by Kit Morgan
“I’d imagine.” Jefferson took her in his arms. “Are you scared?”
She took a deep breath and looked away. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
He chuckled, tucked a finger under her chin and turned her face back to his. “Because I’m beginning to know you, Honoria Cooke. But you needn’t be scared while I’m here. Though a little fear isn’t bad.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “I’d rather have none, if you don’t mind.”
“A little of it makes you cautious.” He kissed her then, long and slow.
When he broke the kiss he left her breathless, and she realized she wanted more of him. She felt unprotected when he wasn’t around, and didn’t like that feeling at all. “Do you have to leave again right away?”
“Only if I need to go round up the boys. Where are they? Has anyone come back to camp?”
“Colin went to fetch Harrison, who’s helping the Dunnigans. I haven’t seen Jack or Sam since they left.”
Jefferson’s hands went to his hips. “Fine, you go on to bed. I’ll round them up.” He kissed her again, gazed into her eyes and left.
As she headed to bed, she pondered his reactions. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t put her finger on what. Maybe the incident with the Indians and Tommy had left him shaken too … no. Jefferson shaken? How could she even think that? He was like a rock, steady and strong against a raging sea. Nothing seemed to disturb him – except maybe his sons when they were acting surly, but that would get any father upset. No, this was new, something she hadn’t sensed from him before.
Honoria crawled into the back of the wagon, and prepared for bed. She didn’t want to worry about what might be wrong with Jefferson. The day had brought enough trouble of its own. She’d deal with whatever might be bothering him tomorrow.
“I’m telling you that boy of yours is stealing!” Mrs. Dunnigan cried.
Jefferson pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mrs. Dunnigan, what proof do you have?”
“Proof? I’ll give you proof! I took inventory this morning and tonight I’m missing nearly a pound of sugar and some peppermint candies!”
Jefferson lowered his hand. “Are you sure those aren’t the peppermints you traded Grandma?”
“Of course they’re not, I accounted for those!” She waved her new ladle at him.
He didn’t wonder if Grandma should have traded her something else - like a feather duster. “Are you sure you didn’t give any more out?”
“Of course I’m sure.” She lowered the ladle and narrowed her eyes. “It’s that Duncan, I tell you. He sneaks around here all the time.”
Wilfred came around the wagon, checking off a list of some kind. “Irene, everything’s here.”
“No, it’s not! We’re missing things and we’re not the only ones! Mrs. White said she can’t find her mixing spoon!”
“What?” Jefferson said. “A spoon?”
“Yes! No one touches another woman’s utensils – it’s just not done. So don’t try and say one of us borrowed it.”
Jefferson went back to pinching the bridge of his nose. “Wilfred?”
“I’ll handle this.” He went to his wife. “Now, Irene, there’s no sense getting upset –”
“I’m not upset!” she snapped. “Harrison Cooke, get out of that wagon! You too, Colin!”
Harrison and Colin scrambled out of one of the Dunnigans’ wagons, slipped between them and disappeared.
“And stay in your own camp from now on!” she called after them.
“Irene,” Wilfred sighed, “you asked them to help you.”
She turned to him, her mouth hanging open, eyes narrowed. She snapped her mouth shut. “Well, they should have gone home a long time ago!”
Jefferson looked in the direction the boys had fled. “Tell you what, Mrs. Dunnigan, I’ll speak with them.”
“All of them?”
“Yes, all of them. I’m sure they have nothing to hide.”
“Ask Duncan what he has to hide,” she said. “And that Colin, he’s no better!”
Jefferson glanced at Wilfred, whose jaw was tight. He looked the way Jefferson felt. Mary had been much like Mrs. Dunnigan in her last years, and there’d been no reasoning with her. At least Irene listened to her husband most of the time. “Don’t worry, I’ll set them straight.”
“You’d better, Jefferson Cooke, or there will be no peace the rest of this journey!” she barked.
Wilfred shrugged helplessly and put an arm around his wife. “Come on, Irene, let’s turn in.”
“Fine, but I’m taking inventory again in the morning!”
“And I’ll help you,” he said. He gave Jefferson an apologetic nod, then steered his wife to one of the wagons.
Jefferson watched them go. He felt sorry for Wilfred and what he had to put up with. Thankfully, according to Wilfred, this was temporary, that she hadn’t been like this for long. With Mary it had gone on for years, getting worse and worse until finally she didn’t even know who she was. She’d just rant and rave, up to the day she died …
Jefferson turned and headed back to his own wagons. Honoria was not Mary, he had to remember that. She didn’t get upset, didn’t nag or belittle him – yet, anyway. They were getting to know each other, but time would tell. They’d been married over three months now, had traveled side by side all this way. But under pressure, what was she like?
And what about Duncan, Colin and Harrison? Was there any truth in what Irene Dunnigan was carrying on about? Had Duncan taken something that didn’t belong to him? He seemed the least likely fellow to do so, but one never knew. He didn’t spend too many meals with them, instead giving his portions up for others. Was it because he was taking food from Irene and Wilfred’s stores?
Jefferson decided he’d confront Duncan the next day to find out.
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning people made breakfast, ate and prepared to leave as usual, but the encounter with the Indians had made everyone nervous. Indians were a constant threat, and now that the threat had become real, it affected the pioneers in different ways. Some men carried rifles on their laps while driving their teams. More women put children in the wagons instead of letting them walk alongside. And Mr. Kinzey ordered more scouts to ride ahead of the wagon train and report back anything that looked suspicious.
“Mother,” Harrison wondered, “why is everyone so on edge? I thought the Indians that brought Tommy back were friendly.”
“They were, dearest,” she said. “But Mr. Kinzey isn’t taking chances. The Indians that found Tommy were Cheyenne, according to Jefferson. But other tribes aren’t as friendly. The Sioux, for example, don’t care for pioneers.”
“I see. But how do we know which are Sioux and which are Cheyenne?”
“I don’t know much about it, but Jefferson does. Why don’t you ask him?”
“I will, before we stop for lunch.”
She watched him a moment, her chest swelling with pride. Harrison enjoyed driving, was eager to learn, and worked as hard as anyone when they stopped for the night, sometimes harder. He was trying to please Jefferson and she wasn’t going to stop him.
The morning was blessedly uneventful. At midday the wagon train stopped near a small stream. Children filled canteens and water skins alongside watchful fathers armed with rifles while women prepared food. They hadn’t seen any Indians since their departure, and Honoria hoped they wouldn’t the rest of the day. She knew it was too much to hope they wouldn’t see any the remainder of the journey. They were coming into country where, according to Jefferson last night, they’d meet quite a few.
Worse yet, tales of scalpings and other horrors at the hands of Indians filtered through the camp. Honoria didn’t know who started them, and thought of Irene Dunnigan when Fanny Fig came trotting up the line of wagons, nervous as a cat and telling everyone to keep a close eye on the little ones, because the Indians might come back and steal them. Had she heard that from Irene?
But when Wilfred came by shortly after with some c
andy for Harrison and Colin for helping Irene with her inventory the night before, he assured her that wasn’t the case. “Irene is a lot of things, ma’am, but a gossip isn’t one of them. To her, gossiping is a sin and she hates anything to do with it. Trust me on that.”
“I’m relieved to hear it, Wilfred. Harrison and Colin are over there if you want to give them their candy.” She pointed toward the stream.
“Much obliged, ma’am. They deserve something for their trouble. Left to Irene, they’d just get an earful, but I don’t think that’s fair. She seems to have forgotten all the help they’ve been.”
“Thank you, they’ll appreciate that,” she said with a smile. He tipped his hat and went to find her sons.
No sooner had he left than Jefferson came along and kissed her on the cheek. “Them sandwiches look mighty fine.”
“Yes, if you like leftovers, which I know you do.”
He chuckled, kissed her again and took the sandwich she offered. “I need to speak with Duncan tonight.”
“Whatever for?”
Jefferson rolled his eyes. “Irene Dunnigan has it in her fool head that Duncan’s stealing from her. I mean to set things straight.”
“Duncan, steal? Why, I’ve never heard anything so preposterous.”
“If I speak with him and she hears about it, maybe it will calm her down and Wilfred can sleep at night.”
“Goodness, is she that bad?”
“Yes,” he said with a far-off look in his eyes. “I’ve seen her kind before.”
Honoria took the last sandwich. “Before? What do you mean?”
“Never mind that,” he said. “I just want to find out if it’s true.”
“Of course it’s not true!” she scoffed. “My son wouldn’t steal.”
Jefferson bit into his sandwich, chewed and swallowed. “But you have to admit, his behavior is a little strange. He won’t take meals with us, always offering his portion to others.”
She gaped at him a moment. “Surely you’re not suggesting that Duncan has been stealing from her?”
“I didn’t say that. But something is going on, other than joining the Dunnigans for a meal before guard duty. Maybe he doesn’t like the company at supper.”
Honoria noticed the tightness in his jaw. “Jefferson, Duncan sometimes takes a while to warm up to people.”
He nodded. “Understandable. So do Jack and Sam, but they don’t miss many meals on account of it.”
“No, they simply ignore me.” Maybe she shouldn’t have said it, but it was true.
“They’re getting better,” he said. “I think Duncan needs to work on a thing or two as well.”
That got her hackles up. Duncan was nothing like Jack and Sam – none of her sons were. “What do you mean by that?”
He looked at her and popped the last bite of sandwich into his mouth. “I aim to find out what’s going on with him, that’s all.”
“There’s nothing going on.” She folded her arms in front of her.
He pointed at the sandwich in her hand. “You gonna eat that?”
She lowered the hand holding the sandwich. “I’m not hungry.”
“You will be.”
He was right. She took a bite. Besides, she couldn’t stand the thought of wasting food. Nor could she abide Jefferson accusing Duncan of anything. “He’s done nothing.”
He eyed her a moment. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
Honoria stopped chewing, swallowed too soon and choked.
He patted her back and offered her a canteen. “Honoria Cooke, when are you going to realize that your sons ain’t angels? No boy is, not even when they become young men. Trust me, I know. I’m a man, ain’t I?”
She took the canteen from him, drank and handed it back. “That’s beside the point. Not all men are prone to wrongdoing. Not like Jack …” She caught herself before she finished, but it was too late.
His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Jack and Sam are no angels, I’ll admit that, but that doesn’t make yours white as snow.”
Honoria’s chin went up. “Jefferson Cooke, you have nothing to accuse my son of doing.”
“But I still have questions. Where does he go at mealtimes? I know why he leaves early for guard duty, but what about other times of late?”
She thought a moment. “No, I believe he only leaves early on guard duty night. He eats with us at other times.”
“Not all the time. I aim to find out what’s going on – that’s all I’m going to say on the matter.”
She studied him a moment. His jaw was set and his eyes steely. He was determined to do this despite anything she had to say on the matter. “Very well, question him like a common criminal.”
He smacked his forehead and rubbed his face. “Tarnation woman, I’m not going to interrogate him.”
“What else am I to think? I dare say, you make it sound as if you’re already convinced he’s guilty of something.”
“I guess we won’t know ‘til I ask.” He turned on his heel and strode off down the line of wagons.
“Oh, Honoria, you nitwit,” she scolded. “Why can’t you learn to keep your mouth shut?” But she was touchy when it came to her boys, as any mother would be. Which made her wonder: how did Jack and Sam’s mother Mary handle them? Had their bad behavior started after she died? Maybe she should ask if they’d been in trouble while growing up too.
She began to clean things up when another thought occurred. Was Jefferson accusing Duncan of ill behavior to put him on the same moral level as his own sons? True, she thought her boys angels at times, but she knew that wasn’t the case. Especially not Colin. Still, of the three, Duncan was the least of her worries. Which is why her pride was pricked at the suggestion he might be guilty of something as appalling as stealing.
“We’re ready to go, Mother,” Harrison said as he approached from the back of the wagon. “Do you need help putting things away?”
“No, dearest, I have all in hand. Did you and Colin get sorted with Wilfred?”
“Yes, he gave us some candy for helping Mrs. Dunnigan last night. I hope she’s not too scared.”
“Scared?”
“The Indians, of course,” he said. “Mrs. Fig just told us the most horrific tale!”
“Oh dear me,” she said, eyes wide. “Of what?”
Harrison looked delighted – he always did like a gory story. “About a family with three children. The father went to hunt and when he came back his wagon was on fire and his wife and children were missing.”
“Harrison, that’s horrible!”
“He found them one by one and they were all …”
She held up a hand to stop him. “Enough!”
“… they drove his cattle away, and took one of the children alive …”
“Stop, I say! Dearest, must you regale me with these things?”
He took her hand. “You aren’t afraid, are you, Mother?”
“To be honest, a little. But if we run into anymore Indians, Jefferson and the other men will make sure they’re dealt with as peacefully as possible.”
“I still want to meet them,” he stated.
“Indians?” She said eyes wide. “Whatever for?”
Harrison’s face fairly glowed. “They’re fascinating.”
She sighed and nodded. “I suppose. Please promise me you won’t take any unnecessary risks.”
Harrison shrugged. “Very well, Mother.”
She took a couple of steps closer and looked him in the eyes. She still marveled he was as tall as she was. “Promise?”
He swallowed as his eyebrows went up. “Of course I promise.”
She took a step back. They grew up so quickly … “Good. Let’s be on our way.”
The rest of the day passed without incident. By the time they set up camp that evening, Honoria was more relaxed. She thought about Harrison and his curiosity and prayed he didn’t stumble upon any Indians gathering firewood or hunting rabbits. The boy would go home with them given half the ch
ance.
She was busy with the evening meal – bacon and eggs – when Jefferson passed the cook fire. “Have you seen Duncan?”
Her back stiffened. She didn’t want to get into another conversation accusing her son. “Mr. Kinzey has doubled the guard, so he’s probably preparing to leave with Wilfred.”
“Good, I’ll find him and speak with him,” he said decisively. He grabbed a piece of bacon out of the pan, blew on it a few times and took a bite.
She watched him and swore the man’s hands were made of shoe leather. “He’s fine, Jefferson. There’s really no need.”
“Don’t you think I should be the judge of that?”
She wiped her hands on a dishrag and set them on her hips. “I … Duncan … oh for Heaven’s sake, he’s done nothing wrong.”
“Good.” He blew on his bacon. “Then he won’t mind telling me what he is doing.”
Honoria gripped the dishrag, knuckles white. The man was infuriating – why couldn’t he take her word for it? “Very well. Go question him, find out all you need to know.”
Jefferson popped the last of the bacon into his mouth and watched her as he chewed and swallowed. “Don’t you trust me?”
His question took her by surprise and she blinked a few times. “I beg your pardon?”
He walked toward her. “You don’t, do you?”
Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to form words. “Trust you with what?”
“Don’t you know?”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” she shot back.
He sighed and looked solemn. “All of us, Honoria. You don’t trust me with all of us.” He strode away.
Honoria stared after him. As soon as he disappeared between some wagons, she lost it. “Of all the stubborn, silly, outlandish accusations!” She threw the rag down in frustration – only to see it land in the fire. She snatched it out and stomped at the burning edges, then noticed the bacon was burning. “Oh my goodness!” She used the dishrag to remove the pan from the fire and set it on a large rock. “Now I’ve ruined dinner!”
She put the singed rag over the smoking pan, sat on her stool and stared forlornly at the darkening sky. “No wonder Duncan doesn’t want to eat meals with us – I’m terrible at this. Did that ever occur to you, Jefferson?” she spat in the direction he’d left. “If I were Duncan I’d go find my supper elsewhere too,” she added with a sigh. Fighting back tears, she salvaged what bacon she could, scraped out the pan and prepared to make the eggs. Good thing she hadn’t fried them together or they’d both be ruined.