Frontier Courtship (19 page)

“I remember all right. You weren’t dreaming. I caught you when you started to fall and carried you till we finally found water. I didn’t think you’d mind, especially since the alternative was to sling you over a saddle like a pack.”

“That’s what Ab did to me,” Faith said. “I didn’t like it one bit, thank you. Especially with sore ribs.”

“How are you doing now? I haven’t asked lately because you weren’t favoring your side at all.”

“I hardly know I was hit. Either my ribs weren’t broken in the first place or I heal fast. Or both.” She gave him a lopsided grin. “Of course, if these were biblical times I’d say it could also have been a miracle.”

“The amazing thing is that we managed to make it this far in spite of all that’s happened,” Connell said, getting to his feet. “You rest. I’ll go see what’s keeping Irene.”

“Wait! There’s something you should know. Something that’s been nagging at me. I can’t quite put my finger on what’s wrong with Irene, but I’m sure something is. I can feel it.” Faith could tell by the look on his face he wasn’t taking her seriously.

“Intuition?”

She shook her head soberly. “More like a sense of foreboding.”

“Now you
are
imagining things.” One eyebrow arched. “As a matter of fact, Irene mentioned the same notion about you. I suspect you’re jealous of each other.”

“Over what? You? Don’t be silly. I know you’re only helping me because you got stuck with the job. And I know you’re the kind of honorable man who doesn’t make a vow unless he intends to keep it.”

She sighed, then went on, “It’s not
your
motives I’m worried about, it’s hers.”

“You don’t have to fret about Irene,” he said. “She’s as reliable as anyone I’ve ever met. I know she’s been through a lot in the past year or two but you can trust her completely. I do.”

“You trust her with your life?” Faith asked quietly, cautiously.

“Of course. And so can you.”

Nodding, she bowed her head as he walked away, waiting until he was out of earshot before whispering, “I’m afraid I’m not so sure.”

T
he trip through the high Sierras was rigorous beyond belief. By the time Faith and the others reached the western side of the range, she was in awe of any and all who had braved the difficult trek. Wrecked wagons that bespoke lost dreams and perhaps lost lives framed the steep, rutted trails and littered the canyons.

Though the sight saddened Faith it was hard for her to continue to grieve for nameless strangers when she was feeling such a sense of success. Every day for the past week she’d asked Connell, “How much longer,” and every day he’d answered, “Soon.”

Now that the higher elevations were behind them the weather was warm again, though not nearly as uncomfortable as it had been in the desert. When Connell called a halt and suggested the women bathe while he set up camp and prepared an evening meal, Faith was more than glad to oblige. Though she’d loved the comfort of her Cheyenne garb, she was ready for a change of clothes. And the doeskin was definitely ready for a scrubbing. The thought of lighter-weight calico over a cotton chemise and drawers absolutely thrilled her.

Irene remained silent and waited as Faith gathered up the dresses and personal items they’d procured back at the Humboldt Sink. Together, they made their way downstream from where Connell had placed their camp.

Without hesitation, Irene plunged into the waist-deep water, clothes and all.

“Isn’t that cold?” Faith asked.

Irene didn’t answer. Crouched down up to her neck, she was stripping off her leather garments and rinsing them in the current.

Following Irene’s sensible example, Faith waded in. Icy rivulets crept inside her leather moccasins and leggings, chilling her immediately. Shivering, she gave a high-pitched “Ooh!”

“Hush,” Irene warned. “Get down into the water, like this, and be quiet, before you draw every bandit and renegade Indian in the territories.”

That thought sobered Faith. She ducked and scanned the brushy riverbank, imagining menace in every shadow, behind every tree. “Sorry. It’s so beautiful here I forgot to be cautious.”

“Women can’t afford to forget,” Irene told her.

Faith sobered even more. “Was it very bad?”

“What?” Irene continued to tend to her washing without looking up.

“Living with savages.”

“Savages? You mean Ramsey Tucker?”

“I wasn’t referring to him, but I do see what you mean. I suppose savageness or civility is all in whatever point of view a person holds, isn’t it.”

“You are learning,” Irene said quietly.

“Do you really wish you could go back to the Cheyenne?”

Irene ducked under the running water for a moment before surfacing and swiping a hand across her eyes. “I refuse to dwell on what cannot be.”

“But what do you really want to do?”

She heaved a deep, sorrowful sigh. “If I had any choice, I’d go back to being a carefree girl in love with the young man my family befriended after his mother died. Then I’d run away with him like he wanted me to do many years ago and we’d start a new life.”

“Connell?” Faith’s throat tightened at the thought.

“Yes. We imagined we were in love. Maybe, in a childish way, we were. I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you go away with him?”

“Family obligations. I felt those came first and he had a terrible urge to see the Territories, so we were at an impasse.”

“What made you change your mind and come west?”

“My parents’ deaths, mostly. When my excuse was gone, I wrote to Connell at the last address I had for him, in Sacramento City. I never dreamed he’d still want me after all the time that had passed.”

“It’s a wonder your letter even reached him.”

“I know. I was actually surprised when he answered. He told me he was lonely, and why. So was I. It seemed the most sensible thing in the world to renew our old promise to marry.”

“And then you met Ramsey Tucker.”

“Yes.”

Again Irene ducked beneath the rippling water but not before Faith glimpsed the shimmer of unshed tears. As soon as she came up for air, Faith said, “It’s not your fault. None of this is. Tucker lied to you the same way he’s lied to my sister. He’s very accomplished at getting his way.”

“I know.”

“Maybe we can procure a settlement from him, on your behalf, when we liberate Charity.”

“Money, you mean? Oh, no. Not money.” Faith saw Irene’s eyes spark, narrow and fill with malevolence. “All I want from Ramsey Tucker is his mangy scalp. It would pleasure me greatly to lift it myself.”

“You’re not serious!”

Irene stared straight at her and said with unmistakable conviction, “Oh, yes, I am.”

Faith knew she should quote the scripture where God said vengeance belonged to Him, but she feared that if she did, Irene’s anger would focus on her as well, so she kept silent.

Irene didn’t tarry long at the river. Left alone to rue her temporary timidity, Faith prayed for greater strength, wisdom and the courage to express her faith no matter whose displeasure or what obstacles she had to contend with in doing so.

Shivering, she undid her braids and let the river rinse her hair clean the way prayer had cleansed her conscience, then climbed out and followed Irene’s example by donning the settlers’ clothing they’d brought from the abandoned wagon.

Now that they weren’t facing imminent death, Faith could think of other amenities she wished she’d had the presence of mind to pick up when she’d had the chance. Not the least of those was a hairbrush or comb.

She leaned to the side and twisted her long tresses to remove as much water as possible, then looked around for something with which to fasten her hair back. Irene had laid their Cheyenne clothing over brushy lower limbs of trees to dry before starting back up the hill toward their campsite.

Lagging behind, Faith realized she’d lost the colorful ties the young Cheyenne girl had used to hold her rolled braids in place. She was about to give up and forget about doing anything with her hair when she spied a narrow strip of beaded leather tied to a branch beside their old dresses. It was just what she needed. It was also not hers.

Faith opened her mouth to call after Irene for permission, then remembered the older woman’s sensible admonition of silence. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to borrow the decorative tie. After all, if Irene had wanted to wear it herself, she’d have done so.

Without further qualm, Faith undid the knot, slid the leather thong under her hair at the nape of her neck and tied it. Having been braided until now, her hair wasn’t as tangled as she’d expected, especially considering all she’d been through. She smiled, patting and smoothing the sides. Probably just as well she didn’t have a mirror. Some things were best imagined rather than seen.

Besides, she thought with derision, who cared what she looked like? Certainly not Connell McClain. He had Irene. If any man was a perfect match for poor Irene Wellman, it was the plainsman.

“So why does it bother me so to see them together?” Faith muttered. She started to argue the point with herself, then stopped. It was true. She knew she should be exhibiting Christian charity and thanking the Lord that her rescuer had found his betrothed, yet she couldn’t help wishing otherwise. It wasn’t the right attitude to harbor. It was simply human.

Faith smiled and muttered, “Well, well. What do you know? One character flaw after another. I guess that’s what I get for praying for more wisdom.”

Connell had a simple meal almost ready by the time Faith returned to camp. His future bride was sitting sideways on one of the saddles while he squatted by the fire, turning a makeshift spit to finish cooking a rabbit and several small game hens.

Faith grinned. “That smells wonderful. I didn’t know how hungry I was till just now.” When he looked up at her, his eyes widened and his eyebrows arched, much to her delight.

She twirled to display the calico frock. “Do you like it? It’s almost a perfect fit.”

“I’ll say.” Straightening, Connell stared. “Looks like it was made for you.”

“Maybe it was. I wish I had a proper ribbon to match.” She touched her hair and gave Irene a quick glance as she added, “This was the best I could do. I found it down by the river. I hope you don’t mind.”

Before Faith could react, Irene leaped to her feet, screeched in Cheyenne and began to claw at the beaded thong, grasping handfuls of hair with it.

Confused, Faith fought off the attack as best she could. If it hadn’t been for Connell’s intervention she might have been seriously hurt. He held the struggling Irene at bay while Faith untangled the thong and handed it back to its owner.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong.”

“You weren’t,” Connell replied. Keeping Irene at arm’s length, he stared down at her. “What was that all about?”

She twisted out of his grasp without answering, fisted the tangled tie and ran back toward the river where they’d left their Indian garments.

Rubbing her scalp, Faith turned to Connell. “I
told
you she was acting funny. Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

“No.”

In spite of his denial, Faith was certain she’d glimpsed more than concern in his expression when he’d looked at the object Irene had coveted so. Either it was of special significance by itself or it bore markings that identified it as belonging to a certain person or tribe. Possibly both, she concluded. Although their garments themselves were unique, perhaps the tie was even more so. Perhaps it had belonged to Red Deer.

Faith’s breath caught. Suddenly feeling her senses prickling in warning, she stared after Irene. What if the thong had been tied to the branch for some reason other than to dry it? What if it had been placed there as a sign, a marker for someone who was following?

That thought was so bizarre she gawked at Connell, slack jawed and speechless. There was thunder in his expression, lightning in his eyes. Could he be thinking the same thing she was? Was he finally ready to listen to reason and take precautions?

Faith closed her mouth and let it twist with sarcasm. He was already certain she was insanely jealous of Irene, which wasn’t far from the truth. Any accusation against Irene, coming on the heels of their tiff over the hair tie, would sound like nothing more than another foolish manifestation of female rivalry.

What could she do, short of knocking Connell over the head and forcing him to pay heed to her concerns?

The more she pondered all the strange things that had occurred since they’d liberated Irene, the more Faith was certain the other woman was up to something. It was beginning to look as though her rescuer was going to need someone to stand firm beside him, and there was only one person in a position to offer support. Her.

She made her way to where her saddle and gear were piled and strapped on her papa’s Colt. The holster and enormous revolver looked incongruous atop her new dress but she didn’t care. Unlike Charity, she’d decided long ago that self-preservation was far more important than fashion.

Resting a hand on the pistol grip, Faith stood straight and faced Connell, daring him to disagree with her decision to once again travel fully armed.

Instead of the argument she’d expected, he merely nodded thoughtfully and said, “Good.”

Faith watched Connell as they ate, noting his growing unease. His gaze kept darting in the direction where they’d last seen Irene as if expecting her to reappear.

Finally, Faith asked, “Do you think I should go after her and apologize?”

The plainsman shook his head. “No. She’ll come back when she’s ready.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind going.”

He got to his feet. “You stay put. Keep the fire built up. I’ll go fetch her. The last thing I need is to have both of you wandering around in the hills getting into trouble.”

“Do you think she’s in trouble?”

“Not till I catch up to her.” He sighed. “Irene’s as good at wilderness survival as I am, thanks to the Cheyenne. I’d just feel better if I knew exactly where she was.”

Faith huffed. “Me, too. I know you don’t want to hear this, especially coming from me, but I can’t help thinking she’s up to something.”

“What makes you say that?”

“No one big thing,” Faith replied. “Just lots of odd little things that don’t add up. Can you honestly say you haven’t noticed?” She saw his expression close, his eyes narrow.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Connell said flatly. He paused beside Rojo and swung his saddle onto the horse’s back. “I’m going to mount up in case she’s gone farther than the river. You keep track of Ben and the other horses. Make sure they don’t disappear while you’re sleeping.”

“Sleeping?” Faith was on her feet in a heartbeat. “Aren’t you coming right back?”

“That’s my plan, unless I have trouble finding Irene.”

“I should come with you then.”

“You’d just slow me down.”

“Thanks a heap, mister. Have I slowed you down so far?” She pulled a face. “Never mind. I know I have and I’m sorry. I just don’t feel right letting you go out there all alone.” Without conscious thought she rested her hand on the butt of the revolver, realizing belatedly that her actions were amusing him.

“I promise to let you protect me some other time,” he gibed with a cynical smile. “Right now, I want you to concentrate on looking after yourself.” Finished tightening the cinch, he swung into the saddle. “And one more thing. This river feeds straight into the American. Remember that.”

Faith frowned up at him, wondering why he felt the need to be so specific until he continued with, “You can find Beal’s Bar by sticking to the riverbank and following it downstream. Understand?”

“I understand your directions,” Faith said. “What I don’t understand is why you’re telling me this. Are you trying to scare me? Because if you are, it’s working.”

He wheeled Rojo in a tight circle while the horse pranced with eagerness. “Just stay alert. I’ll be back as fast as I can. I promise.”

“Wait!” Faith hurried closer and reached out to him. In an instant he’d bent down and lifted her off the ground, holding her close while she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly.