Brides of Prairie Gold (47 page)

She had told Cody to go to hell. And now they had taken away a title and position that had made her feel good about herself. The loss of both created a painful hollow in her chest.

All she had left was herself. That's all she had ever had.

Smokey Joe, that font of information and gossip, told him what the women were up to. By the time Cody arrived at the meeting, Perrin was walking away, her face wooden, and Mem was running after her. Instantly he knew what had transpired merely by the sight of Perrin's rigid body and uncertain gait.

Tight-lipped and angry, he strode to the front of the group. "What you just did is small, petty, and wrong," he stated flatly, staring at them. He was breaking his rule of noninterference but didn't stop himself. "Perrin Waverly has represented you well. She's argued for you, worked for you, and worried about you. There isn't a person here who hasn't benefited from her kindness and concern. And no one could have been fairer than she has been." Anger smoldered in his icy gaze. "She turned to me for comfort, that's all. Any one of you would have done the same damned thing if you'd just shot and killed a man."

He saw Ona jab an elbow in Thea's ribs, then Thea stood and cleared her throat. "We understand that Miles Dawson was the first man to arrive on the scene. Did Mrs. Waverly also throw herself into his arms seeking comfort?"

The smug knowing look on her pretty face made him seethe. "I don't know."

Sarah coughed into her hand. "When he was queried on this point, Mr. Dawson said Mrs. Waverly did not seek comfort from him. He feels she was quite in command of herself."

Ona rose to her feet, flinging out an accusation. "Bootie claims she saw you give Mrs. Waverly a money pouch!"

Bootie shrugged. "Well, that's what I saw."

At once Cody understood they all grasped Ona's implication. Ona's tone made it glassy clear that she believed he'd been paying his whore. Dark color infused his face.

"I respect and admire Perrin Waverly. She's a beautiful and spirited woman and any man would be proud to have her share his bedroll. But she doesn't share mine. I began this journey with a private conviction that integrity and a sense of humor are solely male attributes. What I'm witnessing here does little to alter that opinion. But Perrin Waverly has proven that women do have integrity and personal honor. At least she does."

He stared into each face. Perrin's dismissal had not been unanimous; he was glad for her sake that she had supporters, albeit none with the courage to speak in her defense. It was also evident that nothing he said would change the opinions of those who condemned her. If anything, arguing in her favor may have injured her case. None of them viewed him as unbiased.

Later that evening his suspicion was confirmed when Smokey Joe made sure he overheard that Sarah Jennings was the new representative. Cody had not changed their minds.

Webb followed him out onto the edge of the high desert and they shared a smoke. When it was dark enough that his expression couldn't be seen, Cody made a sound of disgust.

"This is the first damned time that I've ever compromised a passenger!"

"You usually haul weapons and whiskey, not women," Webb commented placidly. He studied the fiery tip of his cigar.

"I think she wants me to marry her." Amazement roughened his tone. Every time he recalled how blunt she had been, he was freshly astonished. Women just didn't speak that frankly or that directly. And men raised the subject of commitment and marriage, not women. It was a man's decision.

"You could do worse. Perrin Waverly is a fine woman. What do you want, Cody?"

"Lately, I've been asking myself that question a dozen times a day." He drew on his cigar and frowned. He hadn't allowed himself to analyze how he felt about her until he heard himself lauding her integrity to the other brides. "I started this journey believing there would never be another woman in my life. I didn't think anything or anyone could change that. I didn't want another woman. Certainly not a woman who has been another man's mistress."

They watched a shooting star streak across the sky. "Are you going to spend the rest of your life punishing every woman for Ellen's sins?" Webb asked eventually. It was the kind of hard question only a very good friend would ask.

"Mrs. Waverly has sins of her own," he said sharply.

Webb peered at him through the darkness. "She can't change what she did before she met you." He let the words hang a minute. "Man wasn't meant to live alone, Cody. And Perrin isn't Ellen. She isn't a young, spoiled belle. Perrin is a woman of strength and character." He let those words hang too. "This solitary life you're planning will it be better or worse without her?"

"She's stubborn, argumentative, doesn't know the meaning of the word no." He thought a minute, then released a long breath. "She never complains, works hard, is scrupulously fair, and sometimes there's a loneliness in her eyes that haunts me. They were goddamned wrong to reject her as their representative!"

Webb said nothing, but Cody sensed his smile and it infuriated him. "Even if there were no past history with Boyd, since the incident with Eaggleston she's started saying whatever pops into her mind. She's as blunt as a man!"

Webb clapped a hand on his shoulder and laughed out loud. "My friend, sometimes women have to hit us over the head with a blunt statement to get our attention."

"She told me to go to hell," he insisted indignantly. "She said she was through with me."

"Then you don't have a problem, since you claim you're finished with women anyway," Webb said, grinning.

Scowling, Cody flipped his cigar in a fiery arc. They stood in the darkness, silently observing the cook fires surrounding the squared wagons.

"Now that the California people have cut south and the traffic has thinned, I figure Quinton will make his move." Even at night the Blue Mountains loomed as a challenge. The mountains coupled to the problem of Quinton seemed daunting at this moment. "I wish you were two people," Cody said. "One to scout campsites and one to ride behind, checking for Quinton."

Webb studied the ebony wall of the Blues. "Better we settle it here than carry the fight into the mountains."

"He's out there," Cody said quietly, scanning the darkness. "I can feel him."

And he could feel Perrin as if her spirit reached out to him. When he turned to face the wagons, he saw her sitting alone beside her fire. She sat erect, her face expressionless, her body closed in on itself. Isolated in the solitude the others imposed on her.

Joseph Boyd had done this to her. Boyd had left her vulnerable to this kind of punishment. Or was it him? Was Cody the one responsible for her loneliness?

Again, Quinton and his gang struck shortly before dawn. Gunfire from the men guarding the arms wagon awoke everyone and sent them racing to rehearsed positions.

In the end, the skirmish lasted less than forty minutes. As Cody holstered his gun and rose to his feet in the chill swirling dust, he decided the hit-and-run attack had been more an information-gathering foray than a genuine attempt to steal the arms wagon. Cursing, he shoved back his hat and mopped dust and sweat from his brow. Now Quinton knew the train's defenses.

Webb walked out of the dusty darkness. "Perrin Waverly's been shot. It's a flesh wound, not serious." Webb's hand stopped him from striding forward. "Cody, she was shot from behind."

He understood at once and his stare deepened. "One of our people." His mind raced. She would have taken a position beneath her wagon. The animals were behind her in the enclosure formed by the wagons. "Damn it! How did this happen?" he demanded.

"Quinton's gang was riding off. She crawled out from under the wagon and stood up." Webb's eyes narrowed. "The last shot we heard must have been the shot fired at Perrin."

An absurd connection flashed through his mind. Although he saw no similarity whatsoever, he suddenly recalled his slashed bedroll. The incidents had ceased once they passed into the Oregon Territory. That puzzled him too.

By the time he arrived at Perrin's wagon, lanterns had been lit to aid the first glow of dawn. Sarah glanced up, then back to the bandage she was wrapping around Perrin's upper arm.

"It's not serious," she said briskly. "The bullet passed clean through, didn't hit bone. The wound will heal in a few days. Cora will drive Augusta's wagon."

Cody didn't give a damn who drove Augusta's wagon. He knelt beside Perrin, careful not to touch her as he wanted to. He gazed into her large pain-filled eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Yes."

He hesitated, aware that Sarah watched and listened, unsure how to ask what he suddenly needed to know or even if the question was reasonable. "Mrs. Waverly, have you experienced any strange incidents on this journey?"

Sarah cut the bandage with a small pair of scissors, then frowned at Perrin. "You didn't tell him?" she demanded.

He swore quietly. "If something has been going on, you should have told me immediately!"

She gazed at him with those cinnamon-colored eyes, huge in her pale face. "At first it didn't seem important."

In a halting voice, glancing occasionally at the blood seeping through the bandage on her arm, she related dozens of pranks that had escalated in seriousness to a slashed dress. As she spoke, Cody finally understood the old valentine that had appeared beneath his saddle blanket. Someone had been sending a message; someone had known of their attraction for a long time.

Pushing back his hat, he tugged at his hair. "Whoever stole your valentine stuck in under my saddle blanket. I didn't know what it was. I threw it away."

She nodded and moisture appeared in her eyes. She gazed down at her lap. "I've been ill for the last few days," she said when she could speak again. "Hilda hasn't felt well either. I think I don't know someone may have put something in our food. There was one night when we bought some fish from the Indians that visited camp. We prepared it immediately, but it tasted bitter. We didn't eat all of it."

"And now you've been shot." Cody studied her, wanting to take her into his arms.

"It had to be an accident," she said, searching his face.

He lifted an eyebrow at Sarah. "Having accompanied your late husband on campaigns, I imagine you've seen your share of wounds. Can you distinguish entry and exit?"

She nodded. Abruptly her frown altered to an expression of incredulity. She stared down at Perrin's arm. "Good heavens! But that means"

Quickly, he told them about the cake, ribbon, slashed bedroll and blankets. The more serious incidents appeared to have happened in tandem with the escalating events targeting Perrin.

As the sun drifted above the horizon, Cody noticed how white her face was. When he considered that she might have been killed, his heart stopped. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her tightly and tell her how grateful he was that she was alive.

"Damn it," he said softly. There was no privacy on a wagon train. No place he could take her to cradle her in his arms or tell her that he didn't like her coolness and didn't like the indifference he suspected she only pretended.

Sarah's voice cut across confusing thoughts. "Who's doing these things?"

Pulled from gazing at each other, Cody and Perrin looked at her. Then Cody stood, opening and closing his hands at his sides.

"There are going to be questions," he said to Sarah, his eyes hard. "Answer truthfully. If Perrin's wound was not an accident then someone tried to kill her. Whoever did this needs to know we're aware of his intentions."

He met Perrin's large eyes before she lifted her chin and looked away from him. Frustration tightened his jaw. Had Ellen ever irritated him this much? Had she confused him and stirred his guts the way this woman did when he looked at her? He knew the answers. Ellen had never possessed as great a potential to wound him as Perrin Waverly did.

The truth struck like a crippling blow to the belly. He was afraid of her. If he let it happen, he could love her as he had never loved another human being. And that love would give her the power to destroy him. What Ellen had done to his pride and his self-esteem would be as child's play compared to what Perrin could do. If he let himself love her.

Leaving her, he strode into the pearly dawn. Someone had tried to kill her. And Quinton would attack again. His train was under siege from within and without.

Rocking back on his heels, he gazed at a chilly leaden sky. As if he didn't have enough trouble on his plate, he realized winter would arrive early this year. Tales of passengers perishing in snowbound trains as early as mid-September darkened his thoughts.

From now on, every day counted.

Quintan's gang came at them every few days. Smokey Joe took a bullet in the thigh and hobbled around on a crutch Heck Kelsey made for him. They lost another two oxen to gunfire, and one of Smokey's mules. Hilda smashed a finger;

Thea crawled under her wagon and into a bed of stinging cactus. Nerves were pulled as tight as piano wire, and exhaustion tugged lips and eyelids.

Despite the hardship of traveling in the mountains, everyone expressed relief to enter the Blues and escape Quintan's persistent attacks. The heavy fir stands frustrated the outlaws' harassment and offered a respite from escalating attacks.

But their progress slowed to a crawl.

In short order, the brides discovered they were now embarked on the worst stretch of terrain so far experienced. Here everyone walked, stumbling over ragged stones the size of a tin mug. Shoes came apart, lacerations appeared on everyone's feet and ankles.

The wagons became cumbersome obstacles. They waited with pounding hearts as the vehicles were hoisted up steep slopes with ropes and pulleys. Courting injury and disaster, the women ran to block rear wheels with rocks as the wagons inched up perilous inclines. Occasionally they had to brace and push straining muscles against the tailgate of a wagon to keep it from rolling back and smashing to pieces should it break loose and crash down the side of a steep slope. Muscles quivered and twitched for hours afterward.