A Big Sky Christmas (16 page)

As Jamie expected that it would, life on the trail soon settled into a routine. He had the immigrants up early every morning, and they broke camp and the wagons rolled when the sky was still gray. Other than short breaks to rest the teams, he kept them moving all day.

Unfortunately, the sun slipped below the horizon a little earlier each day, cutting down the time that they could travel.

Late every afternoon, the wagons pulled off the trail and formed a big circle next to the river. He and some of the scouts stood guard while the livestock was watered and then driven into the circle.

The train had come far enough from Kansas City that the land was sparsely settled with a few isolated ranches in the area. Jamie didn't think there was any real danger from Indians yet, but it never hurt to be careful.

And outlaws, of course, could strike anywhere.

Once everyone had eaten supper, they turned in for the night, tired from the long day on the trail. There was no big center campfire where the immigrants gathered to play music, sing, and dance the way they had done back in Kansas City. They didn't have the energy for diversions like that anymore. The hard pace that Jamie established saw to that.

He set up guard shifts at night, drawing on volunteers from the wagon train along with his scouts. Moses Danzig was always willing to pitch in and do whatever was needed. He wouldn't be much good in a fight, Jamie knew, but he could stay alert and give the alarm in case of trouble as well as anybody else.

So far Lucas, Mahaffey, and Pearsoll had worked out fairly well. Mahaffey and Pearsoll weren't very friendly with the immigrants and the other scouts and kept to themselves most of the time. But they didn't cause any trouble and they did what Jamie told them without any arguments.

Jake Lucas, on the other hand, seldom stopped talking and always had a friendly word for everybody. He flirted with all the teenage girls whose families were part of the group and even with some of the married women, which Jamie thought might lead to problems sooner or later. He asked Bodie to have a word with his friend about it.

Bodie agreed to do so, but he added, “Jake doesn't mean anything by the way he acts. That's just how he is. He's friendly with everybody.”

“Get too friendly with a married woman and punches can get thrown,” Jamie cautioned. “That's if you're lucky. If you're not, guns go off.”

“I'll talk to him,” Bodie promised.

Lamar Hendricks and Jamie had gotten together and studied the map that Jeb Ralston had drawn before they left. The route Ralston had laid out turned northwest away from the Kansas River, followed the Oregon Trail for a good long ways, then cut almost due north, crossing the Platte and continuing to skirt the Rocky Mountains to the east as they headed for Montana.

Once they were there the wagons would turn west again, travel through the foothills and on into Eagle Valley. It was a route without any extremely rugged terrain to cross, just plains and rolling hills, which meant the wagons could move fairly fast over it.

Jamie planned to follow that route. Ralston might have been a braggart and a bully, and reckless to boot, but he had sketched out a decent trail for the immigrants he was supposed to lead.

Several days out of Kansas City, they camped where the Blue River flowed into the Kansas from the northwest. It was where the Oregon Trail turned away from the larger stream.

That evening Jamie called his scouts together. “We haven't had much to worry about so far, but from here to the Platte we'll have to be a mite more watchful for trouble. Wagon trains have been taking this trail for a long time, so the Indians are used to seeing them, but you never know when some band will take it into their heads to get proddy.” He paused to emphasize the next point. “The important thing is that if we do run into any Cheyenne, Arapaho, or Pawnee, everybody needs to stay calm until we see what they've got in mind. That goes for us as well as the pilgrims. No shooting unless I say so. More blood's been spilled because of itchy trigger fingers than any other reason.”

The men nodded their agreement, even the normally taciturn Mahaffey and Pearsoll.

“Get a good night's sleep,” Jamie added. “We'll all be in the saddle early tomorrow.”

“And where are you off to, my friend?” Moses asked as Bodie stood up from their supper fire after they finished eating. “As if I didn't know.”

“I've hardly gotten a glimpse of Savannah—I mean, Miss McCoy—since we left Kansas City. And I sure haven't gotten a chance to talk to her. I want to see how she's doing.”

“Do I need to come with you to serve as a chaperone?” Moses asked with a grin.

“I just want to talk to her,” Bodie said, slightly irritated. “I don't plan to do any sparking with her, or anything else that'd need a chaperone.” He paused. “Besides, I reckon Mr. and Mrs. Bingham will be right there.”

“I don't know, maybe you could convince her to go for a walk with you around the camp. I'm just saying . . .”

Bodie waved a hand at his friend, clapped his hat on his head, and went to look for the Bingham wagon. He wasn't exactly sure where in the big circle it was parked.

He was walking past the area where the saddle mounts were picketed when he heard a murmur of voices. Something about the sound struck him as secretive, so he circled around the horses to see what was going on.

Several figures stood in the deep shadows next to a wagon. They seemed familiar to Bodie, and as he came closer he recognized Jake Lucas, Clete Mahaffey, and Dave Pearsoll. They were having an animated discussion, but Pearsoll noticed Bodie coming and said something curt to the others, who immediately fell silent.

Jake turned to greet Bodie. “What's up? Is MacCallister lookin' for us?”

“No, not as far as I know,” Bodie replied. “What are you fellas doing?”

“Oh, nothin' that amounts to anything,” Jake said with a laugh. “This 'tarnal idjit here”—he jerked a thumb at Mahaffey—“is tryin' to claim that he saw a panther today while he was scoutin'. I told him we're a heck of a long way from anywhere that a panther would be. Likely you just saw a coyote, Clete.”

“Or a prairie dog,” Pearsoll added in an uncharacteristic display of dry humor.

“You lunkheads are both wrong,” Mahaffey snapped. “I know what I saw.”

“Where are you headed, Bodie?” Jake asked.

“I, uh, thought I'd go see how Miss McCoy is doing,” Bodie admitted.

Jake grinned. “At least we know now why you left the gang back yonder in Kansas City.”

“I don't want to talk about that,” Bodie said as he quickly glanced around to see if anyone was within earshot. “That part of my life is over.”

“Don't worry. It's the same way with all of us, pard. Although I wonder sometimes if you can ever leave behind who you really are.”

“Sure you can,” Bodie said. He hoped that was true, anyway.

He said so long to the three men and moved on toward the Bingham wagon. As he did, he wondered about the conversation they had been having. Even though he hadn't been able to make out any of the words, it had sounded to him as if they were arguing.

But somehow he wasn't convinced that they had been arguing about panthers.

Thoughts of Savannah crowded back into his mind and made him forget about the encounter with Jake and the other two former outlaws. When he reached the Bingham wagon, Savannah and Mrs. Bingham were cleaning up after supper. The cooking fire had burned down to a small blaze, but it gave off enough light for Bodie to see how pretty Savannah was, even with her face flushed slightly from washing dishes in an iron pot of hot water.

“Hello, Bodie,” she said brightly. “How are you?”

“Fine. How about you?”

“Oh . . . all right, I suppose.”

He realized how stilted and uncomfortable this exchange was, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to relax around her. “I haven't had much of a chance to talk to you since we left Kansas City.”

“I know. Mr. MacCallister must keep you really busy with your scouting duties.”

“He does. He's not overbearing about it, though. He just wants to keep the wagon train safe.”

Leticia Bingham came up beside Savannah. “Goodness, you two need to start talking to each other like actual human beings. Savannah, let me finish up here. You go visit with Mr. Cantrell.”

“Are you sure?” Savannah asked. “Because I really don't mind—”

“Go,” Mrs. Bingham said again. “Sit on the wagon tongue. It's a nice night, just a little chilly. If you sit close, you won't be too cold.”

The thought of sitting close to Savannah made Bodie's pulse race a little faster. He was grateful to Mrs. Bingham for suggesting it.

“All right.” Savannah dried her hands on the apron she wore, then walked with Bodie to the front of the wagon. They sat down.

“I've been keeping an eye on our back trail,” Bodie said. “You know, just in case Kane sends anybody after us.”

“After me, you mean. He probably doesn't have any idea who you are. You haven't seen anyone following the wagon train, have you?”

“Not so far. And it's been several days. I think if they were back there, they would have caught up by now.”

“I hope that means my note worked and that Kane has given up on finding me,” Savannah said. “But I don't want to talk about him anymore, Bodie.”

“I don't blame you. I don't want to talk about the no-good scoundrel, either.” He grinned. “How do you like traveling with the wagon train?”

She smiled back at him. “Well, it's not like I never traveled by wagon before. The troupe travels from city to city in wagons, so I'm used to riding in one. Although Mr. MacCallister certainly has us covering more ground quicker than Cyrus ever did.”

Bodie chuckled. “Jamie MacCallister isn't one to let grass grow under his feet, that's for sure.”

“You sound like you admire him.”

“I've never met anybody else quite like him. The places he's been, the things he's seen and done . . . I could listen to him talk about them all day. I find myself thinking . . . a fella could do a lot worse for himself than trying to be like Jamie Ian MacCallister.”

Savannah's voice was quiet as she said, “I think you're doing fine just being Bodie Cantrell.”

“It's nice of you to say so, but—”

She silenced him by leaning closer to him and kissing him.

That took him by surprise. He wouldn't have thought she would be so daring with the Binghams only a few yards away. But he certainly didn't pull back from her, instead lifting a hand to rest it lightly on her shoulder as he enjoyed the sweet warmth of her lips on his.

“I told Moses we wouldn't need a chaperone,” he whispered when she finally broke the kiss after a long, delicious moment.

“We don't.” Savannah stood up. “I'll be turning in now, Mr. Cantrell. I'll say good night.”

“Good night to you, too, Miss McCoy,” he replied, his voice thick in his throat.

He stood there while she went to the rear of the wagon and climbed in. If he was going to tell the truth, he had been thinking about Savannah and wishing he could kiss her ever since they'd left Kansas City. Now that he had . . .

Now that he had, he realized as a grin broke across his face, he was ready to do it again.

“Forget about sharin' the loot with Cantrell,” Clete Mahaffey said as the three former outlaws resumed their conversation once Bodie had walked off toward the Binghams' wagon. “That fool doesn't care about money, anyway. The only thing he can think about now is the girl.”

“She's worth thinkin' about,” Jake said. “She's a mighty pretty gal.”

Dave Pearsoll grunted and declared, “A big pile of double eagles is prettier. That's what we've got, and I agree with Clete. I ain't inclined to share 'em with Cantrell. He didn't do anything to earn a share.”

“He was with us when we took them off that train,” Jake pointed out. “Shoot, he helped Eldon and the others take over the depot and make sure the train stopped. We wouldn't have that pile of double eagles if they hadn't done that.”

“But he wasn't there when we risked our necks to steal them from Swint,” Mahaffey said. “Anyway, he quit the gang back there in Kansas City. That was his own decision.”

“So did we,” Jake reminded him. “But I'm not gonna argue about it with you boys. Bodie don't know we've got the loot, and as long as he don't know he can't say that we're cheatin' him out of anything. So I'll go along with whatever you say. When the time comes to leave the wagon train, we'll go our own way and leave Bodie behind.”

“Yeah, well, when's that gonna be?” Pearsoll asked.

That was the question they had been wrangling about when Bodie came up to them a short time earlier and caused Jake to come up with that story about the panther. Mahaffey and Pearsoll thought it was already time to leave the wagons behind and disappear in the middle of the night with the loot they had liberated from Eldon Swint, but Jake wanted to wait and stay with the train a while longer.

“We'll reach the Platte River in a few weeks,” Jake said. “By then, we'll know for sure whether or not Eldon's gonna come after us. If we haven't seen hide nor hair of him, we can figure he doesn't know where we are and go wherever we want from there. San Francisco, Mexico, wherever suits our fancy.”

Despite the fact that he was younger and less experienced than the other two outlaws, he was in charge and he didn't want them to forget it, so his voice hardened slightly. “Until then, we'll stay with the wagons. If Swint and the rest of the gang show up lookin' for us with guns in their hands and blood in their eyes, we'll need all the help we can get fightin' 'em off. Bodie and his new friends will pitch in on our side, I'm sure of that. Those pilgrims will think they're under attack by owlhoots, and that'll be the truth. They just won't know the reason why.”

“All right, all right,” Mahaffey muttered. “I reckon what you say makes sense, Jake. That big varmint MacCallister worries me, though.”

“Me, too,” Pearsoll agreed. “Sometimes when he looks at me, it feels like he can see right through me, Jake. Like he knows everythin' I'm thinkin' or feelin'. Man's got eyes like a hawk . . . or an eagle.”

“Don't worry about Jamie MacCallister,” Jake said. “He's just like Bodie.” He grinned. “He don't suspect a thing.”