Magnificent Passage (7 page)

“Well?” Mandy questioned haughtily. She stood with her chin high, her hands on her hips as she'd often seen her cousin do. Loftily she waited for him to close the door.

“Well, what?” he answered coldly. “Would you like me to come in and help you pack?” His smug look said he knew full well the extent of her problem.

“I have to change my clothes. Aren't you going to give me some privacy?”

“Why? So you can go out the window again? Not a chance.”

“But surely you can't expect me to change in front of you?” Mandy suddenly felt sick. This trip was going to be even worse than she expected.

He looked at her hard, paused, and at last relented. “We'll turn our backs, but if I hear anything but the rustle of petticoats, I assure you I'll be in there before you can turn around.”

The ominous tone of the big man's voice made Mandy cringe. Quickly she donned the dark green, high-fashion riding habit, though she refused to wear the hot and confining trousers beneath the skirt. Instead she wore her lightweight cotton pantalets. She pulled on her boots and adjusted her cravat. She knew she looked more like an English countess riding to the hounds than a young woman
about to embark on an arduous cross-country journey, but the men expected to be escorting a governor's daughter—and that was exactly what she intended to be.

She strolled into the parlor, holding her head high and trying to appear nonchalant. “I'm ready when you are,” was all she could manage.

The man in black took one look at her and sighed. “Have you nothing more suitable? It's going to be a long, hard trip.” He looked as though he were just beginning to grasp exactly how long.

“Take me as I am or not at all!” Mandy snapped back, tossing her head as she'd seen her cousin do. She didn't trust these strangers, but if she withered now she'd not be able to take another step. She was terrified inside and knew she was running on pure force of will.

As she crossed the room she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She still had trouble recognizing the lovely girl who stared back. She'd never really realized how pretty she was, yet for one brief moment she thought, Oh, what I'd give to slip into my unobtrusive facade.

“It's your neck,” the big man growled. He grabbed her wrist and jerked her across the room. “Do you want to leave word for your cousin and your uncle before we leave?” It seemed almost an afterthought.

“I'm sure Sergeant Dickerson will take care of telling everyone at the fort how you abducted me, leaving him powerless to help because of some silly paper!”

“You catch the door, Hawk. I'll take her bag.” The man in black picked up the small tapestry satchel, which was all they'd allowed her to bring, and headed for the door. Travis
Langley grumbled beneath his breath and tugged her along behind.

Mandy wondered fleetingly why Langley's friend called him Hawk, but as she looked at his slightly Indian appearance, she decided it was a fitting name for the big bully. She was surprised he wasn't named
Bear!

As they crossed the porch she snapped into character. “I hope I'm not supposed to ride behind one of you all the way to California.”

“We were hoping Lady Ann might meet with your approval,” James Long told her congenially. “Your father sent her to you as a gift.”

Mandy's gaze traveled to a dainty sorrel mare with four white-stockinged feet. The horse pranced nervously beneath its saddle, awaiting her arrival. Moving toward the mare, Mandy ran her hand down the horse's sleek neck. She'd never owned anything so beautiful. Being a governor's daughter, it appeared, did have some advantages.

With James's assistance, Mandy climbed aboard somewhat awkwardly. “Why can't I ride sidesaddle?” she inquired, tucking her skirts up so she could ride astride as she secretly preferred.

“Because the country's too rough,” Hawk answered. “We're supposed to get you to California in one piece.”

Mandy sat rigidly in the saddle. With little confidence, she was ready to begin her journey.

From where Hawk sat, he could see a bit of well-turned calf above the girl's booted ankle, but his face remained a mask of stone. Showing no emotion was a way of life among the Cheyenne. He was even able to control the twinge he
suddenly felt in his breeches as he continued to admire the attractive bit of baggage he would be transporting. Inwardly he groaned, wondering if the money would be worth it.

Watching from behind lace curtains in Jason's quarters some distance away, Julia sighed with relief. She watched the threesome ride out of the fort with no further mishaps. Jason had left to fetch the wagon and complete the final preparations for their trip. Soon they would be setting out in the opposite direction, and both were eager to put their part of the plan in motion.

Julia shuddered with a momentary pang of guilt. The men who'd taken her cousin looked even more ominous than she'd expected. But she knew her father must have great confidence in them or he would never have entrusted her to their care. He might be angry, but she knew he loved her, though he never showed it. She breathed a little easier. It would do Mandy good to get away from her father and her life at the fort, if only for a while. Smiling, she decided it would all work out for the best in the long run, and headed back to finish her last-minute preparations.

T
ravis Langley pushed relentlessly till just before dark, trying to get as far from the fort as possible. Sparsely covered rolling plains followed the broad, shallow Platte. They'd passed a number of trading posts just outside the fort, but had seen no sign of life, save a few wild pigs, for the past hour. Leaving the main trail, they headed for the rendezvous point: a grove of trees near a tributary stream the men had passed on the way to the fort.

By the time they halted their exhausted animals, well past sundown, Mandy was ready to collapse. Her nerves were taut and her muscles ached from hours in the saddle without pause. Only the cool breeze whistling through the pines revived her lagging spirits as she sat atop her mount, her riding habit covered with a fine layer of dust.

She sighed wearily, trying to gather her strength. She grabbed the horn and was just about to heave herself down when she felt two strong hands around her waist lifting her effortlessly from the saddle. Though secretly grateful for the assistance, she didn't admit it. For the plan to work it was imperative she be convincing. She knew what Julia would do.

“Put me down this instant and keep your hands off me!” she demanded, the first words she'd uttered since she left
her home. She pushed against the big man's muscular chest and looked indignantly up at the tanned face glaring at her from beneath a broad-brimmed hat.

He tightened his hold, his large hands almost spanning her waist. He seemed determined not to let go now that she had challenged him. Watching the set of his jaw, she felt a tiny prickle of alarm, but quickly subdued it.

“You try my patience, Miss Ashton,” he said. “We're going to be together on the trail for some time. If you persist in this attitude, you'll only make it tough on yourself.”

“I can take care of myself just fine without any help from you. And I'll thank you to keep your hands to yourself.” She held Langley's penetrating, dark-eyed gaze for as long as her courage would allow, then her bravado withered. She could feel the heat of his hands around her waist and shivered, the nervousness in her stomach replaced by an odd, tingling sensation.

“I'm sorry,” she conceded stiffly, now eager to be left alone. “Thank you for helping me down. Now, if you would be kind enough to unhand me. I'm very tired.”

“That's more like it,” Langley replied smugly, his mouth curving in a lazy smile. “A little more of that attitude and you and I'll get along just fine.”

She could see he was pleased with himself for gaining the upper hand, and her anger flared. “We're never going to
get along just fine,
Mr. Langley, and you're never going to get me to California, so you might as well give up now.”

“I wouldn't bet on that if I were you.” His gaze turned dark, his temper flaring again. Too abruptly, he released his hold, causing her to lose her balance. She stumbled against
him, then regained her footing, her own temper barely under control.

Without another word he turned and stalked in the opposite direction. She watched his imposing figure move toward his horse silently cursing herself for letting him get under her skin. He was obviously a ruffian and somewhat of a heathen. She vowed to be more careful in the future.

In James's absence, Hawk made camp. He tethered the horses and started a fire. Soon he had a venison stew, meat left over from last night's supper along with a few prairie turnips, simmering over the coals. The hearty aroma wafted through the camp, and he felt his stomach rumble. By the time the stew was done, the sound of a horse's hooves clattered over the rocky ground. Hawk recognized James's familiar figure even from a distance.

“No more trouble at the fort?” Hawk asked, noting James's easy smile as he entered the camp.

“Not a hint. Her lieutenant must be out on patrol. Besides, not many military men are willing to jeopardize their careers by going up against the orders of a governor.” He stepped down gingerly from the horse and began to unsaddle him. Hawk busied himself with the pack animal, untying the tarpaulin and removing the rack.

“How did you and Miss Ashton get along?” James inquired as he buckled his horse's halter.

Hawk could see the mischievous gleam in James's eyes, and it rankled him more than a little.

“Why don't you ask her?” he said sourly as he finished rubbing down the mule.

James watched Hawk pad noiselessly back to the slowly
burning fire. Even though they would travel part of the way by stage, they'd already decided to head west for a distance on horseback, just to be on the safe side. They could board the stage at Fort Bridger or, better yet, Great Salt Lake City.

James tethered the horse and mule beside the other horses, then searched out the girl. He spotted her at the edge of camp. His curiosity piqued, he sauntered up beside her, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Good evening, Miss Ashton.” She made no move to acknowledge the greeting. He tried again. “I hope you're not overly tired after today's ride.” Still unable to draw her into conversation, he tried another tactic.

“Look, Miss Ashton, we don't want any trouble, and we won't give you any if you'll just cooperate. This journey is going to be long and hard at best. We have nothing against you personally; for us this is just a job. We'll try to make it as pleasant for you as possible, if you'll only let us.” He was beginning to understand what Hawk had been dealing with.

Mandy just wanted to be left alone. Right now she couldn't possibly imagine how she let her cousin talk her into such a crazy scheme. She'd given her word, and she'd abide by it, but the question remained unanswered. Again she tried to think how Julia might handle this.

“Mr., ah . . . ”

“Long. James Long,” he said.

“Mr. Long,” she continued haughtily, trying to imagine her cousin at her most overbearing. “When my fiancé finds out you have abducted me, he is going to come after me, and he'll kill you.” She spoke softly, ominously, as if the threat were real. She hoped she sounded convincing.

“That, Miss Ashton, is exactly what we're trying to
avoid. Now, why don't you come have something to eat. Tomorrow's going to be even harder on you than today.”

The soft tone of the man's voice lulled Mandy into a sense of confidence. This man was obviously a gentleman; both his speech and mannerisms confirmed it. Before his return to camp, he had shaved and donned clean clothing. He looked refreshingly refined in his well-tailored suit. Maybe he would become her ally on this journey. Considering his uncouth partner, she could very likely wind up needing one.

Walking toward the fire and the aroma of the stew, Mandy realized she was ravenous. She accepted the tin plate from the man in buckskins. Then, honoring him with just the briefest of glances while turning up her nose in feigned revulsion, she ate every bite on her plate.

Once her hunger was sated, all she could think of was getting some rest. “Where am I supposed to sleep?” she inquired somewhat regally, determined to keep up her pretense.

“Anywhere you please,” came Langley's brusque reply. “Your bedroll is over there.”

He pointed toward three blankets laid out together, and Mandy's eyes grew wide. Straight-backed, she marched over to the blankets, dragged hers as far as possible away from the other two, and lay down to sleep.