some sort of normalcy,
she decided to take the chance, figuring a few relaxing moments in the water would far outweigh the risk. She wanted to feel like a woman again instead of a settler.
After washing her body and hair, she decided to stay in the comforting water for several more minutes. She leaned back and let her body float to the surface as she stared at the bright blue sky.
Just as she started to move toward the riverbank, she heard a noise behind her. Fearing the Indians were close, she swung around in the water, but instead, she found something equally alarming.
“Mister Goodrich, you startled me. I almost screamed with fright,” she said, in a warning tone.
“I wouldn’t if I was ya, missy.”
Margaret swallowed the lump in her throat and then asked cautiously, “What are you doing here, sir?”
“I told the men to leave y’all, thinkin’ my leavin’ ya to the Injuns would be enough, but ya got out of that scrap with not a hair harmed on ya. That’s when I ’cided it was time fer me to teach ya a lesson m’self. I’m goin’ make ya pay fer makin’ a fool of me.”
Glancing around, Margaret realized she was trapped and vulnerable. Wearing only her shift, she felt completely bare under the water. The other bank of the river was too far away to make escape possible, and he blocked the side from which she entered. She had no options and they both knew it.
Biting her lip, she contemplated what to do. There had to be a way out. She inched as close to the edge of the bank as she dared while still remaining out of reach.
He grunted, rolling his burly shoulders with consideration. “If yer try to trick me, girl, I swear, I’ll make ya pay once I get my hands on ya.”
Margaret shivered with fright, knowing he meant his threat. He was the type of man who did not care for anyone but himself and took retaliation to excess.
Watching for her chance to escape, she kept her eyes locked on Johnny. She might only have one chance, and she was not about to let it slip past her.
After bending over to untie and remove his left shoe, he appeared fully focused on getting his right one off even quicker. The moment for escape was at hand. Darting quickly up and out of the water, Margaret scrambled past a shocked Johnny.
But hindered by her wet clothes, she was not quick enough. He turned around and, in two quick strides, yanked her to a stop by the shoulders. “Yer not gettin’ away from me that easy, girl.”
Swinging a closed fist, she used all her body weight as leverage and heard a thud as her fist connected with his jawbone. Catching him off guard, she then hit him again in the nose. As he started to sway, Margaret stepped aside and let him fall face first into the ground.
Worried that he would get up at any moment, Margaret watched him closely as she grabbed her clothes and quickly pulled her top and skirt on. Not taking the time to put on her shoes, she picked them up, along with her towel and soap, and snuck past him. Just as she was about to reach the covering of the trees, she heard him move and mumble gruffly.
She glanced behind her and gasped as she saw the huge welt on the side of his cheek and the blood dripping from his nose. Not waiting for him to get up, Margaret darted behind one of the trees. She had to find a way to get back to camp.
“I know yer still ’round, missy, an’ I aim to make ya pay for what ya just did. Nobody hits Johnny an’ gets ’way with it.”
Hearing him start to move, Margaret held her breath, hoping he would not come her way. Luck was on her side; as she peeked around the tree, she saw him head toward the left of where she stood.
Margaret prayed for protection. Dear Lord, please help me get away from this despicable man. I need your protection during this dire time. Please, God, help me get back to camp without being harmed by Mister Goodrich.
Glancing one last time, Margaret made sure he was in fact going in the opposite direction, and started to run toward camp. But before she could break past the boundary of the trees, a hand grabbed her. Margaret trembled with terror as Johnny glared at her.
A voice boomed from the shadows of the trees, “I would let her go if I were you.”
Margaret let out a sigh of relief. She was so glad that God had heard her prayers and sent Cortland to her rescue. She shuddered to think what would have happened if he had not.
Pulling free from the beastly man’s grasp, she scrambled back to get as far away from him as possible.
Johnny spun around and growled. “Yer gonna regret interferin’ with this, boy.”
Cortland stepped into view and narrowed his eyes. “I think, by the end of this, you will be the one wishing you had not come back.”
Cortland struck without any warning. He was quick and Johnny was not. The crack of Cortland’s fist hitting him resounded through the area. He followed it with another punch and a blow to Johnny’s stomach. Johnny tried to regain his balance, but Cortland was one step ahead of him. He grabbed the other man by the front of his shirt and pulled him off his feet. Glaring down into his eyes, Cortland said, “You coward, you ran out on them. Your petty retaliation nearly got my fiancée killed. If you ever come near her again, you will regret it.”
Cortland released Johnny and the man crumpled to the ground. Cortland stepped over him and walked to where Margaret was standing without looking back. He asked Margaret directly, “You ready to go?”
Still in shock from the whole incident, all she could do was nod. He took hold of her arm and guided her toward the camp.
Margaret’s head was swimming in confusion. What had just happened? One moment, she was facing being ruined, and the next, Cortland was saving her again. Then, on top of all that, he had called her his fiancée. Fiancée. Why did he call her that?
Wanting answers to the questions rolling around in her head, Margaret asked, “Why did you call me your fiancée?”
“I figured, if he thought you were spoken for, he would not come after you again. It was for your own protection. Do not worry. I have no plans to stake my claim on you.”
Gritting her teeth together in anger, she wondered how she could have been such a fool to believe he actually wanted her. After all, it was Sarah he often spent time talking to during the day, as well as at the evening campfires.
“I suppose with Sarah around, you would have no need for me.”
Before he could respond, Margaret pulled free from his grasp and hurried toward her brother, who was standing by one of the wagons. As she dropped the items she was carrying, she placed her head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. Cortland walked up as Randall was comforting Margaret. “Maggie, what is wrong? You are shaking,” Randall asked.
Margaret said nothing, only allowing Randall to hold her. She was so worn by the whole horrible ordeal that she needed the comfort.
“Can you tell me what happened, Mags?” Randall asked.
Interjecting, Cort said, “Your old guide showed up and tried to take advantage of your sister. I made sure he will not be bothering her again.”
Randall glanced over his shoulder at Cortland and smiled tensely. “I get the feeling I owe you another debt of gratitude. Thank you for interceding on my sister’s behalf. It should have been me protecting her. If that rotten man had succeeded in…. I never would have forgiven myself. I am in debt to you. Whenever you need anything, let me now. I will not hesitate to help you.”
Cortland nodded. “I am glad I chose to go down to get water for the horses at just the right time.”
Chapter 5
As per usual, with his Bible in hand, Cortland approached Margaret as they sat around the morning campfire for breakfast. She had noticed that, before his morning meal, Cortland often had a Bible with him and would disappear for several minutes. It was one of the few periods of the day he did not remain with the group. She wondered what he was doing all alone. Was he spending time with God by praying and reading his Bible? She did the same every morning when she was in her wagon. Secretly, it made her even more attracted to Cortland. It was alluring, the idea of a man who was devoted to God so keenly.
He looked at Margaret, as if he were studying her, and after a few moments, he asked, “Would you like to go with me for a ride to scout out the trail going through the mountain pass, Missus Learingam?”
Trying to control her reaction, Margaret waited what seemed an appropriate amount of time. “I suppose I can have Sarah drive the wagon and go with you, Mister Westcott.”
Cortland gave her a roguish grin. “Let’s go, then.”
Margaret had permanently started wearing a split riding skirt and button-up blouse for ease after a few weeks on the trail. She hated the nuisance of wearing a full dress, and all it entailed, while they were traveling. As Margaret mounted Charlie, she tried to hide her nervousness.
Several minutes later, she was stuck in the middle of the forest on a mountain miles away from anyone else besides him.
“I think we should stop for a moment and let the horses take a rest.”
Margaret jerked slightly, startled out of her thoughts. Glancing at Cortland wearily, she replied, “If you think it best, Mister Westcott.”
“I think we have been acquainted long enough for you to start calling me Cort.”
“Then you must call me Margaret.”
Cort jumped down from his horse and walked over to Margaret’s side, reaching up to offer to help her down. She paused for a moment, looking at his extended hand suspiciously. But in the end, she put her hand in his.
As he helped her dismount, she slid down the length of him. When he gently placed her on the ground, she looked up at him, their eyes locking for a flickering second. Then as quickly as it came, it passed and she pulled away.
Margaret sidestepped past Cort and moved to stand at the front side of her horse. Stroking Charlie’s mane, she said, “I am glad that you asked me to come along with you, Cort. It has been some time since I have been able to take Charlie riding.”
Charlie neighed and kicked at the dirt in response. Margaret laughed softly, adding, “Sounds like Charlie’s missed riding as much as me.”