Orchids in Moonlight (7 page)

His hands clamped down on her shoulders, preventing her retreat. Jaime was too mad to be intimidated. "If you don't let me go this instant, I'll scream."

He released her, started to turn away, then yielded to impulse. Jerking her into his arms, his mouth claimed hers in a bruising kiss. Then, just as abruptly, he released her and gave her a gentle shove away from him, "Now get out of here."

He disappeared into the shadows.

Touching her fingertips to her mouth, Jaime felt rage washing over her for his audacity but could not deny being shaken by the surprise of his kiss.

Just then, Ella and Hannah saw her and descended in swooping hugs.

"You came!" Ella's delighted cry broke the spell. "Thank goodness. We were afraid you wouldn't."

Hannah grabbed her hand. "Come on. We want to show you our wagon."

Jaime took the glass of wine Ella handed her, anxious to do anything to get her mind off Cord Austin.

They introduced her to some of the others and gave her more wine, and soon, dizzy and mellow, Jaime joined in the merriment.

The celebration grew wilder and happier. Jaime did not know exactly when her head began to spin, and she lost all sense of time. There was dancing, and the girls spun one another around, giggling shrilly.

After a time, Jaime began to feel sick. Finding her satchel where she had left it, she carried it with her to Ella and Hannah's wagon. She crawled in and lay down, immediately falling into a deep sleep, and awakened only to realize it was nearly morning and preparations were under way for the wagons to roll out.

"Why not stay with us?" Ella said when she saw Jaime was awake. "Where else do you really have to go?"

Jaime's head was hurting terribly, and her mouth felt as though it were filled with cotton.

Hannah also urged her to stay. "You're probably in a lot of trouble, anyway, for being out all night. You might as well come with us."

Jaime was too miserable to argue.

With a nod and a faint smile, she closed her eyes and drifted away once more, telling herself Cord Austin's brazen kiss had nothing to do with changing her mind.

Chapter 4

Named for the sailing ships they resembled with their high white covers of heavy cotton twill, over forty prairie schooners lined up in single file just before dawn. Gone was the festive air of the night before and, in its place, sober contemplation of the momentous pilgrimage ahead.

Overcome with excitement, Jaime had slept little after all. There were two other women besides Ella and Hannah in the wagon: Ruth Winslow and Martha Lowery. Like Hannah, they had been made widows by the war. Still grieving, they viewed the journey to meet a new husband as necessary for their survival, not as an exciting quest. Fortunately, neither expressed any reluctance to help Jaime stow away, apparently viewing it as a welcome diversion to what was sure to be a long and grueling experience.

Ruth had explained a bit about the construction of the wagon. Her husband, before his death, she'd said, blinking back tears, had worked as a wagon builder. She knew a few things, like how the schooners had descended from the Conestoga model, which had originated in Pennsylvania. Intended to haul heavy freight over rough and muddy roads, the Conestoga was curved at each end to prevent the contents from shifting about, while the prairie schooner had a flat body and lower sides. The hoops supporting the canvas were about the same, she'd said, around eleven feet high.

A schooner had to be light enough to keep from putting undue strain on the animals pulling it, yet strong enough not to break down under heavy loads. Therefore, iron was used only to reinforce parts that would take the greatest pounding, with the rest constructed of hardwoods such as oak, hickory, and maple.

There was hardly any place to sit. Most space had been taken up by cargo, such as cooking utensils, clothing, sewing necessities; in addition to staples like flour and corn meal, salt and sugar, there was an ample supply of hardtack, dried beans, fruit, and beef.

The women had protested but Cord filled one corner of their wagon with tools anyway—shovels, spades, ox shoes, and extra axles. As a result, Jaime was squeezed in tightly, with hardly enough space to lie down, for she couldn't expect the others to put themselves out for her.

Warily, she eyed the cover, about five feet over her head. It had been waterproofed with linseed oil and was meant to shield from rain and protect from sun and dust. Yet, when they encountered midsummer heat, it would have to be rolled back and bunched to provide air circulation. How would she go undetected then? As they sat up talking throughout the night, she had finally voiced her fears.

Ella had dismissed her concern. "We're all going to be wearing slat bonnets. They're called that because they've got wooden splints on the sides. They almost hide your whole face. I've got an extra one you can use. You'd better keep your hair pinned up, though, because nobody else has hair the color of yours."

Jaime remembered pleasantly how Cord had called her Sunshine. No doubt he had been thinking of her hair.

"Besides," Ella had continued, "nobody stays in the wagon all the time anyway. Mr. Austin told us how everybody should walk on the footpaths as much as possible, because there aren't any springs in these things, and it's worse riding than walking when you hit a rocky stretch. So you can probably move around a little more, because everybody will be spreading out, and you won't be noticed."

"How many wagons is he taking?"

"Ten. We heard they cost around a hundred dollars each. Some have mules pulling them, which were fifty, and some, like ours, have oxen. They cost the most—ninety. Ten wagons of women," she calculated brightly, "and thirty-one others with families."

At the first faint light of dawn, Cord had come to hitch up the oxen.

Ella had seen him and nudged Jaime. Together, they crouched to peek out from behind the cover, which had been closed by drawstrings for privacy.

"He is a handsome devil, isn't he?" Ella whispered against Jaime's ear. "Look. He isn't wearing a shirt. See how big his chest is? He's strong, I can tell. I'll bet you've never seen a man half naked before, have you?"

Jaime was glad it was so dark inside the wagon Ella couldn't see her face. She could feel her cheeks flaming to think how she'd seen much more, like how he looked in his union suit.

"Are you cold? You're shivering."

Not shivering, Jaime could have corrected. Trembling. And she hated herself for it, but no matter how she despised Cord Austin for his smugness, there was no denying he set her pulse to racing. Surely during the arduous times ahead, she told herself, that kind of silly nonsense would stop.

There had been one terrifying moment when Jaime thought her quest had ended before it even began. Shortly after a bell clanged to signal it was time for everyone to wake up and make final preparations to leave, Cord had again come to the wagon. Carrying a barrel, she heard him explain to Ella how it was filled with cornmeal and packed with eggs. "When the eggs are gone, you can use the meal to make bread. I'll be back with another in a minute. That one has slabs of smoked bacon packed in bran. The bran protects the bacon from the heat. It keeps longer."

Balancing the heavy barrel on one broad shoulder, he had been about to hoist it inside and crawl in behind to position it. Jaime, drawn up in a corner, had no time to scramble beneath anything and would have been discovered when he poked his head inside.

Hannah, however, was quick to lunge for the end of the wagon to stop him. "You can't come in here now. We aren't all dressed. And really, Mr. Austin," she continued, feigning indignation, "you're going to have to remember there are ladies in here, and you can't just barge in any time you like."

He set the barrel on the ground. "Don't worry. I'll be too busy."

When he had gone, Ella snickered. "He'll be busy, all right, busy with the prostitutes. I'll bet that's where he beds down every night."

Jaime struggled to keep her voice even as she asked, "What are you talking about? What prostitutes?"

Ella obliged to tell her. "Both wives and prostitutes are scarce in California. Didn't you know that? There's only four whores, though, and they're in the wagon right behind us. You haven't seen them, because they didn't join the party last night."

Ruth commented airily, "They knew they wouldn't be welcome around decent folk."

Hannah frowned. She didn't like such remarks about anybody. "It's going to be a long trip, and we're all in this together. It's no time for snobbery."

"Snobbery has nothing to do with it," Ruth fired back. "I don't mingle with whores."

Hannah said nothing more and exchanged disapproving glances with Jaime and Ella. They knew they could not risk making an enemy, lest Jaime be exposed out of spite.

The call was given for everyone to assemble one last time, and Jaime tucked her hair beneath a bonnet and squeezed in between Hannah and Ella.

Along with everyone else, she was surprised by Cord's announcement that he was the new wagon master.

At once, several of the men wanted to know why Captain Wingate was being replaced, as they had met him and liked him.

Cord was not the sort to mince words, as everyone was soon to learn. Neither did he believe in softening the truth. The way west was harsh. It did no good, he felt, to give hope it could be any other way, so he came right out and told them. "Captain Wingate decided it was too late to be leaving. He felt too many other trains had already left, trampling grass ahead of us and fouling water holes."

Someone shouted irately, "Well, is that true?"

"It's a possibility," Cord admitted. "But there is no one perfect time to leave. We take what comes. That's how it is.

"And as you've already been told," he continued, meeting hostile glares in challenge, "if you don't think you can take it, stay here. It's better to pull out now than later. After we've gone so far, it's too late to turn back, because it would be dangerous to be alone out there. The Army is even talking about banning travel by single wagons because of Indian danger. There's safety in numbers, despite renegades and ruffians."

Jaime smiled and hugged herself. That was the time she was waiting for, when they were too far along to do anything but keep on going—with her right along with them. Surely Cord would not abandon her along the way in a strange settlement where she knew no one.

Fifteen wagons, the owners either sharing Captain Wingate's fears or not absolutely certain they wanted to go at all, did pull out. The others rolled forward, taking a previously assigned position in line.

Jaime crouched behind Hannah, who sat on the wagon seat, anxiously holding the reins of the four oxen, yoked two by two. "Are you sure you can handle them? They're awfully big."

Hannah tightened her grip and said confidently, "I've got to. All but two of Captain Wingate's sentinels resigned with him, and all the teamsters. The sentinels will be kept busy riding the line. But I think I can do it. I've worked with these monsters before."

"Look back there." Ruth pointed to the rear, where two men were loudly arguing outside the prostitutes' wagon. "Looks like the remaining sentinels are fighting for
their
reins."

They watched with interest as Cord appeared, just as the blows started. Slinging each man in turn to the ground, he towered above them, fists clenched. "No more. You get into a fight on the trail, and you're finished, then and there. I won't tolerate bickering and fighting. Understand?"

Mumbling, the men struggled to their feet.

"You–Fletcher." Cord pointed to one of them. "You take the reins. Henderson, you go ride herd on the cattle."

He was about to turn away when a pinch-faced woman stepped from the onlookers that had gathered. Firmly planting herself before him, she lashed out. "There wouldn't be any trouble if you'd get rid of those Jezebels before we even start. As long as they're with us, the devil is going to be working on our menfolk, filling them with lust. It's not good for decent folk to be around such trash."

Cord looked into the furious face of Mrs. Wilma Turnage and again wondered miserably what he had got himself into. He had agreed to take wives and prostitutes to California, not coddle and cater to a hundred other people on the way. No time like the present, however, to set a few of them straight. "I'm sure, Mrs. Turnage," he told her with forced politeness, "that the Lord depends on good women like you to keep your menfolk from temptation.