Dangerous Heart (5 page)

Alert to the wagon master's concern, Grant shoved aside the thought of Ginger leaving the train and concentrated on the newly spoken situation. “The snows are already piling up in the mountains, aren't they?”

Blake scowled. “I don't know about snows piling up yet, but they most likely will be by the time we get there. We're more than a month behind. All the delays between women getting kidnapped, the twister, Indians, and now outlaws. This has been the worst trip west I've ever made. I'm glad it's my last.”

“Is Fort Boise equipped to take on a wagon train the size of this one?”

“We'd have to build outside the fort and fortify the walls and roofs with wagon canvases.”

“You mean build houses for folks?” Grant had trouble believing in the possibility.

Blake shook his head. “We'll have to build barracks, of sorts. Two for the women and girls, two for the men and boys.”

“Splitting up families might not be good.”

“We may not have a choice. Tepees would be more practical and would keep families together, but I know what kind of reaction I'd get if I suggested that sort of thing.”

The man in the corner groaned, drawing their attention. Grant studied his young face.

“Can you hear me?” he asked.

The stranger moaned in reply but didn't open his eyes.

“Who are you?”

“Buddy…”

“What were you doing this close to the wagon train?”

“Gin-ger…” he whispered just before passing out once more.

“Confound it,” Blake muttered. “I knew that girl was up to no good.”

As much as Grant hated to admit it, there was no denying that Ginger was hiding something. “I guess we'd better send for her, huh?”

Sam entered the tent carrying two boards, water, and bandages.

Blake stood, raking his hand through his hair. “Set those down, Sam, and then will you go find Ginger Freeman? That fellow is asking for her.”

A frown creased Sam's dark brow. “Asking for Ginger?”

As if on cue, the man stirred and moaned. “Ginger…”

“We're going to find her,” Grant said. “But first I'm going to fix your broken arm and clean up the wound on your head. You're running a fever. Can you tell me if you've come into contact with influenza or any other infectious diseases lately?”

“Ch–cholera. In an Indian village south of here yesterday.”

Grant turned and met Blake's gaze. The wagon master stared back gravely.

A wave of dread washed over Grant. Cholera had the capacity to wipe out the entire wagon train. He'd seen its devastating effects before. He looked down at the boy. First things first. He had to set the broken arm. Then he'd try to figure out how to keep the cholera from sweeping through camp.

 

Ginger's restlessness led her through camp after she left Fannie, and she found herself pausing outside of Miss Sadie's tent. “Hello!” she called.

“Come in, Ginger,” Miss Sadie answered from inside.

Ginger rushed forward at the sight of Yellow Bird sitting up at the fire, nursing the baby. She coughed a little from the smoke. Even with a hole in the top of the tent where the stakes came together, almost as much smoke remained inside as escaped. But with the cold weather setting in, there was no choice but to build the fires or freeze. “Why are you up? You should be in bed.” She turned her glare on Miss Sadie. “Aren't you supposed to be taking care of her? I knew I shouldn't have left Yellow Bird alone. I just knew it.”

Outrage flashed in Miss Sadie's eyes. “Girl, I've been bringing babies and taking care of new mothers since before you were born. Do you think you know best?”

Warmth moved up Ginger's neck, but she refused to back down. Right was right. “I don't think she should be sitting up like that.”

“The baby is finished now.” A tired little smile tipped Yellow Bird's lips. She twisted her head and looked up. She patted the ground. “Come and tell me about your evening, Ginger. Where have you been? If you will hold him, I will lie down while you talk to me.”

Well, she wasn't exactly experienced in baby holding, but she hadn't dropped him earlier, so she expected it wouldn't hurt anything to take on the little tyke so Yellow Bird would stretch out on her pallet. Expelling a breath, Ginger sank to the earthen floor across from Yellow Bird and held out her arms.

The first feel of the warm, swaddled babe in her arms touched a spot inside of Ginger, and she swallowed hard against a rush of emotion. His rosebud mouth scrunched up, and he let out a contented sigh as he stared up at her with black eyes. “Would you look at that?” Ginger said, barely able to gather enough breath to push the words from her throat.

“He knows you helped to bring him safely into the world,” Yellow Bird said. Ginger couldn't summon the strength to look away from the wonder in her arms.

“You reckon?”

“I do. Babies are very wise.”

Miss Sadie gave a snort. “You never answered Yellow
Bird's question. Where ya been? Grant's been pacing the length of the camp for hours. Making a nuisance of hisself.”

“I went out riding. And Grant knew where I went. He tried to keep me from going.”

Miss Sadie shook her head. “Riding? Didn't Blake say no one was to leave camp?”

“I didn't hear it.”

“Well, even if you didn't. You know the routine by now. Only men are allowed away from camp during times like today. And even then, only in groups of two or more. Never a woman, and definitely never alone. And land sakes, not at night. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I had my reasons, and it was nobody's business what I do or don't do. And I hold to that belief.” She glared at Miss Sadie. “You shouldn't talk that way in front of the baby, anyhow.”

“Talk what way?”

“Land sakes,” Ginger whispered so softly she practically just moved her lips.

“It is all right, Ginger,” Yellow Bird said, “I do not think he understands words yet.”

“Anyway, Fannie says Blake's just as likely to kick my be—” Glancing at the baby, she frowned. “Ask me to leave at Fort Boise as he is to let me stay.”

Yellow Bird's eyes shone with sympathy. “You are like water just before it slips over the fall.”

That Yellow Bird was a curiosity. Sometimes she might as well be speaking Sioux, for all the sense she made. “What are you talking about, Yellow Bird?”

The Indian woman cast her an indulgent smile. “Neither can be contained.” Her gaze shifted to the now-sleeping baby. “I will take him now.”

Reluctantly, Ginger settled the baby into his mother's arms.

“Neither can be contained,” Miss Sadie mimicked Yellow Bird's words. “That's what a dam is for.” She handed Ginger a cup of coffee she hadn't even asked for. Ginger took it gratefully, anticipating the warmth. “Thanks. It's getting downright cold.”

The widow's face softened. “Heaven help the person who tries to dam up your energy, my girl.”

Ginger sipped the hot liquid, then swallowed. “Think Blake's gonna kick me out?”

Miss Sadie's shoulders lifted in a shrug. “He might. You seem to have a knack for getting into trouble.”

Ginger opened her mouth to protest, but Miss Sadie silenced her with an upraised hand. She placed the pot back on the fire. “Hold on. I'm not done. What I was going to say, is that you also have a knack for helping folks around here. More often than not, your hunting and fishing skills keep meat on several fires around camp. I'm sure Blake will take that into consideration before making a decision.”

“I hope so, Miss Sadie.” Ginger shoved the cup back in to the older woman's hand and headed toward the tent flap. “I'll stop by in the morning to help get Yellow Bird settled in the back of your wagon. Get some sleep, Yellow Bird. The trail gets rougher tomorrow. You won't rest in the wagon.”

“Thank you, Ginger I will sleep soon.”

“All right, then.” She gave a nod that included both women. “I'll say goodnight.”

Ginger walked outside into the chilly air, grateful to be out of the smoky tent. She turned her gaze toward the west. It was almost November. The wagon train should have been in Oregon Territory by now, but one delay after another had slowed their progress. It would be a miracle if they made it through the mountains ahead before the winter set in. Otherwise, she didn't know if she could hold Web off that long. He was mighty determined she should hurry and get back to him and the rest of the gang. What could he've meant about needing a woman for their next scheme? Well, whatever it was, he could forget it. She hadn't been part of Web's thieving and such for seven years, and she wasn't going to go back to it now. Even if it meant that she left her pa forever. Then again, Web had seemed anxious. What if he left her no choice?

When she returned to her campfire, she found Sam waiting. His lips were set in a grim line, his eyes void of humor.

“Hi Sam, what are you doing?”

He nodded. “I was sent to bring you to the supply tent. A young man has been brought in wounded. He called your name.”

Ginger's legs shook as she walked with Sam toward the supply tent. By the description Sam had given of the young man, it could only be Buddy. Frustration bit at her. How could her brother be so foolish? If what Two Feathers said was true, he had given her away.

Just how much Buddy had told, she couldn't be sure so she didn't allow herself to speak. But if he'd so much as hinted that he had been involved in the attack this morning, Web was as good as found. With Sam's and Grant's abilities as trackers, it wouldn't be long before they rounded up the rest of Web's gang, and the whole lot of them—including Ginger—would be in a mess of trouble.

Her stomach quivered as she slipped through the tent flap.

Standing quickly from Buddy's bedside, Grant held up his arms. “Get her out of here. This man has cholera.”

A gasp shuddered through Ginger. She pushed past him. “You're not keeping me from my brother. Especially if he's sick.”

“Your brother?” Blake asked, suspicion edging his voice.

Ginger nodded. “Yes. His name is Buddy. He…he must have followed me west.” She reached forward and brushed a lock of Buddy's brown hair from his forehead.

Grant placed a hand on her shoulder. “Ginger, if this is cholera, you've just exposed yourself to the disease by touching him. You're risking your life and the lives of others by that stunt you just pulled.”

Ginger examined her younger brother's sweet boyish face. He shivered under the thin blanket covering him and his brow was damp with sweat. Just like Web's had been earlier.

Blake nodded to Grant. “She's already exposed herself now. We might as well get some answers. Wake him up.”

Grant waved smelling salts under Buddy's nose. The young man sniffed, jerked, and came awake with a start.

Without so much as a nod at Ginger, Blake looked at Buddy. “Ginger's here, just like we promised. Ginger, look at me.”

She turned to face the wagon master. Blake's eyes demanded answers. “Whether he's sick or not, I have to know if he has anything to do with that band of outlaws that attacked our train.”

Buddy's eyes grew wide as he looked to Ginger to see how much she would admit to. Ginger hated to lie, but she couldn't betray her brother. He was barely fifteen years old. How could she hand him over to Blake to be hanged? On the trail, justice was swift and administered by the hands of those in charge. This far from a town with a sheriff, there was no other choice. Just as she had no choice now but to protect her brother.

“Outlaw?” She forced a laugh. “My Buddy? Does he look like an outlaw?”

Grant narrowed his gaze. Ginger swallowed hard but raised her chin against his disbelief. “Buddy always said if I ran off, he'd follow me.” That much was true. “Didn't you?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, closing his eyes.

“Is that the truth, son?” Grant asked.

“You calling my brother a liar?”

“No.”

Grant's curt reply and knowing gaze silenced Ginger. She swallowed hard. How was she ever going to get out of this mess without Buddy and possibly herself swinging from the end of a rope?

The scowl on Grant's face made it clear he wasn't going to budge, no matter what she said. “Look, Blake,” she said, appealing to the wagon master. “My brother is sick and obviously alone. He came looking for me, that's all. I'm the only family he's got since our ma abandoned us.”

“What about your pa?”

Ginger gave a snort. “Pa? Web's about the sorriest excuse for a pa you ever could see. We're better off without him.”

“She's telling the truth about that,” Buddy said in a meek voice that concerned Ginger. How sick was he? Her knees went soft at the thought of Buddy dying a horrible death of cholera.

“Buddy, lay still and let me take care of this, will you?” She studied his pale face with a frown. “You feeling okay?”

“I feel awful sick, Ginger.”

Grant stepped forward. “All right. Enough of this for
now. Whatever the reason for this young man's appearance, the fact is he's ill. I need someone to bring me a bucket, and I'll need all the quinine I can get my hands on just in case this thing spreads.”

Blake looked from Ginger to Buddy and back to Grant. “I guess I don't really have much of a choice.”

Blake took her arm. “Come with me.”

Grant stepped forward. “Wait, Blake. We need to inform the people that cholera is among us. Sam and you have already been in the tent and back out, so there's no containing it now. Whoever you came in contact with has also been exposed and has in turn exposed anyone else they've been close to. Tell them to watch for fever, vomiting, diarrhea.”

Blake nodded. “We'll get the word out.” He turned to Sam. “Take the west side of camp. I'll take the east. We'll spread the word among the captains, and they can tell their people.”

He turned back to Ginger. “I need to have a word with you.”

Ginger knew better than to try to pull away. She nodded. “I'll be back, Buddy,” she called over her shoulder, although he appeared to have passed out. Once they ducked through the tent flap and stood outside, Blake turned her loose. They faced each other, Blake's square-shouldered stance firm and allowing for no backtalk.

“Now, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Ginger fought a rising panic. She didn't know what she was supposed to explain, exactly—Buddy's presence, or her riding out without permission?

Besides, his high-and-mighty tone irked her. She matched him look for look. “About what?”

“You know what I'm talking about,” he growled. “Why did you ride off after I ordered that no one was to leave camp?”

Ginger watched the puff of air accompanying his words, as she sought to lasso a believable thought. Still, the familiar excuse flew out of her mouth, as though she hadn't thought about it at all. “I just needed to ride.”

Between his eyes, two lines formed a deep frown. “What do you mean, you just needed to ride?”

A shrug lifted her shoulders. She wanted to tell him to mind his own business—that if she wanted to ride and try to ease the knot in her stomach, she should be allowed to do so. But with Buddy ill, hurt, and possibly dying, she especially couldn't take any chances that Blake would toss her out of the train. “I just needed to be alone.”

He narrowed his eyes and peered closer. “Where did you go?”

Ginger jerked her thumb toward the west. “That way.”

“Did you meet anyone or see signs of the attackers?”

For once, Ginger hesitated and weighed her words carefully. Buddy's presence proved that she had people in the vicinity. Still, she couldn't very well admit her connection to the attackers. So, she did the next best thing.

“I saw my pa.”

“What do you mean? I thought you said you and Buddy were alone in the world.”

“We said we have a pa. Just not a very good one.”

Blake nodded as his eyes registered the memory. “And
your pa and Buddy showing up the same day a band of outlaws attacks the wagon train is nothing but a coincidence?”

Now that he put it that way, Ginger realized the only way to get out of this mess was to pretend innocence. “That's right. Just an odd coincidence.” Ginger's lips turned up in what she hoped was a convincing smile.

“If you don't care much for your pa, what's he doing in these parts?”

“He was looking for Buddy.” Now that wasn't exactly a lie. After all, Web did mention that her brother was missing. “Asked me if I'd seen him, but I didn't know Buddy was looking for me at the time, so I had to tell him no.”

“And there was no one else with your pa?”

In a moment that could only be attributed to providence, Grant ducked through the tent flap at the very second Ginger would have either had to admit what she was or tell another lie; neither option appealed to her.

“How's Buddy?” she asked, aware that her voice was a little breathless—a telltale sign that she was relieved and evading Blake's question.

His lips held in a grim line, and he shook his head.

Fear gripped Ginger. “Grant?”

“You should probably prepare for the worst. He's very ill, and cholera is a fast killer.”

Ginger tried to wrap her mind around his words, but her heart rejected the very thought that she could possibly lose another brother. “But Miss Sadie had it,” Ginger said. “She didn't die.”

Grant peered closer. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes. Her sons and husband died of it. That's why she came west.”

“Then she might be able to help if this thing sweeps through the wagon train. In the meantime, I've given him something to help with the pain,” Grant told her.

“Can I see him again before I turn in?”

Grant shook his head. “Let him rest, Ginger. The boy is very ill.”

“But why can't I stay with him? You said yourself that I'm already exposed.”

“You need to get your rest. Stay strong, just in case you do get sick.”

Resigned, Ginger nodded. “All right. But I'm coming back in the morning.” She turned to Blake. “Are you finished with me for tonight?”

So far, he hadn't mentioned a punishment of leaving camp, but she was sure he was building up to it. “We're finished for tonight,” Blake said. “But I expect you to follow orders from now on, and as punishment, you are off the scouting detail until further notice. That means no tracking, no hunting. And most of all, no leaving the wagon train for any reason.”

Ginger opened her mouth to protest, but Grant placed a gentle, silencing hand on her arm. She nodded. “All right.” After all, she had more important things to think about.

Blake shoved a finger toward her. “Until further notice, you're on water detail.”

Indignation filled her chest. “Water detail!” Punishment was one thing, but he didn't have to insult her!

“Would you prefer to gather buffalo chips for the fire?”

Ginger stepped back quickly. “I'll fetch water.”

“Good.” Blake gave a nod. “Report to Miss Sadie at daybreak.”

Miss Sadie was in charge of several chores—collecting chips, water, and anytime there was a camp-wide hunting expedition, she divvied up the meat.

Ginger said goodnight and headed back to the tent she shared with Toni. Her friend offered her a cup of coffee when she arrived. Ginger nodded gratefully. “Thanks.”

“So what was Blake's punishment?”

“Water detail,” she said glumly.

Toni gave a short laugh. “That's my every day chore. But I can see why you'd consider it a punishment.” She handed Ginger the tin cup. “Sam stopped by. He said you have a visitor in camp.”

“Not exactly a visitor. He's my brother, and he's apparently got cholera.”

“Sam told me. I'm so sorry.”

“Grant wouldn't let me stay with him.” She took a sip of her coffee, then bended forward to rest her forearms on her knees. She studied the cup she cradled between her hands. “He told me to rest. How does he expect me to do that when my baby brother is in the supply tent all alone?”

“He's just looking out for you, Ginger,” Toni soothed. “It's what he does.”

“I don't need him looking out for me. I need him to let me look out for Buddy.”

“Well, I think we'd all better get ready. Cholera isn't going
to go away quietly. The next couple of weeks are going to be more than hard for everyone.”

For the first time, Ginger considered the implications of this disease beyond her brother. “You think a lot of people are going to die?”

“Sam seemed concerned. And I've seen this disease before. It isn't going to be pretty.”

“Blake and Sam are out warning folks now.”

“I hope it doesn't cause a panic.”

Ginger gave a shrug. “I reckon Blake knows what he's doing.”

Toni rinsed out the coffeepot. A yawn stretched her mouth. “Are you ready to turn in?”

“I'll just dump out the wash water and take care of the fire, then I'll be in.”

Nodding, Toni said goodnight and ducked into the tent.

Alone, Ginger extinguished the campfire, feeling the darkness swirling around her.

A shudder ran down her spine. Maybe it was her imagination, but she could feel eyes on her, watching. She stopped and turned quickly. “Web?” she whispered. Maybe he was checking on Buddy after all.

But silence answered. Her heart beat faster and she resumed her walk, quickening her steps, anxious to reach her tent and escape the feeling of those prying eyes.

 

Grant thought about Ginger as he administered quinine to the boy lying on the pallet in the supply tent. He'd watched her walk away, her body held with much less confidence than
he was accustomed to seeing from her. Her head drooped just a little, and her gait seemed a bit slower, less cocky. Her brother's appearance and illness had most assuredly upset her. He didn't blame her. He himself was terrified, if he had to be honest about it. When Blake returned later with some supplies, Grant finally gave in to his curiosity. “What did she have to say for herself?”

“About riding off alone?” Blake shrugged. “The usual. Just needed to get alone. I understand how she feels. There are times when I'd like to ride off on Dusty and not come back until we're both sweating buckets and I feel my head clear. But I can't allow that sort of thing. If everyone ran off whenever they took a notion to, we'd have no discipline around here.”

Grant nodded. “I agree. Did Ginger have an explanation for her brother showing up out of nowhere?”

“Nothing more than what she already said. She did say that she ran into her pa while she was out there today.”

“Her pa?” Somehow, Grant didn't find this news too shocking. Not after her brother had appeared out of nowhere. Even a man of faith would have trouble believing such a thing were mere coincidence or simply an ambitious fifteen-year-old brother traveling alone, all the way from Missouri just to find her. “Do you think there's a connection between this morning's attack and Ginger's reunion with her pa and brother?”