Ana Seymour (11 page)

“Yes.” Was now the time to bring up her staying on with the train? she wondered. Now, when Captain Hunter was relaxed and in a good humor, and when he was still regarding her with that…
look
that was making her cheeks as pink as those of little Molly every time she looked at Patrick? “You plan to start out again in three days?” she started carefully.

His expression became guarded. “Yes, three days. Don’t worry, by that time I’ll have the arrangements completed for you to get back to Westport. You can sell your wagon back to Boone’s there and have enough money for transport to New York, if that’s where you and your brother want to go.”

“You know very well that’s
not
where my brother and I want to go, Captain.”

Jeb looked down at his boots. “Are we to spoil this beautiful evening with an argument, Miss Gallivan?”

Every time he said her name, it was as if he was reminding himself anew of her deception. “You called me Kiernan before, Captain. I guess you could call me Kerry.”

He looked up at her. “Kerry, then. You’re right that sometimes it seems foolish to continue to observe the proprieties out here in the middle of the wilderness.”

“And, no, I don’t want to argue with you,” she added.

Jeb’s face had resumed its normal, serious expression, but his eyes continued to regard her with a kind of leashed intensity. The setting sun made them look almost golden, tawny, like a watchful lion’s. “Good,” he said briskly. “Then we won’t argue. How about if I get you a plate of supper instead?”

She shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

Jeb made a clicking sound of disapproval. Once again his eyes swept discreetly down the length of her green dress. “You have to eat something, Miss…Kerry. Lord, in that dress you look as flimsy as a milkweed drifting across a meadow.”

“Flimsy?”

“Well, slight. Fragile.” Jeb looked nonplussed, almost embarrassed, which did not sit well with his usually authoritative demeanor. “Hell, I meant it as a compliment, not an insult. When I think of all the hard work, the lifting and hauling you did when we all thought you were a lad…”

“I’ve done hard work for as long as I can remember, Captain Hunter. Most women I know do. Harder than men, sometimes. I don’t know why that should come as a surprise.”

Jeb Hunter grinned. A downright grin. Kerry couldn’t believe her eyes.

“I don’t think anything you do would surprise me, Kerry Gallivan,” he said. “And now, if I’m to call you Kerry, I guess you’ll have to be calling me Jeb.”

He’d cocked his head and was smiling down into her eyes. It
was
flirting, Kerry decided. She might be a novice about these things, but the signals were unmistakable. The way he was looking at her was making her feel warm inside. And feminine. Maybe it was the dress. She’d feel stronger if she were still facing him in men’s trousers. She didn’t like this weakkneed, melting sensation. It was just this kind of female debility that made it possible for men to make laws and regulations such as the one that was keeping her from traveling west with the train.

She drew herself up, which still only brought her as high as Jeb’s broad shoulders. “Perhaps I will have some supper after all,” she said. “But I can get my own plate.”

Then she turned away from him and sent stern messages to her legs to begin walking toward the food tables.

The sun had sunk behind the fort with a spectacular burst of color, as if showing off for the merrymakers. Each member of the wagon train knew that the benign prairie they had crossed was not even a test of the trials that awaited them as they crossed the near desert of the western plains and then the mountains. But for this night, they could forget what lay ahead and celebrate the triumph of completing the first step toward their dreams of a better life.

The evening had started off segregated, with the men hovering around the cider jars, the children scampering about with early-evening energy and the women bustling back and forth with more food. But by now the group had come together for the dancing, old and young alike. Fathers danced with young daughters and old women with the single men.

Kerry had had a constant procession of partners since the dancing began. She was breathless and exhausted. It had been easier than she had thought to follow the simple country steps of the reels and rounds the two fiddlers played, and she was surprised to find that she was enjoying herself immensely. She had not talked further with Captain Hunter. He did not appear to have joined in the dancing.

But she was happy to see Scott when he made a tardy appearance and practically snatched her out of the arms of Ole Estvold, just as the portly Norwegian gentleman had been reaching out a hand to swing her into a Kentucky reel.

“You look wonderful, lass!” Scott said at once. “If a bit breathless.”

Kerry laughed. “I am—breathless that is. In fact, would you mind if we sat down for a minute?”

Scott’s eyes were lit with admiration. “Let me get you something to drink.” He tucked her hand in his arm and pulled her away from the crowd of dancers. At the nearly empty food table, he stopped, poured a cup of cider and offered it to her.

The apple-flavored liquor burned all the way down her throat. “Strong,” she gasped.

Scott took the cup from her and sipped. “It’s pretty hard,” he admitted. “But it seems to be all that’s left,” he added, looking up and down the tables. He put the cup back in her hands. “Go ahead. It won’t hurt you.”

It was wet, at least. Kerry scrunched up her face against the taste and drank several swallows. “Where have you been?” she asked Scott.

“Jawing,” he said with a grin, “as they say out in these parts.”

“With the soldiers?”

“Soldiers, old-timers. There are a couple of real live mountain men who’ve stopped here after their spring trapping. Foxy and Daniel.”

“Foxy?”

Scott chuckled and took her arm again to lead her away from the table and out toward the center of the now dark quadrangle. “Foxy,” he confirmed. “That’s what they all call him. I suppose it’s not his given name. They’re colorful characters—both of them.”

Kerry reached backward to leave the cup on the table as Scott pulled her along. “Where are we going?”

“Do you want to dance some more?” He nodded back at the circle of emigrants. There were fewer
now, for some of the group had started straggling back to their wagons.

“No. I’m still winded. I had more fun than I would have thought”

Scott gave her arm a little squeeze. “I have a feeling there hasn’t been an excess of fun in your life, Kerry.”

“My father was fun,” she said a little defensively. “He’d tell us stories about the little people in Ireland that would have Patrick and me laughing until our stomachs hurt”

They’d continued walking along the row of barracks down to the opposite end of the fort from where the Hunter train was encamped. They were now out of the reach of the lanterns that had been lit back by the dancing, and the only lights were the dim reflections from inside a few of the fort’s rough wooden buildings. But the moon shone brightly in the clear sky, and Kerry had no trouble seeing Scott’s smile as he shifted his hand from her arm to the back of her waist. “I didn’t mean any criticism of your childhood, Kerry. My people came to this country several generations ago. Until I started this journey, I wouldn’t have been able to imagine what it would be like to leave your home and travel halfway across the world to seek a new life.”

“But now you’re doing much the same thing yourself.”

“Yes. Which only makes me appreciate more what it must take for all the immigrants like your father to make that move with a family to support”

“With two young children,” Kerry emphasized. “Patrick was just six.”

“And you were only twelve. Pretty young to have to learn to adapt to a whole new world.”

“Papa and Patrick were my world. I didn’t care about anything else. Papa told us that things would be better in America.”

“And were they better?”

“Well, back home, people were starving. So I guess they were a little better. We always had enough to eat in New York, as long as we were content with fish.” She gave a little shudder at the memory, or at a sudden evening chill of air. Scott’s arm slipped the rest of the way around her waist.

“I like walking with you this way, Kerry,” he said, his voice suddenly grown husky.

The buzz of the insects out on the prairie lent a tranquilizing undercurrent to their conversation. Scott’s body felt stable and warm at her side. “I like it, too,” she said simply.

And that was evidently enough response for Scott, who stopped walking, gently swung her around to face him and lowered his head to kiss her gently on the lips. He straightened up almost immediately and let out a long breath, at the end of which he said, “I’ve been thinking about doing that for a long time now, lass.”

It was over so quickly that Kerry hadn’t had time to even be surprised. But now she could still feel his touch lingering on her lips. The sensation was mildly pleasant. “Have you, now?” she half whispered.

“You’re not offended?”

She shook her head. It had been her first kiss—her first
real
kiss. But to her surprise, she wasn’t even flustered.

“Good,” Scott said, his grin back to normal. “Because I intend to do it again soon.”

Kerry put the back of her hand up to her still sensitive lips. “Do you, now?”

“Soon,” he said with a firm nod. Then he tucked her hand once again into his arm and turned back toward the bright lights of the circle of dancers.

J
eb sat in the darkness on the edge of the sidewalk in front of the fort dispensary. The only sidewalk at the fort, it was bounded by two log pillars that held up a bright green awning. The unusual amenities had been insisted upon by the fort’s doctor, Arthur Featherstone. Earlier Jeb had purchased a few supplies from the chatty old major and had sat a spell listening to his various medical stories. Finally Dr. Featherstone had bidden him good-night, and Jeb had gone outside with the intention of rejoining the members of his train. But by then it had grown dark, and something about the circle of warm lantern light and the joyful bouncing of the dancers made him feel particularly lonely. So instead he sat on the sidewalk and looked up at the moon. It was, he decided, more fitting company for him tonight. Any night.

His thoughts drifted to his encounter earlier in the evening with Kerry Gallivan. When he’d first seen her across the crowd of people, smiling and walking along with that natural sway of hers in a new green dress, he’d felt as if a fist had slammed into his middle.
He’d already dealt with the fact that she was attractive. But the sudden appearance in a dress had caught him off balance. It was sculpted to the upper part of her body, then cinched at a waist that had never looked so impossibly small when she’d been parading around in men’s trousers. A wave of pure desire rolled through his stomach at the memory.

A couple was strolling in his direction in the dark, and somehow he wasn’t surprised to discern that it was Kerry herself. Scott Haskell had an arm around her waist and was looking down at her. It was too dark for Jeb to see his expression, but he had an idea what it might be.

They undoubtedly couldn’t see him. He was sitting in the shadows of the building behind him. The polite thing would be to make his presence known, he supposed, but instead he stayed motionless, straining his ear in spite of himself to try to hear their conversation. But their voices were low, loverlike, he imagined, in that close position. And, as if to confirm his suspicions, suddenly Haskell leaned down and kissed her.

To his disgust, a surge went through him of something that felt remotely like jealousy. Not jealousy, surely. Envy, perhaps. He was envious of any two people in love who were at liberty to give in to the natural impulses to share each other’s body. It was not an impulse he would give in to himself. At least, not with someone he loved. Never again.

The kiss was brief. A damn sight briefer than Jeb would have made it if he’d been in Haskell’s shoes, he thought. But he definitely didn’t want them discovering him now. He leaned farther back into the shadows and sat almost without breathing until they
turned around, arm in arm, and headed back toward the dancing.

The incident had not helped his mood. And it raised some questions. Were Haskell and Kerry in love? If so, they could be married by the fort commander, and she would no longer be a single woman. She’d have the right to continue on with the train. It was an interesting idea. One that would solve everyone’s problems.

He stood from the hard wood platform and stretched his back. For several minutes he stood staring into the darkness after the departed couple. It seemed to be the perfect solution—Kerry married to Scott Haskell. Kerry would get what she wanted. He wouldn’t have to worry about finding her an escort back East He’d be able to enjoy Patrick’s company for the rest of the trip. Kerry and Haskell—altogether the perfect solution. Which didn’t in the least explain why the idea made him want to smash his fist into the log holding up Dr. Featherstone’s fancy awning.

When Kerry arrived back at the wagon after her walk with Scott, Patrick was already asleep, curled up on top of some boxes in the back of the wagon, still dressed in his clothes, even his boots. He’d exhausted himself running around all day with his friends, she thought with a smile.

But Kerry wasn’t sleepy. She thought about building a fire. Since they’d eaten at the dance, they’d not bothered to build one tonight. Now she found that she missed it—not the warmth exactly. The night was mild. But the comfort of it.

She felt as if she could use a little comfort She
couldn’t exactly state why. She really had had a wonderful time at the dance. Everyone had been nice to her, even the ones who’d been angry after the incident at the river crossing. And she’d enjoyed being fussed over by Dorothy and having her hair fixed, little female attentions that she’d missed growing up.

But nevertheless, now that Scott had said goodnight and headed back to his own wagon, she was feeling melancholy. It probably was due to the confused state of her emotions. His kiss had been nice, perhaps not as magical as she’d imagined her first kiss would be, but certainly…nice. What was bothering her, she decided, was not the kiss, but Scott’s goodnight words.

“Sleep well, lass,” he’d said tenderly. “You should, you know. Because it’s beginning to look as if you won’t have to have that showdown with Captain Hunter after all.”

When she’d looked puzzled, he’d said with a slight smile, “I told you that single women didn’t stay single very long out West.” She’d started to say something, but he’d put two fingers on her lips and shook his head. “It’s late and your eyelids are drooping, sweetheart We’ll talk about it tomorrow. We’ll make some plans.”

And then he’d kissed her, on the cheek this time, and had left.

She gave up the thought of a fire and of sleep and decided to sit a spell and watch the nearly full moon. She sank to the ground, heedless of getting dust on her dress, and rested her back against the wagon wheel with a deep sigh. It was no use trying to convince herself that she’d been mistaken about Scott’s
meaning. After all, he’d been attentive from that first day on the trail and tonight he’d told her plainly that he intended to kiss her again soon. People didn’t do that kind of thing unless they were beginning to get serious. And it would solve her problems. If she were married, Jeb Hunter would have no grounds for keeping her off the wagon train. It seemed a bit of an unusual reason to marry, but she supposed that people had done it for less cause.

Was Scott in love with her? she wondered. She wasn’t in love with him. At least, she was pretty certain that she wasn’t. But she still had vague memories of her mother and father together, tender and cuddling, when she’d been a small child. And she had more recent memories of her father’s face every time he’d talked about her mother. He’d never forgotten her, never even looked at another woman until the day he died. Now
that
was love. And it certainly was nothing like the mixture of gratitude and friendly affection she felt for Scott Haskell.

“You’re still awake.” Jeb Hunter appeared suddenly in the moonlight.

She straightened up abruptly, scraping her back painfully on the wheel hub.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Kerry reached behind her and tried to rub the sore spot, but gave up after a moment when she couldn’t reach it. “What can I do for you, Captain?” she asked without bothering to keep the irritation out of her voice.

He squatted beside her. “Did you hurt yourself?” He reached an arm toward her but she scooted away.

“I’m fine.” He watched her for a long moment without speaking, so finally she said, “Was there something you wanted this late at night, Captain?”

He let his legs sprawl out beneath him and sat on the ground beside her. “I just wanted to talk to you. But I thought we’d agreed that you would call me Jeb.”

“I don’t recall agreeing to any such thing.”

Jeb gave a reluctant chuckle. “Miss Gallivan, you are one stubborn lady.”

“I’m glad you’ve figured that out, Captain. That way you won’t be surprised tomorrow when I come to see you again about staying with the train.”

“As a matter of fact, that’s what I wanted to speak with you about.” Now that he was here, Jeb wasn’t exactly sure why he had come. If he admitted the truth, it would be that once the idea had entered his head, he’d not been able to wait until morning to see if his suspicions about Haskell and Kerry were right. But there was no sign of the affable prospector, and Kerry did not seem to be in the humor of a girl who had just received a proposal of marriage.

“Have you changed your mind?” she asked, without sounding too hopeful.

“No. I don’t take lone women on my train. I don’t know of any wagon master who does.”

“So what did you want to talk with me about?”

Jeb shifted to move his back from where it was being poked by the wheel spokes. “Do you want to go sit on the riverbank where the grass is soft?” he asked, still trying to decide how to voice his jumbled thoughts.

Kerry nodded indifferently, but took his hand when
he stood and offered it to her. She winced and her knee buckled slightly as her weight came down on her ankle.

“Are you all right?” he asked, catching hold of her elbow.

“Yes. The foot’s almost all better, but I think I danced on it a little too much tonight.”

He kept hold of her arm as they walked the few yards to the river. “Perhaps you should wrap it again.”

“I’ll see. If it’s sore, I’ll ask Scott about it in the morning.”

“There’s a doctor here at the fort. You should ask him instead of some blacksmith,” he told her, unable to keep the censure out of his voice. “Is this all right?” He gestured to the edge of the bank where the grass was unbroken by patches of dirt.

She nodded agreement and they sat down, her skirts billowing over the lip of the bank. They fluffed up around her as she dropped her hands to her lap. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t like Scott very much?” she asked him.

Jeb stuck his feet out straight and looked down at the rushing river. “I have nothing against Haskell in particular. I’m just not too fond of gold seekers.”

“Haven’t a lot of the people you’ve guided out West been on their way to the gold fields?”

He nodded. “Yes, I’ve seen many good men seized by the fever. Usually not much good comes of it.”

Kerry followed the direction of his gaze and began staring at the rushing water herself. It was hypnotic. She waited. He said he’d come to talk to her, so let
him talk. But when he finally spoke after a long silence, his words jolted her out of her near-trance.

“Have you thought about marrying Scott Haskell?” he asked bluntly.

Kerry’s swallow turned into a gulp. Was the man some kind of a wizard? Or had he been standing in the bushes listening to Scott’s good-night words to her? The safest way to answer seemed to be “Why are you asking?”

Jeb turned his body toward her. “It looks as if the two of you have become…good friends, shall we say? And I thought it may have occurred to you that if you were married, there would be no reason to keep you off the train.”

“Is that true? If I were married, you’d let me stay?” Kerry found herself holding her breath as she awaited his reply, which took several moments.

“I suppose I’d have to. You’d be no different than any of the other women on the train if you had a husband.”

The palms of her hands grew moist. “Oh.”

“So you
have
thought about it.”

“Well…not until tonight.”

“Has he asked you to marry him?”

He seemed to have grown tense as he waited for her answer. “I think that would be a matter between Mr. Haskell and myself,” she said frostily. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

The smile he gave her was equally chilly. “I think I’ve explained to you before that everything that happens on this train is my business.”

Of course, he was right. It was just that she hadn’t sorted out her own head about the idea of marrying
Scott. How could she expect to discuss it with Jeb Hunter? Especially when his presence next to her in the moonlight was starting up those same flutters that she’d felt the night she’d seen him without his clothes. They weren’t entirely pleasant flutters, and she wasn’t sure exactly what they meant, but she knew that she’d never felt anything remotely like that with Scott. Not even when he’d kissed her on the lips tonight.

She sighed. “Yes, you’re right. You have a right to know. And as soon as
I
know, I’ll be sure to tell you.”

“So you are considering it?”

He yanked a handful of grass by his side and threw it in the direction of the river, then frowned as it failed to reach the water. It almost seemed as if he was angry about the idea of her marrying Scott, Kerry thought with some confusion. Probably because he was looking forward to being rid of her. “To tell you the truth, Captain—”

“Now that would be a novelty from you,” he interrupted.

“The truth is that I don’t know about marrying Scott. It could be a solution to my problem. But I…I just don’t know.”

“Are you in love with him?” His face was very close to hers. She could see the slight scar on the right side of his chin and the fleck of dark gold in his moonlit eyes.

“I…” The breath had seemed to stick in her throat and she was finding it hard to breathe.

Jeb’s heart had begun to thunder inside his chest. She was so near that he could smell some kind of
lavender scent that clung to her dress. Her lips were just inches from him, full and moist.
I don’t know,
she had said, sounding lost. The words echoed along with the pulse inside his ears.

Without conscious thought he reached for her, and once his hands folded around her arms, they continued of their own volition until she was hauled totally into his lap, and his mouth found hers, first tasting, then asking for more, then taking it, without asking.

She made a sound at the back of her throat, but it wasn’t a protest, and it only served to fuel his blood. Her lips were pliant and rich, her mouth sweet, tasting faintly of apple.

He plundered it, no longer even remotely in control of his raging senses. Her breasts grew hard against his chest and he pressed her closer, trying at once to clear the whirling in his head and to purge his body of the hunger that had been clawing at him since the moment he had seen her in Scott Haskell’s arms.

It couldn’t have lasted for more than a couple of minutes, but it was enough to steady the throb inside him. It was enough for Kerry to come to her senses and begin to push on his arms.