The Reluctant Bridegroom (12 page)

Finally she drew back and wiped her eyes. “Your father and I have prayed for you—and we always will.” She turned to leave, and then she gave him one smile. “God won’t let our prayers fall to the ground, Sky—but you must fight this thing! It’s the hardest thing a human being is ever called on to do—to forgive someone who’s wronged him. But that’s what Jesus died for—for all of us, for the way we’ve wronged Him!”

When he rode out of the Mission that afternoon, his last sight was Missy standing there, her eyes begging him to forgive.

****

“Do you have a room for Winslow?”

The desk clerk turned to find himself looking into a pair of blue eyes set in a bronze face. “Ah—I believe so.” Looking
into a book on the desk, he put his finger on a name. “Mr. Sky Winslow of Oregon City?”

“That’s me.”

“Yes—Mr. Sellers has made all the arrangements. If you’ll just sign here, Mr. Winslow, I’ll take you up to your room.”

Sky took the quill and signed his name in careful strokes. “Is it always this busy in town?” he asked.

The clerk, a thin man with sleek black hair, smiled as he walked from behind the desk. “Actually, this is the slowest time of the year, sir.”

“Hate to be here when it’s busy,” Sky commented. “Never knew there could be so many people in one spot.”

“Ah—yes, indeed, sir!” The clerk led the way to a wide stairway, where a well-dressed couple stared at Sky as they passed. He felt self-conscious, for he still wore his trail clothes, and had neglected to take his pistol off.
Have to dress like a city man,
he thought as he followed the clerk to a room on the second floor.

“Room 206,” said the clerk, opening the door and entering the room. “You also have room 208, which has been fitted according to Mr. Sellers’ instructions. That is the door that joins the two rooms.” The clerk gave him two keys. “I hope you enjoy your stay. We have a very fine restaurant downstairs if you’d care to eat with us.”

“Thanks.” Sky waited until the man left before he looked the room over. It was a large room, the nicest he’d ever been in. The walls were papered and there was a thick rug on the floor. An oak bed with a feather mattress took up most of one wall; and there was a washstand, a desk with a straight chair and an overstuffed chair as well. He opened the other door and saw that it was much the same except for the furnishings. The bed had been replaced by a dozen straight chairs neatly set around the room.

Closing the door, he walked to the window to stare down at the flow of traffic on the busy street. He watched the carriages, cabs, draught wagons, buggies, and delivery wagons
as they rattled down the street. The sidewalks he watched even more closely, for he had never seen so many people. They were a mixed lot, and many of them were obviously foreigners. While everyone in Oregon City dressed in more or less the same fashion, the sidewalks of New York produced everything from a Chinese laundry man with a black cap and pigtails to a well-stuffed couple who strolled along in fine furs. Looking at the man’s hat, Sky wondered if perhaps he had trapped the beaver it was made from.

Tiring of this, he washed and lay down to rest. The job of buying wagons, horses, and equipment for the trail had been hard work; and he had spent two weeks in Independence, Missouri, making arrangements for the trip west. The goods that his backers wanted had to be purchased, and he’d had to line up a dozen men to drive the wagons. He hired them in exchange for a small wage and free transportation to Oregon. One man, Dave Lloyd, seemed a higher cut than most, and Sky put him in charge of the men and the equipment.

“I’ll be going to get our passengers tomorrow, Dave,” he’d said on his last night. “I want to pull out as soon as I get back, so keep a tight rein on things.”

Lloyd was a blond man with close-set blue eyes and a scrapper’s jaw. He had been around a bit in his twenty-eight years, and had some of the scars of his education on his face, which was why Sky had chosen him to hold the train together. One of Dave’s ears was misshapen, and his shuffling gait told Sky the man had done some professional fighting. His guess was confirmed when one of the drivers, a burly man named Simms, challenged Lloyd’s authority and had been promptly put on his back with a single blow. Since then, the other drivers had walked carefully around Lloyd. Still, Dave knew a challenge when he heard one. “There might be some trouble, Mr. Winslow, with that many women—most of our drivers are a pretty hard-nosed bunch.”

“Guess I already know that, Dave.” Sky shrugged. “It’s mostly losers who get to Oregon our way—rich people usually
pay their own way. But I promise you, there’ll not be much trouble over these women. I’ll put a bullet in the first man who fools with one of them!”

“Better take plenty of ammunition,” Lloyd answered dryly. “When you figure to be back?”

“I want to get out of Independence by the middle of April, so you’re in charge of keeping the men sober about that time—oh, and by the way, you’ve got to find a preacher to go along.”

Lloyd stared at him hard. “Mr. Winslow, that’s a big order. Don’t think there’s many preachers waitin’ to make a trip like this.”

“I don’t care what kind of preacher he is, Dave. But the notice said that we’ll have a chaplain on the trip—so you best dig one up.”

Lying there in his hotel room, Sky wondered if Dave had found a preacher, and was glad it was a problem he didn’t have to face for a few days. He slept for four hours, then got up and went down to the restaurant. The food was strange to him, fancier than what he ate most of the time, but he enjoyed it. Afterward he walked around the city, stopping in at a brightly lit building that proved to be a mission building.

Inside, a short muscular preacher was working up a sweat, preaching to a poorly dressed group of thirty people. Sky thought about asking him if he’d ever considered going to the coast to preach, but decided against it. Walking out of the chapel and onto the street, he entered a saloon that had a bar longer than any two buildings in Oregon City. The light from the chandeliers dazzled him, and several times he was approached by women with brightly painted cheeks and fixed smiles. He turned them away quietly, and walked back to his room in the hotel. Looking at his watch, he saw that it was nearly eleven. The interviews would begin at nine, and he wondered if anyone would come.
Would be a big joke on Sam if nobody showed up!
he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

He rose at six the next morning, went downstairs and
ordered a breakfast of pancakes and bacon, then drank coffee and read the New York papers while he ate. When he was done, it was a little before eight—still early. For an hour he walked the streets, returning to the hotel at ten minutes before nine. By that time, he was angry at Sam and at himself.
It’s a fool idea—and it’ll never work!
he grumbled as he climbed the stairs. Going into his room, Sky put his hat and coat on the rack, then squared his shoulders and went to the door. He listened and heard nothing, so he opened the door expecting to find the room empty.

To his utter amazement, all the chairs were filled, and at least six women were standing.

Covering his surprise, Winslow stood in the door and swept their faces with a quick glance. “Well, I’m glad to see you ladies—” Even as he spoke another woman came in, a thin girl, poorly dressed and very nervous. “Come in, miss,” Sky said quickly. “We’re just getting started.”

He waited until the girl had shut the door before he continued. “First I want to tell you the purpose of the association. Some of you may want to leave. That’s fine, of course. We’re only interested in those who really
want
to go. After I’ve had my say, I know you’ll have lots of questions, and I’ll do my best to answer them. Then I’ll want to talk privately to those of you who’re still interested. All right?”

No one moved, so he went on. “Now, then, let me tell you about the trip and what you can expect. I’ll give it to you with the bark on; it’s not like going on a Sunday school picnic.”

For the next hour he went over the problems they would face, both on the trail and after they got to Oregon. As he had promised, he left nothing out, and when he finished he said, “Now, I know that some of you may have changed your mind, and we’ll give you time to leave before we go on.” As he had predicted, five of the women got up and left the room quickly. After they had gone, Sky was quick to assure the remaining women, “Any one of you ladies can change your mind at any point—even after you get to Oregon.”

Most of the women were poorly dressed and very plain, except for one. Sky had been acutely aware of her the entire time he was speaking, for she stood out like a peacock in a barnyard full of chickens. She wore a fashionable dress that was a bit gaudy over a figure that was full, and would soon be overripe. Her dark complexion was emphasized by too much makeup, and her bold dark eyes drew his, taunting him. “You mean if I don’t find a man I like, you’ll pay my fare back here?”

Sky saw that she was amused by the whole thing, and felt unsettled by it. “That’s the way it is, Miss—?”

“Duvall. Rita Duvall.” She must have known that the other women were staring at her, but she obviously didn’t care. “Well, if it’s question time, I’ve got a few.”

“Miss Duvall, it’s my job to get you safely to Oregon. I’ve got printed agreements here that you can take to a lawyer. They’re very simple—and I’ll do my best to answer any other questions you may have.”

“Just one. What kind of men are in Oregon that causes them to get their women this way?”

He liked her audacity, and smiled in spite of himself. “Just men, Miss Duvall—some of them good, some bad. But it’s a new country, and it’s full of men who had to go alone. Now things aren’t so rough, and they want wives and families.”

“Are
you
one of those men, Mr. Winslow?”

Sky felt his face flush, and he knew that she was laughing at him. Her boldness told him one thing: if she wasn’t yet hardened by life, she was surely on the verge of it. Sky waited until he could speak more easily.

“No, I’m not, Miss Duvall,” he said calmly. “It’s a long trip, but there will be no courtin’ on the trail. All of the drivers are single men, and they’ve been told what will happen if they make any sort of improper approach to the ladies on the train.”

A tall blond woman, not over twenty-five, raised her hand. Sky nodded to her, and she rose from her seat. “I’m Karen
Sanderson. Excuse me, Mr. Winslow—but what
will
happen to a man who does anything . . . improper?” Although she was not attractive in the usual sense, she had a strong figure, Nordic blue eyes, and a pleasant face.

“I’ll shoot him, Miss Sanderson.” Her gaze did not waver, and she smiled slightly and said, “I think those who chose our guide chose wisely.”

The compliment caught Sky off guard, and he flushed again. Then a stocky girl with carrot red hair and freckles on her rounded cheeks asked, “Well, what
is
this ‘improper behavior’?”

“Yes, tell us all about improper behavior, Mr. Winslow,” Rita Duvall smirked.

Sky wished he were back in Oregon trapping beaver. “That will be defined by the clergyman who will be serving as our chaplain.”

But he was not to be let off so easily. “And what will you do if one of
us
behaves in an improper way?” Rita asked pointedly. “Would you shoot
me,
Mr. Winslow?”

Sky felt like a fool when his face burned again, but he said, “I think, Miss Duvall, that those who are
chosen
to make the trip would not be guilty of poor behavior—but, again, that will be up to the chaplain.”

The questions came at him hard and fast, and it was over an hour later before he finally could say, “No more questions? Well, then, I can’t talk to you all at once, so we’ll have to set up a schedule for the interviews. Excuse me while I get some paper.” Going into the other room, he got a notebook from his bag. “Will one of you write numbers on small slips of paper?” he asked, coming back into the room and shutting the door behind him.

“I will.” Karen Sanderson took the paper and followed his directions. When she had finished he got his hat and put the papers inside. “Take a number, please, and that will be the order in which I will see you.” They took the slips as he moved around the room. “Allow each, half an hour I think.
So if you’ve got number three, your turn will come in an hour, and so on. I’ll be here for a couple of days, so there’s really no rush. Who has number one?”

“I do.”

A thin, middle-aged woman with work-hardened fingers held up a slip, and Sky said, “Please step into the next room. The rest of you can wait here or come back when it’s your turn.”

Several of the women left at once, but Rita Duvall sat back and held up her slip. “I’m number three, Mr. Winslow. And I can’t
wait
for our little talk!”

Rita Duvall—you are one I KNOW won’t be going along!
he thought, but said only, “I’m looking forward to it myself, Miss Duvall.” He turned into the room, well aware that her red lips were curved into a smile that made her look much like a cat considering a mouse she had just captured.

CHAPTER NINE

THE LAST TWO PASSENGERS

By the end of the third day Sky had come to hate New York. He hated the talks he had to give, but the waiting room was filled with new groups each morning. The private interviews were worse. Most of the women he spoke with were pitifully eager to get away from a hard life in the city; he struggled to tell them they were headed for one that might be worse.

Some women were eliminated instantly, for physical reasons. At least five of them would have died before reaching the South Pass, and half a dozen more would not have lasted a year. One of them, a women of thirty with an obvious case of consumption, begged him, “Take me with you! At least I won’t have to die in this place!”

A few he had refused because of their attitude. Three of them had been argumentative, fighting for their rights even before they knew whether they had been granted a place on the wagon. Sky had less of a problem turning these away, for he knew that they would make a train unbearable.
I’m doing some fellow a favor,
he thought.
A gal like this’d make a man go crazy in a week!