by Kit Morgan
“Mother!” he called after her.
She ignored him and headed straight for the Mulligans’ wagon. She reached it a minute later, but didn’t see Jack and Sam, just Colin carrying two buckets of water toward her. “Where are Jack and Sam?”
“They were right behind me.” He looked over his shoulder. “I couldn’t tell you where they’ve gone.”
“Do they do this all the time?” she demanded.
Colin’s eyes widened. She knew he didn’t see her angry often, not like this. “Often enough,” he said. “Really, Mother, they’re not worth your trouble.”
“Aren’t they? Maybe if they got an earful from Jefferson and me, they’ll listen!”
“Mother, I think that might make it worse,” he hedged.
“Colin dearest, I don’t think this can get any worse.”
“Mother, please, don’t.” He took her arm.
She looked at his hand, then at her son’s face. “Colin, let go.”
“No, I won’t.”
She stared at him in shock. This was the first time one of her sons had ever defied her. She fought the urge to gnash her teeth. “Colin, I am telling you I must do this.”
He sighed and released her arm. “Fine, but I’m going with you. Someone has to protect you.”
Honoria felt tears spring to her eyes. Colin, prankster though he could be, was growing into a fine young man. She must have done something right. “Very well, if you wish.” She started off again, her son at her side.
Chapter Eighteen
Honoria headed for the small stream about two hundred yards from the wagon train. If she were lucky, she’d run into Jack and Sam along the way. If not, she could soak her feet and cool them off, along with her temper. Heavens, she hadn’t been this angry in a long time. “Just wait until I get my hands on those boys,” she muttered. But if she did, what could she do? They were bigger and taller than she was, and if they didn’t respect Jefferson, what made her think they’d show her any?
The situation was getting out of hand, and Colin might be right – speaking with Jefferson’s sons could make things worse. She might just create more distance between the two sides, maybe even turn it into open warfare. But she had to try.
They reached the stream and saw no sign of Jack or Sam. Pete Smithers, on the other hand, smiled at her, then frowned at Colin. “Afternoon, Mrs. Cooke,” he said as his eyes roamed over her.
Colin saw that look and tried to move between them, but she gently pushed him aside. “Good afternoon, Mr. Smithers. You wouldn’t happen to have seen Jack or Sam, would you?”
He scratched his beard. “Cain’t say I have. What’d they do this time?”
“This time?” she said in shock. “What do you mean?”
He laughed. “Ya mean ya don’t know?”
“Know what?” Colin said warily.
Mr. Smithers laughed again. “Woo-ee! Ya two don’t know nothin’, do ya? I’d think yer husband would tell ya what his sons been up to.”
Honoria stared at him as his words sliced through her like a knife through paper. “Tell me what?”
“Them boys been stealin’,” he hissed. He looked around and met her gaze again. “Everyone knows it. I’d be mad as rattler if I was you.”
She and Colin exchanged a quick look. “Have you heard anything?” she asked him.
Colin shrugged. “No, not a word.”
Pete Smithers smiled proudly at them.
She eyed him with suspicion. “Mr. Smithers, are you telling me the truth?”
He shrugged innocently. “Really, Mrs. Cooke, why in tarnation would I lie ‘bout such a thing? Maybe ya oughta ask that husband of yers? I hear tell they’ve been stealin’ food.”
Her nostrils flared. “Very well, I shall!” She spun on her heel and stomped off, angrier than ever. How could Jefferson have kept her in the dark like that? What was he thinking?
Colin trotted up behind her. “Mother, you don’t believe him, do you?”
“How can I not?”
“But he’s not an honest man.”
“Be that as it may, why would he lie about that? He has nothing to gain by it.” She marched on, determined to find Jefferson.
“I don’t trust him,” Colin said.
“Yes, I understand, darling, but there’s someone I don’t trust either. And when I find him, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.”
Colin groaned and followed her. She should send him away, but something wouldn’t let her, so she said nothing and continued her search.
When she finally found Jefferson, he was picking out Juliet’s feet. “I’d like a word with you, if I may?”
Colin stepped between them, worry on his face. “Mother, I don’t think …”
“Not now, Colin.” She waved him off and looked at Jefferson. “Well?”
He let go of the horse’s foot and straightened. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“Perhaps you can tell me,” she said, chin up. A tiny voice in the back of her head nagged that this wasn’t the wisest course of action, but she ignored it.
“What are you talking about?”
She might as well just be out with it. “Are Jack and Sam stealing?”
“What?!”
“Are they stealing?” She repeated. “I just heard them accused of thievery.”
“Who told you that?” He demanded.
“Never mind who told me. Is it true?”
“Of course not. Don’t you think I’d know if my own boys were …” He paused, seeming uncertain, and glanced between her and Colin. “My boys aren’t thieves.”
“I heard they were stealing food,” she stated, calmer now. “You know there are folks with things missing, ourselves included.”
“Well, if they took food from us, that isn’t exactly stealing, is it? Land sakes, woman, what’s gotten into you?”
“Some sense, I’d say. At least the sense to know you’ve been protecting your sons and not telling me everything.” She heard Colin gasp but ignored it. Her eyes were locked on Jefferson and she didn’t dare look away.
“Honoria Cooke,” Jefferson said calmly, “are you calling me a liar?”
Her eyes darted to one side and back. It was a bold question, but she had to stand her ground. “I think I am.”
“You think,” he replied.
She straightened. “I was told everyone knows they’re stealing. Why would you keep such a thing from me?”
“Woman, I haven’t been keeping anything from you,” he said calmly, quietly. “Why would I?”
“That’s a good question,” she shot back nervously. She realized she was backing herself into a corner and had to figure a way out of it.
Harrison wandered up, her spoon still in his hand. “Please don’t fight,” he said, blinking owlishly.
“We’re not fighting, dearest,” she said. “We’re having a discussion.”
“I’d say we’re close to fighting,” Jefferson commented. “At least we will be if your mother doesn’t stop accusing me.”
“Accusing you?” Harrison said. “Of what?”
“Never mind, dearest,” she said. “Kindly go stir the stew.”
Harrison turned to his brother. “Colin?”
“I’m keeping my mouth shut,” Colin stated. “Give me the spoon.”
Harrison handed it to him, clearly still unsure what was going on. But Honoria wasn’t going to explain things, not now. She wanted this settled or she’d never sleep that night. “Boys, go back to the fire. Jefferson and I would like some privacy.”
Colin hesitated as his eyes locked with Jefferson’s. “We were told that they were stealing.” He put his hand on Harrison’s shoulder and steered him toward their campfire.
As soon as they were out of sight, Honoria turned on her husband again. “If they’ve been stealing, then why didn’t you tell me? It’s why you’ve had them doing extra work, isn’t it?”
“No, I had them doing extra because they … oh, never mind. You wo
uldn’t understand.”
“I beg your pardon?” she said as her hands went to her hips.
He assumed the same stance. “Then again, maybe you would. Look, they insist that they’re men. So I figured they could do men’s work.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. Now would you mind telling me what this is all about?”
Honoria felt someone watching them, but didn’t want to look. She kept her eyes on Jefferson and stepped closer to him. “And why wasn’t I told such things? Why not inform me of their misdeeds?”
“I’ve told you about all their misdeeds I know of! If I didn’t tell you, it’s because I don’t know it!”
“Then who has been stealing?”
“How should I know?” He threw his hands in the air. “Woman, stop accusing my sons of doing something I know they wouldn’t do.”
“How do you know?”
His jaw tightened. “How do you know it’s not one of yours?”
She gasped. “How dare you insinuate one of my sons would do such a thing.”
“Now you know how I feel,” he shot back.
“Oh, you are the most infuriating man!”
“And you’re a stubborn, misinformed woman!”
They glared at each other, neither willing to back down. “Did you know that Jack and Sam are making Colin and Harrison do all the work for the other families?”
Now that caught him off guard. “What?”
“Both Harrison and Colin have told me. The only time Jack and Sam do their share is when Duncan is around. And I’ve seen it for myself – they were supposed to be hauling water with Colin for the Mulligans, but I found Colin doing it alone. And he had no idea where they were. Ask Colin and Harrison if you don’t believe me.”
He stared at her, then folded his arms. “Well …” He ground his teeth for a moment. “Why haven’t your boys told me this?”
“They think they’d be wasting their time, that you would think they were lying and wouldn’t do anything about it.” She held up a hand to forestall his objection. “I’m not saying you would, only that they thought that.”
Jefferson sighed. “Shirking their work … well, that is something Jack and Sam would do. And I’m glad you told me. I will talk to Colin and Harrison – and I’ll talk to my boys too. But I don’t think they’re thieves – my boys or yours.”
“I hope you’re right.” She was still steaming, but realized she had to calm down. Hot rage was getting her nowhere.
Jefferson was apparently thinking along the same lines. “Tell you what, let’s talk about this some more tomorrow. Take time to cool off first.”
Honoria couldn’t disagree. “All right.”
“One more question, though – who told you Jack and Sam were stealing?”
“Why should it matter?”
“You have to consider the source.” Jefferson held up his hands like pans on a scale. “If, say, Cyrus Van Cleet or Doc Waller said it, I’d be real inclined to believe it.” He raised one hand, lowered the other, shifting the scales. “But if it was someone like … well, Fanny Fig …” His hands swung the other way.
Another point she couldn’t argue. “It was Mr. Smithers.”
Jefferson froze and looked at her in shock. “Pete Smithers? And you believed him?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because you can’t trust that man any farther than you can throw him. If he said it, that don’t mean a load of horse m–”
“But what if he is telling the truth?”
Jefferson looked ready to explode. But instead he held up his hands in placation. “Look, this is getting us nowhere. Let’s talk about it tomorrow, and at sometime I will ask the boys about it – all of them. But we don’t need a battle.” He returned to Juliet, picked up her foot and began to pick at it again.
“Jefferson Cooke, don’t you ignore me,” she said.
“I am not ignoring you. I am saying let’s calm down for now and come back to it. Please.” He was obviously making a great effort to do just that.
She stomped her foot, but couldn’t deny he was being reasonable. “Fine. Fine. Tomorrow, then.”
He didn’t look up. “Thank you. Go … make some biscuits or something, okay?”
“Fine,” Honoria repeated. She was still fuming, but didn’t want to fight any more than he did. He’d promised to look into it, and to discuss it with her again. And Jefferson Cooke, she knew, was a man of his word, even if his sons weren’t. She’d have to be satisfied with that, and hope things worked out.
But she was sorely tempted to over salt a biscuit and serve it to him.
“What was that all ‘bout?” Mattson whispered to Pete. “Ain’t never seen them two fight.”
Pete was still chuckling at the Cookes’ heated exchange. “Well, maybe they had a li’l help.”
“What?” Mattson said. “Pete, ya up to somethin’?”
“Let’s just say I’m helpin’ the li’l lady rethink her choice of a husband,” he said with a wink.
Mattson peered around the wagon as Jefferson moved to the mare’s other foot. “Whatja do?”
Pete straightened, but kept his voice low. “I ensured I get outta here, that’s what I did. I’m tired of workin’ for Kinzey, and if I can leave with the woman and some money, so much the better.”
“Money?”
Pete poked his head around the side of the wagon again. “I’m talkin’ ‘bout when we get paid.”
“Oh,” Mattson said with a nod. “Well, I plan on settlin’ in Oregon City myself.”
“Ya do that. Find yerself a wife.”
“Easier said than done,” Mattson grumbled. “Ain’t a lotta women out there, less’n I find me an Injun squaw.”
“That’s yer problem. I got mine all picked out.”
He glanced at Jefferson and back. “Have ya gone plumb out of yer mind? She’s already married – to him.”
Pete turned, an evil grin on his face. “Not for long …”
Pete Smithers was a low-down mangy coyote – ask anyone that knew him. Thankfully for him, no one who really knew him was within a thousand miles at present. He kept to himself, except when he was stirring up trouble. And right now, he was stirring up plenty.
He slipped behind the Van Cleets’ wagon. They were eating a few wagons down at the Mulligans’ tonight. He didn’t have much time and had to move fast. Now that he’d hopefully turned that pretty Sayer woman against her husband, the next step in his plan was to talk Jefferson Cooke’s sons into stealing Cyrus Van Cleet’s money chest. He knew it had to be loaded with cash and he wasn’t about to pass up such a prize.
First, he needed to make sure it was still where he’d seen it last. What if Mr. Van Cleet moved it around? When Jack and Sam went to snatch it, they might have a hard time finding it, take too long, get themselves caught and tattle on him. Then he’d get fired – or worse, lynched – by Mr. Kinzey and his men. What a horrible turn of events that would be! But if he played his cards right, he’d get away with the cash and the woman and could live out his days in peace.
Well, there was one other task – getting rid of Honoria Sayer’s three sons. He didn’t want them along. Fatherhood didn’t appeal to him in the least. If he got the woman with child, well, he’d figure out what to do about it later. Right now, he just wanted to get his hands on her, and getting rid of Jefferson and the rest would do it. He could see it now … swoop in at her time of need. Betrayed by her husband, she’d naturally want a divorce, see Pete (with all that cash) as the best means of survival, and run away with him.
What if she put up a fuss? Hmmm … he hadn’t thought of that. But what woman wouldn’t want him? After all, he was in his prime – a fine example of manhood, albeit a little short. Who cared if she was taller than he was? When you’re horizontal, height didn’t matter much …
Pete glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then hopped into the back of the Van Cleets’ wagon. He rummaged through their belongings search
ing for the chest, but didn’t find it anywhere. Drat! The old man must’ve moved it – just what he’d been worried about!
He quickly jumped out and scanned the area. Lucky for him, no one was around to see him. He strode out from behind the wagon casually as could be. He didn’t want anyone thinking he was up to no good, after all.
He went to where he and the rest of Kinzey’s men ate and slept. He needed someone to keep an eye on Mr. Van Cleet and figure out where that chest went, or his plan was deader than George Washington. Though come to think, since he was going to use those Cooke boys to steal it, he might as well use them to spy on Van Cleet as well. He didn’t dare do it himself – he’d been lucky so far, but who knew how long that luck would hold?
Satisfied with his new plan, he sauntered to his own campsite, sat by the fire and slapped Mattson on the back. “Supper ready yet?”
Mattson, who served as Kinzey’s cook, eyed him warily. “Whatcha smilin’ ‘bout?”
“Me? Aw, nothin’. Just glad we’ve gotten this far without much trouble.”
“Yet.”
“Don’t go invitin’ bad luck,” Pete said. “We don’t need none.”
Mattson glanced around. “This is Sioux country, ya know.”
“They ain’t this far west. We passed ‘em up a ways back.”
“Kinzey said they’re ‘round here too.”
Pete looked around, as if expecting a Sioux brave to jump out and scalp them both. “Naw, he’s wrong.”
“Maybe so, but I’m sleepin’ with my guns ‘til we reach Fort Boise.”
Pete unholstered his pistol and checked it. “Me too, just to be safe. Though I’m more afraid of a rattler than some Injun.”
“Ya should be ‘fraid of both,” Mattson took the lid off of a Dutch oven. The smell of biscuits and beans wafted out of it.
Pete’s stomach growled. He wondered if the Sayer woman had finally learned to cook. He’d heard she was terrible at it soon after leaving Independence, but that the other women were giving her lessons. She should have improved by now.
“Why’re ya still smilin’?” Mattson asked.
Pete grinned from ear to ear as he leaned against Kinzey’s wagon. “Cause I’m lookin’ forward to getting to Oregon City. Things are gonna change for me there, I can feel it. I’m gonna finally get what I deserve.”