Cassandra Austin Read online

  Sarah unfastened the buckets from the side of the wagon, glad River’s long legs would keep him well ahead of her. She had barely left the camp when Rice caught up with her. He took one bucket from her and hurried on, making her walk faster. “I’m sorry I’m late. Is Eli mad?” He looked over his shoulder then walked faster still.

  “I don’t know, Rice. With him it’s hard to tell. River’s gone after the wood, and he sent me for water.” To her dismay, Rice’s pace was threatening to make them catch up with River.

  “I’ll get the water,” Rice offered, taking the second bucket. “See if you can keep Eli from being mad.”

  Sarah stopped, too out of breath to argue, and watched the boy hurry away. At camp, Eli was muttering but no more than usual. She told him Rice would bring the water and went on to other duties. She had no idea how to keep the grumpy old man from being angry at Rice.

  Rice and River returned at the same time. Before Eli could do more than stand up, pointing his paring knife at Rice, River said, “Introduce me to the folks, Rice. I’ve barely met some of them. We can start with that German family.” He threw an arm over the boy’s shoulder, steering him away.

  Sarah failed to hide her amusement from Eli. “Just a clever way to get outta work, if ya ask me, which ya won’t. I suppose ya want to go, too. Well, go on. You ain’t met all these people, neither. Ain’t enough folks left for it to take long, anyhow.”

  He sat back down and resumed his potato peeling. Sarah looked at him in dismay. Eli’s voice had been loud, and Rice and River had stopped, waiting for her to join them. Rice’s eager face and River’s glower left her torn for a second. But only for a second. She waved them away.

  Supper was ready before they returned, and Sarah took advantage of the chance to look through her trunk. Somewhere there had to be something she could use to make Amy’s doll a new dress. Her supply of fabric was small, and she had plans for all of it. Dreams more than plans, she decided. It was what she hoped would get her started as a seamstress, along with taking in mending and probably laundry, as well. Surely she could part with a corner of something. She went through it all again, trying to decide what she could spare.

  “You missin’ somethin’?”

  Sarah jumped, almost knocking over the trunk. She steadied it as Eli climbed into the back of the wagon. His body blocked the light that came through the back flap. She turned up the wick on the lantern with an unsteady hand.

  “No,” she answered him. “I was just trying to decide on something.”

  “Didn’t mean to spy, but ya looked like ya’d lost somethin’.” Eli sat on a crate and showed no sign of going away.

  Sarah considered a moment and decided the truth might bore him into leaving. “I was looking for something to use to make a doll dress.”

  Eli grunted, and Sarah waited for the muttering to start. “Won’t need much to fit that shabby little doll ya was practicin’ surg’ry on yesterday.”

  Sarah almost smiled. “That’s the one,” she said. She didn’t look at him but carefully smoothed her pieces as she packed them back into the trunk.

  “Pete had a couple extra shirts.”

  Sarah stared at him in surprise. He was scratching his whiskered chin. “One was kind of a bluelike gray color. Almost new, I think, when he tore it up some. Oughta work.” He got up and moved some boxes, looking for Milburn’s personal trunk.

  There was barely enough room in the wagon for the two of them and all the things that were stored there. Sarah moved to the back and pulled the flap open further. She hoped Eli would think she was trying to give him more light. The last thing she wanted was him asking why the enclosed wagon made her so uncomfortable.

  Eli found the trunk and opened it. “Got to go through all this stuff, anyhow. Guess it’s Rice’s now, but he won’t miss the shirt.” He found what he was looking for and closed the trunk, carrying the shirt to Sarah. As he handed it to her, he asked in a lowered voice, “Where’d you know River from?”

  Sarah was so startled she was sure she jumped again. “I...I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered.

  They heard Rice’s voice and River’s laugh. In a few seconds they would be at the fire. She clutched the shirt and wondered if its price was information.

  After watching her a moment, Eli said, “Don’t matter,” and climbed out of the wagon.

  Sarah stayed behind, closing her trunk and putting the shirt and her sewing box where she could get to them easily. Last, she blew out the lantern and, hoping she looked calmer than she felt, left the wagon.

  The others had already filled their plates, and Sarah did the same, looking for a place to sit away from them. She needed time to think, to decide what to do about Eli.

  “Sit here, Miss Sarah,” Rice called, and she had no choice but to sit near him, near River.

  “River said he didn’t see no sign of Indians today, did you, River?”

  Sarah tried to give the boy her full attention without looking at River. She heard River’s negative response and looked quickly at her plate.

  “But we might see some Pawnee anytime,” Rice added, making sure Sarah knew he had his facts straight.

  “Could.” There was humor in the familiar voice, and Sarah couldn’t resist looking up to see the face. He was trying not to smile as he continued to eat his meal, but there was merriment in his eyes as he gave the boy a sidelong glance. “You been scaring Miss Sarah with Indian stories?”

  His eyes met Sarah’s, and she held them for a moment before she turned to Rice, pretending her heart wasn’t beating alarmingly fast. Were those blue eyes alone enough to cause it? Or was it fear that sent her pulse racing? Even now, she was sure Eli watched her.

  “I told Miss Sarah there wouldn’t likely be trouble but we are in Pawnee territory.”

  “It’s Pawnee territory as long as they can keep it,” Eli put in. “There’s gonna be more folks who ain’t satisfied to just pass through. Like that Hollenberg fella.”

  River chewed his food thoughtfully. “Now, some folks would say that anybody who can manage to take it from the Indians has a right to it. Maybe our Miss Sarah, here, would agree with that.”

  Sarah looked up to see the blue eyes on her, all humor in them gone. She heard Eli grunt; he didn’t expect an answer. But River did. They both knew he wasn’t talking about Indian land. Did he think she would offer some excuse in front of all these people? An admission of guilt? An apology? She felt her face turn red with anger. It took an effort to pull her eyes away from his piercing gaze.

  “Excuse me,” she murmured. She rose and carried her plate to the lead wagon. She didn’t want to go back and sit with the others; she needed a little time alone. Slowly she stepped around the wagon, letting it block the firelight. The prairie was lit by the sunset’s pale afterglow. The air away from the fire was crisp and clear. She let it cool her burning cheeks.

  River watched Sarah leave the camp. He felt a twinge of guilt and fought against it. She had made herself so damn comfortable with Eli and Rice that he felt like an outsider. He couldn’t resist the opportunity to remind her that he knew who she really was.

  Still, it could be dangerous to wander away from the wagons. He took his plate to the back of the wagon and looked for Sarah without appearing to, he hoped. She was standing a short distance away, looking at the stars.

  He grabbed his saddlebags and walked back to the firelight, choosing a different seat, one where he could see Sarah through the gap between the wagons. “Rice, let me see your hat,” he said.

  “What for, River?” Rice asked. The anticipation in the youth’s eyes told River he could make a guess, however.

  “Well,” River began as he lifted an odd bundle from his bag, “you know the doctor’s wife, Prudence? She was stomping around the camp one night when she let out this horrible scream.”

  “A snake,” Rice whispered, watching as the cured skin appeared from River’s bundle. River handed him the rattle and he rolled it in his finger
s reverently.

  River glanced at Sarah once more before he began folding the skin to hatband width. “I didn’t know it was a snake at first. I was just glad she wasn’t screaming at me. When she paused for a breath, we heard the rattle. I didn’t think she was going to stand still for more than a second or two. In fact there was real danger that she’d faint away right on top of the snake. Hold this.” He handed the hat to Rice while he searched his bag for his sewing kit. He glanced toward the wagons. Sarah had moved.

  For a moment he was torn between finishing Rice’s hat and going after Sarah. He told himself he was being ridiculous. There were things a person needed privacy to do; he couldn’t go crashing after her.

  “What happened?” Rice asked, drawing his attention.

  River cut a length of heavy thread and threaded it on a needle before he spoke. “I decided speed was the most important thing under the circumstances, and I jumped right on the snake.”

  “Wrestled with it for nigh on an hour, I suppose,” Eli interjected. The other two ignored him.

  “My boot heel came down just behind its head. I grabbed my knife and...” He made a slicing motion with his hand.

  “Did Mrs. Carroll faint?” Rice asked.

  “Nah,” River said. They read each other’s disappointment and laughed.

  River looked up in time to see Sarah step over the wagon tongue. She hadn’t made any sound that he could identify. It was as though he had felt her return. He was much more relieved to see her than he wanted to admit.

  Rice drew his attention back to his project by rattling the tail. River took several lengths of the thread and fastened one end to the seam at the back of the hatband. As Rice handed him the rattle, he spoke again. “I thought Ernest might faint when he saw me skinning the snake. He thought I planned to eat it, at first. Seems he’d seen my hatband but had never recognized it for what it was.”

  “Did ya?” Eli asked.

  “Did I what?” River winked at Rice as he handed him the hat.

  “Did ya eat the snake?”

  River glared at Eli for a moment, conscious that Sarah was watching him. “I thought about smoking it overnight just for you, but I was afraid it’d turn up in my supper if I did.”

  * * *

  It was early afternoon the next day when River found the perfect campsite. This was beautiful country, and the place he had chosen was shaded by oak and cottonwood. Willows grew near the swift clear stream. He turned his mount and set an easy pace toward the train. They would reach this site in about two hours, maybe less. It would be early to make camp, but everyone could use the rest.

  The day before, the train had made its way across the hills from the Big Sandy to the Little Blue River with no water between but what they had stored in their barrels. It had been a long day, and he had had to push them until nearly dark in order to get to the river.

  It’s what Milburn would have done. The thought came suddenly and made him smile. And I would have been the first to argue with him. He missed Milburn more than he would ever admit to Rice or Eli, but Eli had been right. The people of the train trusted him and followed his instructions.

  Even Ernest and Prudence were causing him less trouble, now that they were with the larger train and River was officially in charge. Of course, they were easier to avoid with more people around.

  Dr. Carroll had come to Eli’s fire during supper the night before to report that his wife and brother were unhappy about traveling so late. The good doctor sat and drank two cups of coffee before he mentioned it.

  “Well, you can go back and tell ‘em you complained,” Eli had told him cheerfully.

  River grinned at the recollection. The grin didn’t last. Also at the fire had been Sarah. Avoiding her wasn’t as easy as he had thought. Because of the communal nature of trail life, they virtually lived together.

  At camp she was always with Eli, and sometimes he simply had to talk to Eli. During the day, she was with Rice, and River found himself avoiding his friend because of Sarah.

  What kind of lies is she telling the boy? he wondered. He had seen her charm work before, and Rice certainly was taken with her. He toyed with the idea of separating them by asking Eli to take her on his wagon, but how would he explain? He had promised to keep her secret, and he would, but that promise would last only as long as hers did. If I get one hint that she’s up to something, he vowed, Rice and Eli get the whole story.

  The train had come into view, and River put spurs to his horse to reach them. He pulled up at the lead wagon. “About three miles ahead is a clearing where the river turns left.”

  Eli squinted at him. “It’ll be a little early to stop, won’t it?”

  “Yeah, maybe. We put in a hard day yesterday. I, for one, could use a rest.”

  “Won’t never get nowhere restin’.”

  River knew to expect that kind of comment from Eli, but it irritated him, anyway. “It’s a good camp, old man. Don’t argue with me.”

  Eli cracked the whip over the backs of the oxen and muttered, “A body can’t express himself without bein’ accused of arguin’.”

  River refused to feel guilty. “I need to talk to Rice,” he said, pulling on the reins.

  “Wait!”

  River rode beside Eli again.

  “Been meaning to ask ya somethin’,” Eli began. “Where do ya know Sarie from?”

  River managed his most carefree shrug. “What makes you think I know her?”

  “Ain’t sure why I think so, just do.” He thought on it and added, “She watches ya.”

  River laughed. “Eli, lots of women watch me.” He pulled up on the reins and let the wagon move ahead. He could hear Eli, calling after him or talking to himself, River couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t going to bother to find out.

  In a few minutes, he was riding beside Rice’s wagon. The boy greeted him with a friendly hail. “We stopping early tonight?” Rice asked.

  “You read my mind. Found a spot so pretty we can’t pass it by.”

  “Miss Sarah’s been asking me about Fort Kearny. I told her it’s the second Fort Kearny. That right, River?”

  “That’s right. They moved it farther west to be more help to the emigrants.”

  This was at least the second time River had heard the boy ask to have his facts verified. Wondering if Sarah had been doubting him, he glanced at her, something he had been trying to avoid. She watched Rice fondly, which in itself worried him. He would have to talk to Rice alone, to warn him about Sarah.

  He heard Rice thank him yet again for the hatband and realized he had watched Sarah too long. He told Rice to thank Prudence Carroll for finding the snake and excused himself, pulling up a short distance from the road to watch the wagons file by. Instead, he found himself looking after the second wagon, wondering what was going on in Miss Sarah Tanton’s head.

  That night he found his chance to talk to Rice alone. He joined the boy as he took the oxen to water and offered to help.

  “I don’t need help with the stock.”

  “I know you don’t, Rice.” River walked beside him. “I hardly see you anymore. How about practicing that running mount after supper?”

  His face brightened then fell. “Miss Sarah asked me to read to her.”

  River eyed the boy suspiciously. “Can’t Miss Sarah read?”

  “‘Course she can read!” Rice laughed. “She just likes me to read to her while she sews. She can’t read and sew at the same time!”

  They let the oxen wade into the stream. “It’s early. Maybe you can read to her after we ride.”

  Rice shook his head. “Maybe, but I can’t read after dark.”

  River felt a wave of frustration. “You can’t ride after dark, either.”

  Rice looked at his friend, his eyes serious. “I don’t want to disappoint her. She don’t ask much.”

  River knew what he was about to say was in no one’s best interest except his own, but he couldn’t help himself. “Did it ever occur to you that she’s ju
st tricked you into doing some lessons?”

  Rice grinned. “Yeah.”

  River wanted to swear and wasn’t sure why. He had suggested the trick riding because he felt guilty about avoiding the boy. When Rice turned him down, he should have felt relieved. Instead, he was jealous. He told himself it was because he didn’t—couldn’t—trust Sarah Tanton. God alone knew what she wanted with Rice. A way to get to him, perhaps? He had to warn the boy.

  “Look, Rice. Don’t get too fond of Miss Sarah.”

  Rice looked startled. Suddenly he seemed to understand and laughed. “I don’t like her that way. Not like I like the von Schiller girls. I know she’s too old, but she’s awful nice.” He waded into the river and herded the stock back up the bank.

  River sighed and fell into step beside him. “That’s not what I meant. She’s...” He struggled for a word to describe her without giving away their common past. “There’s something funny about her. I don’t trust her.”

  Rice looked at him sideways. “You just don’t know her like I do. She’s kinda shy. ‘Specially around you.” The boy gave his older friend a conspiratorial wink. “I think she likes you.”

  River stopped dead in his tracks. Rice led the oxen to the herd, and River looked after him. Finally he shook his head and stomped back to the wagons. There’s no talking to him, he thought. She’s got him completely fooled!

  When he rounded the wagon, the first person he saw was the object of his wrath. He knew he should take a few minutes to cool down, but she was alone, and who knew when that would happen again. Sarah looked up from the fire she was building, and he saw apprehension in her eyes before she looked away. He watched her for a moment. “What do you want from Rice?”

  It seemed she was going to ignore him. He fought the urge to take her by the shoulders and shake her. He stepped closer, ready to repeat the question. She stood slowly, and he thought there was the shadow of fear on her face. But there was something else, as well. Sorrow? Desperation?

  “I don’t want anything from him,” she whispered. “Or you.”