Brides of Prairie Gold (35 page)

Augusta lowered the tortoiseshell comb she pulled through wet hair and closed her eyes. She had bathed, then immediately reapplied the lotion Perrin had given her. Since she was standing in front of a mirror hanging on the side of the wagon, Perrin supposed Augusta knew how grotesque the dried milky lotion made her appear. But relief from sunburn and stinging insect bites had momentarily conquered the towering Boyd pride and vanity.

"Thank you," Augusta whispered.

Those two words shocked them both. They studied each other warily, then Perrin hurried toward Winnie's tent before Augusta added something that would spoil a moment that made her seem almost human.

Wringing her hands, Jane tried to say good-bye while the teamsters transferred Winnie's goods into one of the wagons heading east, but Winnie was sobbing too loudly to hear.

"You're going home," Perrin said, echoing Jane's words. She pinned Winnie's good hat on top of chestnut curls.

Winnie grabbed her hands. "Please, please, please! Give me another chance. Please, don't let him send me back! Please!"

"Oh, Winnie," Perrin whispered. Tears swam in her eyes.

"I'll never do it again, I swear! I just I kept thinking about Billy Morris, and I knew the laudanum would help, so I but, Perrin!" Her fingernails dug into Perrin's hands, tears flooded her cheeks. "If I go home, I won't be strong enough to resist! I'll die. Please, help me!"

Perrin turned aside, blinking hard at the teamsters transferring Winnie's belongings. She had wept and pleaded for Winnie again this morning, but Cody was intractable. Winnie had thrown away her second chance.

Perrin rubbed her forehead. Was there something more she could have done to help Winnie? Anything? In the end, all she had accomplished was to put Winnie through the hell of withdrawal and delay the inevitable. For the rest of her life, she would blame herself for Winnie's fall from grace.

"I'm sorry," she said helplessly, watching Winnie's expression fade from pleading to hopeless resignation.

In silence, she and the others followed as Cody escorted a weeping Winnie Larson to the eastbound train, then helped her up onto the wagon seat beside a grizzled old man whom Cody had hired to drive her. Winnie covered her face and sobbed into her gloves.

Jane dabbed her eyes with the hem of her apron. "She was so happy to be free of the opiates," she whispered. "She really believed she would never be tempted again."

"Winnie brought shame to herself and her family. She's killing herself," Sarah stated flatly. She dashed an angry hand across her lashes. "Now we've lost two. Lucy and Winnie."

They watched the eastbound train roll past oxen carcasses and piles of abandoned furnishings. Then Smokey Joe banged his gong, signaling it was time to mount their wagons. Murchason's train had entered the gap. Cody Snow's train was next in line.

The trail dropped south again. Now they could see the soaring craggy peaks of the Continental Divide. The sight stunned and awed them, taking the heart out of everyone.

Bootie lowered Cora's wedding dress to her lap, putting down her needle, and swept a fearful frown toward the towering peaks. "I swan, I just don't know how we're going to get over them."

"We'll go through South Park," Jane explained. "It's a natural break. Easy as apple pie. You won't even know you're crossing a mountain range."

"Hold still," Thea cautioned, gazing at Jane, then down at her sketch pad. "How will I finish this if you keep fidgeting?"

Twin lines puckered Jane's brow. "I told you, I don't want my portrait shown in your display."

Mem set aside the lamp wicks she was plaiting, stretched her back, then leaned to inspect the lace Jane tatted for the collar on Cora's wedding dress. "What display is that?" she asked Thea.

Thea waved her charcoal stick. "You know how Cora is always looking for a way to earn money"

"She's doing the men's laundry," Bootie contributed.

"She wants to display my work when we meet up with other wagons at South Pass. She says she'll set up a display and do the selling if I'll pay her a twenty percent commission on sales."

"A commission?" Bootie inquired, blinking. "Fancy that. Where did Cora learn such a word, and what does it mean?"

"I'm serious, Thea," Jane said, frowning. "I don't want my portrait offered for sale."

Mem let the conversation swirl around her for another minute before she wandered away from the group, walking across some of the driest, most barren land she had seen. No wonder the oxen were going lame one after another. Cactus hugged the ground; the spines wreaked havoc on the poor oxen's feet. There was no water; dust choked everyone. It was a dismal stretch of country.

For thirty idle minutes she watched Miles Dawson and the' teamsters wash the hooves of the limping oxen with strong soap, scrape away diseased flesh, then pour on tar or pitch. If the treatment was successful, perhaps tomorrow the train would make more than the six meager miles they'd traveled today.

Continuing around the squared wagons, she lingered a moment to observe Sarah, Hilda, and Cora sitting in the hot shade beside Sarah's wagon, their heads bent over a chalk slate. Mem called a word of encouragement, then walked toward Perrin's wagon.

"Feeling any better?" she inquired, finding Perrin resting on the shady side of her wagon, fanning her face and looking limp in the dusty heat.

"A little. Thank you for the ointment."

At the gap, where they had last done laundry, someone had moved Perrin's clothing from a thicket of willows and draped the garments over a stand of poison oak. Cody's clothing had ended up on the poison oak as well. Unaware, they had worn the clothes, then both had fallen ill for several days. Perrin had taken the worst of it. Her face and limbs were still swollen and lumpy, on fire with an itching that no treatment completely eased.

"It was an unfortunate accident," Mem said, sitting on the ground beside Perrin's camp chair where she could view the snowcapped mountain peaks. They were as inspiring as she had hoped mountains would be if she was ever lucky enough to see any.

"I wonder if it was an accident," Perrin commented, idly scratching her arms. When Mem lifted an eyebrow, she sighed. "Strange things have happened lately. Sand mixed with the coffee grounds, a hole in the sugar bag. We lost five pounds before Hilda noticed. Maybe I'm just but it is odd."

"You push yourself too hard. You'd regain your strength faster if you'd stop wearing yourself out helping Augusta."

"Augusta will make it now." They gazed past the animals being doctored in the square, inhaling the pungent thick scent of hot tar. Despite the relentless heat, Augusta worked around her wagon, practicing new and still shaky skills. Perrin waved a fan in front of her swollen face. "She's determined. She isn't going home." A whiff of grudging admiration underlay her flat tone.

"Good for her," Mem answered tersely. "Too bad for us."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, lulled by the heat, until Mem grew too restless to sit still any longer. She pulled her long legs up under her and stood. The unremitting heat made her sleepy unless she kept moving.

Rubbing her peeling sunburned forehead, she scanned the desolate hills surrounding them, then brightened. "Ah, here they come again. At least I think it's them, that Indian family." Three dots emerged from a distant ravine, moving slowly toward the train. "Last night I traded some bread loaves for a pair of quilled moccasins. Did you trade for anything?"

"I exchanged a jar of strawberry jelly for some beadwork." Perrin yawned, started to scratch the itchy welts on her chest, then made herself replace her hand in her lap.

Mem hesitated, then lowered her head and shook the dust from the folds of her dark skirt. "Perrin? There's something I've been wanting to well, have you noticed that is, do you think there's a special fondness between Augusta and Webb Coate?"

Perrin's eyes flew open and she laughed, cracking the white ointment that slathered her face. "Absolutely not! Last night I was showing her how to turn out her wagon when the Indians came. As far as Augusta is concerned, Indiansand that includes Webbare uncivilized barbarians. Creatures to fear and despise. She can't say a civil word about Webb." She examined the patches of color blooming on Mem's cheeks. "Why do you ask?"

The scarlet deepened on Mem's cheekbones and she wished she had held her foolish tongue. Worse, the words kept coming. "Webb and I meet nearly every night by Smokey Joe's fire; we've done so almost from the start of the journey." When she observed Perrin's surprise, she clasped her hands tightly. "Webb is my friend, and I'm his. We've confided things about ourselves that no one else well, that's neither here nor there." She frowned at the distant peaks, then lowered her head. It felt so good to talk about him, just to speak his name aloud. "It upsets me to think that I'll never see him again after we reach Oregon."

Perrin studied her flaming cheeks. "And you really think he cares for Augusta?"

"I know he does." She had come this far; there was no point turning coy now. "Webb helped her that first week. He's the one who told Augusta how to make her first fire and set up her tent. I overheard him whispering instructions to her."

"No, you didn't," Perrin disagreed, suddenly smiling.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard Heck Kelsey." When Mem gaped in disbelief, Perrin laughed. "When Heck finally told Cody what he'd done, Cody didn't believe it either. I did, because Webb was with Sarah and Cora and me when Heck was standing behind Augusta's wagon pretending to be Webb. Haven't you heard Heck imitate Cody and Webb before? Heck Kelsey can mimic any accent he has ever heard."

"But why" Mem frowned. Was it possible? Her mind raced. She had heard Heck mimic Smokey Joe and others.

"It's Heck who's sweet on Augusta, Mem," Perrin said gently. "Smokey Joe teases him about it all the time. Webb wanted to send Augusta back to Chastity when Cody first suggested it."

Mem's heart leaped. She tried to speak, but couldn't, then hastily excused herself before Perrin could ask the questions rising in her large dark eyes.

She took a few steps, holding her hem away from the spiny cactus, then stopped. No, she would not allow herself to exalt that it was Heck who had assisted Augusta. It might not change anything. She knew there was something between Augusta and Webb because she had seen them together that awful night. And she had watched Augusta yearning after him with long glances.

But she was not going to torture herself with painful thoughts today. She'd done enough of that.

So what would she do? The rest of the morning and an idle afternoon stretched before her, promising nothing but monotony and boredom. When was the last time Mem Grant, great adventuress, intrepid explorer, had done something worthy of recording in her journal? Her descendants would read her journal and conclude that she was a dullard.

Her clear gaze settled on the dots walking out of the low hills and she considered, thinking about the Indian family, who apparently intended to pay a return visit to their camp.

After a moment's reflection, a slow smile appeared on her lips. Yes, this was the very thing. Whirling, she returned to her wagon and managed to locate an old hat and a pair of sturdy walking shoes without attracting the notice of the women working on Cora's wedding dress. After packing a flour sack with assorted trinkets for gifts, she set off across the barren ground at a brisk pace, walking toward the approaching dots.

Mem's impulsive adventure became the most glorious, most enlightening day of her life to date.

The Sioux village was small, only a dozen lodges, and the inhabitants were dumbfounded by the sight of her. The women recovered first, collecting around her to inspect her clothing, her sunbonnet, her sunburned face, and her astonishing auburn hair. She was equally fascinated by their soft doeskin tunics, and beadwork adorning their leggings, their shining braids.

Laughing, and struggling to recall the phrases Webb had taught her, she passed out the trinkets she had brought and indicated with gestures that she would like to examine a tepee, would enjoy seeing whatever they cared to show her.

She was aware that the village men engaged in a heated discussion concerning her arrival, questioning the man whose wife had agreed to bring Mem to the village. There appeared to be a lot of consternation, many comings and goings from the largest tepee, and numerous male glares thrown in her direction.

As she expected the men to banish her at any minute, she pressed the women to take her inside a lodge at once, hoping that out of sight meant out of mind. She wanted to glimpse a way of life that charmed and surprised her.

The first surprise had been discovering pine and scrubby cottonwood trees. The Indians had found shade in this empty land, and a tiny creek that trickled past the lodges. The second surprise was discovering how cool it was inside the buffalo hides draping the lodge poles. Air flowed beneath the gap between ground and hides. The flap turned back at the peak allowed for circulation. It was quite comfortable inside.

Once her eyes adjusted to the airy dimness of the tepee's interior, she could admire the efficiency of her hostess, a dignified older woman who invited her inside with the courtesy one princess might extend another.

By the nature of the articles arrayed on each side of the tepee, Mem could see that the lodge was arranged to accommodate women on one side, men on the other. She seated herself on a pile of buffalo robes mounded invitingly on the women's side. Her hostess beamed, then barked an order at a younger woman, who hastened to fetch a bowl of food and a container of cool water.

Mem drank the water gratefully, then sampled a bowl of meat stewed with wild onions. To her taste, the dish needed salt, and the meat was too gamy for her palate, but she smacked her lips, smiled broadly, and politely swallowed every bite. Immediately another bowl appeared before her. Too late she remembered Webb absently turning his cup upside down when he finished drinking. Gamely, she finished the second bowl of food, then patted her stomach, smiled and smiled, and turned her bowl upside down before her. The women beamed back at her.