Bartered Bride Romance Collection (13 page)

“Kids sure do get filthy, don’t they?” Banner asked in a cheerful voice as she scrubbed the knees on her sons’ britches.

“Yes,” Charity agreed. She twisted Cricket’s little nightgown to wring out a bit more water. It wouldn’t be dry by nightfall, but the little girl could sleep in one of Mama’s camisoles. Charity carefully rinsed the rest of the lye soap from each garment. “I’m not much cleaner than the children, though. I’m looking forward to finally washing my hair.”

Leticia Turvey squinted at the horizon. “I reckon we’d better hang these things out to dry. I’m aching to take a swim myself, and the boys are so eager to hit the water, the menfolk will be hollering at us to hurry up.”

All of the women laughed at the truth in that statement. The routine was practical enough: As the women did laundry, men repaired wagons, saw to the livestock, started fires, and strung temporary clotheslines. Once the women hung up the clothes, they’d take the small children back to the water, scrub them, and send them back to their daddies. The women bathed wearing their chemises for the sake of modesty. If the water was shallow, they helped each other rinse the soap from their hair. The men and boys swam last while the women fixed supper.

Charity hastened back to the fire so Tad and Ethan could have their turn. To her surprise, Ethan squatted on his heels by the fire. He had catfish sizzling in the pan. He glanced over his shoulder. “Go on ahead and comb out your hair. See if you can’t dry it a bit with your towel. It’s going to be cold tonight, and you don’t want to catch a chill.”

“Why, thank you.” She did as he bade. The whole while she coaxed the tangles from her hair, Charity marveled at how thoughtful and capable Ethan was. Considering all of her misgivings and fears, things had turned out quite well so far.

Ethan bathed quickly after supper then warmed up with a cup of coffee before he took his turn at guard duty. As he came by on one of his passes, he spied Charity huddled by a lantern. He thought to come closer to see what was wrong but then saw her Bible. She faithfully read the Word each day—most often first thing upon rising. If circumstances prevented that, she made sure to find a time later. The Good Book said it was easier for a camel to fit through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. Ethan smiled to himself. The verse didn’t say anything about a rich woman.

Later Ethan came around again. To his surprise, Charity was still up. She sat huddled in her shawl, close to the fire. Instead of banking it, she’d added a few more buffalo chips. Just as he turned toward her, she got up, went to the wagon, and lifted her arms. Cricket climbed down, and Charity carried her off a short ways. Ethan met them. “Here. I’ll take her.” He took Cricket and headed back to the wagon.

Rick Washington ambled toward him. “Your shift is over. Sleep well.”

Cricket snuggled closely and lazily combed her fingers through his beard. “Daddy—pretty.”

“Yes, princess, you are.” He kissed her cheek.

“No, Daddy. See? Pretty.” She patted the garment she wore. “Smells pretty, too.”

Now that they were closer to the fire, he could see she was wearing a woman’s beribboned chemise. It smelled of violets. Men tried their best to turn a blind eye to the small clothes women hung to dry on the laundry lines. As a decent, God-fearing man, he’d tried his hardest to ignore Charity’s personal garments. He cleared his throat and made no comment.

Embarrassment colored Charity’s voice as she murmured, “I washed Cricket’s nightwear, so it was too wet for her tonight. I’ll sew her a second gown soon.”

“Fine. Night-night, Cricket.” He gave his daughter a swift kiss and lifted her back into the wagon. Charity started to climb up the wheel spokes. “Hold it there.” He cupped his hands around her tiny waist. “How many times am I going to have to tell you not to scramble up these things when I’m around to help you, gal? You’re likely to catch your hem and fall. I’d hate to see you get hurt on account of foolish independence. You have to take back a bit of help for all the help that you give others. You aren’t alone out here.” He yanked her backward and set her on the ground in front of him. “Do you hear me?”

Tears glittered in her eyes, making him catch his breath. “Yes, I am. I am alone, and—” She clapped a hand over her mouth to capture a sob, spun away, and started to scramble into the wagon.

“Oh, Charity,” he groaned. Ethan quickly grasped her waist and pulled her back to earth. He twisted her and clasped one arm around her back while using the other hand to cup her head to his chest.

Charity struggled for all of a few seconds then gave way to her tears. She flooded his shirt with her grief and clung to him like a drowning victim would. He murmured soft, comforting words. The cradle of his arms supported her when she sagged, then he scooped her up and still held her tightly.

Ethan remembered the soul-deep anguish of fresh grief and couldn’t fathom the fragile woman in his arms had to shoulder two recent losses. Her sobs tore at him, made him long to lend her his consolation. Holding her made him feel both strong and tender. He gently swayed side to side until she calmed and almost fell asleep. As her damp lashes fluttered shut, he urged, “Go to sleep, honey-gal. Leave your sorrows behind. You’ll never be alone again. I promise.”

She whispered tearfully, “I’m s–sorry.”

“You don’t have a thing in the world to apologize for. Now go on to bed.” He lifted her into the wagon and listened as she eased down beside Cricket. Satisfied she’d settled in, he went over to the fire and poured himself some coffee. A hand on his shoulder made him turn around. “Yeah, Jason?”

The captain of the wagon train tilted his head toward the Cole schooner. “She’s been spoiling for that cry for a good long while. My missus saw her brooding by the fire and said she was due to fall apart. You did right by her.”

“Can’t do much of anything for her but pray. That poor gal has been through far too much, and you’d never guess it by watching her. She’s …” He shrugged in want of words.

“She’s quite a little woman,” Jason said softly. He stayed silent for a time. Finally he pushed, “I’m going to ask, because I am responsible for her, too. Are you starting to have feelings for her?”

“What man in his right mind wouldn’t? She’s gentle as a spring rain and sweet as honey. My kids have taken to her instantly, and she changed us from a haphazard willy-nilly group back into a family.”

“I’m asking about feelings that run deeper than gratitude.”

“The way things are is more than enough for the present.” Ethan tossed back the last of his coffee. “Charity is a fancy lady; I’m a rough man. Whatever I might feel isn’t the issue. She deserves far better.”

“Voices do carry. I heard you tell her she’s not alone anymore.”

Ethan winced. He’d revealed far too much when he’d uttered that pledge. “I was a fool to say so. I’ll hope by the morning she takes that as a pledge of friendship. Peasants don’t marry princesses.”

Chapter 4

E
veryone was road weary by the time they pulled into Fort Laramie. To their dismay, the scout announced they’d only stay overnight. “There’s another train on our heels. If they get ahead of us, we’ll have fouled water and lousy hunting. The council has voted to take Sublette’s Cutoff to spare us more than a week of travel. That means we’ll bypass Fort Bridger. This is your last stop to get supplies until we’re through most of the mountains, so load up and be ready to go by first light.”

Charity climbed into the wagon and reappeared a few minutes later. Ethan noted she’d changed her dress, combed her hair, and put on gloves. A reticule dangled from her wrist. “I’m ready.”

“Not yet, you aren’t,” he said firmly. He needed to set matters straight first. “When we joined wagons, you had a bounty of supplies. Lydia took the lion’s portion of my foodstuffs, but you brought a complete pantry, furnished plenty of extras. Expensive extras,” he stressed. “Like those Edwards’s preserved potatoes and all of the dried fruits and vegetables. There’s not another wagon on our whole train that enjoys a fraction of our treats. I’ll not have you spend one red cent on a thing.”

Charity looked at him and raised her brows. “I seriously doubt you have much idea as to what we do or do not need, Ethan. Furthermore, I saw how you salvaged the main portion of the headboard to my bedstead and situated it beneath the mattress. If I had to have one made to match the highboy, it would cost a minor fortune. Whatever I spend is a pittance in comparison.”

“Reasoning with you is hopeless,” he snapped. Instead of escorting her to the post store, he turned and hastened ahead. Once he beat her there and placed his order, she’d be sensible enough to defer.

Ethan arrived before the crowd and grimly noted they’d posted a sign that placed limits on nearly everything. He’d assessed their supplies and decided on some basic items. As soon as he started ordering, Charity arrived. She walked directly up to him. “Mr. Cole, your partner asked that you buy the limits of everything and sent this.” She held out four twenty-dollar gold double eagles. When he refused to accept them, she placed them on the counter and sashayed off. She’d given him almost half of her money! Ethan planned to serve her a healthy slice of his mind once they were in private.

An assistant came in and asked, “Who’s next?”

Charity smiled and handed over a lengthy list. “What are you doing?” Ethan demanded hotly as soon as the storekeeper went into the back room.

She pulled her fan from her reticule and whispered from behind it, “Ethan, the limits are too low. The others won’t be able to stock up enough. The limit is per family, and so our wagon qualifies for twice as much. We’ll buy everything we’re allowed, then our friends can get the excess from us tonight at the campfire.”

“I’m eavesdropping, and I’ll admit to it. I want to buy some of your extra flour and sugar,” Stu Green murmured, brushing past. He went over and whispered to Banner. Banner came over and pled for first call on excess cornmeal, and Mary Pitts put in for the salt.

“You sure can skin a cat nine ways, Charity.” Ethan lifted his hands in defeat. “I’ll admit when I’m beat.”

“Goodness, I forgot baking powder!” Charity cried. She twirled around and headed back to the counter. By the time she was done, she added on another two-pound tin of Ely’s fine gun powder, four spools of thread, one pound of gum drops, a paper of sewing pins and needles, and several buttons.

Gracie teased her, “You can’t buy buttons for your own string, Charity. That’s breaking the rule!”

Charity laughed. “Oh, I know. I got some for a frock for Cricket, and these others will be special treats for her. There are two end-of-day glass buttons on this card. Since no two buttons can be alike on her string, would you like the other for your Priscilla’s string?”

“I’ll buy it from you.”

“No, you won’t!” Charity sidled closer and murmured, “Gracie, I feel so beholden to you. How many times have you gently shared your wisdom and advice so I’d be able to care better for Tad and Cricket? A button is nothing—it’s a tiny thank-you, and I’d be offended if you didn’t accept it.”

After Gracie consented to accepting the button, Charity went back to the counter to get a final tally. “Lady, yer order comes to a hundert an’ three dollars an’ ten cents,” the exasperated storekeeper warned. The other pioneers in the store didn’t even bother to muffle their gasps.

“Well, then, here we go.” She opened her reticule and produced five more double eagles and a five-dollar piece.

The man behind the counter gaped at her.

“Before you make change, how much is that container of marbles?”

“A buck even.”

“I’ll take it and ninety cents’ worth of lemon drops, then.”

“Whatever you want, lady.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Ninety cents of just lemon drops!” one of the women in the background gasped.

“With the prices they’ve got posted, ‘tain’t gonna be no bushel of ’em,” Jed Turvey grumbled. “Flour’s a buck a pint!”

The storekeeper snapped, “It’ll be a good gallon, an’ then some. She’ll be takin’ half of my stock of ’em with her, and you won’t find sweets again till you reach the Willamette Valley. Iff’n you don’t like my prices, you can go without the goods!”

“I do apologize for setting this off.” Charity blushed becomingly. “I just felt I’d taken a fair bit of your time and hoped it would simplify things if you didn’t have to make change.”

“Aw, forget it, lady. Do ya mind just takin’ a gallon jar and callin’ it even ‘stead of havin’ me measure it up?”

“But of course. Would you care if I opened it and offered everyone a few in the interest of peace?”

“They’re yers. Do whatever ya want with ’em. Maybe ya ought to. I’d druther not sell any more to yer train so I have some for the next one. Never thought I’d have to set limits on lemon drops!”

A while later, Charity fanned herself and murmured, “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, Ethan. I didn’t mean to.”

“I’ll live through the embarrassment, but I’m worried. You have no idea who was in that store. It’s dangerous for anyone to advertise they’re holding money like that. Stu and Rick are both smart enough to pass the word that you just went a bit trail crazy and spent the last of your money. Hopefully, it’ll keep you from being robbed when folks on our train pay you back.”