Eirica glared at James, who went about setting up her tent with a tuneless whistle. His cheerfulness made her long to march over and demand he stop, but she swallowed her pride. What else could she do? Aside from truly being tired from the long day, she’d learned during the past month it did little good to argue or protest when James decided on a course of action.
James Jones was too used to taking charge. She just wished he’d listen to her, consider her wishes, but like most males, he didn’t think her serious, thought he knew best. And maybe he was right, but it hurt that he ignored her.
Turning away from him, she removed the Dutch oven from the fire and checked the bread. It was done, so she pulled it from the pan and set it out to cool. Then she put a pot of water over the hot coals for some tea. Minutes later, she sat on the wagon tongue, stretching her swollen feet out before her and cradling a tin cup of sweetened tea in her hands. Though she had a few precious minutes to sit and enjoy the peace, her growing debt to the Jones family, in particular to James, left her too edgy and restless to relax. Being a burden to others weighed heavily on her conscience.
Eirica understood the hardships of the trail, had witnessed the fate of women forced to continue alone after the loss of their fathers, husbands or children. So many women struggled with no help from their wagon train. If they fell behind, they were left to fend for themselves.
Eirica knew she could so easily have been in the same position if not for the generosity of James and his willingness to share his wagon and supplies. He’d made it possible for her to leave her husband and strike out on her own. Birk had made it very clear during their marriage that everything they owned belonged to him, that if she ever left him, it’d be with the clothes on her back and nothing more. Of course, he’d never thought she’d actually leave. Her lips thinned. She’d proved him wrong.
At least she had her wagon and supplies back, though Birk had nearly lost them when he’d tried crossing the river alone. Unwilling to think about him or what he’d put her through, Eirica gnawed on a hard-as-rock biscuit while slanting James a look from the corner of her eye.
She had to admit it felt heavenly knowing someone cared enough to step in and do what needed to be done—but that was the problem. Her growing dependence on James and the others scared her. Once they reached Oregon, they’d all go their separate ways and she’d be left to survive as best she could.
For her own peace of mind, she had to know she could be self-sufficient, physically and emotionally. It was time to stand up for herself, and stop relying on others, including James. But how to tell him without offending him or hurting his feelings? How could she make him understand how important her independence was to her?
Alison and Lara ran past, begging James to let them help. Watching him with her girls, she admired his patience at the small hands that hindered more than helped. The sight of the genuine affection between him and her daughters tugged her heartstrings, forcing Eirica to fight harder her growing attraction to him—another source of worry plaguing her mind and heart. His kindness and gentleness touched her, tempted her to reach out and take what he offered.
How could any woman not be drawn to this fine man? She shifted so she could watch him without craning her neck. He’d stopped working to roll up his sleeves, revealing tanned arms dusted with thick, dark, curly hair. Her gaze continued downward to skim long legs encased in faded and worn denim pants that fit snugly over narrow hips. Noting the holes in the knees, she made a mental note to mend them on the next wash day as a way to repay her debt.
Her attention slid back up his long, lean frame to his hair, black and silky-looking, falling in soft waves past his collar. The breeze ruffled the gently curling ends like a woman’s fingers. When he reached up to steady a pole, his flannel shirt pulled taut. Muscles rippled from one side of his back to the other. A tiny quiver of appreciation darted through her. James was a man in his prime. He wasn’t pretty-boy handsome like Coralie’s brother Elliot but more rugged, earthy.
Staring at him, it was apparent he’d spent his days outdoors in the sun, wind and rain, even before heading west. A fine form such as his didn’t happen overnight.
James chose that moment to glance over his shoulder. He caught her staring at him and had the audacity to grin, revealing strong white teeth in stark contrast to his darkly tanned face. The lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled with hidden amusement and the two grooves etched on either side of his mouth deepened. Her breath quickened. Unlike most other men on the trail, he kept his face shaved, revealing a square jaw that warned of a stubborn nature.
But oh Lord, that face of his. How had she managed so far not to be affected by the sheer beauty of it? He held her gaze with his own. Heat seared her cheeks. Flushed, Eirica glanced away, her breathing quickening. He could have any woman he wanted. So why her? She wasn’t worthy of someone like James. She was too damaged, too worn in mind and body. But how to convince him that she wasn’t interested? How to convince herself she wasn’t interested!
Part of her rebelled, hating the thought of him with someone else, but knew it was best for him to turn his attentions elsewhere; Eirica could not allow herself to ever fall in love again. Though he was gentle and patient, he, too, would eventually consider only his own needs. The fact that he refused to listen to her sat like a lead ball in her stomach. He was just a man—a man like all others—and men weren’t to be trusted, not even nice, handsome ones like James.
Though James wasn’t mean like Birk, he would expect to dominate his wife and children. He was too used to being in charge, and she could never put herself under the dominance of another mate, especially one with the same tendency to override her wishes, as he was doing now with the tent. It didn’t matter that he believed he was doing her a favor.
In fact, that made him even more dangerous in her eyes, for Birk had been just as sweet and kind when they were courting. He’d won her over with fistfuls of wildflowers, store-bought gifts, sweet words and sweeter compliments followed by declarations of undying love. Eirica had believed she’d found her knight in shining armor, her hero, someone who’d love and cherish her forever.
How wrong and so very, very foolish she’d been. Heroes didn’t exist outside the pages of some stupid books. As soon as Birk had what he’d wanted from her—someone to cook, clean and take care of all his needs—he’d revealed his true nature, one he’d carefully hidden from her during their courtship. It had only taken that first night alone with him to have her dreams of love, romance and happily-ever-after crushed.
Hunching over as if in pain, Eirica’s eyes burned with remembered humiliation and terror of those first weeks of marriage. But she was wiser now. She knew better than to believe a man’s promises of love and devotion. She’d learned her lesson, but the suppressed need to be swept off her feet lingered, reminding her of the innocent and naive girl she’d once been. Troubled, her fingers smoothed the material of her bodice over the worst of her scars.
Taking deep, slow breaths, Eirica calmed herself, forced her hands back into her lap. She wouldn’t think about the past. With effort, she shoved the painful memories back into the dark recesses of her mind. Needing activity to keep the haunting nightmares at bay, she struggled to her feet and walked slowly to the back of her wagon, rubbing the tightening skin of her abdomen. She couldn’t help stealing one last look at James.
How she longed to be proven wrong, longed to find true love, but the stakes were just too high. It was time to face reality. She was a widowed woman with three children, and soon she’d give birth to number four. With so much to be done to prepare for an infant, she didn’t have the energy or time to waste on wishing for what could not be.
She peered inside the wagon, found the small, beat-up trunk that contained baby clothes and quilts. But it rested against the side, just out of reach, with heavy sacks of flour and rice piled around it. She frowned. Now what? She couldn’t climb into the wagon anymore. With a sigh, she glanced over her shoulder and saw that James was finished setting up her tent. He was deep in conversation with his brother Jordan. She hesitated to interrupt, hating to ask anything else of him, yet she had no choice.
But before she could go to him, the two men walked away with Jordan leading his horse.
Eirica planted her hands on her hips. “Bother!”
“What’s up, Eirica?”
Shifting her stance to face the woman who’d come up behind her, Eirica smiled. “Hi, Coralie,” she greeted the pretty blonde girl, then motioned in the direction of the two men. “Your husband just left with James.”
“Yeah, he has first watch tonight, which means I’m stuck helping Jessie and Rook cook.”
Jordan and Coralie had married days before setting out for Oregon. Eirica remembered Coralie’s first few weeks on the trail. The newest Jones family member hadn’t been at all enamored of outdoor life and hadn’t hesitated to let everyone know. She’d been spoiled, petulant and nearly impossible to be around. But slowly she’d changed, matured into a caring woman.
Eirica shaded her eyes and glanced around. “Is Jessie already helping Rook?”
Coralie grimaced. “Probably. As I should be. Do you need her?”
“No,” she sighed. “It can wait. I planned to go through the baby clothes I brought with me tonight. Figured they might need airing and some mending, but I can’t climb into the wagon to get them.” She patted her belly.
Scoffing, her friend stuck her nose in the air. “You don’t need Jessie for that. I can get them just as well. Where are they?” She clambered into the back of the wagon after adjusting the skirts of her beige wash-day-length calico dress.
Eirica hid her smile at Coralie’s obvious need to compete with Jessie. She pointed out the small trunk. Sisters by marriage, Jessie and Coralie were as different as night and day. Jessie was a tomboy skilled in the outdoors and Coralie a city-bred lady spoiled by her father. The two had started the trip as mutual nemeses, but their longstanding feud had finally come to an end, leaving Eirica free to enjoy both her new friends, their easy banter and now-friendly rivalry.
“Here we go. See?” Coralie gave one final pull and fell back on her bottom, puffing and panting. “We don’t need Jessica for this.” Wearing a pleased grin, she hopped down from the back of the wagon, then swayed.
“Coralie!” Concerned, Eirica reached out and grabbed the girl’s arm. “Are you all right?”
Coralie leaned against the wagon and closed her eyes briefly while fanning her cheeks with her hands. “I’m fine. Just a bit dizzy.”
“Dizzy?” Eirica frowned, then did some fast calculations. “Have you been dizzy before, I mean, recently?”
Coralie lowered her voice to a mere whisper. “I haven’t said anything to Jordie because I don’t want him to worry, but I’ve been feeling sick and am so tired. I’m so afraid I’m going to take ill and die.” She closed her eyes. Tiny tears clung to her lashes.
Her own problems forgotten, Eirica put her arm around the younger woman’s narrow shoulders. “Coralie, when was your last flow?”
Coralie’s gaze flew open, clouded with confusion. “My last—” Understanding dawned in her baby-blue eyes. Her gaze went wide first with shock, followed by disbelief, then absolute joy.
“I haven’t paid it much attention out here, traveling each day. It’s been a couple of months, I think.” She paused, grabbing Eirica’s fingers tightly. “Oh, Eirica,” she breathed, “you don’t suppose—could I be with child?” Her hushed voice tingled with suppressed excitement.
Laughing, Eirica hugged her. “Don’t think there’s any supposing about it. Looks like you’re going to be a mama.”
As sudden as it had come, Coralie’s joy fled and a look of horror washed over her features. “I can’t be with child. I don’t know how to be a mother. I’ve never even tended a baby. How will I know what to do? I can’t do this.” Her voice rose and ended in a panicked squeak.
Eirica rolled her eyes. This was the Coralie Eirica knew well. Overemotional and melodramatic. “Calm down, Coralie. You’ll do just fine.”
Seeing that her words didn’t reassure her, Eirica put her hand on the other woman’s shoulders. “Look, my baby is due in a month. You’ll have plenty of time to learn how to diaper, bathe, hold and care for an infant. I’ll show you everything and you can help me and practice.” She lifted the lid of the trunk. “By the time yours is born, you’ll be a pro, and I even have lots of baby clothes for you to use—”
Eirica’s voice trailed off abruptly. An odor of rot filled the air and made her gag. “Oh no,” she moaned, staring at the mildew-covered baby things in disbelief. She lifted out what had once been a tiny white gown. It was now black with a hole through it where the material had rotted.
“The dampness from all those storms got into the trunk.” Eirica pulled out layer after layer of moldering cotton. “They’re all ruined.” Even the tiny blankets and quilts on the bottom were covered with holes and black dots of mold.
Coralie covered her mouth, obviously fighting the urge to gag. She moved away. “Oh, Eirica, how terrible. What are you going to do? Will you have time to sew more before the baby comes?”
Feeling the weight of responsibility return to sag on her shoulders, Eirica blinked back tears of helplessness. “I don’t have any material. Birk wouldn’t let me buy any to bring. I was counting on these lasting until I reached Oregon.” She bit her lip and just stared at the ruined layette.
Coralie patted Eirica on the arm. “We’ll figure out something. I have some material from Pa’s store that he insisted I bring, even though he knows I can’t sew. We can see if there’s anything there you can use.”
Hearing a shout across the way, Coralie glanced over her shoulder and grimaced when Jessie motioned her over. “Guess it’s time to start cooking. Those hired hands of Wolf’s are worse than a swarm of locusts. I swear, they’d eat their tin plates if they could.”
Standing, she awkwardly patted Eirica on the shoulder then hurried over to where Jessie and Rook were busy preparing supper.
Eirica closed her eyes, unable to face the prospect of sorting through the ruined clothing. She thought of Coralie’s offer of material and just as quickly rejected it. Even if she paid for it—not that she could afford to do so—she wouldn’t take it. Coralie would need her supply for her own dresses and baby things in Oregon. Eirica would just have to cut up one of her woolen blankets for nappies and infant-size blankets. As for clothing, she’d have to do the same with one of her old dresses or use Birk’s old shirts, which she’d saved to reuse the material.
With frustration coursing through her, she slammed the trunk lid closed and stood. She’d deal with this later. She just couldn’t think about it now.
Alone once again, she faced the enormity of her situation. Anxiety churned in her stomach and a chill ran through her. Her palms were slick with sweat. She wiped her hands on her apron, then wiped the moisture from her eyes, feeling scared and overwhelmed by the knowledge that the survival of her children rested squarely on her slim shoulders.
How could she do this? She had some money stashed away in a hidden compartment beneath the floor of the wagon—not nearly enough, though. Birk had dug into it, spending a good amount of it on the trail to purchase liquor from anyone willing to sell it to him.
Now she was glad she’d risked Birk’s fury by taking some of that money herself every time he got into it, tucking it into her sewing basket. She’d also kept a portion of the payments she received for doing laundry for some of the single men in her wagon party. She would really be in desperate straits if she hadn’t. Luckily for her, Birk had believed he’d spent more on his drink than he truly had, which kept him from depleting their resources further.
But even by adding the two stashes of cash together, the funds wouldn’t last long setting up a farm in Oregon. Things would be tight until the first harvest. By her calculations, there wouldn’t be anything to spare.
So what was she going to do? A hard knot of dread formed in her throat. She swallowed, fighting panic. No. She would not give in to her fears. Closing her eyes, she slowed her breathing by taking a deep breath, feeling the air flow clear down to her toes. Then she released it, imagining all her fears and worries leaving her as she exhaled slowly and completely. She continued to breathe consciously until she felt her heartbeat calm and the tightness in her throat ease.
“Life goes on,” she whispered under her breath. She thought of Sofia and the woman’s determination to carry out her husband’s dreams. Then she thought of Jessie. Nothing stopped her young friend from going after what she wanted.
Eirica struggled to her feet, determined to prove to herself and everyone else that she was strong and in control. She’d survived this far: she’d taken the steps to free herself and her children from Birk’s violent nature before he’d drowned. Love for her children had given her the courage then, and that same love and determination to give them a better life would give her the courage to make it to Oregon and find a way to survive once there. Her babies would have what she hadn’t had as a child: happiness and laughter and all the love they could ever want.
A gentle rolling movement came from inside her womb, as if her unborn child was trying to reassure her that everything would be all right. It made Eirica smile. She patted her stomach. This infant, helpless at birth, would be dependent on her for warmth, nourishment and love. This child would grow, learn and someday be ready to face life on its own.
And like her unborn child, Eirica was a babe in the woods when it came to survival. She’d been thrust into a harsh situation, an unfriendly world, but she’d learn. She’d grow. She’d survive. And like those baby clothes she had yet to go through, she’d salvage what she could from her life and start anew.
Doling out cold bacon and slabs of hot, buttered bread, she sat down with Alison and Lara. As they ate, she asked her daughters about what they’d seen that day. Each night for the last two weeks, she’d gone through the same ritual and slowly, her girls had started to talk openly and voice their thoughts.
But tonight brought forth a wondrous milestone and tears to Eirica’s eyes when her girls’ shy, hesitant giggles turned to uncontrollable laughter.
White Wolf rode into the wagon circle, tired, dusty and hungry. But it wasn’t food that led him to where Rook, his longtime friend, prepared supper. No, he hungered for the sight of his wife.
His wife.
Would he ever get used to those two words? He hoped not. The thrill that filled him each time he saw Jessie, thought of her and realized they were husband and wife, partners in life, made him feel alive as never before. No other man could be so lucky or happy as he was. He dismounted and tied his black stallion to the back of a supply wagon.
Jessie, with both hands immersed in a sack of flour, smiled when he approached. “You’re early. Supper won’t be ready for a while yet.”
Her eyes sparkled with joy and humor—and as her gaze slid over him, lingering on the golden expanse of chest showing through the open buckskin vest he wore with no shirt beneath it, they darkened. And when her gaze slid lower to the front of his buckskin breeches, her tongue snaked out to wet her lips. Recognizing her hunger, her need for him, sent his blood racing through his veins.
He scooped her up into his arms. “Supper can wait. Your husband cannot.”
Jessie giggled and tried to shake the flour from her hands. Fingerprint-size spots of flour dotted her cheeks and nose. She shoved her hair out of her eyes, leaving a wide streak of flour across her forehead. She finally gave up trying to rid herself of the flour and circled her arms around his neck, leaving him coated with the powdery stuff. “Wolf, put me down.”
“You have flour all over your face,” he teased. Her attempts to brush it off made it worse, hiding the tiny brown freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. He laughed, low and private. “Leave it. I’ll wash it off later. I’m getting used to seeing my wife covered with either mud or flour.”
Her eyes darkened to forest green, reminding him of their first meeting, when she’d been wet with mud from her head down to the toes of her boots. Jessie mistook the reason for his humor. “Watch it or you’ll be wearing some as well. Now put me down. I’ve got work to do.”
“Nope. It’s our first-month anniversary and I’m taking you away. Rook will have to do without you tonight.” He glanced around and spotted Jessie’s sister-in-law. Wolf’s smile turned wicked. “He has Coralie to assist him tonight and in the morning.”
Jessie’s brows rose with full understanding. “You rat. You purposely assigned Jordan first watch knowing if she didn’t have to cook for Jordan, she’d help me and Rook.”
Wolf affected a look of innocence. She knew him well but that didn’t mean he’d admit as much to her. “You wound me, Jessica. It was his turn.”
Her eyes narrowed and she reached up to tug none-too-gently on a strand of long, flowing, golden-brown hair. “You, my husband, are devious. Simply devious.” She grinned, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled his lips to hers in a long, ravenous kiss.
Behind them, Rook snorted in disgust. “Git yerselves outta here. I has a meal ta fix and the pair of you are in my way.”
Wolf didn’t hesitate. He strode away, eager to have some private time alone with his wife. The one aspect of trail life he disliked was the lack of privacy. No matter where he turned, there were people. Lots of them. But not tonight. While out hunting for fresh meat, he’d found the perfect spot an hour’s ride from Independence Rock.
“Wait, Wolf, put me down.”
“Why?”
Exasperated, she twisted out of his arms and landed on her feet. “Knowing you, you’ve probably found some nice, romantic, out-of-the-way place to spend the night. I need to grab some clothes.” Her gaze turned dreamy and, without giving him time to argue, she sprinted away, hopping into the back of a wagon.
Wolf returned to his horse and pulled down the antelope he’d killed for the evening meal. At his feet, Wahoska—his companion for the last seven years—eyed the carcass with gleaming eyes. “You’ll have to wait, old man,” he told the wolf. The animal growled low in its throat but shuffled off.
Wolf grabbed the hind legs of the antelope and hefted the dead animal over his shoulder and took it to Rook. “Figured the men might be getting sick of your beans and bacon.”
Rook whistled and rubbed his hands together. He wagged his bushy white brows. “Nice of you to think of us while you go off to celebrate.” He ambled toward one of the wagons and returned with a canvas sack. “Here’s some grub. Figured ya would take the lass away t’night, seein’ as it’s been a month since ye was hitched.”
The old man didn’t miss anything. Rook knew him too well. But before he could thank his friend, the crusty cook stalked away, muttering beneath his breath about the foolishness of youth.
Wolf loaded up the supplies and paced. What was taking Jessie so long? Impatient to be off, he spun around, ready to go haul his wife out of her wagon. He came to an abrupt halt. His jaw dropped. For the second time since he’d known her, Jessica Jones had discarded her normal male garb—for a dress in pale blue calico. She’d also piled her dark curls on top of her head—revealing her long slender neck kissed to a golden brown by the sun—instead of leaving it to frame her face or blow wildly in the wind. Standing with the setting sun behind her, she took his breath away.
Growling, he swept her into his arms, set her sideways in his saddle and leaped up behind her. He pulled her across his lap and wrapped his arms around her. “Vixen. I give you no guarantees that we’ll make it to the spot I found for us.”
Jessie’s eyes glowed with mischief. She reached up and threaded her fingers through his long, golden-brown hair. “You’re the one who showed me there are definite advantages to wearing a dress,” she whispered, licking her lips teasingly while wiggling in his lap.
Wolf groaned and spurred his horse into a full gallop.