by Kit Morgan
She stared at him a moment. “And how, may I ask, do you know that?”
He shrugged. “I run the mercantile, Mrs. Sayer. I hear everything.”
“Not from my sons, I hope.”
“No, from Amos Kinzey.”
“Oh.” She rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”
He shrugged again. “Regardless, you’ll still have to replace the window.”
She tapped her foot a few times. “I don’t suppose he can work it off?” After all, they’d need all their money to buy supplies for the long journey. A little extra wouldn’t hurt.
“I already got him peeling them ‘taters for the missus – she’s upstairs making supper. In fact, I’d best fetch them to her. Excuse me.”
“Yes, of course,” she said with another look at the window. She’d been so wrapped up worrying about the needed supplies, she hadn’t given much thought to what their arrival in Oregon Territory would entail. They’d need quite a lot of things, now that she thought of it, and had only discussed a few with Benedict before he died. He was planning to make a final list that very week so they could budget their money – money that was now quickly dwindling. Paying for a broken window (again!) just added to it.
With a heavy sigh, Honoria took Harrison by the hand and marched back to the storefront. No time to lose.
Chapter Two
… We’ll be passing Fort Hall about then,” Mr. Kinzey continued.
Jefferson Cooke heard him, but his eyes were elsewhere, specifically on a very pretty woman.
“The road to Oregon Territory turns to the right near Soda Springs … er, Mr. Cooke? Are ya listening?”
“Huh? I’m sorry, what was that?”
Mr. Kinzey gazed across the street and sighed. “That woman,” he lamented.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Mrs. Sayer. She’s like to drive me insane.”
“Oh?” Jefferson remarked as his head swung back to watching her. “Mrs. Sayer, you say?” He glanced at Mr. Kinzey and back. “Why?”
Mr. Kinzey rubbed his face a few times. “She’s insisting she be allowed to join my wagon train, that’s why! I told her the rules, but did she listen? No. Look at her over there, speaking with Mr. Van Cleet. Probably talking to him about supplies.”
Jefferson watched the lovely Mrs. Sayer (too bad about the “Mrs.” part) speak with Cyrus Van Cleet. Cyrus and his wife Polly were part of the wagon train leaving in a few days. “What’s the problem, Kinzey? She looks peaceful enough.”
“Ah, she’s stubborn. I told her she cannot under any circumstances join this company unless she’s married. But did she listen?”
“Married?” He glanced at the woman and back. “You mean she’s not?”
“No. Widowed last fall. Poor man got crushed by a carriage. Horrible accident. But ya weren’t here then.”
“No, I wasn’t.” He continued to study Mrs. Sayer with interest. “I also wasn’t aware there was such a rule.”
“It’s there – ya read them. But that doesn’t pertain to ya, so it’s easy to forget.”
Jefferson nodded, still watching Mrs. – Miss? – Sayer. “Can’t you make an exception?”
“I didn’t come up with the rules for this group – it was Mr. Van Cleet and a few other families. Mainly Mrs. Dunnigan. I’d steer clear of her if I were ya – she’s a pistol just waiting to shoot somebody, and she isn’t picky who.”
Jefferson nodded again. He’d met the Van Cleets last week, a happy middle-aged couple from back east. Jefferson never did ask where, and didn’t care. He’d had more important matters to attend to at the time, and didn’t take to flapping his gums over pleasantries anyway.
Speaking of which, where were Jack and Sam? If his sons spent half as much time working as they did dawdling, they’ d be in Oregon Territory already. Those two were in trouble more often than not, and it was time he did something about it. Making this journey might do the trick, but how could he be sure? Would they help out and do what was expected of them?
A low whistle caught his attention. “Will ya look at that?” Pete Smithers drawled.
Jefferson turned to find Pete salivating behind him. “Wipe that look off your face, son. It’s disgusting.”
Pete just laughed and slapped Jefferson on the back. He was one of Kinzey’s men, and Jefferson wondered why in Heaven’s name he was in the wagon master’s employ. But Kinzey did mention that the little weasel was a hard worker. Maybe hard work trumped good moral character in this business. How would Jefferson know? He’d never been west of Missouri.
Pete took a few steps forward, his eyes on Mrs. Sayer. He licked his lips and whistled again, lower this time. “She’s makin’ my mouth water something fierce, yaknowhatImean?”
“Keep your remarks to yourself,” Jefferson snapped. “That’s no soiled dove over there.”
“She sure ain’t.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “And from what I hear, she’s rich.”
Jefferson glanced at the woman again. “She doesn’t look it.” Of course, she didn’t look poor either …
“I heard she gots herself a rich relative back in England, owns a lot of land,” Pete said with an oily smile.
“Is that so?” Jefferson glared at him. “Best keep that to yourself or you’ll cause nothing but trouble for the poor woman.”
“Keep it to myself?” Pete laughed. “Where ya been, Cooke? If you and yer boys are gonna be a part of this company, you’d best keep up on the latest. Ain’t a man in Independence hain’t heard about Mrs. Sayer wantin’ to join Kinzey’s company. But she cain’t, ‘cause –”
“She’s not married, yes, I heard.” Jefferson set his hands on his hips. “Poor woman will have to wait until next spring if she wants to go west.”
“No, she won’t.”
Jefferson eyed him with suspicion. “Why’s that?”
“’Cause I’m fixin’ to propose, that’s why!” Pete licked his fingers and ran them through his hair. “How do I look?”
Jefferson squinted. Pete was dirty, unshaven, stank to high Heaven and was missing several teeth. “Handsome as ever,” he said dryly.
Pete laughed again. “Great! Best I make my move.” He touched his nose with his index finger, pointed it at Jefferson, then headed across the street.
Jefferson rolled his eyes again and tried not to picture either of his sons turning into someone like Smithers. Lord have mercy, what a horrible thought! He turned to see where Mr. Kinzey had gotten to.
Thwack! “Don’t you touch me, you … you blackguard!”
Jefferson spun back to see Mrs. Sayer with a large book in her upraised hand. From all appearances, she’d just clobbered Pete upside the head with it.
Pete rubbed one temple and glared daggers at the woman. “Ya’ll regret that, missy.”
Uh-oh, Jefferson thought. This won’t end well. But who will get the worst of it?
Mr. Van Cleet wedged himself between the two. “Now see here, Mr. Smithers – you insulted the lady and grabbed her in a most inappropriate place!”
“I did nuthin’ of the kind. My hand slipped, is all!”
“To my derriere?” Mrs. Sayer elaborated. “How dare you, sir!”
Two of Kinzey’s other men approached the scene. Good, Jefferson thought – hopefully they’d put a stop to this and give Pete a good talking-to. Better yet, maybe they’d fire him. He’d heard too many stories about the man – many from the man himself – to want him along on the journey.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t what Kinzey’s other men had in mind. “Ya got two horses and four oxen, ya say?” one of them asked. He must have been listening to Mrs. Sayer and Mr. Van Cleet’s earlier conversation, Jefferson surmised.
“That’s right,” Mrs. Sayer said. “And you are?”
“Clem Thornton, at your service, ma’am.” He looked her up and down, as if she were a horse.
Jefferson’s hackles went up. He slowly headed their way.
“Well, Mr. Thornton, I�
��m sure you have other things to do,” Mrs. Sayer replied. It was an obvious dismissal.
Thornton didn’t take the cue. “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but I hear tell you’re wantin’ to join Kinzey’s company.”
She slowly turned back to him. “That’s right.”
“But you’re missin’ a key requirement.”
“What of it?” she asked tersely.
“I could help you with that.”
“So can I!” the other newcomer volunteered.
She glanced between the men. “And I suppose you both would like to offer me a … proposal?”
“Yes, ma’am, I surely would,” Thornton said proudly, surveying her again.
She returned his look in good measure, but hers was controlled, and she sized him up in no time. “No, thank you.” She returned her attention to Mr. Van Cleet.
“Hey, what about me?” the other man asked.
Pete shoved him away. “What about ya, Mattson? She ain’t interested in the likes of you!”
“Yeah, anymore than you!” Thornton said with a laugh.
Pete’s face screwed up in anger before he launched himself at Clem Thornton. Mrs. Sayer yelped in surprise as Pete pummeled the bigger man with his fists. His opponent blocked what he could, and laughed at what he couldn’t. Pete was small and lightning-quick, but Thornton was like a brick wall.
“Gentlemen!” Mr. Van Cleet cried, moving Mrs. Sayer out of harm’s way. “Stop it!”
Mattson just laughed in response, then turned to her again. “Well, whaddaya say? Ya wanna get hitched?”
She grimaced in response. “No!”
His face fell. “But why not?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Ya think yer too good for me, don’t ya?”
“Sir, I don’t know you. How could I possibly answer such a question?”
He looked her up and down, licked his lips, then, quick as a flash, grabbed her and kissed her.
That did it. Jefferson reached them in two long strides, pulled Kinzey’s man off of her, spun him around and punched him in the jaw. He fell back and hit Pete, who hit Thornton, and all three men tumbled over in a pile of flailing arms and legs.
“Are you all right?” Jefferson asked Mrs. Sayer.
She stared at him, the back of her hand over her mouth, and nodded. “Ye…yes, thank you,” she stammered.
Jefferson glanced at the three idiots still trying to get to their feet. “I think you’d be wise to stay away from them. They’ll cause you nothing but trouble.”
She took a few shaky breaths. “I wholeheartedly agree.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cooke,” Mr. Van Cleet added. “You came along just when we needed you.”
“No problem, sir. Any decent man would have done the same. Besides, I was just over there speaking with Mr. Kinzey.” He turned and saw that Mr. Kinzey was nowhere in sight. “Not sure where he is now …”
“He stepped away when Mr. Smithers came to, um, speak with us,” Mr. Van Cleet said.
Jefferson glanced at Pete, who’d finally managed to get to his feet. He didn’t look any worse for wear after his scrape with Thornton. Hmmm … why did Kinzey leave? Anyone could see there was trouble brewing. He shrugged it off and turned back to Mrs. Sayer and Mr. Van Cleet. “You two should be going before this lot recovers.”
“He’s right, Mrs. Sayer. Besides, Polly is waiting for me. We can discuss what you’ll need over some coffee at the boardinghouse.”
“Tell your wife howdy for me,” Jefferson said.
“I will, and thank you again … oh, but where are my manners?” Mr. Van Cleet motioned to Mrs. Sayer. “May I introduce Mrs. Benedict Sayer?”
Jefferson tipped his hat. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
She smiled shyly. “The pleasure is all mine, Mister …?”
“Cooke, ma’am, Jefferson Cooke.”
“Mr. Cooke,” she said with another smile. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we’d best be on our way.” She glanced at her three “admirers,” now standing by the boardwalk and whispering amongst themselves.
Jefferson watched them a moment. That doesn’t look good, he thought. By the time he returned his attention to Mrs. Sayer and Mr. Van Cleet, they were already several yards away. Part of him wanted to go after them, make sure the woman was kept safe. Cyrus Van Cleet wasn’t helpless, but he wasn’t a big man, was obviously not from these parts and didn’t carry a gun that Jefferson could see.
“Pretty, ain’t she?” someone said next to him.
He looked at yet another of Kinzey’s party – Mr. Brown, a single man traveling west to start a farm. “I suppose.”
“Suppose? Are you blind?” Mr. Brown said in shock.
Jefferson took one last look at Mrs. Sayer before she disappeared behind some stacked crates. “No. But thinking she’s pretty won’t do me any good.”
“Oh, it’s lovely!” Polly exclaimed, lifting a teacup out of a packing crate. “Where did you get it?”
“London – it was a wedding present from Benedict’s mother,” Honoria said. “She was a dear woman. I do miss her.”
Polly picked up a matching saucer. “Chintz was always my favorite. Cyrus and I would love to visit Europe one day – but, one adventure at a time.”
Honoria wrapped the teapot in linen and put it back into the crate. “I can’t take it all, can I?” Duncan had purchased a wagon earlier in the week, but now that she saw her belongings stacked in one room, she knew it was more than the conveyance would hold. No matter – she was determined to go, and prayed Mr. Kinzey would relent. Since Cyrus Van Cleet was one of the men who’d hired Mr. Kinzey to lead them to Oregon Territory, she hoped he had enough influence to sway the man. Only time would tell.
“You know, Mrs. Sayer, I’m beginning to think that it would be best for you to stay,” Cyrus said from a chair in the corner. “Wait until next year.”
Honoria sighed. “Mr. Van Cleet …”
“Please, we’re all friends now – call me Cyrus.”
“Cyrus … I appreciate your concern, but I have to do this. We must leave – we don’t have the money to last us until next year.” Especially not when one had to budget for broken windows.
He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. “I understand your desire for this. But is it wise? You saw what happened earlier – they were fighting over you like a pack of dogs.”
Honoria picked up a teacup and ran a finger around the rim. “Yes, that’s true. But my sons can …”
“Protect you? Duncan, maybe, but Colin and Harrison, I’m not so sure about. Luckily for you, Mr. Cooke intervened. But what about next time?”
“You make it sound as if there’ll be one.” She set the cup down.
“Of course there will. Put a large group of men together in a place with one single woman and that’s what you’ll get.”
“He’s right, dear,” Polly said. “It’s no good you going alone without a husband to safeguard you. You didn’t buy everything you needed yet, did you?”
She hung her head. “Almost.”
Polly glanced at her husband and back. “Oh dear. What are you going to do now?”
Honoria raised her face to Polly’s, looked at Cyrus and said. “Go to Oregon Territory, what else?”
Polly’s face fell. “Honoria dear, think of your boys, the hardships. You can’t do this alone!”
“No, I can’t. But I have a plan …” She looked at Cyrus. “… I’m going to get married.”
The Van Cleets’ eyes widened. “You are?” they said at once.
Cyrus left the chair and joined his wife. “But Honoria, you aren’t possibly thinking of any of those men from today, are you?”
“No, of course not. But I have to do something to make this work.”
“I wish you could wait until next year,” Polly replied.
Cyrus shook his head, took his wife by the hand and smiled. “But we understand that financially you cannot. We’ll help you any way we can.”
&
nbsp; “Thank you, Cyrus, Polly. That means the world to me.”
“Don’t thank us yet,” Polly said. “I don’t know about Cyrus, but I can’t think of anyone to, um, fill the position?”
“Yes, that is a problem,” Honoria agreed. “I’ll need to find a decent chap, quick.”
“This isn’t some business deal,” Cyrus said.
“Isn’t it?” Honoria said, glancing at their surroundings. “My life is in this room, Cyrus – everything I have left except my sons. I’ve sold most of it to make ends meet so we wouldn’t have to touch the money my husband set aside for this. We spent several years in New York City, working, saving. This cattle ranch meant everything to Benedict, and I’ll not let him down. And surely you understand that not every marriage is a love match – many are, in fact, business deals.”
“But still not something to take lightly,” Polly said.
“No, it’s not,” she agreed. “But I can’t wait – I’ll not have the money next year. And … I really can’t stay here, not with memories of …” She couldn’t finish.
“Yes, we understand,” Cyrus replied. “Benedict’s death was tragic. I understand that you and your sons want to move on. However …”
“Cyrus, stop,” Honoria said. “If this wasn’t the last company to leave, perhaps I could wait for another. But it is the last, my last chance to give my boys the life their father wanted. If I can’t convince Mr. Kinzey to bend the rules, then I’ll have to abide by them. And that means marriage.”
“Yes, but whom?” Polly began to pace. “If you’re this determined, dear, you’ll have to wed quickly.”
“Right, then,” Honoria struck one palm with a fist. “Perhaps some sort of advertisement?”
“Heavens, no!” Cyrus said. “Look what happened today. Do you want every man from Kinzey’s company beating down your door?”
Honoria sighed. “No, that wouldn’t be my ideal.”
“Then we need to think this through,” Cyrus said.
“And fast,” Polly added darkly.
Chapter Three