She started at the nape, trimming the dark waves that felt like silk to her fingertips. Then, moving to the front, she stepped between his legs to get closer. She could feel the heat and male scent that emanated from his body, and she could feel his stare—but she dared not look into those compelling brown eyes, or she would be lost.
Her hair had begun to dry, and it glistened in the sun like gold. Silky strands brushed Clay’s cheek as she bent over to clip the sides of his hair. It smelled like Madam Celine’s country garden. But most of all it smelled like Becky.
Unable to keep his hands off her, he slipped then around her waist and pulled her closer. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?”
“Yes, cutting your hair,” she said airily.
“You know damn well what I mean. How long do you expect me to go on like this?”
“How can you say that? You haven’t even seen it yet. Besides, it will always grow back in,” she teased.
Rebecca stepped back to make sure the sides were even. Pleased with the results, she added, “And it looks very good, if I do say so myself.” She removed the towel and shook it out. “I’ll wash it for you now.”
Clay shook his head. “You are one stubborn female. But I’m a patient man, and I don’t get discouraged easily.”
“I’m told patience is a virtue. Lean over.”
As she soaped his hair, he began to deliberately emit sighs of ecstasy as she had done. “Oh, baby, you’re so good,” he moaned. “That feels so wonderful. Who taught you how to do that?”
“Clay, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to drown you,” she hissed.
“Don’t stop, baby. Don’t stop,” he groaned loudly.
“That’s it!” She shoved his head under the water, and he came up sputtering.
“Now, did I do that to you?” he scolded.
“Hmph. All that wailing and mooing you were doing reminded me that Clementine needs milking.” She picked up the stool and bucket, and strode away.
Clay chuckled as he watched her stomp off, that honey hair of hers bouncing as she walked. Then he reached for the towel and dried his hair.
Mike Scott had said they’d remain there another day to rest the stock, and it was a well-needed rest for all of them. Rebecca had washing to do, and enough dried peaches to bake a pie.
She had just put the pie in the oven when Etta came over. As always, the young girl was brimming with enthusiasm.
“I can’t believe this place,” Etta said, gesturing at the miles-wide expanse of grassy meadow. “Who would have thought there’d be a passage this huge at the top of these mountains?”
“According to Mr. Scott, South Fork is the most important spot on the trail.” Rebecca said. “It spans the Continental Divide.”
“Continental Divide?” Etta asked.
“Up to now, all the water flowed east toward the Atlantic. Now it will all flow west toward the Pacific.”
“Who figured that out?” Etta said.
“Geologists and scientists, I imagine.”
Etta looked at her with awe. “Becky, you and Clay are about the smartest man and woman I’ve ever known. I bet you know even more than my daddy. Where did you get all that learning?”
“My father was a teacher,” Becky said.
“Well, I went to school, but no teacher ever taught me all you know.”
“But, honey, you know a lot more about practical day-to-day things. I can’t shoot a rifle, I still have trouble building a fire, and I can’t swim or ride a horse. Clay even had to teach me how to milk a cow. Book learning is a fine thing to have, but it’s worthless if you can’t put it to use.”
Etta giggled. “Well, that sure didn’t stop Clay from wanting to marry you, did it?” Marriage was the main issue on her mind these days. “I’ll see you later.”
Rebecca smiled. “Where are you going?”
“Can’t you guess?” Her blue eyes were as bright as the gown she wore.
“Just looking at that twinkle in your eyes tells me all I need to know, young lady. You’re sneaking off to meet Tom again, aren’t you? Didn’t your mother tell you not to be running off alone?”
“Shhh, don’t let Mother hear you. Besides, I’m not alone when I’m with Tommy.” Bubbling with excitement, Etta stepped closer. “Becky, can you keep a secret?”
“Of course, if I’m asked to.”
“Tommy kissed me yesterday. I’d never been kissed before.” She clasped her hands together and sighed.
“Oh, Becky, it was so wonderful.”
“I’m sure it was, honey.”
“And he asked me to marry him as soon as we reach California.”
“Etta, dear, I’m so happy for you. But don’t you think you and Tom are a little young to consider marriage right now?”
“I’m sure that’s what my parents will say, too. But Mama was only seventeen when she married Daddy. And I know they would never really stand in the way of my happiness.” She threw her arms around Rebecca and hugged her. “You’re my dearest friend. Be happy for me, Becky.”
Rebecca gave her an extra hug. “I am, honey.”
“I must go now, or I’ll be late. See you later,” Etta said, and rushed away.
Etta hurried through the trees. She and Tommy had agreed to meet by a special little cove they’d discovered yesterday, about a half mile from camp and secluded enough so that no one was likely to stumble upon them. A place where just the two of them could be alone, hold hands, and confess their love to each other.
Her heart was pounding with excitement. She was so in love with Tommy. Yesterday, when he’d kissed her and asked her to marry him, she thought her heart would burst right out of her chest. She wondered if he would kiss her again today. She sure hoped so.
Of course, Becky was right: They were very young to get married. She wasn’t quite sure how they would approach her parents about that. She could imagine her father calmly puffing on his pipe and shaking his head, but she knew that in the end he would give them his blessing. She was so fortunate to have the loving family that she did, to have someone as wonderful as Tommy in love with her, and to have a dear friend like Becky, the older sister she’d always yearned for.
Etta turned with expectation when she heard the approach of footsteps. “I’ve been waiting for you.” The smile left her face when she recognized the arrival.
“Have you, now?” Jake Fallon asked.
“Oh, I thought you were somebody else.”
“Would it be that lovesick beau of yours? ’Fraid you’re gonna be disappointed, pretty girl. His pa’s got him helpin’ to fix a wheel on their wagon. Seems it came loose.”
Etta frowned. “I saw Mr. Davis tightening those wheels just yesterday, after we got here.”
“Is that so.” He smiled wickedly. “Must be somebody loosened it later.”
“Who would do such a foul… Oh, it was you, wasn’t it?”
His laugh gave her goose flesh. “I’ve been watchin’ the two of you, sneakin’ off every chance you get.”
“So what if we have? Tommy and I haven’t done anything to be ashamed of.”
“Seein’ as how your beau ain’t gonna show up, I thought I’d come and keep you company, pretty girl.”
“No, thank you. I’m not interested in your company.” She started to leave, but he grabbed her arm.
“But I’m interested in yours. How about givin’ Jake here one of them kisses you gave that boyfriend of yours?”
“Let me go!” Etta struck out and hit him in the face.
Fallon’s eyes glinted with malevolence. “You shouldn’t have done that.” He pushed her to the ground, then held her down with his body. “I ain’t askin’ for nothin’ you ain’t willin’ to give him,” Fallon snarled, and began to pull up her skirt.
“Stop it, let me go!” she cried. She tried to shove him off her, but he was too strong. “Stop it, I said!”
“Shut that wailin’. Ain’t nobody gonna hear you, anyway. You be good to ole Jake, and he’ll be good to you.”
“Get off her!” Tom Davis pounded over and shoved Fallon off Etta.
Fallon sprang to his feet and drew his sword. “You’ve been a burr in my ass from the time we left Independence, boy. It’s time I dig it out.”
“Get out of here, Etta!” Tom shouted as Fallon approached him.
Tom glanced desperately around for a weapon and picked up a broken tree limb. “Hurry, Etta! Run back to the wagons and don’t stop.”
“I won’t leave you!” Etta cried.
“Run, Etta, run!” He threw himself at Fallon. For a few seconds the two men scuffled as Tom tried to hold the man back. He managed to land a blow on the side of Fallon’s head, and the decayed tree limb broke.
Etta screamed when Fallon thrust the sword into Tom and then pulled it out. For an instant Tom just stared at Fallon as a red stain began to darken his shirt. Then his eyes glazed and he slumped to his knees.
Shrieking for help, Etta sped toward the wagon train.
“Damn!” Fallon cursed. “Now she’ll bring the whole camp here.” He looked down at Tom’s still body. “I’ll settle up with you later.”
Then he slunk away into the thick brush.
Etta’s screams had brought people running, and as the women helped the sobbing girl back to camp, the men quickly created a stretcher from tree limbs and a blanket.
“My boy, where’s my boy?” Tom’s distraught father cried as he arrived in the clearing.
Scott put a restraining hand on his arm. “Sam, why don’t you go back and let us take care of Tom?”
Davis shoved past them, dropped to his knees, and cradled his son in his arms. “Talk to me, Tommy,” he murmured, rocking him in his arms. “Talk to me, son.”
Scott said gently, “We’ve got to get the boy back to camp, Sam. He’s lost a lost of blood.”
Sam moved aside, then they carefully lifted Tom onto the makeshift stretcher and started back to camp.
Clara Davis rushed up to them the instant they arrived, and broke into tears.
Sam put his arms around his wife’s shoulders. “Our boy’s alive, Clara. And he needs you.”
It was a rallying call to any mother. Clara squared her shoulders and turned to the task at hand. She and Sam stripped the bloodied clothes off their son, and cleansed his body. There was no doctor with the wagon train, so all they could do was cleanse the wounds in hope of preventing infection, and force an antipyretic down his throat to try and ward off a fever. Etta Carson hovered alongside the whole time, tears running down her face.
Becky was sitting by the Garson campfire, staring into space, and Clay went over to her. Howard Garson sat next to her with a glazed look of grief.
“How’s the Davis boy?” he asked.
Clay shook his head. “Barely breathing. How’s Etta?”
“She’s still in shock, but tending Tom is helping her.”
Garth came over and joined them, and gave Becky a sharp look. “She looks mighty peaked, Clay,” he said quietly.
Clay hunkered down beside her. “How are you doing, Becky?”
“Okay. I should get back to help.”
Clay helped her to her feet, and she hurried over to Etta to help the girl through the ordeal.
Pastor Kirkland called a prayer meeting that night, and everyone joined together in prayer that Tom’s life would be spared.
People came by to offer assistance and support, but as the night grew long, only the Garson’s, the Davises, Garth, Rebecca, Clay, and Pastor Kirkland remained at the campfire by Tom’s side.
Clay glanced worriedly at Rebecca. She had remained stone-faced and not shed a tear throughout the whole horrible ordeal.
It was unnatural. Becky was driven by emotions— and her compassion for others was one of her beautiful qualities. She’d cried her heart out over the Ryan tragedy. She was keeping her grief bottled up inside now, and if she didn’t let it out, she could become seriously ill.
Clay was about to suggest that they go to their wagon so Becky could try to get some sleep, when Mike Scott approached with Jim Peterson.
“Clay, Garth, I have to talk to you. Jim just told me we’ve got a missing horse. Could be it broke loose and strayed off, but I never did lean too heavily on coincidence. I’m figuring Fallon probably stole it.”
“What do you want us to do, Scotty?” Garth asked.
“It’s too dark to do anything tonight. In the morning you and Hawk can ride out and try and pick up the bastard’s trail. In the meantime, I suggest we all try and get some sleep. This isn’t over yet.”
Clay nodded. As they returned to their wagon, he said, “I’m worried about you, Becky.”
“Tom is the one you should be worrying about.”
“Of course I’m concerned about him. But Tom is young and strong and he’s held on this long, which is a hopeful sign.”
“It’s my fault.” Her voice quivered.
“What are you talking about? Why would you blame yourself for what happened to them?”
“I could have stopped her from leaving today. I knew she was going to meet Tom.” Her voice rose to near hysteria. “I should have stopped her Clay!”
He grasped her by the shoulders and looked down into her stricken face. Her anguish was so acute that his heart ached for her. “Becky, you can’t keep piling guilt on yourself for the unfortunate courses of other people’s lives,” he said gently.
“They’re so young, Clay. So unbelievably young and innocent.”
“Tom’s not dead, Becky. You have to have faith.”
“Faith? How is a person supposed to hold on to faith when good people are hurt or dying, while that evil man continues to live?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never understood the reasons for who lives and who dies. In war, I’ve had men next to me drop dead from a bullet or be blown apart by a cannon ball, yet I’d be unscathed. Why them and not me?” He shook his head. “I just don’t have those answers. I don’t think anyone does.”
“No, nobody does. That’s always the answer, isn’t it?”
Clay stared at her. Grief had drained her energy. She needed sleep, but he knew it would be useless to suggest it.
Without another word, she went back to sit with the Garsons and Davises.
Clay lay down but could not sleep. He turned on his side and could see the figures sitting around the fire keeping vigil. He rejoined the others, sitting down by Becky, but he doubted she even realized he was there.
Drained emotionally, Rebecca gazed down at Etta, who sat by Tom’s side. The thought that her vibrancy and trust had almost been destroyed by a madman was too heartrending to bear. And dear Tom, fighting to stay alive. The young couple’s love was a joy to behold. Why was joy so fleeting—and pain so abiding? What was their crime—loving? Innocence? Hope? How often she had believed in the power of hope—but now she knew it was a fool’s fantasy.
Rebecca dozed off sometime after midnight, and awoke with a start when Etta shouted, “He’s conscious!” Tears of joy streaked her cheeks. “Tommy’s conscious!”
The young man’s eyes were open, and he was trying to smile at Etta despite his weakened condition.
“My boy’s strong,” Sam said. “He’s gonna pull through this. I know he will.”
The next morning, when word of Fallon’s guilt got around the camp, it merely confirmed what all of them had suspected—Jake Fallon was an evil man who did not deserve to live. Not only had he attempted to molest Etta, but then had deliberately tried to murder Tom. His fate was sealed, as far as anyone on the wagon train was concerned.
Due to the extent of Tom’s wounds, Mike Scott informed them that the train would remain there for another day.
Even though the crisis had passed, Rebecca didn’t appear any better that morning. Her usual morning ritual was to greet Clementine and the two hens with a cheery good morning, but she didn’t even go near them. She barely spoke to Clay or Garth, merely nodding or shaking her head as she prepared a simple breakfast of oatmeal and fried bacon. She hadn’t gotten any sleep during the night, and she barely touched her food.
He wished she’d just open up and let the tears flow.
They’d just finished eating when Scott and Hawk rode up to get Garth.
“If we pick up a hot trail, we’ll stay on it,” Hawk told them as Garth mounted up. “So don’t go worrying if we don’t show up for a few days. If it’s a cold trail, we might be back tonight.”
“Watch your back,” Clay warned as he shook Garth’s hand. “Fallon has a rifle and pistol, as well as that damn sword.”
“And there’s always Indians to look out for, too,” Scott warned.
“Ain’t seen no Injun sign since we left Fort Laramie,” Hawk said. “You folks take care.”