“Is this why you wish to help Belle?”
He nodded. “She has no money to speak of and her father is a lot like I was at his age, full of fire and brimstone but lacking the true sense of what it is most precious in life. He’ll treat his daughter no better than I did my own.”
Grace found his confession moving and knew that Nan would want Grace to help Belle too, so she didn’t think twice. “Reverend, Belle can journey to Kansas with us, and Mr. Blake and I will make certain she stays safe. If it’s needed, I’ll even pay her way. When we arrive in Kansas she can pass herself off as a young widow, if that is her desire. She and her child can start a new life. I don’t wish for her to end up like Nannie, either.”
The reverend’s grateful smile mirrored the tears of gratitude in his eyes. “Your compassion will bring you many blessings, Grace. My wife and I will pray for you.”
“Thank you, and I’m glad you’ve made your peace with Nan’s death.”
He nodded tightly.
“Now, let’s call Belle back in and give her the good news.”
Belle was ecstatic. She hugged Grace and cried. Grace held her close and swore she could feel Nan smiling down from heaven.
It was agreed that Grace would stay in camp while the reverend went back to the city to try and convince her parents to pack up her belongings and bring them to
her. The Carsons knew nothing about their daughter’s condition and Petrie vowed to hold onto the truth and let Belle inform them in her own time. Belle suggested he talk to one of her aunts about her need for financial assistance. According to Belle, the aunt had always been supportive in the past.
Grace and Belle walked the reverend back to his buggy.
Grace told him, “You’re welcome to stay the night and journey back in the morning.”
“No, an old friend of mine lives just a few miles back up the road. I’ll sleep there.”
Before he climbed in, he turned to Grace and said, “Thank you again, Grace.”
“You’re welcome.”
He then spoke to Belle. “Take care of yourself.”
“I will,” she replied. “How can I ever repay you for your help?”
“I’ve already been paid, child.”
Grace and Belle watched him drive away, then walked back through the darkness to the camp. There were a few women standing around watching Grace’s return and she knew they were curious about Belle’s presence. She stopped for a moment to introduce Belle, and everyone welcomed her with a smile.
After securing Belle some bedding, Grace let the tired young woman bed down in her tent. In the morning, they’d make more permanent arrangements.
“Goodnight, Belle. Pleasant dreams. I’ll be back later,” Grace told her. She was leaving for a while so the young woman could have some privacy.
The dark-skinned Belle looked up from her bedroll. “Thank you so very much, Miss Atwood.”
“It’s Grace,” Grace told her gently.
Belle nodded. She then asked seriously, “You won’t tell anyone that I’m—”
Grace knew what the girl was trying to say. “No, Belle. Your business is your own unless you decide otherwise. I do want to tell Mr. Blake, though. He should know so he can keep your safety in mind.”
Grace could see tears in Belle’s eyes, and sought to reassure her. “Everything will be fine, you’ll see. Now, get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The camp was bedding down for the night. Quiet had replaced the hustle and bustle. Small campfires could be seen dotting the dark, and around them sat small groups of women talking quietly. Tomorrow the horses and mules would be arriving and many of the brides would be learning how to drive a team for the first time. If things went well, they’d be on the road by next week this time.
Grace didn’t realize her steps had taken her to Jackson’s tent until she spotted him sitting in front of his own small fire. Her first instinct was to turn and go back the way she’d come, but never having been a coward, she moved toward the fire as if coming to see him had been her intent from the start.
“I’ve decided to take Belle with us.”
Jackson was glad she’d sought him out because he’d been on the verge of searching her out. “Is that the young woman with the reverend?”
Grace nodded.
“I thought we were full.”
“We are, but—she needs to begin life someplace new.”
Jackson sensed a seriousness in her she’d not had earlier. “Something wrong, Grace?”
“No,” she answered quietly. “It’s just funny how life can be, sometimes.”
She’d often wondered if the Reverend Petrie would ever admit that his own actions had been partially responsible for Nan’s tragic end. It had taken thirteen long years and the plight of another young woman for him to act with the charity he’d been preaching all his life.
Jackson sensed she was miles away. “Do you want to talk?”
She shook her head. “No.”
Jackson figured that was Grace the banker talking. The banker probably very rarely admitted needing help with anything. After all, the banker put the wagon train together, ordered the supplies and gathered the brides, and so far had not left one “t” uncrossed or one “i” undotted, but he didn’t think she was the banker right now; right now she was a woman who he sensed needed to talk. “Sit,” he invited softly.
Grace shook her head again. “I’m fine.”
“Sit down, hard-headed woman,” he scolded. “It’s pretty obvious you have something on your mind.”
Grace allowed herself a small smile. “And you called me bossy.”
He simply smiled.
She sat.
For a moment she didn’t say anything, then confessed, “I suppose the Reverend Petrie’s visit is the reason I’m so melancholy.”
“How do you know him?”
“His daughter Nan and I were best friends.”
“You said ‘were.’ Did the two of you have a falling out?”
“No. She’s dead, Jackson.”
She said it with such detachment, he wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her. Judging by her tone and manner, the death of her friend must’ve affected her greatly.
“How old was she?”
“Seventeen, just as I was at the time.”
“What happened to her?”
The memories came flooding back to Grace, bringing with them the pain of those times. “She was in love. I never knew his name. All she would tell me was that he was older, someone her father knew, and she was carrying his child.”
Grace paused for another moment, thinking, remembering, then she continued, “She thought the man would marry her, but when she told him—”
Jackson finished for her, “He denied it.”
Grace nodded grimly. “He told her she should talk to the other men she’d been with. But she hadn’t been with any others.”
“Quite the man.”
“Quite the man,” she echoed. “Nan was devastated, of course, and finally confided in me all that was happening.”
She looked across the fire at him. “Society can be very cruel to women bearing a child out of wedlock and she was terrified about her future. I dearly wanted to help, but I couldn’t because I didn’t know how. I wanted to enlist my father’s help, but I was certain he’d tell her folks. At the time, her father, Reverend Petrie, was the minister at the AME church.”
“Did she have other family she could’ve gone to for help?”
“Not anyone who didn’t breathe fire and brimstone like her father.”
“So what did she do?”
“Gathered her courage and confessed everything to her parents.”
Grace’s cold voice matched her eyes. “He whipped her to within an inch of her life, then put her out on the
street. Told her she was dead as far as the family was concerned and he didn’t care what happened to her or where she went.”
“Glory,” Jackson whispered. “So where’d she go?”
“She showed up at our door in the middle of the night, bleeding and crying. My father immediately went for the doctor, and while the doctor was in with her, I told my father the whole story.”
Grace held Jackson’s eyes. “He said she could stay until she recovered and that he would talk with Reverend Petrie to see if a solution could be found. I think I loved him more than ever that night. He could’ve chosen not to get involved or been too afraid of the scandal it might’ve caused once word got out that he’d opened his home to Reverend Petrie’s pregnant daughter, but he was genuinely concerned about her welfare and treated Nan with respect.”
“Your father sounds like a fine man.”
“The finest.”
“What happened next?”
“About a week later, when she’d recovered sufficiently enough to be up and around, she said she had an errand to take care of and that she’d be back by supper, but she never returned. The next morning, some fishermen found her dead body floating in Lake Michigan.” Grace’s voice trailed off to a whisper. “The authorities said it was suicide.”
Jackson watched as she used the backs of her hands to staunch the tears filling the corners of her eyes. He dearly wanted to take her in his arms, but knew if they were seen by anyone in camp, it would cause talk, so he forced himself to sit quietly and ask, “How did her parents react to her death?”
Grace’s voice hardened. “The reverend told the authorities he didn’t have a daughter named Nan and re
fused to claim the body, so my father and I did. We arranged the burial and paid for the tombstone. She must’ve been more terrified of the future than I knew—to take her life—” Her voice trailed off again. The pain of Nan’s death was still fresh in her heart even after all these years because she hadn’t been able to help.
“You shouldn’t blame yourself. You did what you could. You and your daddy gave her a place to stay, even made sure she was buried properly. It was society weighing down on her—society and how folks view unmarried women who have children.”
“I know, but I still feel as if I could’ve done more.”
Jackson wanted to remind her that she’d been only seventeen, and seventeen-year-old females were powerless when facing the rigid dictates of society.
“So is Belle in a family way, too?”
Grace nodded. “I promised Belle you’d be the only person I’d tell.”
Jackson’s heart swelled in response to her trust, but he found Nan’s story very sad. He now understood why Grace had agreed to take Belle on. “I’ll keep her condition in mind during the training sessions.”
“Thank you.”
He leaned over and peered into her face. “Talking with me make you feel better?”
She nodded. He withdrew a clean handkerchief from the pocket in his black shirt and handed it to her. Grateful, she wiped at her teary eyes, then blew her nose.
Since they were on the subject of no good men, he wanted to ask about the coyote who’d left her at the altar, but now was not the time. He didn’t like seeing her sad, he was beginning to realize.
Grace had a question. “Women always find you this easy to talk to?”
“Just those who want to talk.”
Grace grinned and rolled her eyes. “And he’s modest, too. Who’d have ever thought?”
The fire reflected on his smiling face.
She slowly rose to her feet. She thought back on their first meeting that night in his room and how angry she’d been upon leaving. Back then, had anyone told her that she’d end up talking with him this way, she’d’ve asked what they’d been drinking. “Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime.”
“I should be getting back. We’ve a full day ahead of us tomorrow. Goodnight, Jackson.”
“Goodnight, Grace. Sweet dreams.”
He watched her until she disappeared into the night. The first night they’d met, all he’d wanted to do was throttle her for nearly knocking him out cold with that lethal handbag—and now, now he wanted to teach her to ride the winds of passion and hear her whisper his name in the dark.
After breakfast the next morning, Mr. Drain arrived with the horses and mules. He had them strung together like a remuda and they were being watched over by three men on horseback. After close inspection, Jackson determined the animals were indeed the ones he and Grace had chosen and that there wasn’t a ringer in the bunch. Drain and his men led the pack down into the valley and into the makeshift pen put up by Martin Abbott and his men before they left. Another pen would have to be constructed to hold the horses that wouldn’t fit comfortably, but that could be dealt with later. A grateful Grace handed Drain the bank draft for the balance due and he and his men rode off with a wave.
For the rest of the morning, they were given instructions by both Jackson and their animal nurse, Daisy
Green, on the proper care and feeding of the fifty or so animals.
Jackson announced, “And you ladies should get used to stepping in pies, because by the time we head out this valley is going to be full of horse—” He caught himself just in time. “Well—you know.”
They did.
He scanned the group. “So, are there any questions?”
There weren’t any.
Under a grueling afternoon sun they tackled their next task, learning how to put the bridles and leads on the teams, and the proper way to remove them. The tack was heavy, the animals uncooperative, and Jackson made them do it again and again and again. Grace knew he couldn’t help but hear the grumbling and the angry mutters the hot and frustrated women were offering up, but he seemed intent upon ignoring their fits of pique.
“The sooner you ladies can do this, the sooner we can move on to something new,” he told them. Jackson wondered if they knew how angry they looked. From the tight jaws and the threatening eyes being shot his way, he decided it best to keep the question unasked.
Grace’s patience had worn thin over an hour ago. “Jackson, we can do this in our sleep.”
“Prove it.”
She blinked. Once she got over the shock of his words, she asked, “How?”
Grace never learned the answer, because a half second later, the tall Tess Dubois crumpled to the ground like a wet sheet. Women sprang to her side, but Jackson got there first.
“Somebody get me some water, quick!” he barked, gently lifting Tess’s head so he could cradle her against his arm. It was quite obvious she’d fainted from the heat. While schoolteacher Ruby O’Neal vaulted up the hill to
the deserted church to get water from the pump to fill a canteen, he looked up, spotted Grace’s concerned face, and said, “Get her out of this damn corset so she can breathe.”