Frontier Courtship (21 page)

Irene’s answer was faint but Faith did manage to hear Connell say angrily, “What in blazes is going on?”

That, Faith agreed, was a very good question.

F
aith had hoped that her companions would have settled their personal differences before they returned with the horses. Instead, they had apparently argued to the point where they were no longer on speaking terms.

Tired of their childishness, Faith stroked Ben’s velvety nose and talked aside to him. “Can you believe it? Look at them. Grown folks acting like spoiled brats. And they’re fixing to get married. Imagine that.”

The old mule lowered his head and nudged her gently. Faith smiled. “Sorry, old boy. I’m fresh out of apples. You’ll have to wait till we get to Papa’s and see what treats he’s got for you.”

She looked to Connell and raised her voice. “How far are we from Beal’s Bar, anyway?”

“My guess is about half a day,” he replied.

“Is that all? Well, what are we waiting for?”

“I don’t want to push Rojo. We can make camp here, rest up, and still have plenty of time to get there ahead of Charity and Tucker.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. Even with our side trips—” he glanced daggers at Irene “—we’re ahead of schedule.”

“I could ride on ahead,” Faith suggested.

Connell was adamant. “Not alone.”

“Why not? It’s sure not very enjoyable keeping company with you two. Besides, if I hadn’t followed Ben’s instincts and left the riverbank, I’d be by myself right now anyway.”

“But you’re not, are you? I’d think even you would have figured out that the Good Lord intends for me to keep looking after you.”

“Oh really?” Faith fisted her hands on her hips. “And I get no credit for rescuing you? Seems to me you’re the one with the short memory, mister. Besides, I thought you were anxious to get rid of me.”

“I never said that.”

“You most certainly did. You told me you were going to drop me at my father’s, then turn right around and take Irene home to your ranch.”

Irene had been listening quietly. Now, she spoke. “No.”

Connell whirled. “What do you mean, no?”

“I’m not going anywhere with you, or anyone else, until I’ve seen Tucker get what’s coming to him.”

Faith recalled what Irene had said about taking justice into her own hands. The memory made her shiver. Yes, she wanted to see justice done, but she didn’t want to be a party to another murder. Standing over her own grave and knowing it contained the body of the man who had planned her demise had made her painfully aware of the heinous consequences of such an act.

Being a Christian meant she believed she’d go to be with the Lord when she died, would greet her mother and other loved ones again in heaven, but it didn’t mean she was eager to depart immediately! Or that she was willing to send another human being on his way to eternity.

There had been a time when, consumed with irrational anger, she’d wished for the chance to end Ramsey Tucker’s life with her own hands. That time had passed. There was no goal more important than rescuing Charity and making her see the folly of her ways. Once that was accomplished, the problem of Tucker should solve itself, unless Irene interfered and killed him before Charity realized what kind of man he really was.

Now that Irene was again garbed as a Cheyenne, Faith found the woman’s countenance threatening. In order to muster the courage to speak her mind, she had to keep reminding herself that as a Christian she was clad in the whole armor of the Lord.

“Irene wants to kill Tucker,” Faith announced. “We mustn’t allow that. He needs to be unmasked and properly punished by the law so my sister can see him for what he is, a thief, liar and murderer. Behaving like him will only undermine our position of truth.”

Connell nodded. “I agree. However, if the wagon boss manages to talk his way out of this mess, he’ll be free to repeat his crimes against other innocent women. We can’t allow that either.”

“Of course not.” Pacing, Faith pressed her fingertips to her throbbing temples and took a deep, settling breath before she continued. “I just want you to promise—both of you—that you’ll work with me, not against me. I know my father will help us, too.”

“Assuming we locate him,” Connell said. “If not, once Charity and Tucker are away from the protection of the men on the train, we may have to kidnap her for her own good.”

“I don’t object to doing whatever is necessary to rescue my sister,” Faith said, “but it’s my fervent hope that we can best Ramsey Tucker at the same time.”

“In other words,” Connell drawled, smiling, “you want the impossible.”

She returned his smile. “Why not? This whole trip west has been one improbable event after another.”

“One disaster after another, you mean.”

Faith shook her head. “No. The tornado that killed my mother was a true disaster, but even that’s been used for good. Think about it. If Charity and I hadn’t been forced to travel west when we did, you and I might not have met at Fort Laramie and you’d have had no reason to join Tucker’s party and travel with us. If you hadn’t, you might never have met Ab and Stuart and finally located Irene. See? It all works together, just like the Good Book says.”

“Ha!” Irene huffed in disgust. “That’s easy for you to say. You weren’t married to a heinous man like Tucker and sold into slavery. If God is so good, why did I have to suffer all that?”

“I don’t know,” Faith said with evident empathy. “But I have thought about your situation and come to one important conclusion. You need a man like Connell, a man who understands Indian culture and is comfortable with you, just as you are. Just as you want to be.”

Her gaze traveled over the older woman’s outfit, pausing at the toes of her moccasins before returning to her dark, sad eyes. “He’ll be a good husband for you. I know he will.” If emotion hadn’t choked off her words she’d have added,
Please, be a good wife to him.

She turned away to hide her gathering tears as she thought,
The kind of good wife I would be, if he were free to love me the way I love him.

Rising at dawn, Faith was dressed, mounted and ready to travel as soon as the others were. Though they were about to enter a populated area, Irene had chosen to continue dressing like a Cheyenne, Faith noted. All the more reason for the woman to fit comfortably into the life that awaited her. Faith’s mind was convinced Connell and Irene belonged together. It was her stubborn heart that kept arguing the point.

Looking for distraction, she urged Ben ahead of Irene’s horse and trotted along beside Connell. Seeing such a big man mounted on the scruffy Indian pony instead of his magnificent canelo made her smile.

Grinning, she said, “Hello down there, mister. How much farther?”

He gave her a taciturn look. “Maybe an hour. Maybe less.”

“How can you be so sure? We don’t have a map.”

“I know where the Feather River joins the American. Your father’s camp is supposed to be just south of there. As soon as we hit the river there’ll be plenty of men to ask, which reminds me,” Connell said. “I don’t think you should identify yourself unless you have to.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” she said, smiling. “If we can get to Papa without the whole camp finding out who I am, maybe we can keep my survival a secret and catch Tucker unaware.” It pleased her to see appreciation in Connell’s expression.

“Smart girl.”

Girl? I’m a woman,
she wanted to screech.
Grown and madly in love with you, you big idiot.

Instead of uttering such a revealing retort she merely said, “Thank you,” nudged Ben in his sides and rode on.

Faith was about fifty yards ahead of the others when she heard Connell and Irene start to argue.

“What happened to the dress I got you?” he asked. To which Irene replied, “I like this one. It’s better suited for riding.”

“Fine. So tell me again where you found my rifle.”

“I already told you. On the trail.”

“What were you doing behind me?”

“Who said I was?”

“I do.”

“Okay, so maybe I was on my way back to camp.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you managed to catch the horses Faith lost.”

“They’re Cheyenne. They came right to me. Probably recognized me.”

“Who else is supposed to recognize you?” Connell demanded. “And who knocked me off my horse? Was it you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Irene said flatly. “Rojo stumbled and you fell, that’s all.”

“And my rifle? Did it fall, too?”

“I suppose so.”

“Then maybe you’d like to explain how you managed to locate it? Faith and I looked all over. It wasn’t anywhere near the place where she found me. Am I supposed to believe some stray coyote dragged it off like a dog with a bone?”

“How should I know? Maybe you were groggy and wandered around after you were hurt. Maybe, maybe…”

Faith couldn’t quite hear the rest of Irene’s excuse. She didn’t have to. It had been plain for some time that the other woman wasn’t being totally forthcoming. What that might mean, however, was yet to be seen. Living as a captive had left poor Irene as wary as a rabbit in a snare, which could mean she was merely being cautious and circumspect out of habit, not necessarily dishonest by choice.

If I could talk to her alone, woman to woman, maybe I could get closer to the truth,
Faith reasoned.

Given their current traveling arrangements, however, she couldn’t imagine an opportunity to do that until after they’d arrived at Beal’s Bar, and by that time, it might be unnecessary. By then, Connell might have spirited his bride away to their new life, negating any reasonable cause for concern.

But I’ll still care about him,
Faith told herself.
No matter where he goes or what he does, I’ll care for the rest of my life.

Nothing in the newspapers back home in Ohio or in her father’s few letters had prepared Faith for the perilous final approach to the mining camp. Beal’s Bar lay at the bottom of a barely accessible canyon. If she hadn’t been aboard Ben and trusted his sure-footed gait she doubted she’d have had the nerve to attempt the steep, narrow trail. Yes, she trusted in God’s protection—but she also knew it was wrong to test Him by behaving foolishly when she knew better.

Connell led the way, entering the trail after a brief conversation with a scruffy miner who had just come up from the valley. Trembling, Faith was glad she was last in line during the descent. Showing fear was unfitting, especially since neither of the others seemed at all nervous.

As they neared the river at the end of their precarious trek, Faith relaxed enough to appreciate the beauty of the sparkling water that snaked through the gorge. It rippled over and around rocks in a random pattern that made it look like quicksilver seeking a path through scattered mountains of glistening gravel.

In the midst of it all, atop a rough rise that looked low and insignificant enough to be inundated at any moment, lay the makeshift buildings of Beal’s Bar. There were tents, wooden structures, and various cobbled-up combinations of both. The largest edifice was almost completely canvas-covered, roof and all. Someone had painted “Majestic Hotel” across the front, an arguable conclusion if she’d ever seen one.

Wide-eyed, Faith scanned the motley group of men that had begun to gather at their approach. Most of the miners were dressed similarly in flannel shirts, pantaloons with the legs tucked into boots, and black felt hats with wide brims that shaded the only parts of their faces that weren’t covered in whiskers.

Where shade and beards left off, dirt took over. Considering that the town was situated practically in a riverbed, their lack of attention to personal hygiene seemed strange to her until she peered into some of their eyes. In spite of all the shouted greetings, whistles and grins, she recognized the same hopelessness she’d felt while crossing the desert. If this was truly the land of milk and honey, someone had failed to convince these poor folks.

Connell stopped his horse and waited for her to ride parallel before he said, “Stay close. Most miners aren’t used to having decent women in camp. I’m not sure how rowdy they’ll get.”

“Nonsense.” Faith rested her hand on the butt of the Colt. “I can take care of myself. All I intend to do is ask directions.”

“All right. You and Irene wait here while I go make some discreet inquiries.”

Before Faith could object, he dismounted and strode through the crowd into the makeshift hotel. Not about to take orders when her own father was involved, she started to follow, then thought better of it. There were other mules around but none as big and impressive as her Ben. It wasn’t wise to leave him unattended.

Instead, she spoke to the nearest miner, a bearded derelict in tattered clothing whose skin was as weathered as the cracked leather of his boots.

“Excuse me, sir, we’re looking for Mr. Emory Beal,” Faith said. “Do you know where I might find him?”

“Mebbe.” He spit into the dirt. “What’s it worth to ya, pretty lady? A little dance, mebbe?”

She drew herself up, back straight, chin jutting proudly. “I’m certain Mr. Beal will reward you for your information if he feels remuneration is called for.”

“Re—what?” The man guffawed. “Well, aren’t you a puffed-up little prairie chicken. All right. If’n you’re not interested in staying in town and keepin’ us company, how’s about her? She ain’t bad lookin’—fer an Injun.”

A quick glance at Irene told Faith her companion was thinking about eliminating that miner’s need for future haircuts. Permanently.

“I’d mind my manners if I were you, sir,” she warned, smiling slightly. “My Cheyenne friend has a short temper. Now, are you going to give us directions or not?”

He spit again, pointing. “It’s that way. The cabin on the rise at the end of this here trail. But ol’ Emory can’t give ya what me and some o’ these other boys can, lady. My claim’s rich. Beal’s diggin’s played out months ago. I hear he’s nigh busted. Wouldn’t surprise me to see him hightailing it up to the Feather to try his luck there, if he ain’t left already.”

Others in the crowd were nodding agreement. Faith looked to Irene, then at the hotel door, then back to Irene. “I don’t see any reason to sit here and stew, do you?”