The sun was sinking and the sky was hazed over. A wind kicked up a sudden gust that flapped the brims of their bonnets. For as long as she could see them, Tucker kept her eyes on the sparse buildings that made up the town. The driver cracked the whip and the wagon picked up speed, stirring up a cloud of dust. They rounded a curve in the trail and left the town behind them.
Events of the last few weeks had crowded in on Tucker so fast she found it hard to believe that she and Laura were actually sitting here on this buckboard that was carrying them out to the wagon train bound for California. Of course, none of this would have happened if she hadn’t pricked one of Mrs.
Rogers’s richest customers with a pin when the woman had angrily slapped her hand away from the sleeve she was working on, or if she hadn’t hit Mrs. Rogers’s husband across the face when she caught him peeking into the room while Laura was undressing.
It had taken being fired from her job to jar her out of the dull life she was leading as Mrs. Rogers’s seamstress. The dresses she made were always for someone who needed them in a hurry and didn’t care a whit if she sat up all night sewing by the light of the kerosene lamp. She hated the job, but it paid the money she and Laura needed to live on.
Their savings were almost gone, and Tucker was beginning to get panicky when she saw the advertisement in the newspaper.
Women of good moral character to travel to California. Hardworking men are seeking wives. Teacher also wanted. Apply Logan Hotel on Tuesday.
Almost desperate because she had looked so long in vain for work, Tucker read the advertisement to Laura. The two girls talked long into the night about the possibility of going to California. The idea of accepting transportation on the premise that they would marry unknown men at the end of the journey—no matter how hardworking they were—was simply out of the question. Yet their circumstances in
Fort Smith were grim. Laura, with her unfailing confidence in Tucker, insisted that Tucker could teach school. Hadn’t she taught all the younger children at the farm after she had been allowed to go to school? Hadn’t the teacher said that Tucker was the best student she had ever taught? After long, whispered discussions it was decided that Tucker would apply for the teaching job and, if she was hired, would insist on taking her younger sister with her. They would conceal Laura’s blindness for as long as possible in the hope that, when it was discovered, it would make no difference.
Later Tucker relayed every word of the interview to Laura.
Mr. O’Donnell turned out to be a lawyer hired to recruit the women. He stood in the airless room at the hotel and talked in quick, jerky sentences, as if hurrying to get the interviews over with.
“I have been commissioned to select six ladies from Fort Smith to travel to Coopertown, California. The town was established fifteen years ago in eighteen forty-three and is located in a green valley where warm sunshine and gentle rains raise crops beyond your imagination. There are twenty unmarried men in this valley who live in comfortable cabins, some with artesian wells and established grape arbors. They want wives and have raised the money to bring them to California.”
“You mean . . . six of us can choose from twenty? I like them odds. I’ll go!”
Tucker looked around to see who was speaking. It was a plump girl with hair on her upper lip.
“There will be twenty women, plus a teacher, making this trip. Only six from Fort Smith, the rest from Texas. Mr. Cooper, the man who founded the town, thought it best to provide women from different areas, since not all the men are Texans. The train will form in Fort Worth, Texas, and be led by Mr. Lucas Steele. He will be in complete charge, and should he not be pleased with any one of you he will pay your fare back to Fort Smith.” The man was nervous, sweating, and he mopped his brow with a handkerchief. “Now I’d like to speak with each of you privately.” He motioned to the woman in the first chair, and she followed him into another room.
Tucker was almost the last woman to be interviewed. She walked into the room on shaking legs. The man looked harassed; the interviews before had obviously been trying. She sympathized with him. She wouldn’t have picked any of the women except the one with the small boy, and she looked too frail to withstand the journey.
“I’m applying for the teaching job,” Tucker announced before she sat down.
The man looked surprised. “Mr. Cooper hoped for an older, experienced teacher, but he did say that if one couldn’t be found who was willing to make the journey, a female of marriageable age would do.”
It was pure desperation that caused Tucker to say she was a twenty-four-year-old widow and had taught school. That wasn’t such a big lie, except that she was
really only nineteen. But she
had
taught the younger children at the farm. The man laid down his pencil and gave her his rapt attention, and from there on she lied brazenly.
She had gone to school until she was sixteen, she told him, and after that she had taught for two years until her marriage. Now that her husband was dead, she wanted to leave Arkansas and all her sad memories. No, she assured him, she didn’t fear the long trip to California. And yes, she was a strong, healthy woman. The lawyer looked doubtfully at her slender frame, and she was tempted to flex her muscles for him.
“Perhaps I should make something clear at this point, Mr. O’Donnell. I have a young sister and I will not leave her behind.” Tucker held her breath while she waited for his answer.
“Is she a stout, healthy child?”
“She isn’t a child. She’s . . . fourteen.” Tucker hoped her small laugh wasn’t too forced as she lied about Laura’s age.
“Give her a year or two and she’ll be of marrying age,” he said tiredly. “I don’t see any problem in taking along a girl of that age. And frankly, you are the only applicant I’ve had for the teaching job. Not many teachers want to cut loose and travel to a new, raw land. If you want the job, it’s yours. No doubt you’ll be the prettiest woman on the train and will have no trouble at all getting another husband when you get to California.” His eyes were smiling.
Tucker tried not to let her elation show. “I’m not
interested in remarrying at this time in my life. I only want a job so I can support myself and my sister.”
He pulled at the mustache that curled down on either side of his mouth. “I wish it was as simple to select the other women as it was to select the teacher. There are but two here I’d even consider sending to Coopertown,” he told her confidentially. “I’ll have to wire Lucas Steele to find the others elsewhere.” He stood and held out his hand. “I’ll be in touch with you, Mrs. Houston. You and your sister will leave on the Friday stage if you can be ready by that time.”
“We’ll be ready.” Tucker shook his hand, then walked out of the hotel, dazed that it had been so easy.
The camp stood out clearly against the skyline. It looked small out there on the prairie, the wagons scattered around a spreading oak. Tucker suddenly remembered to describe it to Laura.
“We’re almost there, Laura. The wagons aren’t the big Conestogas, but a lighter type of covered wagon. There’re a few people standing together looking this way.” She groped for Laura’s hand, to reassure herself as well as Laura. “Here comes Lucas Steele again! What are you giggling about, Laura Foster?”
“It’s the way you say it, Tucker. I can tell you’re just fit to be tied.”
“Thank goodness he’s only motioning for the driver to come around to the other end of the line. It’ll be all right with me if we don’t see him again during this whole trip.”
Tucker looked at each of the women as she passed. Some answered her smile, some waved. She saw two young children clutching their mothers’ hands and a boy who looked to be ten or twelve years old.
When the wagon stopped, Tucker jumped down
and then helped Laura. Lucas Steele was there beside them and pulled their trunk out so he could lift it down. “Lottie,” he called.
The woman who came toward them was large without being fat. She had a dark, straight-brimmed hat crushed down on her head and a black apron tied about her waist. She was plain, her face so weathered it was impossible to tell her age.
“This is Lottie, Lottie Fields,” Lucas said without ceremony. “Do as she tells you and you’ll make out all right. This is Tucker Houston and her sister Laura Foster.”
Laura murmured, “Ma’am.”
Tucker said hello in answer to the woman’s nod.
Lucas let his eyes slide over them briefly before he mounted his horse. “We’ll have a meeting after supper.”
Tucker looked after him. He was all business now. That was the way she preferred it. She turned and found Lottie looking at the way Laura was standing so patiently, holding her valise. Tucker started talking nervously.
“What do we do first, Lottie? We’re both dog-tired and hungry.”
“First we ort to get this trunk up inta the wagon.”
Tucker took one end of the heavy chest, Lottie the other. They lifted it up onto the wagon bed, and Lottie sprang up to tug it into a space that seemed to be reserved for it. Her eyes kept darting curious glances at Laura.
“Laura. Come to me, honey.” Tucker held out her
hand and Laura came toward the sound of her voice. “We’ll have to tell Lottie. I can see now that it was foolish of me not to tell Mr. Steele.” She put her arm across Laura’s shoulders. “If we can’t go to California, we’ll just have to do something else. I just bet we could get laundry work at the Fort.” They were brave words and she almost choked on them.
“Mr. Steele will let us go, Tucky. You worry too much.” Laura’s voice was soft and gentle and trusting, and Tucker wanted to cry.
Lottie jumped down from the wagon and stood with her large, work-worn hands on her hips, plainly puzzled. Tucker tried to blink back the tears, but they kept on coming.
“Laura’s blind, Lottie. I didn’t tell Mr. Steele. We need the teaching job and decided to wait until we were on our way and it would be too late for him to send us back.”
“Land-a-Goshen! If that ain’t the most outlandish thing I ever heard of. If Lucas didn’t want ya, he’d put ya on the stage and send ya back if ya was almost to Californey! He sent two outta here a’ready for havin’ a cat fight. Ya better tell ’im, that’s what ya better do.”
Tears were streaming down Tucker’s face. They were tears of weariness and frustration. She didn’t want Laura to know about them, so she forced a laugh and made her voice light.
“I’ll tell him after supper. But right now, I’m hungry as a family of buzzards.”
Laura’s fingers came up and touched Tucker’s wet cheeks.
“Lottie, can Tucker get in the wagon and have a good bawlin’ spell? She hates for anyone to see her cry.”
Lottie nodded indifferently and ambled away.
“Oh . . . you—” Tucker sputtered.
“Go on. I’ll wait right here in the shade,” Laura insisted. She took her hand from Tucker’s and waited until she heard her crawl into the wagon before she felt her way around to the side where a water barrel was attached. She stood there until she heard Lottie coming back toward her and held out her hand to stop her.
“Lottie?” she whispered. “Lottie, will you take me to Mr. Steele?”
Lottie’s big hand enfolded hers. “Come on.”
The first thing Lucas did after he left Tucker and Laura with Lottie was to ride to the supply wagon where he kept his personal belongings. He lifted out the pair of saddlebags he had stashed with his bedroll, dug into the pockets, and pulled out a bundle wrapped in doeskin. Carefully he unwrapped a small velvet box and opened it. He hadn’t looked at it for a long time. The soft leather had protected it well. The little portrait looked as bright and as fresh as it had years ago when his father had bartered it from an unsavory comanchero who said he had taken it from a dead Indian. The miniature was one of the few material things his father had left him, and Lucas had cherished it since his death.
The catlike eyes looked back at him, glowing with heady brightness, set deep and slanted beneath full, curving brows. Many a night he had lain in his bedroll and dreamed of the girl with the green eyes. He felt a twinge of something he had almost forgotten, and his dreams once more led out down the trail. Tucker Houston could almost be the woman in this portrait, the woman he felt he’d come to know and want. Her hair was brighter, her eyes greener. This woman’s face was rounder and her chin not quite so pointed. She wouldn’t have been as tall as Tucker, but her head was tilted in the same proud, defiant way. The instant he had set eyes on Tucker he had seen the resemblance and felt, in some strange way, that she should know him, too.
What had caused him to speak to her the way he had? It was as if he was compelled to provoke her, make her aware of him. He couldn’t remember ever trading sallies like that with a woman before. It was no wonder she’d taken the attitude she did. He wrapped the box and was tucking it away, almost guiltily, when Lottie came walking up with Laura.
“Lucas, the gal here wants to talk with ya.”
“Talk away.”
“Will you walk me back to the wagon, Mr. Steele?”