One True Love (6 page)

M
id-morning, a Risher and Hall Stage Line galloped by the wagon train. Four cavalrymen rode in front and four more rode in back. The stage line's brilliant red, green, and yellow colors were striking. The coach had striped spokes and doors, with a canvas-covered trunk and baggage rack.

Copper had decided to ride up front and avoid much of the boredom of travel. This afternoon Sadie was at the reins. Blissful snores floated from the back. Adele was asleep in her rocker, taking advantage of the break.

Sadie shook her head. “Wonder where those folks are going in such a hurry.”

“Doesn't seem that an animal could keep up that pace for very long.” Copper's eyes fixed on the six fine matched horses with silver mounting fixtures with white rings and a brilliantly colored tassel hanging from the cheek piece of the bridle. The driver wore gauntlet gloves with a long braided
lash whip in his right hand, and when he swung it over his head it sounded like a pistol shot.

“An animal can't,” Sadie said. “I read all I could get my hands on afore we left home, and one paper said stage stations are somewhere between twelve and fifteen miles apart so the drivers change teams. Risher and Hall has one of the largest mail and stage lines in Texas.”

“Why the cavalry escort?”

Sadie shook her head. “They're protection. If the stage runs into Indians and the like, the escorts fall back and fight while the stage driver does his best to get to the nearest military post.”

“That's frightening. Couldn't that be miles and miles away?”

Sadie shrugged. “There's a post built every hundred miles or so, but I'd think you could be in a heap of trouble if you were on one of those stages and ran into a band of Comanches or Kiowas.”

“Now Sadie, didn't you hear my lesson about fear?”

“Shore did, and sorry but I can't agree. I don't fancy seeing my scalp dangling from one of those redskins' belts. If one approaches this gal, she's heading in the opposite direction just as fast as she can run.”

Copper chuckled, recalling her childhood encounter and the fright of seeing those braves staring down at her from horses that looked to be tall as pine trees.

“Them savages don't fight like us,” Sadie said. “They swoop in on their ponies and the arrows fly, then they turn tail and gallop off for all they're worth and outrun the gunshots. They won't stand and fight, though I'd have to say I can't much blame them.”

“Some of them have guns, don't they, like we do?”

Sadie made a
poosh
sound with her mouth. “Stolen, usually. From what I hear they ain't much danger with a gun. They carry G.D. caps—cheap ammunition. The caps will shoot all right in dry weather, but they aren't worth a lick in wet weather. There's been many a red man picked off before he could reload.”

Copper took note of the dark cloud bank that hung low in the northern sky when the wagon train pulled into evening camp. The past couple of days Indian summer held with mild and even warm temperatures.

Today Sadie's was the first wagon in line. Redlin put his horse into a stiff gallop and rode in a large circle. Sadie fell in behind, and the camping ritual began. As soon as the other rigs formed a circle the teams were brought to a stop. Wagons were drawn up with the front wheels beside the hind wheels of the rig in front. The ritual served two purposes; to know how to group if attacked, and to form a stock corral. A space about a wagon length formed a gate. As soon as stock was unhitched, the herders took them out to graze until sundown, then they were driven back inside the wagon corral for the night. Precautionary ropes were tied from wagon to wagon so that the stock couldn't escape or be stolen by the Indians. Redlin's train had about twenty extra horses and fifteen additional mules.

Men dug the nightly trench and a fire was started. Sometimes wood was available; if not, buffalo chips were used. By sundown the air had filled with scents of beans seasoned with a big hunk of fat pork, bread cooking in a Dutch oven, and pots of sauce made from dried fruit.

Tonight the wagons were camped within seeing distance
of a stage station. After supper Mike announced that he was taking the mail. He glanced at Copper, who had just made it back from the small stream where she'd taken a sponge bath. “Would you like to come along, Miss Wilson?”

She would love to come along, but she knew that even the short walk was beyond her capacity.

“I'll put you sidesaddle on a horse and lead the animal,” he offered.

“You would?” Her heart quickened. The outing would be delightful. The mild night air made it a perfect evening to do something at least a little entertaining. It would be a much welcome respite from the dreary routine.

Redlin glanced up with a frown when Copper passed him, assisted by Mike. She thought it might be nice to explain, to allay his curiosity, but then realized that she didn't want to be nice. Not to him.

Mike lifted her onto the horse and took her crutches, carrying them with the mail sack.

Moonlight drenched the path as the young lad led the animal to the outpost. As they drew near, she noted the activity. A group of soldiers, evidently the ones who accompanied the stages, loitered in front of the outpost. When Mike led the animal to the railing, the entire group of men stood to their feet and removed their hats.

Copper smiled. The men were young, most fine-looking. She wished Audrey were here, but then knew it wouldn't matter. Her friend had eyes only for Eli Gray now. Copper was the lone spinster of the group, but she was so pleased with the happiness her friends had found.

Mike lifted her off the horse, handed her the crutches, and they entered the station, Copper trying to appear that
she was at complete ease with the wooden supports. As Mike delivered the mailbag, a private coach arrived. Moving to the window, Copper watched the activity until Mike led her over to the station attendant, pointing out the strange heart-shaped candy box on the counter.

“Mighty pretty, isn't it?” The clerk held up the flowery box. “Designed by Richard Cadbury, for Valentine's Day.” A nearby soldier took it from the clerk and patted his treasure. “I won the chocolates from a gentleman in a hand of poker. Taking it back to my wife when I get leave next month.”

“It's most exquisite,” Copper noted. And she'd bet the creams and bonbons inside were pure heaven.

Finally Mike said they'd best be getting back to camp. When they exited the small building, ten grinning soldiers awaited Copper, two of them holding the mare's reins.

She glanced at Mike and smiled. “Why thank you, gentlemen.” Mike stepped up and lifted her into the saddle, then took the crutches. There was an unspoken, but not to be ignored, curiosity concerning the supports and injury. She explained about the accident, and that she was on her way to Fort Riceson to have it looked after. Finally, Mike led the horse away, leaving the young men with hats off and eyes focused on her.

When they approached the outside corral, the guard called out, “Who goes there?”

“Friend of the guard!” Mike returned. Any other answer would risk a nervous sentry shooting first and asking questions later.

Inside the camp perimeter, Mike lifted Copper off the mare and led the animal to the corral.

A male voice sounded from the shadows. “Out a little late, aren't you, Miss Wilson?”

She turned to see Redlin leaning against the back of Adele's wagon, looking better than any man had a right to look after a long day's ride.

She glanced up, assessing the sky. “No, I don't believe that I am, Mr. Redlin.” She smiled. “Is there a curfew?”

He slowly removed a piece of straw he'd been chewing on, his eyes skimming her lazily. “No curfew. Just thought it was time most folks were in bed. Cavorting with soldiers leaves a bad taste in some of the women's mouths.”

“Cavorting!” Steam built in her brain. She lowered her voice. Sadie and Adele were most likely asleep for the night, but she couldn't be sure. “What woman even
hinted
at indiscretion?” she whispered harshly. “Tell me this instant, I'll go set her straight right now. I accompanied Mike to mail the—” She stopped. “Wait a minute. How do you know where I've been?” Was he spying on her? What right did he have to guard her like she was a prisoner?

He kept his tone low but to the point. “It's my business to know where my people are, and like it or not, you're one of my people at the moment.”

“At the moment. Speaking of which, how much longer do I have to endure you?”

“Well, let me see. If it doesn't become a downpour in the next couple of days, which it looks like it might, we'll be at the fort in three days or so.”

She crossed her arms, allowing one crutch to fall.
Here we go again. Why hadn't she held her tongue? Now he'd bait her, and she would be ripe for the catch.

“Of course, heavy rain will make the river crossing be
tween here and the fort a bit more difficult. The Buffalo can get pretty ugly this time of year if it's up and running. We have twenty-five rigs to get across. Should that happen it will be more like five or six days before we reach the fort. But—and I only mention this niggling little worry because I feel obligated to warn you about the possibility of further delay—there's the prospect of more holdup if a horse goes lame, or a wheel breaks. Then we're looking at—”

“All right! I understand.” Just like Redlin. Delay. Delay. She drew a tolerant breath. “If a horse goes lame or a wagon wheel breaks, couldn't we just keep going and leave someone behind to help?”

But of course not. Not Josh Redlin, who had the audacity to stop this very wagon train—with ill and dying people—not two hundred feet outside Thunder Ridge. He'd keep the entire train together and moving forward at all costs.

He shifted, lifting his hat to smooth his hair. “No ma'am. These Indians are a temperamental sort; no one can predict their behavior. Sort of reminds me of you, in some ways. They like nothing better than to scatter a train or raid a straggler.”

She propped her crutch beside the wagon and decided to ignore the taunt. The night's outing had put her in a good mood. The reaction of the men at the stage stop proved they still found her attractive. She wouldn't bother to rise to this jackanapes's bait. Soon she'd be rid of the nuisance named Redlin.

Turning, she tried to pull herself into the wagon bed. She heaved.

Then grunted. Pain shot up her right leg.

A masculine arm slipped around her waist and hoisted her
aboard. “You're going to have to be stronger than that if you choose to go it alone, Miss Wilson.”

She dropped the canvas flap in his face, then turned and hopped to the pallet on her crutches.

Still, his whisper managed to penetrate the heavy canvas. “You know what your problem is, Miss Wilson?”

No. Pray tell, Mr. Redlin. What is my problem?
She remained silent, knowing full well she was going to find out soon enough.

He bent closer to the open slit. “You don't like men.”

“I do so like men.”

It came out much louder than she had intended. She turned to see both Sadie and Adele sit straight up on their pallets. They stared at her in the dim lantern light.

“Sorry,” Copper murmured.

Adele yawned. “What's going on?”

“Just talking to myself. Go back to sleep.”

“Lands,” Sadie muttered, dropping back to her pillow. “Can you do it in a quieter tone?”

T
he sun barely topped the rise as the women stood knee-deep in the stream, manning scrub boards. Restless with pain, Copper struggled with resentment. One day each week the wagons rested, always near water so the women could catch up on the laundry while men mended harnesses and did various other repair chores. If this was intended to be a day of rest, it looked to her like a lot of work was going on, and her pain wasn't getting any better.

This morning she sat at water's edge watching the work. The women scrubbed and wrung garments to later hang on lines fashioned between the wagons. Though last night's harmless excursion with Mike hadn't been mentioned, Copper knew the subject was uppermost in the women's minds. At first she wanted to deny that she'd acted improperly, but then she decided she had done nothing wrong and bringing it up would only suggest that she had. Redlin might think she was “cavorting,” but nothing could be further from
the truth. Yet very few women spoke to her this morning. They called back and forth, apparently enjoying their work, but giving her the silent treatment. Even Sadie had not been her usual cordial self.

“Hey, if you'll hand me some garments I'll be glad to wring them for you.” She couldn't get into the water; she should help in some fashion.

Nodding, the women wordlessly began hurling wet shirts and pants at her. She ducked, surprised by the almost mean-spirited barrage, but she wasn't going to mention the velocity of that last petticoat.

She wrung a shirt and tossed it into a bucket. “That rain bank looks to be moving closer.”

Adele paused, putting her wet hands on her hips. She scanned the approaching front. “Won't be here before evening. We'll have plenty of time to dry laundry.” The women returned to their conversation on a particular stew recipe some swore by and others avoided.

After a while of the continuing snub Copper blurted, “I merely accompanied Mike when he took the mail to the post. If I'd known it would cause such a fuss I'd never have gone.” She pitched a pair of denims in the container.

Scrubbing ceased. Eyes turned to center on her.

Copper felt heat creep up her neck. Why had she opened her big mouth? She didn't owe these people an apology. The world would not cease to spin on its axis because she accepted a simple moonlight excursion with a single young man.

Adele broke the strained silence. “Why, honey, why would you defend a moonlight walk with Mike? He's a fine boy—”

“He
isn't
courting me, Adele.” How vain did they take her for? They didn't know her well enough to accuse her of chas
ing a man. The heat in her cheeks blazed. “Redlin said that some of you thought my actions objectionable.”

“Hogwash.” Adele picked up a pair of unmentionables and proceeded to scrub. “Sounds to me like the only objections come from him.”

Sadie paused, wiping soap off her elbows. She focused on Copper. “Now wait a minute. I thought you weren't interested in Redlin.”

“I'm not!” Copper denied.

“Leave her alone, Sadie.” Nellie Fisher threw a man's shirt into her basket. “You know you have about as much chance of attracting Redlin as a snowball in you-know-where. That man's not going to suddenly wake up one morning and propose marriage to you.”

“Nellie,” Adele scolded, “that's a right uncharitable thing to say. You can't speak of Redlin's feelings.”

“I don't know anything about the man other than he tends his own business, reads his Bible nightly, and I've never caught him mooning over Sadie or any other woman. You know the Nelsons have that young pretty daughter, and I've never seen Redlin say more than good morning or evening to her.”

Sadie's crestfallen expression tugged at Copper's heartstrings. It was plain mean for Nellie to say such a thing. Sadie might not be every man's cup of tea, but she was good-hearted and she would give you the blouse off her back if she thought you needed it. Copper sprang to spare the woman's feelings. “Actually, I believe Mr. Redlin is already spoken for.”

She immediately regretted the outburst. Work ceased. Women stood in the stream, wet garments dripping soapy water.

Sadie cocked her head. “What makes you say that?”

“Because I accidentally saw a letter he mailed last night.” Accidentally, her foot. She'd nearly broken her neck trying to read the postmark, but the women didn't need to know everything. Gossip was the devil's work, but Copper was never sure where the line parted between gossip and fact, and the fact was she'd seen a letter addressed to “Susan” in Dallas.

Gossip, she supposed, was passing along such information, but she was in too deep to back down now.

Sadie half waded to the bank. “So? All of us mail letters.”

“But this letter was addressed to a woman in Dallas, and granted I have no idea who the woman is, but it could mean that he has someone waiting for him when he completes his job.”

Sadie fatalistically shook her head. “A wife.”

“No—at least the last name wasn't the same.”

Sadie's face screwed in concentration. “Sister?”

Copper shrugged, wishing she'd never mentioned the subject. She only did so to comfort Sadie but the woman looked anything but relieved about the speculation. “Sadie? Have you and Mr. Redlin courted?” Copper asked.

One or two women snickered and Copper shot them a stern look. Sadie might be a little rough around the edges, and she was anything but feminine by nature, but she was a hard worker and loyal to a fault. One man had found her worthy of marriage, and another would too. If not Redlin—Well, granted, she had to admit as much as the man annoyed her, he was a striking male with a smidgen of appeal and a good deal of empathy. She supposed that came from all the Bible reading he did. The man knew Scripture. He asked grace over the evening meals and
talked to the Maker with such ease and familiarity that Copper could vow that somewhere in his past he had a history of religious service.

“I only mentioned the letter for all of our benefits.” She nearly choked, but she continued. “It would be difficult for any woman to deny that the wagon master has certain…undeniable appeal.” She glanced at Sadie. “So no one should feel badly if the man has a private life that he's chosen not to reveal. And that life might well include a woman—a fiancée—a…” She wanted to say
donkey with a similar personality
but she refrained. She only wanted to dampen Sadie's hopes, not to dash her dreams. “A Susan.”

“Copper's right, you know.” Adele reached for a dishcloth. “Redlin keeps his private life to himself. His job is to get us to Colorado Springs, but otherwise I guess the man has a right to a personal life.”

Others agreed. Even Sadie nodded, and Copper sagged with relief. She had no idea about Josh Redlin's personal life—and she didn't want to know. But she hoped she had somewhat dashed Sadie's unrealistic expectations for the man. Truthfully, as much as she liked Sadie, she couldn't, in her wildest dreams, imagine Josh and her together. She had a feeling Josh was wanting a nice, submissive woman, and Sadie didn't fit that description. Sadie was more like…her. Spirited. Able to hold her own with the opposite sex.

 

Shortly after noon, with the school lesson finished and laundry flapping on the line, Copper stretched out on a blanket to read a copy of
A Fairy Tale
by Louisa M. Alcott. Reading took her to new worlds, and today she felt in need of distraction.

A commotion caught her attention and she glanced up to see four braves ride into camp. Pulse quickening, she thought of the children.

Please God, let them remember our lesson on fear, and please let this be an “irrational one.”

Men with rifles in hands stood well back as Josh and Frank Richardson approached the small party. Copper figured the braves couldn't be looking for trouble with the relay station and soldiers close by.

The men engaged in conversation. From her vantage point, Copper couldn't hear the exchange but it appeared to be expressed in nonthreatening tones. Suddenly her heart hammered so forcefully she thought it would break through the chest wall. What if the redskins decided to turn on the two men?

In a second they could be dead with an arrow through the heart before others could fire.

She eased closer to the edge of the pallet, wishing for a gun. She could shoot. She was not an expert, but if one of those savages decided to go after Redlin she felt sure she could put a round within a few inches of the intended target.

The small party conversed another few minutes, and then the braves turned their ponies and rode toward the chuck wagon.

The camp guards dispersed, their concerns apparently eased.

Reaching for her crutches, Copper awkwardly got to her feet and approached Josh, who was coming back to camp with Frank Richardson.

Redlin acknowledged her with a nod of the head when she
met him at the end of the wagon. “Something I can do for you, Miss Wilson?”

“Please stop with the Miss Wilson. I think we know each other well enough to speak our given names.”

“What'd you need, Copper?”

She inclined her head toward the prior meeting spot. “What was that about?”

He turned to look where she indicated, and then turned back. “The braves?”

She sighed. “No, the grass. Of course the braves! What did they want?”

“Think I'll just leave you two to duke it out.” Frank Richardson tipped his brim and walked on, chuckling under his breath.

Removing his hat, Josh ran a hand through his hair. “They wanted to herd our stock tonight.”

“Herd our stock?”

“They say they know of good pasture up the road.”

“And you'd trust them to take our stock?”

“No. I would send Mike and Doug with them, but yes, I hired them to take the stock for the night. They'll have it back by sunup.”

“Won't they be armed? How can you believe them?”

His tolerant look was enough to bring color to her cheeks. “I give you my word, they won't be armed, but Mike and Doug will be. The stock hasn't had good pasture in a few days so I took them up on their offer. It's common practice so don't worry your pretty head about it.”

Copper's eyes shifted to the chuck wagon where the braves were now off their ponies. “Are you going to feed them too?”

“Super and breakfast—that's all they want.”

“There's four of them. You're going to send all four?”

“No, two will ride ahead until they find another train and offer the same service—why all of the interest? Are you running this train now?” He grinned. “Didn't I hear you explaining fear and irrational fear to the kids the other day?”

“Yes…” She bit down on her lower lip. “And I regret the lesson. I wanted to make an impression, and now I fear I might have made them lax. One asked how I could tell if their fears were rational or irrational, and I didn't have an answer.”

He reached out and tweaked her nose. “If you find an arrow in your back, they're rational.”

When she didn't smile, he sobered. “There isn't an answer. You use caution, but eventually you get to know their habits and you can pretty well figure out their sense of purpose. If you're going to make a mistake, make it on the side of caution, if that helps.”

They turned and she kept pace with him.

“I also bought four sides of antelope from them,” he said. “Thought the folks might enjoy some fresh meat tonight.”

As much as she hated to admit it, the man could be pleasant when he wanted, and today he wanted. He treated his job with respect, and the folks in his party like family.

He nodded toward the crutch. “How's the ankle?”

“Very painful.”

His gaze softened. “We'll be in Fort Riceson soon.” She noticed he didn't try to annoy her with anxious thoughts of flooded rivers and broken wheels. His answer was as close to real information as she'd come, and she was relieved to hear the journey would soon be over.

“I'm frightened.” For the first time, she felt herself opening to him. “If I allow myself to think about the possibility of—”

He interrupted. “Dyson is the best. I had heard of his work before you were injured. If the ankle can be fixed, he'll do it. If not, then you live with what God gives you.”

Resentment built in the back of her mind. “That's easy to say when you're not the one with trouble. You've never had to experience anything like this.”

He chuckled but not with mirth.

She glanced over, perplexed. “What?”

“Do you think you're the only person on earth with problems?”

“No, but—”

“You're not.” He answered for her. “You've got a heavy load, I'll grant you that, but whatever happens, you'll make it through.”

“How can you be so certain? You hardly know me.”

“Because I know people, and I know you well enough to say you've got what it takes to make it through this world.”

She wished she felt as confident as he sounded.

“That was a compliment, Miss Wilson.”

She glanced over and grinned. “I know. Was that so hard?”

He shrugged. “Took all I had, but I got it out.”

By now they'd reached Adele's wagon. They paused, and he removed his hat. “The thing I said about accepting whatever God sends your way? I still have to work on that one myself. It's not easy, and it takes a powerful lot of thinking to not resent God during the hard times.”

She couldn't believe her ears. The man who had once
grated on her nerves beyond anything she'd experienced, was now talking to her seriously, and sharing some of the struggles he faced. She'd always imagined having these kinds of conversation with a man, but never thought it would be Josh.

“Thank you, and thank you for the vote of confidence.”