Orchids in Moonlight (23 page)

She started to leave, but Thelma swiftly moved to block her way. "Just a minute, missy. We're decent Christian folk here, and we'll not have you living in sin right under our noses. You aren't going to carry on like you been doing, not while you're traveling with us."

Jerusha hastened to intervene, "Now wait, Thelma. If they decide to go on without us, what will we do? We have to reach some kind of understanding here. I'm sure Miss Chandler will be the first to agree it's not proper for her to sleep with Captain Austin."

"I said"—Jaime spoke through clenched teeth—"he will sleep out in the open like he's been doing these past weeks."

"But you were sleeping with him when they found you this morning," Thelma declared, shrilly, triumphantly, hands on her hips and eyes glittering maliciously, "Naked as a jaybird, the two of you; that's what my man said. Is that what you expect us decent folk to put up with, you all ruttin' at night in front of us and God?"

One of the other women cried, "We'll not tolerate it!"

"No, we won't," another joined in. "You either move in with Jerusha or we'll keep waiting for somebody else to come along and save us."

Jaime was about to say maybe that would best anyway, since they obviously thought she was not worthy of their company, but Jerusha held up her hand for silence and scolded, "Stop it. All of you. We aren't here to condemn her. We want to help her, and ourselves, so we can be on our way before winter sets in, but we aren't going to be able to if we keep arguing.

"Miss Chandler." She focused on Jaime. "Please understand we don't mean to hurt your feelings. We just think it would be better for everyone, especially our children, if you don't continue bedding with Captain Austin outside the sacrament of marriage, at least while you're with us. So please, move into my wagon, and I promise you'll be treated like one of the family. When the trip is over, the two of you can certainly do as you please. But for the duration, we must ask that you conduct yourselves properly."

Jaime's head was spinning. A day ago, she was blissfully happy, weaving her way through the Sierras with Cord and savoring the time alone together in hopes he would come to care for her as deeply as she cared for him. Now she found herself the object of scorn, branded immoral, and any second she expected Thelma Bryson literally to cast the first stone and lop her on the side of the head with a rock.

What could she say? What could she do? While she certainly had sense enough to know it would be indecent for her to cavort with Cord as she had been doing when they were in private, she could not stomach the thought of being torn away from him altogether.

Suddenly he appeared, stepping around the end of the wagon. Sweeping them with stormy eyes, he asked suspiciously, "What's going on here, ladies?"

Jaime started to speak at the same time as Jerusha, but it was Thelma who raised her voice to drown them both out. "I'll tell you what's going on here," she cried, "We've just told your companion we won't put up with your immoral behavior, that's what. From here on out, you travel like decent folk, or we don't go with you."

At that, Jerusha wailed, "Oh, Thelma, will you please hush? You make it sound like we're doing him a favor to let him lead us, and that's not so." Her face etched with pleading, she turned to Cord. "Please understand, we aren't trying to be unkind. We just feel it would be best if Miss Chandler moved into my family's wagon."

"And I agree wholeheartedly."

The others gasped in surprise, and Jaime looked at him furiously. The silent message he was sending with his eyes said not to argue, it was the way it had to be.

He continued addressing himself to Jerusha. "Your husband already told me of your very kind offer, and I'm sure Jaime appreciates it as much as I do." The look he gave the women said it was best they make no comment as he added, "It's been hard on Jaime, traveling as we've had to do, but with none of the others in our group willing to continue on from Salt Lake, she had no choice if she wanted to keep heading for California. It's a blessing for her to have shelter and chaperones for the rest of the way. Believe me, we're both grateful."

Relieved it was all settled, Jerusha patted Jaime's arm and again told her she would be warmly welcomed into her family fold.

"Well, we'll be watching," Thelma warned with a haughty sniff. "You can be sure of that."

Cord bit back an angry retort. Taking Jaime's arm, which she stiffened at his touch, he led her to where they would not be overheard and rushed to explain, before she could unleash her fury. "It's the way it has to be. I don't like it anymore than you do, but it can't be helped. There is no way we can continue traveling together, sleeping together, among all these people. You would be treated like a whore. There would probably even be trouble with the young bucks, the boys in their teen years, who'd figure you were ripe for anybody's picking. The only thing we can do is move you in with the Potters."

"Indeed." Jaime faced him, hands on her hips, fingers of rage tapping up and down her spine. "Well, I've got something to say about this, and I don't want to move in with those people and their children. Why can't I sleep in the supply wagon?"

He shook his head. "It wouldn't work. You're an unmarried woman, Jaime. You should not be traveling alone. Everyone would think the worst. They'd figure I'd be slipping in at night—and I probably would," he added with a wink.

Jaime was not amused. "I don't care what people think."

"I do. If I'm to lead them, I need their respect."

"They need you more. Without you, they're helpless."

He searched her eyes. "Would you have me abandon them?"

"You know I wouldn't." And it was so. Despite everything—the scathing words of Thelma Bryson and even having to crowd in with the bratty little boy who had made a face at her—Jaime knew in the final analysis she could never condone leaving these people in the wilderness.

He sighed. "Then it's settled."

Jaime nodded. "I guess I have no choice."

He gave her shoulder an awkward pat, fighting the impulse to draw her into his arms. "I'll go pack the mules and get the horse." He noticed she was carrying her satchel.

He turned away but had not gone far when Jaime called softly to ask, "Will we be able to find some time together in the next weeks? I..." She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat before admitting, "I've got so used to being around you."

And Lord knows, Cord thought silently, miserably, he had got used to being around her too and would miss her terribly. But maybe it was fate stepping in to make it easier to say good-bye. "Sure," he lied, knowing he had to use the time to drift away. "I'll see you every day on the trail."

"That's not what I meant."

He knew that but was not about to dwell on it, instead warning, "Those women are going to be watching us like hawks. I've got trouble enough getting us through the passes without stirring them up, so we can't take any chances."

"Maybe we'll see each other when it's over," she murmured hopefully, "and talk about your helping me find my father."

He saw the longing, the love, in her eyes and could not bring himself to tell her what had to be.

"Maybe," he lied, knowing all the while he would somehow have to find the courage at trail's end to leave her and never look back.

* * *

Living with the Potters was not as bad as Jaime had feared. Too unhappy over being separated from Cord to care much about anything, she wasn't really bothered by the cramped quarters, and the children weren't so bad. When ten-year old Thaddeus had stuck out his tongue at her for the second time, she had made a face back at him. He had burst into giggles, and the two became friends.

After she'd had time to think about it, Jaime had to admit the present situation was best. There was no way she could have continued to sleep with Cord around these people. As it was, the women, with the exception of Jerusha, had regarded her with open scorn and contempt in the beginning. But after a time, and under Jerusha's influence, when they realized she was willing to work as hard as they were, they eventually softened and things became tolerable.

But if Jaime thought the road just traveled had been grueling, she quickly found, as did the others, it was nothing compared to the rough way ahead.

They climbed into a forest, dark with evergreens, where the branches of trees hanging above them were like tightly woven webs. Entering a stone-banked ravine with tall steep sides, they moved around the base of a snow-covered peak.

Days melted into each other as they followed dry watercourses twisting through stands of tall pines, maneuvering between precipitous hillsides, always casting wary eyes toward increasingly snowy peaks.

Cord had meant what he said about using every hour of daylight. When at last he would signal to make camp, everyone was exhausted. The men would muster enough energy to tend the animals and make any needed repairs by lantern light, while the women hurried as fast as their sore muscles would allow to get a meal together. Then everyone would bed down and fall asleep immediately.

Jaime was no exception. Though she missed Cord terribly and longed to be in his arms, there was no time to dwell on her misery. She saw him during the day, of course, but he was always busy, barking orders, pulling a stubborn team of oxen, quickly helping repair a broken axle or free a stuck wagon. When they did happen to see each other, he would nod or wave, but never did he stop to talk.

She knew he met with the men after supper, to talk about anything on their minds, and that he bedded down in the supply wagon to escape the brutally cold winds, when he was not taking his turn at sentinel duty. But she did not dare go to him, even though she desperately longed to.

Jaime had made up her mind: when they reached California, she would tell Cord everything about her father and the map. Till then, it was best they concern themselves only with the arduous situation at hand. She also hoped he missed her so much he would be as anxious as she to resolve everything between them.

The weeks passed in a wearied blur. Spirits were lagging. Except for those acting as teamsters, everyone walked, for the path was far too rugged to be comfortable inside a wagon.

One morning, lost in thought as she trudged along, Jaime did not at first notice the weather. Only when the wind abruptly slammed into her, thrusting her forward, did she look skyward to see a whirling gray fog rushing in from out of the west. Directly above, the sky was still blue but dark and lowering clouds were fast approaching. The wind screamed though the pine trees as it rose higher, sending the branches wildly swaying.

Staring straight ahead, her mouth dropped open in shock as she saw a mountain directly ahead completely disappear as the oncoming storm covered it in blinding snow.

"Pull into a tight circle!" Cord bellowed to those at the reins as he charged by the wagons on his horse, frantically waving his arms. "It's a big storm and a bad one. Get the animals inside the circle. Tie them down."

The men cracked whips and leather and hurried the teams to follow orders. The women screamed for their children to come running and quickly scrambled after them into the shelter of the wagons. By the time Jaime clambered in behind Jerusha and her brood, tiny flecks of ice were stinging her face as she looked into a wall of swirling snow.

They huddled together, the canvas cover whipping crazily in the assailing wind. They feared any moment it would be torn off and disappear into the frenzied blizzard.

Jaime saw the children shivering, despite the woolen coats they wore. She took off her heavy buffalo robe and spread it over them, and Jerusha smiled and whispered, "Bless you, dear, but please share our blankets."

And she did so, also sharing their prayers and softly offered hymns as the relentless storm screamed all around them.

By morning, it had passed. Mercifully, only a few inches of snow were on the ground. It was bitterly cold, and Jaime's fingers ached in her ragged gloves as she helped gather wood from broken tree limbs to get a huge campfire going.

Cord called them all together as they sipped hastily boiled coffee. As always, he avoided eye contact with Jaime, lest his heart betray him in his gaze. "We were lucky," he told them. "The drifts on the trails aren't real deep, and even though we're probably six thousand feet up, the sun will melt off most of the snow by midday, so we can keep moving. I want everybody to get some food in their bellies, and then we roll."

No one wanted to ask how much farther they had to go, and Cord was not about to tell them. Survival depended on their focusing on the day at hand and not thinking about tomorrow.

As they set out, he could not resist reining his horse up alongside Jaime to remark, impressed, "I see you've parted with your robe."

She followed his gaze to where the three Potter children walked close together, the buffalo hide stretched across their backs in a wide cape. Making her voice light, she said, "Well, I just figured it was time to get rid of the smelly old thing."

With a soft chuckle and a tip of his hat in salute to her compassion, he continued on.

Jaime watched him go, chiding herself for experiencing a sudden thrilling rush.

Her mind silently screamed that if it was all ending for them, as she had begun to suspect during the past miserable weeks, she had to stop caring.