The Long Way Home (8 page)

‘‘Looks fine.’’

‘‘I’se sorry I took so long, Marse Jesse. Had to wait till his back to me.’’ Benjamin walked upstream and bellied down to get a drink. When he finished, he wiped his mouth and reached for the reins. ‘‘We go soon’s you get your boots on.’’

I wonder where his no-good brother is. Not far, likely. We better get out of here
. Jesselynn sat down to pull on her wool socks and then her boots, all the while checking over her shoulder in case Rufus showed up. Knowing him, he was most likely abusing his brother’s wife, one way or another.

When Ahab dropped his head to snatch a few mouthfuls of grass, she breathed a sigh of relief. The thought of taking the body into the fort went out of her mind as fast as it came in. There was no way on God’s green earth she was wasting any more horsepower, manpower, or even regrets on a man like Tommy Joe Jones. He’d earned the hell he’d be consigned to.

They crossed the creek and kept to the trees until they were far enough away so that Rufus Jones wouldn’t see them, then picked up a lope to make up for some of the lost time. They covered five miles or so before either of them said a word.

‘‘He were a bad’un.’’ Benjamin finally broke the stillness.

Jesselynn could only think of one worse, Cavendar Dunlivey, who’d burned Twin Oaks to the ground and then come after her. While she hadn’t pulled the trigger there, she had left him, gut shot, to die. Did war bring out the worst in men, or did they always harbor such cruelty behind a thin veneer of civility? Another one of those questions for which there were no answers.

‘‘You all right, Marse?’’ Benjamin raised his voice in case she hadn’t heard him before.

Jesselynn nodded. She could still hear the thunk the knife made, and she knew if she closed her eyes she would see the shock on Tommy Joe’s face as he fell forward.
Lord, what if . . .
How do I. . . ?
She couldn’t even finish the thoughts.
Lord, am I becoming as callous as these men?
This thought gave her another case of the shakes. ‘‘Thank you for saving our hides back there,’’ she finally responded to Benjamin.

‘‘You done more’n me. If he hadn’t been . . .’’ Benjamin let his words trail off. He shuddered.

Jesselynn knew that if anyone discovered who’d killed the man, Benjamin would be hung without judge or jury.
I can’t let them at Benjamin. Father, I promised not to lie anymore. How? What?

So many have died. Please, Father, protect us
.

‘‘What we goin’ do?’’

‘‘Nothing.’’ Jesselynn sighed. ‘‘We’re goin’ to trust in God to protect us.’’

‘‘Yes, suh.’’ But the fear hadn’t left his eyes.

When they finally reached Fort Laramie several days later, they heard the bugle blowing the evening call and saw the flag coming down for the night. The haunting notes floated over the valley. As they rode closer, Jesselynn searched the grazing horses to see if Wolf ’s Appaloosa was among them. She took in a deep breath and let it out. So much for that hope, but perhaps Wolf was within the quadrangle somewhere.

Or maybe he’s long gone, and you’ve been building up false hopes
. She ignored that reasonable sounding voice within her head and continued to hope. Just the thought of seeing Wolf again set her heart to thumping.

‘‘What can we do for you?’’ The first soldier they saw wore the bars of a sergeant.

‘‘I’m Jesse Highwood. We came through here with a wagon train, the one led by Gray Wolf Torstead, until Cobalt took over.’’ The man nodded. ‘‘Our train met up with a terrible thunderstorm and a near stampede.’’

‘‘Where’s the train now?’’

‘‘Those that still trusted Jason Cobalt are on their way to Oregon Territory, taking a shortcut he talked them into.’’

‘‘I take it you weren’t part of that trusting group.’’

‘‘No, sir. We have five wagons on their way back to the fort. We’re hoping for another train.’’
Or for Wolf to come back to us
.

‘‘How bad was the damage?’’

‘‘Three people killed, several wagons beyond repair, and probably half their supplies gone.’’

‘‘And the oxen and horses?’’

‘‘We kept the herd safe.’’ She noted his raised eyebrow. ‘‘The herd was some behind the wagons. Got them down in a hollow and running in a circle.’’

‘‘That was good herding.’’ He looked up at her, head turned slightly to the side. ‘‘Didn’t Cobalt circle the wagons?’’

‘‘No, sir.’’

‘‘Well, I’ll be . . .’’ The man shook his head. ‘‘See any Indians?’’

‘‘Only one that trailed us for some days. I never saw him.’’

‘‘Hmm. No new wagon trains shown up since you left. Nowhere near as many this year as in the past. Folks scared of the Indians, if’n you ask me.’’

‘‘Have you seen Wolf?’’ She hardly dared look at the man when she asked the question that had been festering like a boil.

‘‘Cap’n sent him out elk hunting with a squad.’’

‘‘So he hasn’t left for the north, then?’’ She kept her lips pressed together with an effort. Wolf hadn’t left!

‘‘Nope, but he didn’t look any too happy at the setback. He’ll go north soon as he can load his ponies.’’

Jesselynn touched her fingers to her hat brim. ‘‘Thank you, sir, you’ve been most helpful.’’

‘‘What we gonna do now?’’ Benjamin rode beside her.

‘‘Guess we get something to eat and ask where we can bed down. I’ll go on over and talk with the captain’s wife, Mrs. Jensen. She was real nice when we were here.’’ They angled their horses across the parade grounds and dismounted in front of a two-story white house with porches across the front on both levels. The green trim looked freshly painted, and lace tieback curtains graced the windows. Flipping the reins over the hitching rail in front, Jesselynn mounted the two steps to the porch.

‘‘I stay wid de horses.’’

Jesselynn nodded and crossed to knock on the green door. She’d barely raised her hand when the door flew open and Rebeccah Jensen took her hand and drew her inside.

‘‘Land sakes, child, what a wonderful surprise. I thought you’d be halfway to Fort Bridger by now.’’ She stopped her river flow of words and looked deep into Jesselynn’s eyes. ‘‘Something bad happened, didn’t it, to bring you back like this?

Come, come in and sit down. Supper will be ready in a little bit.’’

‘‘No, I can’t . . .’’ Jesselynn motioned to her dusty pants and pointed to Benjamin out front. ‘‘We’ve been riding all day. I reckon you might let us have a plate of supper out on your back stoop or something. Or you could tell us where to go to get something to eat.’’

‘‘You think I’m going to waste female companionship like that? Not on your sweet smile. Why, I reckon a bath might be something you’d enjoy. Then, while Clara is washing your clothes, you can wear a dress of mine. Bet you’re dying to wear a dress again after all these months in those britches. I’ll send my maid out to show your boy where to put the horses.’’

As she spoke, Rebeccah hustled Jesselynn up the stairs and into a guest room that had a hip bath in the corner. ‘‘I’ll send water right up. There’s soap and towels behind that screen. Oh, I am so excited to have you back. Are you thinking of staying here? Now that would be pure delightful.’’

Jesselynn hated to break in on this happy daydream, but she had to set the woman straight. ‘‘No, we’re not staying. I came back to see if I could talk Wolf into taking our much smaller train on to Oregon.’’

‘‘Oh, I see.’’ From a chifforobe Rebeccah pulled a white cot- ton dress sprigged with blue forget-me-nots and the bodice laced with blue ribbon. She held it up against Jesselynn. ‘‘This should fit about right. You and I aren’t too different in size.’’

‘‘But . . . but this is too nice. An old housedress would do me just fine.’’ In spite of what her mouth was saying, her fingers had a mind of their own, and that mind said to stroke the fabric and remember what a dress feels like.

Jesselynn could feel the heat creeping up her neck. ‘‘But I don’t have any undergarments either. Please, this is too much.’’

‘‘Nonsense.’’ Rebeccah turned to a chest of drawers and pulled out the necessary camisole, pantaloons, and petticoats, all made of the finest lawn and trimmed with lace and ribbons. ‘‘I don’t have an extra corset, but you are too thin to lace up anyway. I heard that corsets are going out of style.’’

‘‘Water’s here.’’ A voice spoke from the hall.

‘‘Come in.’’ Rebeccah spun away to open the door. A black woman with a bucket of water in each hand led the way, followed by another.

Just the sound of the water swishing into the tub made a smile begin in Jesselynn’s heart and spread quickly to her face. A bath, a real honest-to-heaven bath, with hot water and soap.

‘‘Enjoy yourself. When you finish, if I haven’t called you yet for supper, you can stretch out on that bed for a few minutes. Might feel real good.’’ Rebeccah shepherded the two servants out ahead of her, then peeked back around the door. ‘‘Happy bathing.’’

Her light laugh trailed behind her as she descended the stairs.

Jesselynn needed no second invitation. Within moments she was stripped to the skin and stepping into hot water scented with rose petals. The fragrance rose with the steam, and no matter that the air temperature was hot as the water, she sank into the froth with a sigh. Leaning back against the slanted metal, she closed her eyes and inhaled to full lung capacity. When she let it all out, she took another breath, sank under the water, and came up blowing and wiping the wet hair from her face. She soaped herself, scrubbed her hair, and sank again. A sound made her open her eyes upon rising.

‘‘Don’t pay me no nevermind. I jest set this pitcher here for rinsing.’’ The black maid left as silently as she’d come.

Jesselynn lay back and let the water lap her chin. If she moved too quickly, water swelled over the tub edges, so she soaped the cloth and extended one foot for scrubbing. When finished with both feet, she sighed. How wonderful it would be to lie back and float for a while. Let all the troubles take care of themselves, remember back when a bath like this was taken for granted, was a woman’s right.

She stood up cautiously to keep from slopping water, reached for the pitcher, and poured a stream of cool water on her head. It gushed down over her shoulders, rinsing, cooling as it flowed. She hadn’t felt so clean since before her father died.

Once dried, she discovered rose-scented powder on the shelf, and so she dusted herself before stepping into the bloomers and settling the camisole around her middle. She came out from behind the screen after folding the towel and looked longingly at the bed. Crossing the room, she stroked the pale yellow coverlet, quilted in a scroll pattern with stitches too tiny to count.

Such beauty in the midst of a harsh land. The fabric felt like silk beneath her fingertips. She pulled herself away and sat at the dressing table, a triple mirror showing her every feature. Her damp hair, freed from dust and grime, feathered about her face like a cloud of golden butterflies, tipped with walnut stain. Freckles dotted her slightly turned-up nose, causing her to shake her head.

‘‘So much for soft white skin. Mine looks like old shoe leather, with spots.’’ She ran a brush through her curls, rose, and slid the dress over her head. Lucinda would
tsk
if she saw her, but what Lucinda didn’t know wouldn’t hurt Jesselynn. Keeping her face from the sun had been the least of her worries, and now along with her hands and arms, it glowed golden brown, as if she were an octoroon.

The dress fit as though it had been sewn just for her. Puffed sleeves, a scooped neck filled in with a shirring of lace to be proper, and a full skirt gathered to a waist that dipped in front. She smoothed her hands down her sides. And stared at her boots. She daren’t go barefoot. But boots with this dress?

Whirling in place so the skirt billowed and swished around her legs, she stretched her arms above her head.

A knock sounded on the door. ‘‘Jesselynn, I brought you some slippers.’’

‘‘Come in. I’m decent.’’ Slippers even. How would she ever repay Rebeccah for these luxuries?

Rebeccah came through the door and stopped, her eyes dancing in delight. ‘‘Oh, I knew you would be beautiful. How lovely.’’ She crossed the room and handed Jesselynn the slippers. ‘‘I do hope they fit.’’

‘‘Anything is better than those boots. Couldn’t picture myself clumping down the stairs, trying to keep from stepping on the hem.’’ She slid her feet into shoes that were a bit tight but certainly tolerable. ‘‘Thank you, dear Rebeccah. I’d almost forgotten . . .’’ She gestured to the dress, the hair. Further words refused to pass the lump in her throat.
If only Wolf could see me like this
.

‘‘You are most welcome. My husband sent a note saying he was bringing company for supper, so as soon as you are ready, please join us in the parlor.’’

‘‘Thank you for the invitation.’’ Wolf leaned his rifle against the wall. ‘‘I need to wash first.’’

Captain Jensen pointed to the door leading to the back of the building. ‘‘There are basins and towels right out there. I’ll give you five minutes. Rebeccah dislikes me being late, so when I can, I make sure I’m there early.’’

Wolf nodded and headed for the back of the building. While he had no clean clothes, he would wash off what dust he could. He shucked his shirt, washed, shaved, wet his hair, and combed it back for retying. With the latigo knotted in place, he shook the dust out of his shirt and pulled it back over his head. The wavy mirror only told him he had no dirt spots on his face, or razor cuts either.

Together the two men crossed the parade grounds and took the two steps as one. Captain Jensen held the door open and motioned Wolf to precede him. Just inside the door Wolf looked up to see a vision descending the stairs. The woman looked vaguely familiar, so he nodded and smiled.

He doesn’t even recognize me
. Jesselynn swallowed hard to get her butterflies back down to her middle. She lowered her lashes to keep him from seeing her soul.
He looks, he looks . . .
No words powerful enough came to mind. She trailed the banister with one hand and raised her chin just a mite.

‘‘Hello, Mr. Torstead. How nice to see you again.’’