“That’s the one thing I’m good at.” Rafe’s face creased into a smile. “Not so much with a handgun, but with my rifle I’ll stand beside any man.”
Rafe’s smile told Buck he was younger than he had believed him to be at first. He was not as old as the expression he wore suggested. He was also better educated than could be expected of a farmer. They eyed each other for what seemed a full minute, then Buck finally turned away. He liked the man.
The Taylors were equally willing to do whatever was necessary to join the train. Alice Taylor gave her husband, Lucas, and Buck a reasonable time to talk before she stepped out of her wagon to join them in the shade. Neatly dressed in a bright cotton print, she was a large woman who appeared unbothered by the sun. But it bothered her more than she ever let show. Giving way to her feelings would be a sign of weakness, and Alice Taylor despised weakness. Coming to stand beside her husband, she offhandedly fanned her face to create what breeze she could with a silk fan she had brought with her from Philadelphia. Alice had made up her mind from the beginning of this trip that she would maintain the quality of life she was accustomed to. She had come from a house where imported glass windows let in the sunlight through Irish lace curtains, and where the food was served
from china dishes and eaten with silver forks. She was a woman of property and intended to live like one.
Alice knew that her background had determined her character, had given her manners, gestures, attitudes different from those of the other women in the train. She knew this even as she knew she intended to fight this wild country. She intended to fight its ability to degrade a person and bring him down to the level of that disgusting man who had been hired to lead them. Alice’s war with the world was a subtle one, one she never openly expressed. She was a quiet woman, a strong one, who knew her own mind. She was determined to get her family to California and to see them restored to a position of respect.
The decision to move west had been Alice’s idea. There had been no question but that they had to move. After the discovery of mismanaged funds at the bank where her husband was a high-ranking officer, Philadelphia would no longer hold them. Her family thought she was foolish for standing by Daniel, even though he was innocent of any wrongdoing. Her close friends had suggested that the affair might blow over and that Daniel could return in time, but Alice knew that Philadelphia families had long memories for sins and short ones for virtues. Daniel didn’t argue about taking his wife and son and moving west. He was going because one didn’t argue with Alice, and because he knew Alice was right.
“My dear, come meet Mr. Steele and Mr. Garrett.”
Daniel put his hand beneath her elbow and drew her forward. “Gentlemen, my wife, Mrs. Taylor.”
“You can count on us, Mr. Steele. Whatever adjustments that have to be made will be made. What we lack in knowledge of this sort of travel we will make up in determination to cause you the least bother possible.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I’ve outlined the requirements to your husband. We pull out the day after tomorrow at daybreak.”
“We’ll be ready. Good day.” Alice watched the two men walk away, and for the first time since they’d left the boat at New Orleans she felt they were in capable hands.
Lucas and Buck walked to the next wagon. They both had things to think about, thoughts and opinions of the people they had just left. There would be time enough to discuss them after they’d met the last of the people they would spend the next couple of months with.
Otis Collins leaned against his wagon and spit into the dust as they approached. With deliberate slowness Collins stood away from the wagon. His attitude was wary, suspicious. Lucas didn’t offer his hand. Like Captain Doyle before him, he knew instinctively that the man had a chip on his shoulder and was just aching for someone to try to knock it off.
“You’re Collins,” Lucas said flatly. “I’ll tell you what I’ve told the others. Lighten your load by one third, exchange the wheels on your wagon for some the army will trade, and check your food. One
hundred pounds for each person in your wagon. Caulk your water barrels and the bottom of your wagon. You’ll keep your position in line and stay away from the women.”
A dull red flooded Collins’s face. “You’re doin’ a powerful lot of orderin’,” he snarled. “Who in the hell gave you the right to tell me what I’ll have in my wagon?”
“Your damn wagon can sit right here as far as I’m concerned. But if you join this train, you’ll do as I say and that’s my final word.”
“Otis?” A thin woman with a pinched face stood nervously at the end of the wagon. A girl of about six, the image of her mother, peeked out from behind her skirts.
“Shut up, Emma. This here’s man talk.” Collins spit again.
“But, Otis—”
“I said, shut up!” He darted a bitter glance at her, and the child disappeared behind her skirt. “All right,” he said grudgingly to Lucas. “But I ain’t ridin’ tail and eatin’ dust.”
Lucas shrugged. “Then sit here, if you want. I don’t care what you do.”
“You ain’t got no call to be a tellin’ us what to do. We got our own scout.”
“Then you and your scout can strike out on your own. As a matter of fact, I’d prefer it if you did.”
“Otis!” The cry that came from the woman was almost a wail.
Her husband turned a furious face in her direction,
but before he could say anything Frank Parcher appeared from behind the wagon.
“Don’t get in a sweat, Collins. Steele wants to move fast. We can oblige ’im.”
“But Frank—”
“It’s for the best, Otis. Now git to tendin’ to what’s got to be done.”
Collins stalked away, and Parcher grinned at Lucas. “I can handle ’im. He’ll be ready.”
“He’d better watch his mouth.” Lucas looked Frank straight in the eye for so long, the other man’s gaze faltered and he looked away. Lucas spun on his heel and left him. Buck lingered with deliberation, looking over Collins’s wagon and sizing up the scout again.
Frank’s face grew ugly. “What’re you lookin’ at?” he sneered. “I ain’t got no use fer . . . half-breeds. Why, I’ve got a notion to. . . .” His hand went to his gun.
“It’s a bad notion, Parcher. But if you really want to die, just move that hand a fraction.”
Frank stared at Buck. The man’s face was wicked. He stood lazily, hands hanging, but he was as ready as a crouching cougar. Frank saw it and recognized what he saw. With a curse he swung out and walked away.
* * *
The evening meal was over and Tucker climbed into the wagon to write in the journal. It was hot and she wanted to hurry and finish the chore so she could make herself available if Lucas came by. There was a
chance they could walk away for a few private minutes together. Her heart had soared on gossamer wings since the night they’d spent beside the Colorado River. She was loved, and she loved in return!
April 30.
Fort McKavett was officially abandoned by the army just a little over a month ago. However, the sutler is still here, as well as a few other workers. The camp was first named Camp San Saba because it is located on the river by that name, but later the name was changed to Fort McKavett in honor of Capt. Henry McKavett killed at the Battle of Monterrey in Mexico. There are stone barracks for eight companies, twelve officers’ quarters, hospital, guardhouse, magazine, and large headquarters. It seems such a terrible waste to let the buildings go unused. Three of the wagons from the Louisiana train joined us. Tomorrow we will have a day to wash clothes, bathe, and rearrange our belongings. Mr. Steele says the hardest part of our trip is still ahead of us.
* * *
Tucker closed the journal and blew out the candle. It was hot under the canvas, so she stepped down from the wagon into the cool evening breeze. Laura was sitting on a camp stool. Tucker moved a box so she could sit beside her.
“It didn’t take long tonight. Writing is easy if you have something to write about.”
“Someday you’ll have to read it to me, Tucky. Things seem to happen so fast, I’m afraid I’ll forget some of them.”
“Buck’s coming this way,” Tucker said. She was still somewhat uncomfortable about the attention he paid to Laura.
Laura turned her head from side to side, trying to pick up the sound of his footsteps.
“To the right,” Tucker said softly, and her heart gave a queer lurch at the smile of pure rapture that came over Laura’s face. Oh God, she thought. When the letdown comes, will she be able to bear it?
“Evenin’, Laura. Ma’am.”
“Hello, Buck.” Laura held her hand out for Buck. Usually he touched it briefly and squatted on his heels to visit, and Tucker would find an excuse for moving away.
“Come walk with me.” He saw instant disapproval on Tucker’s face. How could he make her understand that he would die before he would give this small, wraithlike creature one moment of heartache? He could understand Tucker’s concern, but there was no way to explain matters to her. His actions would have to speak for him.
Laura looped her arm in Buck’s. Her hand slid down his forearm, and her fingers interlaced with his.
“With me out of the way, maybe Lucas will come talk to you, Tucker.”
“Oh, go on off with you.” Her voice was light, but the look on her face told Buck of her worry.
He looked into her eyes and tried to reassure her without speaking that this girl meant more to him than life itself. He was sure she didn’t understand his feelings and that his look did nothing to ease her anxiety. Slowly, his steps measured to Laura’s, he led her out and away from the firelight, past the watching eyes of the women resting beside their wagons. Laura floated along beside him, her head reaching just above his shoulder. He squeezed her hand.
“Does that mean we’re alone, Buck?” Laura whispered.
“We’re alone,
mi amor.
”
“How is it that you speak Spanish? What did you call me? Somehow I think it was . . . nice.”
“Most of the people in California speak Spanish,” he said quietly. He didn’t add that he’d learned Spanish at an early age when he was cursed by the old Mexican he lived with. They came to the end of the compound and Buck stopped, picked up a stick, and swished it across the surface of a boulder before he grasped Laura by the waist and lifted her onto it. He sprang up beside her.
“What did you do before you sat me up here?”
“I moved a stick around over the rock in case a snake had curled up on the warm stone.”
“Oh!” She shivered and moved closer to him. He took her hand and put his arm around her, fitting her into the curve of his shoulder. She snuggled against him.
They sat quietly, listening to the night sounds, content to be together. It was as if the two of them were alone in the world. Finally Buck felt compelled to tell her his thoughts.
“This feeling of peace. It’s strange, the way you give that to me. It’s as if it radiates from you.” The arm holding her drew her closer. “What is this gift you carry around with you?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Peace and contentment. I find it when I’m with you.”
“I’m glad,” she whispered. “I’m so glad.”
She closed her eyes and leaned her head against his shoulder. Listen, she told herself. Listen to what he has to say, what he needs to say to you. Help him if you can. You may not ever be able to give him any more than this . . . to sit and listen to him and quietly love him. She lifted her hand and held it against his cheek. She ached to comfort him, to make up for any past sorrows. She told herself she mustn’t cry, no matter what. Buck needed no more tears in his life. He needed sunshine and peace and love. She realized that his need for love, and his capacity for it, was great.
“You’ve not been happy.” Her voice was low, filled with pain.
“I am now,” he told her, his voice suddenly thick. “When I’m with you.”
She was silent for a moment, sensing his need for this quiet time. She felt her breath catch in her throat when his fingers lifted her chin, felt her insides warm
with pleasure as she allowed herself the pure joy of kissing and being kissed by him. Such a lovely feeling was unfolding in her midsection and traveling slowly throughout her body. She wanted it to go on and on. Warm, moist lips traced the line of her brow and delicately touched her closed eyelids. His lips were working their way downward, touching her cheek and the tip of her nose, then settling very gently on her mouth, where they moved with delicious provocation. Her mouth opened under the pressure of his, yielding, molding itself to the shape of his. A surge of pleasure rushed through her as his tongue explored the sweetness of her mouth, drawing a soft moan from a deep-seated passion she had not even known existed. Never before had she felt quite like this. Never had she known this melting, letting-go sensation that now invaded her innermost being.
Abruptly he seized her arms and held her away from him.
“God! My sweet, my beautiful Laura. I’m sorry! I never intended to do that!” His voice was husky with regret.
“No!” Laura reached for his face with her hands and stroked his cheeks with her palms. “Please don’t be sorry. When you kiss me, I feel as if I never want to leave you. I know what you’re feeling. How could you be drawn to a girl like me while we’re out here on the prairie? Are you afraid I’ll try to hold onto you, Buck? I won’t. I promise I won’t. Sometimes I’m bitter about what’s happened to me. I won’t pretend otherwise. Sometimes it’s hard for me to accept the fact
that because I can’t see I’ll never be a man’s . . . true love.” Her voice broke a little. “Give me this little time with you. I’m trying not to be selfish. I want to try and make you happy for a little while. Because I don’t think you’ve had a really happy moment in a long, long time. Maybe I can give you that, at least.” Her voice was earnest, almost pleading. “Leaving you when we reach our journey’s end will be harder without memories of you to take with me. So don’t you see,” she whispered eagerly, “that’s exactly what I’m doing! I want a thousand sweet memories to cherish when we get to California. I want to have them all stored away someplace inside me, so that when I’m away from you forever, I’ll be able to take them out of myself, out of my heart, like little treasures. I can live that way, Buck. I can get through life that way. But . . .” she put her hands up to her face, “but I’ve got to have something to remember!”