The Long Way Home (11 page)

‘‘Milady’s eyes.’’

‘‘What?’’

‘‘That’s what some call these forget-me-nots.’’ She waited. Would he ever say the words she so desperately longed to hear?

‘‘Meshach would find it good there too.’’

‘‘But he wants to go on to Oregon.’’

‘‘But he wants to go on ‘‘And Aunt Agatha?’’

Jesselynn closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath didn’t help.
Aunt Agatha. Oh, my Lord, help me here—and there. How will I deal with Aunt Agatha? I know you are my life and you have the answers, but this man, Father, I love this man. Is there anything wrong with that? And I sense that if I don’t answer now, he’ll be gone
.

She opened her eyes to find Wolf watching her; his hands had not loosened their grip, his thumb stroked the back of her right hand. ‘‘I . . . I will talk with Aunt Agatha.’’
Oh, Lord, preserve me. Put words of wisdom in my mouth
.

‘‘It is of her I must ask for your hand in marriage?’’

Jesselynn shook her head.
It should be Zachary. Now, if that wouldn’t be a scene
. She tried to take a step back, but he moved with her.

‘‘No, I make my own decisions.’’ She looked deep into his eyes, trying to read his soul.
Do you love me? Say it!

She swallowed hard, cleared her throat. ‘‘Wolf, in my world words are important. . . .’’
No, I’m saying it all wrong. This feels like love, looks like love, and acts like love. Can I trust that it is? Father, are you blessing this? I feel that you are
.

‘‘Yes?’’ Now both his thumbs were sending messages screaming up her arms, setting her skin on fire, her heart to thundering.

Her head dropped forward, her forehead resting on his chest. His heart, too, beat faster, louder. When she looked up, she smiled into his eyes that carried a shadow. ‘‘Yes, Mr. Torstead, I will marry you.’’

The shadow fled, and the sun burst forth. He cupped her face with his hands and kissed her waiting mouth. As if that weren’t enough, he tasted her nose, her chin, and returned to her mouth. When he drew away, he cupped her cheeks again, tenderly, as if holding a great and fragile treasure. ‘‘You are sure?’’

‘‘Yes. I am sure.’’ She sucked in another breath and laid her hands over his. ‘‘I am sure that I love you. I am sure that I want to be with you for the rest of my life.’’
And I am sure that the next few days will test everything I am
.

‘‘We will be married here at the fort?’’

‘‘If you want.’’

‘‘I will go with you to bring in the wagons.’’

She now stepped back. ‘‘No, I will do that myself.’’

He studied her face, then nodded. ‘‘As you wish.’’

I can’t have you wounded by her words. She will go berserk
. ‘‘Not what I wish, but what I must do.’’ She took another step back and realized they were no longer alone.

‘‘Here’s the dessert, Clara’s chocolate cake with whipped cream. You’ve never tasted anything so delicious west of the Mississippi.’’ Captain Jensen carried one tray, followed by his wife with another. When they set them on the low table, he looked up with a twinkle in his eye. ‘‘Your time was well spent, I gather?’’

Wolf nodded. He took Jesselynn’s hand. ‘‘She has agreed to marry me.’’

‘‘A wedding! Oh, Captain, we will have it right here.’’ Rebeccah beamed at her husband and then turned back to Jesselynn. ‘‘When? End of next week, of course. It must be soon if you are going to go north. Mr. Torstead, you
are
still going north, aren’t you? This is the most wonderful news. Wait until I talk with the chaplain, I—’’

Captain Jensen put his arm around his wife’s waist. ‘‘You can tell we don’t get a lot of opportunities to have a party here. Now, Rebeccah, you must let Miss Highwood do some of the planning.’’ The smile on his face and in his voice brought matching smiles from the others.

‘‘I . . . I haven’t had time to think.’’
This is all so new. Oh, what have I let myself in for?

Rebeccah took Jesselynn’s hands in hers. ‘‘I would consider it a great honor if you would let me take care of the wedding. I have a silk dress you could wear that has been languishing in a trunk, needing just such an occasion as this. Why, wait until I announce this to the ladies here at the fort, not that there are many of us, but we will have a marvelous time.’’

Jesselynn could feel the warmth of Wolf standing right behind her. She leaned back just a mite to feel the solid wall of his chest holding her up. Getting control of the stampede seemed easier than this. At least those cows ran in a circle. The vibrations of a laugh in the wall behind her made a smile blossom, then bloom, and a matching laugh gurgled to the surface.

‘‘Ah, I hate to tell you this, but when my wife gets hold of an excuse for a party, man the barricades, ’cause that party
will
happen.’’ Jensen gave his wife the kind of look that brought a lump to Jesselynn’s throat.

‘‘Thank you.’’ She accepted the plate Rebeccah offered and took a bite. Not since she left Twin Oaks had she tasted anything so fine. ‘‘This is wonderful.’’

‘‘Thank you. Perhaps Clara will make your wedding cake from this recipe. But she makes a white cake that . . .’’

Captain Jensen cleared his throat.

Rebeccah shrugged at the twinkle in his eye. ‘‘I’m doing it again?’’

He nodded. She tipped her head to one side and shrugged again, the laughter in her eyes and the merry dimples on either side of her mouth mute testimony to her joy.

If planning a wedding brought such happiness to another, Jesselynn had no desire to deprive her of the privilege.

When he set his plate down, Wolf nodded to his host and hostess. ‘‘Thank you for a most enjoyable evening. Someday I hope to repay the hospitality, once our home is built.’’

Jesselynn hid a smile. Was this really the same man who so rarely strung more than five words together at a time? Another facet to the man called Wolf, the man she would spend her lifetime getting to know.

A tingle ran from her toes to the top of her head. After all this time, she was indeed going to be married. And at Fort Laramie— Indian territory, of all places. If God himself had told her in advance this would be happening, she would have had a hard time believing Him.

Since Wolf didn’t let go of her hand, she followed him to the door and out onto the porch.

He took her in his arms and kissed her again. ‘‘That’s to remind you that no matter what anyone says, you
will
be marrying me in ten days.’’ With that, he stepped off the porch and strode away, fading quickly into the darkness.

Jesselynn leaned against the newel-post and watched him go, one fingertip resting against her lips, as if to keep the feeling intact. When she returned to the parlor a few minutes later, Rebeccah sat with the lamp pooling light on the rich colors of the tapestry she was working on, her needle flashing.

‘‘Your bed is turned down and ready for you. Your Benjamin is sleeping out in our woodshed. Clara made him a pallet, even though he said he had his bedroll. Breakfast will be ready whenever you need to leave.’’

Jesselynn sank down in a chair and shook her head. ‘‘I cannot thank you enough.’’

‘‘No.’’ Rebeccah leaned forward. ‘‘It is for me to thank you. Life is plain on an outpost like this, and to be part of your life brings richness to mine. We never had any children, so this is my chance to pretend that I have a daughter who is marrying a fine man, and we will all celebrate.’’ She took another stitch. ‘‘And to think that you will be living within two days or so of us. Why, we’ll practically be neighbors.’’

Jesselynn hid a yawn behind her hand. With all that had gone on, sleep should be the last thing from her mind. However . . .

‘‘Thank you again, Rebeccah, but I’m afraid I must excuse myself. This is so different from what I planned. I thought to sleep in a hay pile somewhere, and that would be a luxury after the ground all these months. Four walls and a roof, windows, and a real bed. And the bath. I can never thank you enough.’’

Someday
, she thought.
Someday I will have a home again, a safe home with walls and children and . . .
The picture of the man who would lead that home made her face warm. She stood, bid her hostess good-night, and made her way up the stairs. A lamp on the nightstand made the room look even more welcoming than earlier. Her shirt and pants, washed and pressed, lay over the chair, and even her boots wore a shine. She hung the dress in the chifforobe, stroking down the skirt with a sigh. She pulled the nightdress that lay across the bottom of the bed over her head, and after blowing out the lamp, she slipped between sheets, real sheets, cool and crisp to the skin. Ah, such luxury. She was asleep after only three ‘‘thank-you’s’’ to her God, and all of them concerned Wolf.

The ride back to the wagons gave Jesselynn plenty of time to stew over her upcoming discussion with Aunt Agatha. ‘‘Perhaps she has changed clear through, not just on the surface.’’

Ahab flicked his ears back and forth, listening to her and still keeping track of the surroundings. He snorted.

‘‘I agree. I should have let Wolf come with me. Perhaps she will be happy for me.’’ Now
she
snorted. Her shoulders curved forward as if to protect her heart. He loves me. The thought brought a rush of delight, like pure springwater in a dusty land. Then the gusher died. He asked her to marry him, but never had he mentioned the word
love
.

‘‘You all right, Marse Jesse?’’ Benjamin rode up beside her.

‘‘I’m fine. You get some of the prairie chickens?’’

He held up a brace.

‘‘Good. I reckon Ophelia will be right glad.’’

Father, this is becoming a muddle. Perhaps we should have just found the chaplain, said our vows, and presented this as a fait accompli.

If only Aunt Agatha . . .
She brought that line of reasoning to a screaming halt. ‘‘If only’s’’ could drive one to distraction, and one isn’t any further ahead after hours of worrying and stewing than at the beginning.

Jesselynn leaned forward and patted Ahab’s arched neck. ‘‘Perhaps that is why our Father told us not to worry, you think?’’ How come deciding not to worry and actually not worrying were so far apart?

Ahab pulled against the bit, begging for a bit of a run. Ever since racing in Independence, he’d been begging to run again. She wanted to run all right—back the way she had come.

Jesselynn and Benjamin met the wagons late in the afternoon of the second day of hard riding. Counting the wagons, she shook her head. Who had they picked up now?

‘‘Jesse back!’’ Thaddeus sang out his welcome, running ahead of Jane Ellen.

Jesselynn dismounted and knelt to meet his running welcome. He flung himself into her arms, almost knocking her over in spite of how firmly she was braced.

‘‘Why you leave us? Where Mr. Wolf?’’ He looked over her shoulder as if she were hiding him, as if he might pop up like a jack-in-the-box.

Jesselynn scooped him up and set him in the saddle without answering. ‘‘Now, you hang on.’’

His stare of reproach made her smile up at him and jiggle his foot. ‘‘I know, you always hang on. A real Highwood you are when it comes to riding.’’ Patch met her with a yip and a doggy grin, his teeth gleaming white against his black fur and pink tongue. Keeping a firm hand on the reins, in case something spooked Ahab, she ruffled the dog’s ears, keeping her chin away from his lightning tongue. Anything to delay the coming confrontation with Aunt Agatha.

‘‘You find ’im?’’ Meshach rode up on Chess.

‘‘See me ride Ahab?’’ Thaddeus clutched a hank of matted mane.

‘‘Lil Marse fine rider.’’ Meshach answered the boy and at the same time sent Jesselynn a look pregnant with questions.

‘‘I found him.’’

Meshach dismounted and fell in step beside her.

Jesselynn sucked in a deep breath. Might as well get it over with. She dropped her voice. ‘‘He wants us to go north with him. He says there is good land, two days’ travel from Fort Laramie, where we could all homestead. He says there is a valley, good hunting, clear running streams, and . . .’’ She knew she was talking too hard and fast but couldn’t seem to stop the spate.

When Meshach failed to answer her, she looked up into his face. ‘‘You would be a free man here too, with free land.’’

They stopped walking, the wagons drawing closer with every plodding step of the oxen.

‘‘You don’t have to decide immediately.’’

‘‘What you not tellin’ me?’’

Jesselynn rolled her lips together. ‘‘He has asked me to marry him.’’

‘‘Ahh.’’ Meshach looked down at her, a smile splitting his ebony face. ‘‘Thank de Lawd, dat man done come to his senses.’’ Meshach slapped his thigh with his hat, raising a dust cloud to equal that of a span of oxen. He stopped. ‘‘You did say yes?’’

‘‘I did. Mrs. Jensen is getting things ready. She’s the captain’s wife, my hostess for the night.’’
Please, Meshach, decide to stay. I don’t want to lose you and the others
. Thoughts pelted around her mind like children just loosed from lessons.
Meshach, answer me
. The cry nearly broke from her heart, taking all her strength to suppress it.

‘‘So, Jesse, how did you fare?’’ Agatha, driving the lead wagon, always wore her sunbonnet well forward to protect her face, so now she pushed it back the better to see her niece. After her careful scrutiny of Jesselynn’s face, a frown wrinkled her forehead. But without commenting, she nodded over her shoulder. ‘‘Mrs. Jones has asked if she can travel with us. Both her husband and his brother seem to have met with some disaster, as they never returned to their camp. Strange, wouldn’t you say?’’

Jesselynn shrugged. ‘‘Fine with me, so long as she is alone. Either of the men show up, and none are welcome.’’ At least she knew one of them wouldn’t.

‘‘I said the same, but she seemed fairly positive that would not be the case.’’

Jesselynn looked toward the last wagon. Most likely she should go talk with Mrs. Darcy Jones. Had she found her husband’s body? And what happened to Rufus? For a moment, curiosity drove thoughts of Wolf right out of her mind.

‘‘Me ridin’!’’ Thaddeus couldn’t resist lording it over Sammy, who wriggled on the seat by Ophelia as she drove the second wagon.