Wagon Train Sisters (Women of the West) (8 page)

“No, I wasn’t raised by Indians.”

“Then where were you raised?”

“New York City.”

“Really? My grandparents lived in New York, on the Upper East Side. I visited them once. They had a lovely home overlooking the East River. Where did you live?”

He took a long time to answer. “Five Points.”

“Oh?” Five Points was the worst neighborhood in New York City, full of crime and slums that were unspeakably vile. To her knowledge, no respectable person would ever be seen in Five Points. She searched for something polite to say. “Does your family still reside there?”

He stared at her and burst into laughter. “Except for my mother, I never had a family. I grew up in a brothel, Sarah. My mother was a prostitute.”

Now she was the one who was staring. “A…brothel?”

“Yes, a brothel, a bawdy house, where women sell their bodies.” His lips twisted into a cynical smile. “And their souls.”

“I…I…” Vainly she searched for something suitable to say.

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m surprised I told you. Except for you, I’ve never told anyone.” He smiled gently. “What have you done to me, Widow Gregg?”

Before she could answer, he got up and walked away.

* * * *

By the following day, Sarah had recovered from her frostbite. The road was passable again. After breakfast, accompanied by Jack and Ben, the Bryans got off to an early start. Ma was especially anxious and asked Jack, “Do you think we might catch up with the Morehead train today?”

“The storm might have held them up, too, so it’s possible. Let’s hope they had to stop for some other reason. Was anyone expecting a baby?”

Ma’s face lit. “Mrs. Carpenter! She was due any day.” She blushed, realizing she’d touched on a forbidden subject, yet the rest of the morning she had an eagerness about her, as if she expected to find the Morehead train around every bend of the trail. By the time they halted at noon, they’d come across a heap of garbage not yet rotted and fresh wagon tracks on the road—clear signs a wagon train had recently passed by. By now Ma was all eagerness. “I can hardly wait to see Hiram again. Who knows? Maybe he’ll have some word of Florrie.”

“Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” With all her heart, Sarah hoped he would. She looked forward to seeing Hiram, too. She missed him. They’d always been close, even after he married Becky.

In the middle of the afternoon, when they rounded a bend, Ma gave a joyous cry. In a meadow ahead, parked in a big circle, lay the wagons of the Morehead wagon train.

The reunion was every bit as heartwarming as Sarah expected. Everyone was glad to see them. Sure enough, Mrs. Carpenter had just had her baby, and that’s why they’d stopped an extra day. When Hiram saw them, he whooped with delight. Even Becky was smiling. That night after supper, Jack, Ben, and the Bryan family sat around the campfire catching up on all that had happened. How Florrie’s necklace came to be part of a Shoshone Indian’s war bonnet caused great speculation. Nobody knew. To Ma’s deep disappointment, there’d been no news of Florrie. Hiram brought out his sketchpad. At one time or another, he’d drawn a sketch of every member of the family, including one of his younger sister. He tore it from the pad and handed it to his mother. “Here’s her picture. I’ve been showing it to everyone we meet along the trail.”

Ma took one look and had to hold back tears. She handed the picture to Sarah. “It looks just like her, doesn’t it?”

Not really
. Hiram, always kind, had softened the plain features of his sister’s face and given her a slight smile so she looked almost pretty. Still, this was Florrie, and the sight of her image brought back all the anguish and heartache of her loss. Sarah swallowed the despair in her throat. “Yes, that’s Florrie. We’ll keep showing this picture to everyone we meet. Surely, someone must have seen her.”

Becky had been fidgeting, as if she was anxious to change the subject. “You’d never guess what happened while you were gone.” When she had everyone’s attention, her eyes sparked with eagerness as she told her story. “It happened the day after we left you behind. When we camped that night, this band of men rode into our camp. Said they were gold seekers, just riding through, and could we put them up for the night? Well!” Becky had a habit of pursing her lips when she disapproved. “Such a rough bunch I never did see, loud and given to curses the likes of which I never heard before. There was one man in particular, had a scraggly beard, big red nose, and he’d been drinking.”

“Had to be Josiah Peterson.” Ben spat a wad of tobacco with contempt. “A bad actor if ever there was one.”

Becky nodded in agreement. “I could tell. He had me scared, just the way he looked at me with those beady little eyes.”

Hiram spoke up. “You shouldn’t have worried. I was about to get my guns.”

“You?” Becky laughed with scorn. “You couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn. Just about then Mr. Morehead showed up, thank goodness. He told that awful man in no uncertain terms…”

As Becky went on talking, Sarah sent a glaring look of indignation to her brother who sat on the other side of the campfire.
Don’t let her talk to you like that!
Poor, easy-going Hiram just sat there stony faced, as if he didn’t care, but his wife’s belittling words in front of everybody must have cut deep. Would he ever get the courage to stand up to her?

“…so they left,” Becky continued on. “They won’t be back. Mr. Morehead scared them off.”

Jack had listened without comment, but at Becky’s last remark his mouth curved into a thoughtful smile. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that. Josiah Peterson is a dangerous man. Better hope you don’t run into him again.”

In her usual aggressive fashion, Becky jutted out her chin. “If that’s so, Mr. McCoy, then why were you and Mr. Longren riding with that bunch of ne’er-do-wells?”

“Because Mr. Longren and I can take care of ourselves.” Jack casually rose. “You have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Bryan, not with a fine husband like Hiram to watch out for you.”

Becky had the decency to blush as he walked away.

* * * *

Sarah couldn’t sleep. Jack McCoy was on her mind, and she couldn’t get him off. So he was raised in a brothel? He’d said so little about himself, she was surprised he’d revealed as much as he did. Ever since then, she’d wanted to know more. The problem was, since their conversation the day she got frostbite, they’d had no chance to be alone and had barely spoken. She wished she could talk to him without half the wagon train within earshot. Among other things, she wanted to tell him how much she appreciated his standing up for Hiram and putting Becky in her place. Most of all, she wanted to know what his plans were now they’d caught up with the Morehead train. Would he and Ben leave the train behind or would they stay?

If she couldn’t sleep, she’d go for a walk. All fires were out and the camp quiet when she threw a shawl over her long white nightgown and slipped from her tent. In the moonlight, she saw a figure walking, not too far away.
Jack
. What a coincidence—or was it fate? He stopped when he saw her. When she got close, he spoke in a low voice. “You couldn’t sleep either?” Before she could answer, he took her arm. “Not here. Let’s walk.”

The moon shone bright as they strolled from the ring of wagons, far enough that they couldn’t be heard. They stopped and faced each other. Sarah laughed and said, “I shouldn’t be wandering around in my nightgown. Not ladylike at all.”

“Are you really worried about being ladylike?”

She ignored his question. “I loved it when you put my sister-in-law in her place.”

He shrugged. “I only said what needed to be said.”

She wanted to ask if he planned to stay with the train, but the words stuck in her throat. Pride kept her from asking. If she did, he’d know she cared, that she wanted him to stay so much she’d be downright devastated if he left. No, she was not going to ask. Grateful though she was for all he’d done, she did not care to be beholden to any man. And most definitely, she didn’t want thoughts of a man swirling around her head as they were doing now. But one thing she had to know. “Last time we talked, you said—”

“That I was raised in a brothel. I’ll tell you more about it sometime. It’s not a pretty story.”

In the waning moonlight, she felt, rather than saw, the intensity of his dark eyes looking into hers—eyes that had seen more than she could ever imagine. She wanted to hear more, but he’d guessed wrong. Curious though she was about his past, another question kept burning in her mind. If she asked it, she might be sorry, but she couldn’t fight the urge any longer. “I have a question for you. The day you and Ben came back and found us stuck in the mud and me hanging onto the horses—”

“You’re wondering why I came back?”

“Exactly, especially after Pa told you to leave.”

He took a moment to collect his thoughts. “I could say I felt sorry for your family, and that would be true. When it started to rain, I knew you’d be in trouble, given that your father—”

“Doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“He’s no different than thousands of others.” He paused again. “But there’s another reason I returned, and that reason is you. I tried, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Ben thought I was crazy, but somehow I knew you were in trouble. Nothing, not even Frank Bryon’s wishes, was going to keep me away.”

He spoke softly but with an intensity that so surprised her she couldn’t think what to say.

“I think about you a lot, Sarah Gregg, more than I want to. A corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. “Have I answered your question?”

No, he had not. Why had he stopped? She wanted to hear more, but before she could ask, Jack laid a gentle hand on her cheek. “Ben and I will be leaving in the morning. He’s anxious to get to Gold Creek.”

It was as if he’d yanked the ground out from under her. “And you?”

“And me.”

Her heart ached with disappointment. She could hardly speak, but she must keep her voice steady, not overly concerned. “I understand completely. We’re so grateful for all you’ve done, but we’ve held you up long enough.”

“Glad I could help.” He moved closer. Just as she thought he might wrap her in his arms, a dog barked. From the distance came a baby’s wail. He took her elbow. “We’d better get back or the whole camp will know the wicked Widow Gregg is out here in her nightgown.”

She forced a laugh. “I guess we’d better.”

He walked her to her tent, said a quick goodnight, and left.

* * * *

Jack was crawling into his bedroll when, next to him, Ben woke up in mid-snore and asked, “So we’re leaving in the morning?”

“Yes.”

“Glad to hear it. We need to get to Gold Creek, Jack. Been dawdling around long enough. The Bryans will be fine now they’ve got Hiram to take care of things.”

“I know.”
Shut up, Ben. Get back to sleep
.

“You don’t want to leave her, do you?”

Damn Ben
. “What I want doesn’t matter.”

Ben raised up on one elbow and peered at his friend. “What
do
you want? I mean, not for tomorrow or next week, but for the rest of your life? Just wander around? Play cards? Maybe find a little gold? She’s a great little gal, Jack. Lots of pluck and pretty besides. Seems to me—”

“You should know by now I’m not a marrying man.”

“Just because you haven’t had any luck with women in the past doesn’t mean—”

“Good night, Ben.” Conversation over. Jack turned his back. He touched the gold ring that hung from the chain around his neck.
Jenny
. He was only a boy when he knew her,
only a boy when she died, but her death would haunt him forever.

In the morning, Sarah wasn’t surprised when her father claimed his back was sore and would Hiram please feed and yoke the oxen. They’d returned to their old routine: her good-natured brother doing all the work and Pa back to hobnobbing with his neighbors. Jack and Ben were still with the company when the wagons started to roll. As yet, they hadn’t said goodbye. Surely they would, but why should she care? Time to put Jack McCoy out of her mind.

Pa couldn’t get out of all the work. He drove one wagon while Sarah and Ma walked alongside. Directly behind, Hiram drove the other wagon. Becky sat next to Hiram, causing Ma to mutter, “That lazy woman! Why doesn’t she walk like the rest of us?”

To lessen the oxen’s burden, almost everyone walked, but not Becky. She didn’t care how much the poor beasts had to haul and rode beside her husband most of the time. Sarah glanced back at her sister-in-law. “She’d better watch out,” she whispered to Ma. “If she doesn’t walk more, she’ll get fat.”

They both giggled softly. As they walked through a forest of beautiful fir and cedar trees, past a meadow full of wild flowers in full bloom, Ma remarked, “If not for Florrie, I could almost enjoy this day, what with the sun shining and all.”

The beauty of the trail uplifted Sarah’s spirits, too. “Do you realize we’re more than half way there? Just think, we’ve only got one small desert to cross and a few mountains to get over and we’ll be in California.”

They passed a tangle of blueberry bushes loaded with plump, ripe berries. Sarah darted to the side of the trail to pick a few. As Hiram’s wagon passed, she heard Becky say, “Hiram, look, blueberries! Climb down and get us some.”

Hiram handed the reins to Becky. “Be right back.” The wagon rolled at a steady pace as he rose from the seat and stepped onto the tongue. Not a safe thing to do, but nothing to be concerned about. The young and agile made a common practice of leaping clear of the wagon without the oxen breaking stride. Hiram started to jump just as the wagon gave a lurch. Sarah froze in horror. Instead of landing safely, her brother fell to the ground beneath the wagon. Before he could move, two heavy wheels ran over his legs.

* * * *

It was the suddenness of it all that was so shocking. One minute, Sarah was walking with her mother, thinking what a beautiful day it was. The next, Hiram was lying on the ground writhing in pain. That night, when Sarah finally had a moment to herself, her brother’s screams still rang in her ears. She had a blurry recollection of how she’d run and knelt by his side. His left leg was only bruised, but she’d gasped at the sight of his right leg, his pant leg torn away, blood gushing, a jagged, broken bone sticking through his skin. The train came to a jolting halt. Everyone came running. After Becky took one look, her hysterical screams blended with her husband’s. Someone led her away. Thank goodness, a doctor and his family were part of the train. Dr. George Webster knelt by Hiram’s side and shook his head at what he saw. “Bad break. Got to set it. Let’s hope gangrene doesn’t set in.”