Colorado Courtship

“No. He refused to pay the midwife who came. He said it was her fault the baby died and he didn’t owe her one red cent. Then we moved away from there and I began to work for our keep in a boardinghouse. It gave us a roof over our heads, and so long as I could cook and clean, we had a place to live.”

“How long were you married to him?” Finn asked.

“Four years. Four long, miserable years.” She bit her lips, remembering the past months. “I thought when he brought home the deed that night, things would be different. He said we’d go to Colorado, farm the land, and he’d look for gold. The papers that came with the deed said there was a rich vein there. It was probably the first time he’d ever won such an amount in a poker game.”

“So you joined a wagon train and headed out from Saint Louis.” Finn’s voice took on a lower, gruffer note, and Jessica looked up at him.

“It didn’t take Lyle long to make that decision,” she said. “We must have been leaving the day you said you saw me, that first time. That was two months ago.” Her mind searched out the memory of that day. “I don’t remember you being there, but then, things were hectic, and Lyle was late getting our things packed up.”

“Yeah, he was busy.” Finn’s voice imbued the word with a harshness she hadn’t expected. “He tossed you on top of the wagon seat like you were a sack of oats.”

Jessica’s gaze searched his face, bewildered by the anger that tightened his jaw as he spoke. Surely he had no reason to hold such a grudge against Lyle, no matter how poorly he’d behaved. He hadn’t even known the man.

“It’s all in the past, anyway,” she said, rising and brushing down her skirts. “I survived, Mr. Carson. I’m tougher than you think.” She looked to where Jonas was walking inside the circle of wagons. “It looks like Mr. McMasters is getting ready to roll. I’ll have to go and sort out my team.”

“No, Jessica. You’ll do no such thing,” Finn told her. “Just put your dishes away and scrub out your skillet. I’ll have your team here and hitched to your wagon in fifteen minutes.” He stalked away, and Jessica was left to watch his long legs cover the ground to where the animals were staked within an enclosure.

As she watched, Gage approached the herded beasts from another direction, and he and Finn came face-to-face, obviously having words in the midst of the docile oxen. Finley Carson was not a man to cross swords with this morning, she thought as Gage cast a look in her direction, tipped his hat in a gesture of greeting and walked back to the wagon where his partners waited. The other men were already hitching up their team and Gage turned aside, tossing odds and ends of their gear inside the wagon.

Finn led Jessica’s animals toward her, his eyes seeking her out. Time was fleeting while she stood gawking, she thought, and with practiced movements, she washed out her skillet and scrubbed off her baking stone. Within ten minutes she was ready for the day, and at Finn’s bidding she climbed into the back of the wagon, reaching to take the wooden box inside for storage until they halted once more.

“You forgot your hairbrush,” he said from behind her, and she turned to see him in the rear opening, handing in the bone-handled utensil. “I’ll have to speak my mind, I think,” he said with a smile. “I like your hair that way, hanging loose down your back. It makes you look about sixteen years old.”

“I’m not sixteen,” she told him tartly. “I feel like an old woman already at twenty-four, and this morning every single year is weighing me down.” As if to refute his remark, she gathered her hair across her shoulder and separated it into three thick strands, her fingers industrious as she formed the accustomed plait she wore.

“Don’t scowl,” he said with a grin. “I’d think you’d be feeling pretty special, Jess,” he told her, the teasing note returning to his voice. “There’s a whole flock of menfolk circling you like wolves after a pretty little red deer. You’ll have your pick,” he reminded her.

“I’m not in any hurry. I have two weeks to make up my mind,” she retorted, and noted his satisfied smile as he turned away. The fact that at least two men were actively seeking her favor should have made her feel a bit more secure, she supposed. But instead, she knew an uneasy sensation that blighted her day.

Gage Morgan was a handsome man, and if she hadn’t already been approached by Finn, he might have been able to win her over, to a point where she’d consider him more seriously. As it was, Finn was crowding her, intent on cutting out the competition, and though it made her feel womanly and worthy of attention, she didn’t like it—not one little bit. For the first time in her life, she savored the feeling of making her own choices, of pondering her future and charting her course. Independence was an exhilarating thing, she decided.

After the stop for noontime, when the women brought forth cold food left from breakfast or the night before, Jessica offered Finn what was left of the rabbit stew. He forked through the bits of meat and placed several on a biscuit, then topped it with another and ate the makeshift meal while he stood beside the wagon.

“I’m sorry there wasn’t more,” she said. “Maybe Arlois Bates has leftovers to spare. Want me to ask her?” As a scout, Finn was welcomed at almost every campsite, and offered food from various kettles each night. He carried supplies in Jonas’s wagon, but rarely needed to set up a fire of his own.

“I’m fine,” Finn assured her. “I have to ride out for a while. If I see any game, I’ll bring you back something for supper. Will you mind pacing the oxen for a couple of hours?”

She shook her head quickly. “No, that’s fine. If you’ll get my burlap bag I’ll keep an eye out for chips for the fire tonight. I need to walk for a while anyway,” she told him, sliding over the back of the seat into the wagon bed. He was at the rear when she made her way through the piles of boxes and bits of furniture stacked on either side of the floor, and reached in to lift her from the canvas shelter with a total lack of ceremony. He reached back inside for the burlap sack she’d left handy.

“Here you go,” he said, and then hesitated as she grasped the heavy burlap. “I hate you having to gather buffalo chips,” he said.

“I’m healthy and able,” she told him. “I’m just lucky not to have run out of wood before this. All the other women do their share, and I’m no different.”

“That’s where we’re going to disagree,” Finn said. “You are different. In the first place, you’re going to have a baby.”

“All women have babies,” Jessica told him. “I knew when I started out from Saint Louis that this wasn’t going to be an easy trip. I’m not afraid of work, and I can certainly do my share, whether it’s picking up buffalo chips or cooking or walking with the team. As a matter of fact, the responsibility is mine—all of it.”

“Not anymore it isn’t,” Finn said gruffly. “You’re going to have a man to take care of you, Jessica. I’m planning on it being me.”

“I thought I had a choice in this,” she said smartly. “Gage Morgan is interested in me. And I’ve had several other of the men looking my way.”

“And you wouldn’t take on any of them,” Finn told her. “Maybe Morgan, in a pinch. But I’d rather you didn’t consider him, either.” His jaw was taut and his eyes blazed with an icy fire. “I want to marry you, Jessica. It isn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing with me. I’ve been committing the sin of looking at a married woman with desire in my heart for the past—”

“Stop it, Finn Carson,” she said, cutting his declaration short. “I don’t want to hear this. It makes me feel like you’ve been waiting for something to happen to Lyle so you could come courting me.”

“No, I didn’t wish him dead,” Finn told her firmly. “But I sure as hell wished he wasn’t your husband. The man didn’t deserve you, Jessica.”

She snatched at the burlap bag and stalked away, heading for the team, the pair of them standing with their heads down waiting for the signal to leave. Finn’s admission was honest, she’d give him that. And he was right—it was a sin to be looking at another man’s wife. Look what that sort of shenanigans got poor King David in the Bible.

Jessica laughed beneath her breath. She was no Bathsheba, that was for sure. But she’d be willing to bet that an offer from Finn Carson was as good as she’d ever come by in this lifetime. The man was prime. Golden hair that tempted her fingers to measure its silky length, and blue eyes that touched her with tenderness.

“Can I walk with you?” Arlois approached, her own bag in hand, and Jessica smiled a welcome.

“It looks like we’ve been given the job of gathering up tonight’s fuel for the fires,” she said, holding her own bag at arm’s length.

Arlois wrinkled her nose. “I’d think firewood would be the better choice,” she said. “I told David that handling buffalo dung was not my idea of fun, and he told me he’d give me fun after dark tonight.”

Jessica laughed softly, a yearning for the sort of happiness Arlois shared with her David sweeping over her. She’d heard their murmurs as they walked outside the circle of wagons on occasion, had noted David’s possessive gaze on his wife, had seen his hand reach for Arlois as they sat by the fire at night. They had two children, and yet there was a shine about them that made her think they still resembled newlyweds.

She’d had little of that sort of affection with Lyle. Maybe with Finn, she thought. And in her mind’s eye she could envision his hand enclosing hers, imagine his body sheltering her from the wind.

“Jessica?” Arlois peered at her. “Did I upset you, talking that way about David? I wasn’t thinking.” Her cheeks blushed crimson, as if she regretted her impetuous remark. “I forgot for a minute about Lyle…about him being gone.” She faltered and then leaned closer to hug Jessica.

“Do you miss him at all?” she asked. “I mean, I know he wasn’t a very kind man, but he was your husband—and I’m just rattling on like an idiot, aren’t I?”

Jessica stifled a laugh. “You’re not an idiot,” she said, admonishing Arlois. “And you’re right about Lyle. He wasn’t very kind to anyone, least of all me. We were married, but never close the way you are with David, or Geraldine is with Harvey.”

Arlois squeezed her tightly for a second and then stepped back. “Well then, I won’t apologize for being so blunt. I think you’d be better off with any one of the other bachelors than you were with Lyle.” She grinned. “Although I’m partial to Finn Carson, if the truth be known.” And then her eyes widened and she groaned.

“Here comes another suitor, Jessica. And this one is scary. I’m not sure what there is about Mr. Morgan, but he’s a little frightening if you ask me.” She set out at a fast pace. “I’m going to do a roundabout for a while, see if I can fill my bag and make David happy.” With a wave of her hand at the approaching horseman, she walked at an angle, joining several other women who were scanning the ground on either side of the train for fuel for tonight’s supper fires.

“Mrs. Beaumont.” Gage Morgan slid from his gelding and held the reins in one hand, then closed the gap until he walked apace with Jessica. “I thought I’d check on you and see if there’s anything I can do to lend a hand.” He gestured toward her bag. “I see you’re going foraging this afternoon. Maybe I can bring you some wood from our stockpile instead,” he offered.

“I doubt your partners would appreciate you sharing their supply,” Jessica said. “I don’t mind gathering chips.”

He nodded, as if he accepted her refusal of his offer, and then took her arm. “I made you a walking stick,” he said. “I hope you have use for it. I thought I’d ask first and then bring it by later if you like.”

She looked down at his hand, and he grimaced and released her elbow, murmuring a soft apology. “I’m sorry if I offended you,” he said nicely. “Perhaps I’ll stop by the wagon and get the stick now. It will make it easier for you, I think.”

“That’s thoughtful of you,” she said, unwilling to be rude, yet not wanting to be beholden to the man in any way. His gaze touched her again, dark and shuttered, as if he saw within her and could know her thoughts. His next words supported that theory, she decided.

“I wonder what there is about me that frightens you,” he said quietly. “I don’t think I’ve ever done anything to cause you alarm, have I?”

She shook her head. “No, of course not. I’m not easily frightened, Mr. Morgan.”

“I’m sure,” he said agreeably. “But nevertheless, I’d like to get to know you a little better, ma’am. But I don’t want to be pushy or infringe on your grief.”

Jessica met his gaze head-on. “I’m not grieving, Mr. Morgan. My marriage was not a happy one, as you have probably already guessed.” Her shoulders lifted in a shrug as she continued. “I’ve decided that life must go on, no matter what.”