Glory (13 page)

Lily, awake now, too, reached for Glory’s hand. “What’s wrong? You look sad this morning. Are you still mad about the bath? Because you really need—”

“I killed a man.”

The dazed silence was as loud as a gunshot.

Glory stared at the crackling fire, waiting. Apparently Lily and Mary were trying to think of a response.

“Did you hear me?”

“You said you . . . killed a man,” Mary repeated.

“I did . . . and I stole money from Poppy’s brother—leastways he thinks I did.” Her words tumbled one over the other now. “I didn’t steal that gold, because Poppy told me that if anything was to ever happen to him, I was to take the money—it was supposed to be mine.” Glory rolled to her side, grasping Mary’s hand. “I’m scared, Mary. I’m scared that Amos is following me and will take the gold. And the man I killed? That wasn’t my fault, honest. He and his friend was tormenting me, saying awful things, wanting to do awful things, and I spooked. Before I knew it, I’d hit him.”

“You killed Charlie! You killed Charlie Gulch! You’ll hang for this!”

Lily, wide-awake now, with eyes as wide as saucers, pressed a hand to her mouth. “When? When did this happen?”

“The second night I stayed in Squatter’s Bend.”

“Oh, dear.” Daylight filtered through the camp. The girls lay in the stillness, Mary holding Glory’s hand.

“Do you hate me?”

“Hate you? Goodness, no.” Mary squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I know you’d never kill anyone unless you felt you had to. The Good Book tells us not to kill—”

“I wouldn’t, honest, Mary.” Glory’s voice came out in a shaky whisper. “Honest. What should I do?”

The girls thought about it for a long while. Finally Lily said, “I guess you’d better tell Jackson.”

Oh, she
hated
to have to tell Jackson. “Isn’t it enough that the two of you know? You can help me keep watch for Amos and the dead man’s friend. If we’re lucky, they’ll not catch up with us.”

“They’ll catch up with us,” Lily predicted. “If Amos lives in these parts, he’ll ask around and discover you hooked up with us. If the other man is behind us, he’ll catch up too. You don’t have a choice really. You have to tell Jackson. He’ll know what to do.”

Glory felt like bawling like a baby. New friends. She’d not have a one after today. When the others found out that she’d stolen
and
killed, they would leave her beside the road
and not look back. And who could blame them? Loneliness washed over her already, and she held back bitter tears.

“I don’t want to tell him. He’ll make me leave.”

“No, he won’t. He can be gruff at times, but he’s fair, Glory. You tell him what happened and ask him to help you.”

She’d sooner walk over hot coals barefoot, but she knew Lily was right. She had to tell Jackson; it was the only fair thing to do. “All right. I’ll tell him first thing this morning.”

The promise was a hard one to keep. During breakfast she watched the others laughing, having a good time, even putting up with Harper’s bad mood in a charitable way. The sun rose, hot as a new-formed blister. The girls broke camp while Jackson hitched the team.

Lily sent her supportive glances, but Glory hung back, reluctant to destroy the only remaining shred of her newfound security. Still, there came a time when she couldn’t put it off any longer.

“Mr. Lincoln.”

Jackson glanced up from tightening a harness strap. Freshly shaven, wearing a blue broadcloth shirt that matched the color of his eyes, he looked so confident, as if he had the world by its tail. She’d be grateful for a little of his confidence this morning.

“Shouldn’t you be helping the others break camp?” he asked.

“We’re done.” She shuffled closer, eyeing the oxen. “Fine team.”

“Yes, they’re good animals.” He went about his business, glancing up a moment later. “Did you want something, Glory?”

“I killed a man.”

It came out mighty harsh-sounding, even to her ears. She’d rehearsed more tactful versions, but somehow they all came out the same. She’d killed a man. No way to sugarcoat it.

“And a man thinks I stole money.”

Jackson’s face drained of color. She’d known that it would. Could have bet on it, but Poppy didn’t hold with wagering either. She’d been nothing but a thorn in Jackson Lincoln’s side since they’d met up, and she’d just made it worse—lots worse.

Silence built. He stood there, leather harness in hand, staring at her, probably trying to figure a way to shoot her and get away with it.

“Well . . . aren’t you going to say anything?”

“You killed a man and stole his money.”

“It wasn’t exactly like that.” She explained what she’d done as simply as she could, if murder could ever be considered simple.

“Are you sure the man was dead?”

“You killed Charlie! You killed Charlie Gulch!”

“Yes, sir, he was dead.” When she saw resentment and then anger cross his rugged features, she sighed. “I’ll get my things and be out of your way.” She turned to step to the back of the wagon when his gruff voice stopped her.

“The way I see it, you didn’t steal the money. Your guardian gave it to you, so put Amos out of your mind. We can deal with him. However, killing is a serious thing. If the man threatened you, you had a right to defend yourself. If you shot him point-blank without a reason, that’s a different story.”

Glory took a step toward him. “I didn’t shoot him! I hit him. Him and that other man was up to no good; that’s the only reason I hit him!”

“That may be, but you should have gone to the sheriff and reported the incident.”

“I was scared. All I could think about was getting out of that horrible town.” If she never saw Squatter’s Bend again, it would be too soon for her. And truthfully, all she’d thought about that fearful night was getting back to Jackson and the girls.

It wasn’t right, but that’s what she’d done, and now she’d have to pay for her behavior. She should have gone to the sheriff and tried to explain. Maybe he would have taken her side, and maybe not. Either way, she wouldn’t have the killing hanging over her right now, choking her like a heavy rope.

Jackson was right; the money was hers, no matter what Amos claimed. But had she been honest from the beginning, she might have been spared the frustration evident in Jackson’s eyes right now.

She faced him, lifting her chin. “Do you want me to leave?”

He viewed her somberly. “Do you want to leave?”

No, she didn’t want to leave. She’d do most anything to stay, to be a part of their group on the long journey west. But she wouldn’t cause him any more trouble, even if that meant she’d be on her own again.

“I’d . . . be beholden if you’d let me stay.” The admission hurt, but that’s the way she felt.

Stepping back to the animals, he laced a leather strap through a brass ring. “Seems only fair that I’d talk it over with the girls. We’ll all be affected by your decision.”

Nodding, Glory stepped aside. “Seems only fair. I’ll wait right here.”

She watched the group huddle for a short meeting. The disdain in Harper’s tone clearly carried over the other voices, and Glory’s heart sank. They didn’t want her to stay. They didn’t want to be peering over their shoulders, running from a crazy so-called uncle, from a man seeking revenge for a friend, maybe even from a lawman or a posse.

Quietly she eased toward the wagon and reached inside to fumble for her pack and bedroll. Might as well go ahead and leave, make it easier on everybody. Tears welled in her eyes, temporarily blinding her. Didn’t seem fair. Charlie Gulch had intended to hurt her; she’d had no choice but to defend herself. And Poppy told her she was to take the money if anything happened to him. Well, something happened to him and to her, too. Something neither one could stop.

Lily caught sight of Glory as she turned from the group,
and she shouted, “Glory! Wait!” Breaking from the huddle, she ran to meet her. “You can stay! Everyone agreed that we want to help you.”

A smile broke across Glory’s face. “They did!”

“Of course. You’re ours now.” Lily draped an arm around her.

The other girls gathered around, adding their support. Even Harper gruffly conceded that she could stay as long as she kept out of her way. Glory didn’t care; she’d keep out of everybody’s way for the entire trip, just so long as she didn’t have to be alone. Mary and Patience hugged her, and Lily patted her back. When she saw Jackson watching the exchange, she broke away and cautiously approached him. “I won’t be any more trouble,” she promised.

He nodded, his demeanor more sober than she’d ever seen it. “You keep your eyes out for trouble.”

“I will, sir.” She’d watch harder than she’d ever watched. She wouldn’t cause him a lick more of trouble.

“Jackson. How many times do I have to tell you? It’s
Jackson
.” He glanced up, giving her a grin that melted her heart.

“Yes, sir.
Jackson.
” The name suddenly felt right on her tongue.

He winked at her, then stepped around the front of the oxen. “Girls! We’re wasting daylight!”

And as easy as that, Glory put her pack back into the wagon and prepared to walk the ten miles of travel that day with Jackson.

Chapter Eight

The wagon traveled across level prairie until it passed Big Turkey Creek three and a half miles up the trail. The rest of the day the Arkansas River Valley was in sight. The frequent rains left pools of water along the road. Late afternoon, Jackson spotted a wagon in a clearing up ahead and slowed the team. It was too early to stop for the night, but the girls would enjoy sharing supper with company.

Observing no activity around the camp as he drew near made Jackson uneasy. Reining in the team, he assessed the area: no one in sight, no animals, campfire in ashes, belongings scattered. Dread replaced the uneasy feeling.

“Hello,” he shouted. “Anyone here?”

Ruth sat beside him on the wagon seat; the other girls peered from behind the curtain, trying to get a look.

“Let’s go say hello,” Ruth suggested. “They can’t be far.”

“Stay here.” Jackson turned on the seat, his glance taking in every curious face behind him. “All of you,” he added firmly. “I’ll have a look.”

He sprang lithely to the ground and slowly approached the campfire. Squatting beside the ashes, he passed his hands inches above the remains. Cold. When he straightened, he noticed the dishes and four bedrolls spread out around the camp. “Hello,” he called again and waited—no response, the silence eerie.

Unable to see anything around the others, Glory raised the side canvas a few inches. “Hey,” she whispered, “I can help—”

Jackson lifted his hand to silence her without turning around. His deliberate manner stopped her midsentence, but she and the other girls continued to squirm for a vantage point from inside their wagon. No doubt the prospect of meeting other travelers, maybe young people their age, filled the girls with anticipation.

Jackson moved to the back of the deserted wagon and took a deep breath before lifting the flap. Sunlight spilled over his shoulder into the dark corners as his gaze moved over the faces inside—a man, a woman, between them a young boy and a small girl. All dead. Their bodies close, embracing each other.

He stepped back, dropping the flap as he turned and strode to the edge of the clearing. He released a breath and filled his lungs with fresh, cleansing air.

“Is something wrong?” Glory called.

He dropped his head briefly before he lifted his gaze. The
women’s eyes were wide and inquisitive. Covering the uneven ground in efficient strides, he returned to stand beside his wagon. Glory drew back slightly at the look of despair on his face.

“What?” Ruth whispered, speaking for all of them.

“Cholera.” His tone was flat.

“You sure?” Ruth’s eyes flew back to the infected wagon.

Jackson nodded, his expression resigned. “Seen it more times than I care to remember.”

“Are they . . . ?” Patience began and then seemed unable to finish.

He nodded. “All four of them.”

“We can’t take a chance of catching this sickness,” he said grimly. “Do exactly as I tell you—nothing else.” He made brief eye contact with each of the women. “Understood?”

Each responded with a vigorous nod.

Ruth’s eyes returned to the wagon. “What do you want us to do?”

Jackson stepped to the back of the wagon and reached inside for the box of matches. “Move our wagon to the edge of the clearing and wait for me there. I have to burn their wagon. Only way to stop the contagion.”

“Can we get down?” Glory asked. “Look for their stock? If they’re tied up and left behind, they might starve.”

He considered for an instant and nodded. “Do
not
go near their wagon.”

“We should hold a memorial service for them.” Patience
looked to Ruth. “It’s not fitting to . . . it’s not fitting to go this way.”

Worry creased Jackson’s brow as he glanced back at the silent wagon. “I can’t afford to risk your safety.”

“We can’t afford to leave them without saying words from the Good Book,” Ruth said quietly. “I promise we’ll be brief.”

Jackson nodded. “I’ll scout around to check for their stock.”