Authors: Sylvia McDaniel
“That may be true with most folks, but not Wade. He didn’t love me, so he won’t be coming back, Mary.” Rachel thought her heart would shatter with the pain. She dabbed at her eyes. “Until today, I never knew how much it hurt to love.”
“Amen to that,” Mary said, standing, and pulling Rachel up with her. “Come on. The afternoon is ebbing away, and we don’t want to get too far behind.”
Rachel sniffed. “You’re right. But it seems odd that we’re three weeks away from The Dalles, with no man between us.”
Mary gazed sadly at Rachel. “I never thought I’d end the trail alone, without my man. But I’m not going to quit now.”
Rachel’s voice trembled. “Wade agreed to leave before we reached The Dalles, but not this soon. And then, somewhere along the way, I began to think he would always be by my side.”
* * *
Damn her! Wade sat on the cold, hard ground, chewing on the piece of beef jerky that was his supper. For the last week, he’d followed the wagon train, unable to leave, yet not really sure why he couldn’t ride away. Every day, he kept just out of sight, but watched Rachel and the children.
And every night, when he camped nearby, the smell of Rachel’s cooking would tempt him unmercifully while he sat eating hardtack without the luxury of a fire or a cup of coffee.
He slid down until his head rested against the hard leather saddle. Hell, who was he kidding? She didn’t need him! She was the one who had asked him to marry her, take her to Oregon. And now, after all they’d been through, she’d thrown him out in the cold, just because he thought it was in her best interest to find someone else.
Who knew where he would be right now if he hadn’t fallen for her plea. Sure, he’d been broke at the time, but her four hundred dollars was the hardest money he’d ever earned. Physical labor didn’t leave a man all shredded inside, like he felt right now.
Wade slapped at a mosquito buzzing around his face. You’d think the cold temperatures at night would freeze the little buggers. The past months with Rachel had softened him. He wasn’t used to bedding down with only his blanket to keep him warm, eating cold hardtack, doing without home-cooked meals.
But most of all he’d forgotten the quietness of being alone. How, in the stillness of the night, his own heartbeat could be the loneliest sound in the world. He missed feeling the soft roundness of Rachel’s backside snug up against him, hearing the pleasant sound of her breathing and feeling the silkiness of her hair tickling his cheek.
But he’d get used to being alone again. After all, he had four hundred dollars he was a free man and tomorrow morning he would pack his horse up and ride as far from Rachel and the children as he could push three horses in one day. Yet the thought of leaving made him anxious. What if she needed him?
A raindrop splattered on his face and ran inside his collar. Another drop hit, then another, until they fell in a steady rhythm. He pulled his ground cloth over his blanket and huddled against the hard ground, seeking warmth. Damn, he hated rain.
Wade rolled over, pulling the ground cloth over his head to keep off the downpour. He shivered. The rain was freezing. It would be a long, lonely night filled with thoughts of a warm, dry wagon and Rachel by his side.
* * *
Wade sat atop Sadie and looked across the valley at Rachel and Mary’s camp. The early morning sun had chased away the clouds from the night before, and a cool north breeze dried the earth. The temperature had dropped; the next rainstorm would bring snow to the mountains.
From atop the peak on which he sat, they looked like moving dolls. He was close enough to confirm they were safe, but too far to distinguish their features or hear their voices.
Now, seventy-miles away from The Dalles, he watched Rachel struggle with harnessing the oxen. It was a painful reminder of the day he’d found her. Funny how a chance meeting with a half-pint woman had changed his life.
He watched Toby help her lift the harness and slip it over the oxen’s heads. If the woman wasn’t so stubborn, he would be hitching her wagon instead of watching. He would be doing the chores that required a man instead of a half-grown boy.
But he found the anger of the last few days hard to revive, and if the truth were told, he felt nothing but emptiness. A void he’d never known existed until Rachel.
The urge raged inside Wade to ride down and kiss her until she cried out his name. But he sat, hat pulled low over his forehead, watching her load up the wagon.
He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d felt more miserable. His old way of life no longer appealed. Being free to come and go didn’t give him the same pleasure as spending time with Rachel. Even the thought of searching for Walker no longer obsessed him. Walker was a grown man now, probably with a family of his own, while Wade once again faced life alone. The thought disheartened him as never before.
Rachel helped the children into the wagon to start the day’s journey. My family. My woman.
The realization shocked him, yet after a moment’s reflection, it felt so right. The words held a sense of belonging that he could never remember experiencing, not even with his mother and father.
He loved Rachel and was tired of fighting himself, worrying whether he was right or wrong for her. He’d loved her even before they made love. Even though he wasn’t the man for her.
To hell with the right man for Rachel!
Right or wrong, Wade was the only man for her. He wanted to spend the rest of his days with Rachel by his side, and not on some foolish chase, searching for an elusive dream of a brother he hadn’t seen in years. What he wanted was in front of him.
He no longer wanted to live like a nomad. For the first time, the desire to put down roots and stay in one place seemed inviting. Rachel deserved a home, and he was just the man to give her one.
As the sun burned away the morning fog, his mind cleared. He knew what to do to secure their future. The four hundred dollars she’d given him was an opportunity calling out to him.
With little more than a week before Rachel reached The Dalles, he had time to put his suddenly conceived plan into action, a week to prove to the woman he loved how much he wanted them to be together. He knew he had one last chance to win her heart.
With a last glance at Rachel as the big oxen pulled the heavy wagon away from the campsite, Wade wished her godspeed.
Then he turned his horse towards The Dalles. She’d have a surprise waiting at the end of the trail, a surprise he hoped would make her willing to take a second chance with him.
* * *
Rachel pulled the wagon to a stop in front of the church where her father would have preached. The building looked new, its white exterior freshly painted.
Four narrow windows graced each side of the structure and a chimney stood at either end. A picket fence enclosed an area out back, where four smaller houses sat. It looked perfect for a school or an orphanage, and would have been ideal for her father. The thought saddened her even more.
“We’re here, Rachel!” Mary exclaimed as she ran to the wagon. “Can you believe we made it.”
Rachel stared at her friend. “No, I can’t.”
For the last week, Mary had done her best to lift Rachel’s spirits, when all Rachel wanted was to be left alone with her misery. She knew she should be more excited, but she felt old and tired.
“Come on. We should be celebrating.”
Rachel leaned against the wagon, her joints aching with fatigue. “Maybe after I rest for a while, I’ll feel better.”
She’d done a lot of thinking in the last week, and wondered how she was going to keep the children with her and support them without a husband. She had discussed opening a boardinghouse with Mary’s help, yet somehow the thought wasn’t appealing.
The children scrambled out of the back of the wagon, exuberant with their arrival and eager to explore their new home. She was relieved to see them so happy, since the days following Wade’s disappearance had been full of questions and sadness.
“Come on, Rachel,” Mary urged. “Let’s go see the church.”
A tall, thin man with wavy blond hair stood in the doorway of the chapel. He was dressed conservatively, with his shirtsleeves rolled up, suspenders holding up his khaki-colored pants.
This must be Ben, the man who would have been her father’s assistant. He was handsome for a preacher. But he didn’t have Wade’s stubborn jaw or flashing green eyes, and then she doubted he liked to drink whiskey or sing “Buffalo Gals” at the top of his lungs, either. Even though she knew it was wrong, at this moment she would have loved to hear Wade’s baritone rendering one verse of that barroom ditty.
The man hurried toward them, a welcoming smile upon his face. “Welcome to the Westward Mission. Can I help you?”
Rachel climbed down from the wagon. Regret made her steps slow as she approached him. When she reached his side, she glanced up into dark-blue eyes, dreading the explanations. “I’m Rachel Cooke, and this is my friend, Mary Beauchamp.”
His eyes widened at the mention of her name. “Welcome to The Dalles. I’ve been expecting you and Brother Cooke.” He looked around Rachel as if searching for her father.
“I’m afraid I have bad news for you. My father was killed by the Pawnee before we reached Fort Laramie,” Rachel’s voice choked with emotion. “Our…entire wagon train was wiped out, except for my sister, me and three children.”
Rachel began to shake as reaction to everything that had happened over the last six months overwhelmed her. Tears cascaded down her face.
Ben froze, momentarily in shock. “Dear God.” He clasped her hand in his. “It must have been a terrible journey for you.”
Rachel used her free hand to wipe the tears from her eyes.
His face was full of concern as he watched her. “Why don’t you go inside the chapel for a few moments to compose yourself?”
The idea of slipping within the church was too tempting to resist. She needed a few minutes to gather herself and decide where to go from here.
Ben opened the door for her and gestured inside. “Go on. I’ll take care of things out here.”
As she stepped into the dimly lighted church, her eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness. The serenity of the chapel was soothing, its peaceful atmosphere a balm to her overwrought nerves.
In the muted light, she saw something moving—a man. From the back, his physique reminded her of Wade, but she quickly brushed away the thought. It couldn’t be Wade. He had left her, choosing freedom over love.
As the shadow turned to face her, her breath caught in her throat. The man who had haunted her dreams for the last hundred miles stood before her, hat in hand.
Chapter Seventeen
“W
ade,” Rachel exclaimed, staring at him, her stomach churning with elation and fear. It took every bit of self-control she possessed to keep from flinging herself into his arms. She grabbed a pew for support, her heart pounding. “Why are you here?”
“I need to explain some things to you,” he said, his voice tense, his eyes dark. “Will you come for a ride with me?”
The thought that he’d returned for her sparked a flicker of hope in her chest, which faded as she recalled he didn’t love her, wouldn’t marry her. He must have come for another reason. The brief moment of elation was quickly replaced with despair.
Mentally and physically exhausted, she didn’t need to subject herself to another heart-wrenching scene with Wade. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
The man had a lot of nerve, to come plunging back into her life after leaving her on the trail with three children. Yet the sight of his beloved face fed a deep need. Bleakly, she suspected she would always love him.
“I know I’ve hurt you, and you have no reason to trust me. But I want a chance to explain things. Then, if you never want to see me again, I’ll go away.”
Wade stood before her, twisting his hat. His face was intense, his cheeks taut; tempting her to risk heartache once more. The pain of his leaving festered like an open wound, but she couldn’t bear to see him walk out of her life just yet.
She was so tired, yet part of her wanted to hear what he had to say. Still another part wanted to walk out the door. But why had he traveled all this way, and what could he explain? Could she turn him away without knowing—for the rest of her days—what he had to say? Curiosity fought her trepidation.
“I promise, Rachel, I don’t mean to hurt you anymore,” he said quietly, his expression sincere.
He’d already broken her heart, what more could he do? One last ride with Wade before they would be through. One last conversation before he left her life for good.
Reluctantly, she said, “All right.”
Wade closed the short distance to take her by the elbow. “Then let’s go. We’ll have to hurry to get back before dark.”
The fall sun shone down on them as Wade helped Rachel into the wagon. Once on the seat, she couldn’t refrain from asking, “Where are you taking me?”
“Just wait,” he replied.
The wagon bounced through the small town, the roads rutted and muddy from a recent rain. They drove alongside the Columbia River, following it along the cliffs and through the pines, occasionally glimpsing the churning water below.