Where the Trail Ends: American Tapestries (30 page)

Lady Judith’s teeth chattered. “Where is the fire?”

“It is in the other parlor,” Alex said, guiding her and the others to the hallway.

He turned, looking back at Samantha, and she saw the regret in his eyes. But it wasn’t his fault. He had been truthful with her from the beginning. She’d always known he was to marry, and yet she’d given her heart to him—unwillingly, perhaps, but completely.

After they warmed by the fire, Samantha escorted the three ladies to the washhouse. For a moment, she wished she were back on the trail before Papa died. Back when everything was filled with wonder and hope.

Back when her heart didn’t hurt so badly.

She wanted to be genuinely happy for Alex, as she had been for Jack, but God help her, she was only angry. If Alex looked at Lady Judith the same way Jack had looked at Aliyah, she would have done
her best to be happy for them. But Alex didn’t look pleased. He looked miserable.

Samantha opened the door to the washhouse, and Lady Judith eyed the four stalls with bathtubs. “Are you going to draw our baths?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she replied, hating the way she sounded.

Yes, Alex was an English gentleman. Yes, she had become too familiar with him in this land that stitched together the lives of the poor and the wealthy; the officers and the laborers; the British, French, Indians, and Americans. Alex may have questioned the propriety of the Americans coming here, but he had treated her as an equal. As a lady.

She stepped back outside to obtain hot water from the kitchen.

She was close to finishing her journey to the Willamette, but her heart still wandered. Where it would settle, she didn’t know.

A fire roared in the parlor as Alex paced across the room. He’d stood on the wharf like a dolt, staring in shock at the woman he was supposed to marry and then forgetting the names of his uncle’s loyal friends.

Judith hated being on the water. Never once had he suspected that when he didn’t return last year, she would make the grueling voyage from England.

After the women left for the washhouse, Lord Stanley had retired to the guest room he and his wife would share on this side of the house. Stanley had said he had pressing business to discuss with Alex but that it would have to wait until he recovered from the journey. Alex hoped Stanley would need a day or two. He had yet to recover from his own shock.

Rain pelted against the dark windows, and he stopped pacing and stirred the fire.

The look on Miss Waldron’s face when he brought Judith to the house made his heart crumble. He’d refused to entertain thoughts of whether she might return his affections, but seeing her tonight, the wounded look on her face... He hadn’t meant to encourage her feelings—or his own feelings, for that matter—but still he felt as if he’d deceived her.

He didn’t know what he was doing.

He’d planned to meet Judith back in London, five months after he left Miss Waldron.

Skirts swished in the hallway, and he turned to see Judith. Her hair was still damp but pinned back neatly in a style he didn’t recognize. She wore a gray evening dress with ivory lace, and her neckline dipped low, exposing her bare shoulders. Her waist had been cinched to a degree that now appeared abnormal—sickly, even. Had he ever found this corseted shape attractive?

None of the women wore such finery here, nor would they dare display their skin in such a suggestive manner. It was only the beginning, he guessed, of what would look odd to him in London.

He stepped forward, trying to speak calmly. “I hope you had a pleasant journey.”

She laughed derisively.

“What are you doing here, Judith?”

She tried to step forward but teetered, her sea legs still adjusting to the land. Springing forward, he took her hand and led her to a couch. She arranged her skirts as she sat, her eyes scrunching into a pout. “I thought you would be delighted to see me.”

“I am delighted, of course.” He tried to sound convincing. “Delighted—and surprised.”

“I received that dreadful letter from you last year.” She tugged at one of her sleeves. “And I was quite unwilling to wait yet another year to marry.”

“I was planning to come home this spring.”

Her eyebrows slipped up. “Your plans have proven unreliable.”

“You must forgive me for last year. There was much I had to attend to before I could return to London.”

“Certainly I have forgiven you. I would not have spent five months aboard that accursed ship had I not.”

His gaze traveled to the window and the miserable weather accosting them. “I am sorry the weather has not greeted you properly.”

“No one has greeted me properly.” She brushed her hands over her skirt. “What has happened to you, Alexander?”

He searched for an answer, but so much had happened in the past hours that he wasn’t quite sure of her question. “What do you mean?”

“You no longer speak like an English gentleman.” She critiqued his clothing with her gaze. “Nor do you dress like one.”

He glanced down at his striped trousers, white linen shirt, and waistcoat. “I am dressed in the proper fashion for this district.”

“London would be aghast.”

He looked away from her, toward the fire. Not only would London seem strange to him, he would seem strange to London.

It was no wonder his speech had slipped, living as he did among the voyagers and natives, and it was impossible to keep up with the changing fashions when he’d been gone for so long. Nor had he cared to.

He stirred the fire again before he turned back to her. “How are your parents?”

“Quite anxious for our marriage.”

He nodded. “And my uncle?”

Her eyes widened. “Have you not spoken to Lord Stanley?”

“He retired quickly to his room.”

“You must speak with him, Alexander. At once.”

“I can hardly awaken him.”

“Then first thing tomorrow—”

“Certainly.”

He sat down in the chair beside her, leaning forward. “Is my uncle unwell?”

“Lord Stanley should discuss it with you.”

Annabelle appeared from the hallway, carrying a tray with a teapot and four teacups. Judith looked as if she might hug the servant woman as she poured her a proper cup of tea. She took a cautious sip, and then Alex saw the hint of a smile cross her face. At least they imported the queen’s tea and Annabelle had learned how to brew it.

He took a long sip of his own tea, curiosity sprouting in him. “Did my uncle send you here to ensure that I return to London?”

“No one sent me.” She set down her teacup. “But I believe the news shall please you.”

“I am not sure I can handle any more excitement.”

“I am not sure I shall be able to board that miserable ship again.”

He swirled the remaining tea in his cup. “We could stay here.”

She looked so horrified that he almost laughed. “No sensible woman would remain here.”

Alex nodded. Perhaps that was why he enjoyed Miss Waldron’s company so much. She didn’t bother with sensibilities.

Judith stood. “Where shall my lady’s maid and I spend the night?”

There was one guest room left in the McLoughlins’ home, and it was meant to house a single guest. “I am afraid your accommodations will be sparse. We were not prepared to entertain any women from the ship.”

“A decent bed is all I require.”

He didn’t say that he doubted she would find her bed decent.

She stepped toward the doorway and then turned back to him. “Are you not the slightest bit pleased to see me?”

He leaned forward, taking her hand. “I apologize. I have never been a keen recipient of surprises.” This was the woman he was going
to marry. Surely the affection would grow between them. “And this wilderness is no place for a lady.”

Her lips turned up in a stiff smile. “I have no intention of staying in the wilderness.”

He leaned back. “Of course not.”

She stood by the entrance to the hall. “Are you not eager to return home?”

His heart and mind felt as if they warred against one another. In doing what he thought was right, was it possible that he may not be doing what God required of Him? He didn’t believe Simon’s theory of desire, but he did believe that God placed desire in the hearts of His servants. His desire was to stay here.

“I am eager to do what is honorable.”

“I would expect nothing less of Alexander Clarke.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Boaz!” Micah called as they walked through the fort, and then Samantha shouted their dog’s name.

Boaz had been wandering off more lately, roaming outside the gates during the day, but he always came back before the bolt-and-brass padlocks clamped them together at night.

The McLoughlins had been gracious in allowing Boaz to sleep in the room she shared with Micah these past five months. Madame in particular seemed to understand the importance of keeping their small family together. But tonight Boaz hadn’t returned home.

Micah shouted for him again as they wandered from building to building. She tried to keep her mind on finding Boaz, but it kept wandering back to this afternoon and the arrival of Lady Judith at the fort.

Jealousy rose inside Samantha, and she hated herself for it. She’d known that Alex was engaged to marry. She’d known that he was going back to England on this ship. But the reality saddened her in a way she hadn’t expected.

He would never consider her as anything other than a teacher for the fort’s students, and as far as she knew, that time was limited. About twenty-five men had come off the ship, and one of those was probably the new teacher.

Rain soaked her hair and face as she walked, but her clothing was protected by a new coat made from the pelt of a wolverine. Alex had wanted to make sure that neither she nor Micah would again be exposed to storms as they had been on the river.

Micah reached for her hand, tugging her forward. “We have to find him.”

The gates were already closed for the night, as was the postern, the small door in the front gate, but she and Micah diligently searched inside the fort, calling Boaz quietly in the rain so they wouldn’t disturb anyone’s sleep.

Eventually they found themselves back on the McLoughlins’ porch.

Micah’s tears mixed with rain on his cheeks. “Where did he go?”

She hugged him. “He’ll probably be waiting outside the gate in the morning.”

Inside their room, she kissed his forehead as he lay on the trundle and tucked the blanket over his slight frame. And she prayed for Boaz to return as Micah drifted off to sleep.

Leaning back in her chair, she stared at the dark ceiling. She should sleep as well, but her mind raced instead. She needed Alex. She needed people like the McLoughlins. It was clear now that she couldn’t live in Oregon on her own, no matter how hard she tried.

But she didn’t only need Alex. She loved him—in such a different way than she’d ever cared for Jack. The thought of him leaving, of never seeing him again, made her ill.

She got into her bed. They would find Boaz, and then she and Micah would finish their long journey. Now she would have to rely on Lucille and her other friends in the Willamette. It was time for her and Micah to make their own way home.

Samantha and Micah walked slowly to the schoolhouse for the last time. The new schoolteacher had indeed arrived on the
Columbia
, a Mr. Bevins, who would begin teaching tomorrow morning. Even
though she’d known this day was coming, it would still be hard to say good-bye to her pupils—both the children and their mothers.

Though not nearly as hard as it would be to say good-bye to Lord Clarke.

Her eyes wandered to the wing of the big house where Lady Judith slept, and she felt like running all the way to the Willamette.

She and Micah would leave as soon as they were able, the next morning perhaps. As soon as Boaz returned. This fort had only been a waiting place for them, as the land of Beulah had been for Christiana before she crossed over to the Celestial City.

Micah looked back at the front gate, and she knew he was still searching for Boaz. But there was no sign of their dog. The men had opened the gates an hour ago, and she’d fully expected Boaz to come bounding inside at first light. There had been no one, animal or person, on the other side.