Defiant Heart (10 page)

The setting sun cast a glorious red glow over the still waters of the Big Blue River. Blake breathed in a grateful burst of fresh, cool air as his mind replayed the image of Fannie and Kip struggling for air—for life itself—this afternoon. Conflicting emotions warred within his breast. On one hand he wished he'd stuck to his guns and never allowed the strong-willed woman to join the train. On the other hand, he couldn't stop thinking about the fiery red curls clinging to her face and neck as she stared at him with stormy eyes insisting she had no choice but to try and save her brother, no matter the risk to her own life. Admiration warred with aggravation. Attraction with frustration. He tried to push her out of his mind as he mounted Dusty and began his nightly ride through the wagon train to assure himself all was well.

“Good evening, Mr. Tanner,” came a sweet voice as he passed the Cooper wagon. A rush of heat hit Blake's neck as he spotted Edna Cooper. Looking closer, he noted she was alone, so he waved, replied to her greeting in kind, and con
tinued his ride through the camp without pausing for conversation. He saw her face cloud with disappointment as he passed, and regret shifted through him. He hated to make any woman feel slighted. The girl was uncommonly pretty. Submissive and gentle. A good cook and a good mother. Everything Blake was looking for. He had shown her plenty of attention the first couple of weeks of their journey. But the last couple of weeks…well, Fannie had come into his life, and since then, as much as he hated to admit the truth, he couldn't think of anyone but her. Of course, Fannie would be the last person he'd be likely to marry. She wore trousers for one thing. Tried to be too independent and manly. Although she did look sort of nice in the britches. But they put ideas into a man's head that ought not be there. And, he'd noticed how they made the other women in the wagon train uncomfortable.

Sam joined him on his mare. “Mrs. Cooper doesn't look happy that you didn't stop and speak with her.”

Blake shrugged. “No time tonight. I'm sure she understands.”

“Women typically don't understand when a man stops showing interest for no apparent reason.”

“I have a reason.” Blake winced and wished he could draw the impulsive words back.

“Miss Fannie.”

It wasn't a question, more like an observation. Humiliated that he'd been so transparent of late, Blake figured he should take this time to set his friend straight. “Yes, Fannie. Since she joined us, I've been busy getting her out of one mess or
another until I'm too distracted even to think about courting another woman.”

There, he'd said enough of the truth to pull Sam's thoughts away from any romantic connection between Blake and Fannie.

“I see,” Sam said.

“Fannie's a heap of trouble. I'm thinking of dropping off the whole group, including Toni, at the next hole of a town we come to.”

“According to my scouts, that'll be in about a week.”

“Are we off course? To my recollection there's not a town or a fort for the next hundred miles.”

Sam gave a shrug. “Must have started up since last year. Maybe folks who didn't want to keep going to Oregon just stopped and built their own town. They got a saloon, a general store, even got themselves a sheriff and a church.”

It sounded like a dozen more prairie towns just like it. That's the way it had been since he signed on with his first wagon train ten years ago going back and forth across the country. Towns sprang up overnight and many died just as quickly. Some, like St. Louis, grew fast and kept growing. Others didn't have a chance.

“Should I tell Miss Fannie to prepare to leave us at the next town?”

Sam's words startled Blake from his musings, and he couldn't gather his wits quick enough to pretend indifference. “Of course not,” he growled. Without another word, he nudged Dusty forward, leaving the chuckling scout behind to form his own opinion.

Wistful puffs of smoke rose from campfires throughout the circle of a hundred wagons. Oxen and horses were hobbled and set out within the enormous circle to graze upon the prairie grass. Blake could hear the soft laughter of children playing, banging of pots and pans as women prepared their evening meals. He stopped at Sadie's wagon and looked around, staring at the spot next to the fire where he'd carried Fannie, still feeling her wet, shivering body in his arms.

“She's gone,” Sadie said, nodding toward the empty hides.

“Where?” Hang it all. Was there anyone who didn't read his growing feelings for that confounded woman?

“Back to her own wagon.”

“I thought I told you to take care of her.” He heard the gruffness of his tone and knew Sadie wasn't going to take it quietly. Bracing himself for the tongue-lashing he knew he had coming, he formed his apology in his mind.

“What was I supposed to do, tie her to a tree?” Sadie's eyebrows scrunched together in a fierce frown. “Besides, I'm not her nursemaid. She's a grown woman with more spunk than any woman ought to have, and she makes up her own mind.”

“You're right,” Blake replied humbly. “I'm sorry I accused you. That woman is driving me to distraction.” How was he supposed to take care of her if she kept ignoring his orders?

Her brow shot up in surprise and her face softened with amusement. “Oh, honey. Hop down off that horse and have some of these beans and corn bread. I know it's the same fare as the last two nights. But there's going to be a treat tomorrow. A couple of the hunters brought in some venison, and
we'll be having a campwide roast tomorrow after we make camp.”

Willing to accept her quick forgiveness, Blake slid from his horse and took the proffered tin plate of filling, well-cooked food. He walked to an empty pickle barrel next to the fire and took his first bite before he was all the way seated. “Thanks,” he said around a bite of corn bread.

“Have you eaten anything today?” she asked, hands on her hips, lips scrunched in a maternal scowl.

He shook his head, suddenly feeling guilty beneath her scolding. “No time. What with the river crossing and all.”

“Mrs. Cooper must have forgotten you and Sam at breakfast today.” Her eyes were completely guileless, but Blake knew better.

“I thanked her for her generosity and told her we couldn't keep accepting breakfast from her.”

“Oh? Think she got the message?”

“What message?”

“The one where you're trying to back away from what was starting to be a courtship?”

“The only thing going on between us is breakfast, and I put a stop to that.”

“Well, that's fine as long as you don't forget to eat something on your own.”

“I do just fine. I don't need a woman telling me to eat.”

“Hrmph. You'll be taking time to pick yourself up off the ground if you don't take better care of yourself on these busy days. How do you plan to keep your strength if you don't eat?”

This must be what it was like to have a real mother, Blake thought, and not for the first time either when confronted with Miss Sadie's tendency to boss him around. His own mother took grudging care of him between the hours of one in the afternoon, when she finally hauled herself out of bed hungover, face paint smeared across her face, and five o'clock, when her customers began arriving to take up thirty minutes of her time. For a couple of years, there had been one nice black woman who worked in the kitchen and cleaned the saloon and hotel. She had petted him and saved him special treats from the kitchen. But the owner of the saloon had lost her to one of the miners in a poker game, and that was the end of Blake's experience with maternal care.

That is, until Sadie stopped him months ago, determined to join the train.

He'd told her the same thing he told every other single woman who wanted to go west, but Sadie had pretended not to hear him and showed up in Independence, Missouri anyway, bright and early, fully loaded, and ready to go.

For some reason that he still couldn't fathom, he'd assigned her a spot ten wagons down the line, without a word. She'd taken him under her wing like a mama hen that first day, and he'd been there ever since.

“So, uh, how was Fannie? Did she do okay after I left?”

“Oh, sure. Feisty as ever, that one.”

“Angry at me, I presume?”

The woman gave him a twinkle-eyed smile. “Called you a
skunk and said she didn't want to hang around waiting to get sprayed. Or something to that effect.”

A funny, sort of disappointed surprise hit him square in the gut. “I wonder why she'd say a thing like that.”

“Pride mostly.”

“Pride?”

“Yep. She's as stubborn and full of pride as you are. You're both smitten but neither will admit it.”

“Smitten?” Blake gave a frown. “You've been in the sun too much today. The woman is impossible, and I'm strongly considering unloading her whole wagonful at the next town. Which Sam informed me is only two days away.”

“Sure you are,” she said, with more than a little humor tingeing her voice.

“You don't believe me?” he asked with determination. Maybe he should just show Sam and Sadie that he wasn't going to turn into a jar of apple preserves over this woman. Rules were rules, and she'd caused more than her share of trouble.

Sadie took his plate and walked over to the fire to dip him another spoonful. “Simmer down before you go off half-cocked and do something you'll regret just to prove a point.” She shoved the plate back into his hands.

“I don't have anything to prove.” He forked a chunk of bean-covered ham. “I'm leading this train. What I say goes.”

Wisely, Sadie clamped her lips together. Blake breathed easier, knowing that settled it. He ate, but each bite was harder to swallow as he began to get the uncomfortable
feeling her silence wasn't exactly acquiescence.

“Don't you think she ought to be tossed out on her ear?”

“That's not my call, hon.” She took his empty plate and handed him a cup of coffee.

“Thanks,” he said, taking the tin mug. “But if it were your call?”

She took her own coffee and settled down across from him on a turned-over washtub. “Blake, this young woman has been through an awful lot in her short life.”

“She told you that? More than just a few beatings here and there.” Blake perked up. He had his suspicions about what she'd been through, especially after seeing how the bloated old storekeeper looked at her. The very memory brought his blood to a quick boil.

“She doesn't have to tell me. A woman knows.”

Well, there was no arguing against women's intuition. And he wasn't fool enough to try. “So just because she's been through a lot, I should overlook her ignorant actions.”

“You mean like jumping in after her brother when she saw how far away you were from the middle of the river?”

Well, yeah, something like that. But Blake could see her point and decided to be more reasonable than his building anger would normally allow.

“She has to stop disrupting this wagon train,” he said, giving voice to his frustration. “I can't think straight for worry what she's going to get into next.”

“Listen, Blake. I know it seems like she's brought you no end of trouble.”

“Seems like?”

“What has she done really?”

“Followed after the train when I told her she wasn't welcome.”

“Which is exactly what I would have done if you hadn't graciously allowed me a spot.”

Blake felt a blush creep up his neck and singe his cheeks. “Well, that's different. You didn't bring a pair of ornery twins and a saloon girl with you.”

“That's true.” Her lips twitched, and Blake had the maddening feeling he was being mocked. “And I didn't get myself followed by a man who is nothing more than a slave trader if you ask me.”

“Exactly.” Wait. Whose point was she making?

Her plump shoulders rose and fell in a wistful sigh. “There's not one person on this earth who cares whether I live or die. Certainly no one who cares whether I leave for the West or not. So I'm easy to put up with.”

Blake wanted to reach out to the woman whose voice had suddenly grown soft with pain. He wanted to tell her that he cared whether she lived or died. That he was glad she had come along on the trek and that he hoped they'd be neighbors for the rest of her life once they reached their destination, but that wasn't his way. Pretty words stuck in his throat, and his tongue refused to allow them voice. Instead, he stared at his cup and cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Blake,” she said. “Look at me.”

He did.

“Fannie can't help it that she came to us wounded, then made it worse by refusing to let it show that first day. She
can't help it that she was sold to that Tom fellow or that he didn't keep his end of the bargain and let her go a year ago when he was supposed to.”

“I can't help it either,” he muttered, trying not to envision everything she'd just said.

“No. You can't. But God has given you a unique opportunity to be His hands extended to her in grace.”

“Grace? You mean just let her stay and disrupt this train because she's had a hard life? She's not the only person in this world who's had some tough breaks.”

Sadie gave him a sad smile. “You're right. But she seems to be the one who needs the most help right now. And you seem to be the person who can help her. Remember, grace means that we receive God's goodness even though we don't deserve it.”

“It does?”

“Um-hmm,” she said sipping her coffee. She swallowed. “So, maybe in your eyes she deserves to be tossed aside. Maybe it would be easier for you if she's not around distracting you with those pretty blue eyes and curly red hair and feisty ways.”

“That's not…”

She silenced him with upraised hands. “Let's not argue about it. My point is that you are the only one in a position to grant her grace. It's your choice.” She stood, turned the washbasin over, and reached for a bucket of water.