Brides of Prairie Gold (40 page)

My Journal, August, 1852. Jane ran away. I'm glad. Jane had sharp snoopy eyes. Sometimes I saw her looking at me and then at Cody and she knew. If she hadn't run off after murdering her husband, I would have had to punish her .

I want to punish someone for how badly I feel. I want to. It's all building inside. I can hardly stand up straight, my stomach hurts whenever I see him with his whore. I'm so afraid something that began as a test for me is turning into something else, so afraid that he's starting to care more for her than for me. I've warned her. She better take heed.

I came so close to flying at him and screaming. I'm tired of secrets. Weary to death of this game we're playing. He's scaring me with the whore, testing the depth of my love and trust. I don't know how much longer I can stand it. I'm so confused.

I've figured out that he won't admit our love until near the end of the journey. He doesn't want to cause jealousy among the others. But he doesn't mind showing favoritism to the whore. This makes my head hurt because I don't understand.

The only thing that calms me is to look into his eyes. He sat across from me at Smokey Joe's Friday night sing-along. I saw his love. I felt it. I understood the secret messages he sent. Why can't it be like that always? I was so happy. Then the next day, he looked through me as if I were invisible. And I wanted to rip and tear and bite and claw.

She said I was insane. I remember that sometimes. She was wrong. I'm not insane, I'm just so angry. So furiously angry.

The stretch southwest from South Pass to Fort Bridger was as desolate an area as Perrin had ever seen. Even the sagebrush dried and shriveled in temperatures that exceeded a hundred degrees by midday. Creek bottoms lay exposed like cracked pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. As water was too precious to waste on washing, thick dust coated faces, hands, and clothing.

Sarah inspected the dirt and grit beneath her fingernails then sighed and idly flapped the reins across the oxen's backs. No one had a full complement of oxen anymore. There were only two cows left from the dozen that had begun the journey.

"Did Mem say for sure that JaneI just can't think of her as Alicewent to California?" Sarah inquired again.

For the third time, Perrin repeated the story Mem had told. The scandal of a runaway wife, a violent death, and Jane's abrupt departure had dominated conversations for a week. Mem's bravery and Bootie's heroism were toasted at every campfire.

Sarah shook her head. "I just can't believe it."

Bending, Perrin wrapped a length of rope around her boot to secure the flapping sole. She hoped to find boots for sale at Fort Bridger, which they would reach early tomorrow. After eyeing the position of the sun burning in the sky, she prepared to step out onto the tongue of the wagon and jump to the ground.

"I'll return in about two hours," she said, tying her bonnet strings beneath her chin.

"Wait." When Perrin looked at Sarah, she noticed a pink flush beneath Sarah's tanned cheeks. "You don't have to leave," Sarah said, keeping her gaze on the oxen's dusty backs. "Unless you want to."

Want to? Perrin almost laughed. The earth was so dry, the dust thrown up by the wheels so thick and dense, that she and Sarah were the only women who walked behind the wagons when it wasn't their turn to drive the oxen. So much dust and grime coated their hair that it looked gray in the sunlight.

"I agreed to help you drive so Cora could ride with Hilda and study. You made it clear that you didn't want my company. We agreed I'd walk behind while you drove, and you would walk behind while I drove."

Occasionally it struck Perrin how much she had changed in the last months. Once she would have lacked the courage to address painful subjects or to speak frankly.

"It's scorching hot out there. Look at the waves of heat shimmering off the ground." Sarah slid her a sidelong glance. "I don't want to walk. I don't imagine you do either."

"I don't. Thank you." Settling back on the seat, Perrin let her body relax into the tilt and sway of the wagon. The hard wooden seat still bruised her tailbone, still jarred the teeth in her head, but it was far, far preferable to stumbling behind the wagons, choking on clouds of hot dust.

They rode in silence for half an hour before Sarah cleared her throat with a self-conscious sound. "I'm going to say this straight out, Perrin. You and Joseph Boyd sinned against the values I hold most dear."

Perrin clasped her hands in her lap and gazed through a haze of dust at the back of the lead wagon.

"But I've come to respect you. I don't understand how I can condemn someone and also respect them, but that's how it is."

Turning her head aside, Perrin noticed the bleached bones of an ox, followed by a scattered pile of abandoned furniture. "You wanted to be the women's representative, didn't you?" she asked after a lengthy pause.

Sarah mopped sweat off her throat, then pushed her handkerchief back inside a rolled up sleeve. "I would have done a good job as our representative."

"Yes, you would have." Silence filled the next mile.

Sarah sighed heavily. "When you pleaded for Winnie, I asked myself if that's what I would have done. And the truth is, I would have asked Mr. Snow to send Winnie home the instant I discovered her problem with laudanum."

Perrin lowered her head and studied grimy fingernails. "That's what I should have done."

Turning, Sarah examined Perrin's face. "I was wrong. In the end, Winnie threw away her second chance, but she had a second chance because of you." She considered. "After the major died, I thought my life had ended also. Since Chastity isn't exactly awash in eligible men, I dismissed any possibility of having another husband and eventual children. But what you said in your plea for Winnie applies to me too. This journey is my second chance. It's a second chance for all of us."

"Even me?" Perrin inquired softly.

Sarah hesitated. "I used to see you on the streets of Chastity. It always shocked me how modest and ordinary you looked, like a pleasant and decent person." She contemplated the pink rising in Perrin's cheeks. "I thought a sinner ought to look like a sinner. I resented that you seemed untouched by your sins."

Perrin pressed her lips together and lowered her head. Beside her, she heard Sarah release another long sigh.

"I've been watching you, and I've concluded that you must have had good reasons for taking Joseph Boyd into your bed." She waited, but Perrin offered no explanation. "It's not my place to judge; that's between you and your maker. But I've made enough mistakes in my life that I guess I can forgive you for making a few." Perrin kept her eyes fixed on her hands. She didn't know whether to be offended or say thank you.

"I have one more thing to say," Sarah added, scarlet tinting her face. "There are some who worry that you'll end like Winnie."

"I beg your pardon?" Perrin raised her head.

Sarah fixed her gaze on the back of the plodding oxen. Dots of color burned in her cheeks. "Winnie threw away her second chance. Some think you're on the brink of doing the same thing."

"I'm sorry. I don't know what you're talking about." But she could guess, and hot color seared her face too.

"We aren't blind. We've seen how you and Captain Snow look at each other," Sarah's hands tightened on the reins.

"We're going to be neighbors in Oregon, Perrin. Most of us have decided to try to forget what happened with you and Joseph Boyd. We'll try because we're grateful for your efforts and your help. We respect your fairness, especially with Augusta. That must have been hard. You've earned your second chance."

"But?" Perrin whispered.

Sarah met her eyes squarely. "But if you sin with Captain Snow, and there are a few who think you might" She drew a long breath. "If you and Captain Snow that is"

"I understand your meaning," Perrin said in a low voice.

"We will select another representative if you know. We will shun you. We will cut you on the streets of Clampet Falls. We will not forgive or overlook a second lapse. You will have thrown away your second chance exactly as Winnie did."

Closing her eyes, Perrin leaned against the hard seat back. The isolation and imposed loneliness that Sarah threatened settled over her now, providing a sample of what she could expect if she and Cody made another mistake.

"What if I told you that I love Cody Snow?" The hopelessness in her whisper shocked her as much as the admission itself.

Silently, she repeated the words, testing their veracity. Despair and truth pinched her features. She loved his strength and confidence, his assurance, and even his stubbornness. She loved the clear fairness of his thinking, his open mind, his genuine concern for others. She loved the roguish twinkle in his blue eyes, the purposeful swagger of his stride. She loved the way he made her feel when she was with him, as if she were pretty and competent and capable and important, as if she were the most desirable woman in the territories.

"Then I pity you," Sarah said finally, squinting against the dust. "Your choice is love or honor." A silence followed. "Do you have the funds to repay your Oregon bridegroom and spare yourself from marrying him?"

"No."

"Would Mr. Snow repay your bridegroom?"

Perrin mopped the sweat at her temples. "Mr. Snow has made it clear that he doesn't wish to remarry. He doesn't know how I feel."

"All I can say is there are people on this train who believe the worst of you. People who will never forgive if you deceive your bridegroom with another man, no matter who he is or how you feel about him." She stared at Perrin. "You'll pay a heavy price if you betray the man who's paying your passage to Oregon."

A space opened in the swirls of dust and Perrin could see the lead wagon turning off the trail toward the site where they would halt for the midday meal. In six hours she would meet with Cody to discuss the day's events. Her heart leaped ahead in anticipation, followed by a wave of desolation. Her future depended on controlling her confusing desire for him.

"Sarah? Since we're speaking frankly who hates me enough to sneak into my wagon and slash one of my dresses into ribbons?" She had started the journey with three summer calicos; now she had only two, both of which were dusty and soiled.

"Good heavens!" Sarah's head whipped up with a shocked expression. "Someone cut up one of your dresses?"

Perrin nodded. "I I had a valentine my father sent my mother. It was the only thing I had left from either of them. I kept it in a small locked chest. Whoever broke the lock and stole the valentine didn't steal my money. They took the thing I valued more than anything else."

She still couldn't talk about this without tears swimming in her eyes. The loss of the old valentine was a cruel punishment.

"Good heavens," Sarah said again, drawing up on the reins. "Perrin I know there are those who don't like you, but all I can say is be careful."

Fort Bridger was a trading post for trappers rather than a military garrison. Cody gave everyone two hours to visit the post and inspect the meager goods offered for sale. Unless they hankered for woven blankets and trinket items, he doubted his brides would discover much to interest them.

After the disappointed women returned to the wagons, Cody and Webb met James Conklin outside his log post house beside an outdoor display of hand mirrors and iron pots.

"The first cup of whiskey is on the house," Conklin announced, eyeing them.

"Not today," Cody said. Posts conducting heavy trade with Indians, as Fort Bridger did, were notorious for doctoring whiskey with tobacco and pepper. They thought the Indians liked their liquor hot. Any man who valued his innards wouldn't touch the stuff. "We're seeking information."

"Well, now, information is mighty expensive in these parts."

Removing a gold piece from his vest, Webb flipped it between his fingers, letting the sunlight flash beams of temptation. He gazed at the bald spot circling the top of Conklin's head. "Has Jake Quinton passed through here?"

Conklin snatched the coin when Webb let it spin in the air. "One of Quinton's boys was here." He walked away from them to straighten his display of hand mirrors. "Squaws love to admire themselves. They'll trade a fortune in pelts for a mirror."

Scowling, Cody stalked forward and tossed Conklin a gold eagle. "This buys the rest of your information." He let a hand drift to the butt of his sidearm.

Conklin grinned. "The man's name was Ryland. Said he and Quinton would be coming back this way before the snow flies. Said they might have a load of arms and ammunition, wanted to know what I'd give for cargo like that."

"What was your answer?" Webb asked sharply.

Greed glazed Conklin's little pig eyes. "Do you know what an Indian will pay for one carbine and a pouch of powder? He'll strip the hide off his family's lodge to buy a gun. He'll steal his squaw's sleeping robes. A wagonload of guns and ammunition is worth a king's ransom."

Frustration exploded in Cody's chest. If he had harbored the slightest hope that Quinton would direct his attentions elsewhere, that hope died with Conklin's laugh.

Only Webb's fingers digging into his arm prevented him from raising a fist and showing Conklin just how much he appreciated having a bank-sized target painted on his train.

"We'll step up the schedule for the women's shooting lessons," he snarled as he and Webb mounted their horses.

The scrap of lace peeping out of his saddle blanket was so incongruous that he wondered how he had missed spotting it earlier. When he gave it a tug, four pieces of an old valentine fell into his hand. Curious, he tried to fit the ripped pieces together. The writing was so faded that he couldn't read the inscription or the name of the sender. Irritated by yet another small mystery, Cody threw the pieces over his shoulder and touched his bootheels to the buckskin's flanks.

Instinct suggested the mysteriously appearing items were intended to hold some meaning for him, but they didn't. The knife attacks on his bedroll were clearly a warning. Against what, he didn't have a notion. Stabbing his bedroll, cutting his water sack, and slashing the ties off his chaps suggested a man. But the cake, ribbon, and valentine argued for a woman.