Colorado Courtship

“My parents washed their hands of me when I married Lyle,” she admitted. “Well, not actually right then, but later, when he’d stolen from my father’s company.” She looked up at Finn, hoping he would understand why she’d chosen Lyle over the mother and father who had loved her so.

“I’d promised to stay with him, for better or worse,” she said finally.

“And it only got worse, didn’t it?” His mouth had lost all traces of his usual good humor during their exchange and his eyes seemed to lose the sparkle she was wont to see in their depths. His hands touched hers and the bowl she held was lowered to sit on the ground at her feet, leaving her fingers free to twine with his.

“I’ve tried, especially on this trip, not to let others know how bad it was,” she said with a sigh.

“Most of those who traveled nearby your wagon knew you were being abused during the last weeks,” Finn told her, and she swallowed a protest. As though he read her mind, he nodded, a firm movement of his head. “There was no hiding the way he spoke to you, Jessica. And more than once you wore bruises.

“It was all I could do not to shoot him myself,” he admitted. “Jonas told me to stay out of it, that if you wanted help, then it would be time enough to interfere.”

“Lyle was difficult,” she said, looking down to where Finn clasped her hands in a grip so firm she thought she might never be turned loose from his hold. “You can let go of me,” she told him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not without me, anyway,” he said fervently. “From now on you’ll be mine to protect, Jess.”

“I haven’t said—”

“Look at me,” he said, cutting off her words with a wave of his hand. And then as if he saw something in her expression that made him hesitate, he only smiled. “Later on,” he said quietly. “We’ll talk after a while, when we’ve eaten and taken care of the bath detail down at the stream.”

She nodded, willing to set aside their discussion. Pewter bowls from the keg made an appearance within moments, and Jessica lifted the lid from the kettle a bit, peeping beneath to check on the dumplings. “I think they’re almost done,” she told him.

“I’ll wash up,” he said, reaching for the basin that hung on a hook beneath her wagon. “There’s fresh water on the water wagon, Jess. I’ll pour some in your barrel.”

She nodded, shooting him a smile of thanks. “All right. I’m beginning to run low.”

“We’ll fill all the barrels in the morning. Jonas said there’ll be time for the ladies to do their washing before we head out again and cross the stream. We’ll go upstream and make sure we dip clean water while the women get lines strung and scrub their clothes. We may be here for another full day.”

She sighed in anticipation of a day spent doing the small bits and pieces of household chores that would allow her to stay in one place, and then volunteered a bit of help in his direction.

“You’re doing so much for me, Finn. Let me do your washing tomorrow, why don’t you?” she offered. “It’s the least I can do in return for your hard work on my behalf.” He considered her for a moment, then nodded agreement before he turned away.

Her gaze remained on him as he headed for the water wagon, heard the murmur of his voice as he spoke to someone while he poured water from a bucket into her basin, and then watched as he returned. The man moved with a natural grace, she thought, his stride long, his shoulders wide, and his body lean and honed.

For so long a time she’d made certain not to look at another man, lest she set Lyle into a temper tantrum. It was no wonder she’d paid no attention to Finn during the early weeks of the trip west. Her instincts were for self-preservation, and one glance from her eyes toward anyone wearing trousers was all the excuse Lyle would have needed to punish her for her lapse.

Now, she thought with a sense of freedom, she could look at Finn Carson all she pleased. And it did please her, she admitted to herself. She had the right to pick and choose who she would speak with, the privilege of walking beside another woman, passing the time of day, should that be her inclination.

She turned back to the fire and lifted the lid of the kettle with a folded towel, setting it aside with care, lest she burn herself. Her large serving spoon held a dumpling and over-flowed with gravy and meat as she turned it out into a bowl. Another scoop of the spoon added a potato, bits of onion and more gravy.

“Looks good,” Finn said, standing at her elbow, waiting to take the bowl from her.

He sat by the fire and watched her as she served the second bowlful and then joined him, easing to the ground with care, accepting his hand for balance as she settled beside him.

They ate in silence, broken only when Finn rose to serve himself another bowlful of the stew and offered her seconds. She shook her head, and he nodded, settling down beside her again, only to nudge her with his elbow as he pointed to where two little boys ran back and forth, chasing a dog between the wagons.

“I’ve always wanted a dog,” she said as she scooped up the final bite from her bowl. “Lyle said they weren’t worth the food it takes to keep them alive.”

“I’ll get one for you if you like,” Finn told her. “But probably not until we get to the end of this trip. Hell, you can have two of ’em, if it’ll make you happy, Jess.”

She laughed aloud in delight, and then quickly placed her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. “I can’t believe I did that,” she whispered. “I’m supposed to be in mourning, Finn. One day a widow and already I’m carrying on as if I’d never been married. Let alone the fact that I’m to have a child.” She smiled at him. “If you can get a pup, I’d appreciate it. And I’ll try to be more circumspect in my behavior. No more cutting up and carrying on.”

She felt the same weightless sensation she’d noticed earlier. “It’s almost as if I’m set free, Finn. As if the bars have been removed and I’m no longer a prisoner.”

“Well, you’ve about got that right,” he told her flatly. “After what you put up with, no one would blame you if you had spit on the man’s grave.”

“Oh, I doubt that would have gone over very well,” she said quietly. “There are a couple of the ladies who don’t seem to approve of me. Even at the graveside, one gave me a long look and sniffed, as if I smelled really bad.” Her eyes sought his, and she felt the old sense of loneliness creep closer as she spoke words that saddened her yet filled her with a new resolve. “I think they’d like to see me leave the train at Council Grove.”

Finn snorted and shook his head. “A pretty woman is always vulnerable to gossip,” he said. “And you’re the prettiest female around. Some women can’t help but keep a tight rein on their menfolk. Maybe they think you’re a threat to them.” He shot her a quick look. “And then there’s the single men, most of them needy—some of them really looking for a wife. Why do you suppose the vultures are circling? We’re all hoping you’ll give one of us the nod.”

“Is that so?” She took his bowl and stacked it in hers, then rose to clear up the remains of their supper.

He watched, relaxing for a few minutes, enjoying the sight of her graceful movements, the elegant line of her profile and the prospect of having her walk beside him to the bank of the stream a bit later on. “Harv said once Geraldine got their girls settled down for the night, we’d go to the stream for our baths,” he said quietly. “I see her scrubbin’ them up right now, and Harv’s cleaning up their supper dishes.”

“I won’t be long,” Jessica told him. “I’ll just need to clean my kettle out first.” She emptied the remains of the stew into a quart jar and set it aside, then poured clean water into the black container, sloshing it around before she dumped it on the far side of the wagon. Again she poured a portion of clean water into it and set it over the fire to heat.

The bowls went into it, along with the spoons and the mixing dish she’d used earlier. Finn watched, a comfortable sensation flooding him as she methodically did her evening chores. She would wash everything in a few minutes, adding soap and using a rag to clean every surface. He’d watched her from the shadows more than one evening as she organized her campsite, aware of the aura of loneliness surrounding her. Lyle had not invited the friendliness of others, and Jessica had suffered for it.

Now she looked up, smiling as Arlois approached, towel in one hand, a bundle of clothing in the other. “We’re about ready to walk to the stream,” she said. “Geraldine said she’d be ready in five minutes, and a couple of the others are coming along. Can I help you, Jessica? I’ll climb in your wagon and find your towel and nightgown and wrapper if you like.”

“Would you?” Jessica answered. “I’d appreciate it. I try not to hoist myself up over those boards any more often than I have to lately.”

His own towel and change of clothes were ready at the back of Jonah’s wagon and Finn sauntered in that direction, nodding at Arlois as he walked past her. “You and your wife going along?” he asked another of the men, and received a nod. He felt a part of the group in a different way tonight, he realized, aware that it was because of Jessica, because of her tentative acceptance of him as a suitor.

Glancing back to where she stood with Arlois, he caught her gaze and knew a moment of revelation. Limned in the light of the fire behind her, she seemed an almost unearthly figure. And wasn’t that a strange thought.

For the space of just a few seconds he was back in Saint Louis, watching as an unknown female stood by a covered wagon and then was tossed with uncaring hands to sit atop the seat. Her eyes had met his for only a moment then, her nod a polite response to his own.

And with an ironic twist of fate, she’d been destined to be the one woman he must pursue in order to avenge Aaron’s death. Marrying her would only solve part of the problem, he admitted to himself silently. If she found, somewhere down the road, that he’d courted her in order to gain possession of Aaron’s deed, she would turn from him in anger and disgust. He would lose her trust should his motives be revealed.

One day, he would tell her the whole story, one day when their marriage was secured and he’d had time to prove himself to her. And if she turned from him then, he would kick himself for keeping the secret from her.

Finn clenched his jaw. It couldn’t be helped. Blood had been shed, and Aaron’s death must not be in vain. Jessica was an innocent bystander, but that fact couldn’t be considered now. Of primary importance was possession of the piece of paper that had caused Aaron’s death. No matter the cost, he would possess the deed, and Aaron would be avenged.

The group assembled quietly in the darkness, whispering among themselves lest children sleeping in the wagons be disturbed. Finn walked beside Jessica, lifting her hand to rest on his bent arm as he led her toward the stream. Around them several couples walked, the women clinging to their menfolk, almost as if this were a celebration of sorts.

“I feel as if we’re going to a party,” Geraldine Littleman said in an undertone as she and Harv caught up with Jessica’s slower stroll. “I’m so tired of that wagon seat and walking in the dust, it’ll be almost fun to wash clothes tomorrow morning.”

“I hope you’ll be feeling the same way when I bring you my things,” Finn said in a low voice, his head bending until his mouth almost touched Jessica’s ear.

She smiled at his words, glancing up at him, her fingers squeezing his forearm. Words didn’t seem to be necessary, she thought, enjoying the darkness, the murmurs of the men and women who surrounded them. Just ahead was the stream, its banks lined by shrubbery, shaded by darkness that spread its cover beneath the low branches of willows that fought for space beside the water.

The men stayed at a distance while the women sought the shallow stream. “I’m glad Mr. Carson brought you along,” Geraldine said as she dropped her bundle on the stream bank. “You looked so tired today, Jessica. Not that it wasn’t expected, after all that happened yesterday.”

Besides Arlois, of all the other females on the train, she’d been drawn to the young mother. She’d watched during the evenings as Geraldine’s two young daughters wrote their sums and then begged for stories from the precious books that held a place of honor in their wagon.

“Mr. Carson was thinking of you, I’ll warrant, when he walked around to the campfires, recruiting the bunch of us to come along for bathing tonight,” Geraldine said with a chuckle as the women stripped quickly from their clothing. “I think he has eyes for you, Jessica.”

“You think so?” she asked, thankful for the darkness that hid her rosy cheeks. Her dress lay around her ankles and now her underwear followed. “I’m amazed that any man would be interested in a woman who’s carrying another man’s child,” she said quietly, catching her breath as she skimmed her stockings off. She bent to tuck them into the bundle she’d made of her dress and petticoat, and then straightened, glancing over her shoulder to where tall figures were shadows in the moonlight.