One True Love (8 page)

“S
adie, you
have
to take me.” The sun wasn't up and Sadie refused to budge.

“No ma'am, I don't have to do anything but answer to the good Lord on Judgment Day, drive this wagon, and keep my nose out of other folks' business. It's a long way to Colorado, and I don't intend to be thrown off this train because you and Redlin butt heads.”

Copper turned to Adele.

The older woman shook her head. “Same goes for me, young'un. You know if I could I'd help, but I'm getting old and I shore can't walk to Colorado. Besides, the last thing you need to be doing is cavorting around the countryside on horseback.”

“Fine.” Copper reached for her crutches. “Traitors.”

“You ain't near as pretty when you're in this mood,” Adele advised, and proceeded to make her bed. “But I will loan you some britches if you got your heart set on aggravating Josh
this early in the morning. Can't ride a horse in a dress and with that ankle.”

Copper had to admit that further antagonizing Redlin wasn't the smartest idea, but those four wagons sorely grated on her. She was so close to relief. Only one obstacle now stood in her way: the river. After that, help was close by.

Dressed in Adele's old trousers and a shirt, she eased from the wagon and spotted the young Irish lad hitching a team. Copper called out, “Mike!”

He glanced up. “Yes ma'am?”

Copper made it to the wagon, breathless. “I have a favor to ask.” Her gaze scanned the area for Redlin. Richardson was standing beside the fire drinking coffee. Good. The men hadn't left yet.

“Sure thing.” The boy dropped a harness and approached. “What can I do for you?”

“Would you saddle a horse for me?”

Confusion flickered in his eyes. “A horse?”

“Something small—a mare.”

“What for, Miss Wilson? If you need to go somewhere I'll take you. We won't be pulling out for a while.”

“Thank you, Mike, but I'd just enjoy an early ride—a brief trot around the corral to stir the blood?”

Flashing a grin, he nodded. “Sitting gets pretty old, eh?”

“Aye. Real tiresome.” She wasn't fibbing—exactly. Sitting did get old, and she could think of nothing more enjoyable on this morning than a ride through the foggy haze.

Within minutes he'd saddled a horse and led it to her. Lifting her into the saddle, he warned, “You take care. This one's gentle, but we don't need for you to aggravate that ankle.”

She wouldn't. She kept her aggravation for Redlin. “Thank you, Mike, but don't worry. I've been riding horses all of my life.” She reined the animal, and the mare trotted around the corral with a steady, easy gait. Completing a second turn, she called, “I'm taking her out a little farther!”

She wasn't going to lie to accomplish her purpose. She just didn't intend to say how far outside the camp.

Mike nodded, waving her on.

Kneeing the horse, she set the animal into an easy gallop through the gate opening. Her heart kept rhythm with the pounding hooves, feeling lighter than she'd felt in months. The brisk predawn air loosened her hair, and tendrils whipped her face. She'd forgotten how freedom felt, how it felt to be one with the animal. Urgency filled her now. She had to reach the wagons before Redlin, and state her case. She'd be polite but resolved. Those wagons must allow the Redlin party to cross the river and reach the fort before their party followed.

She galloped the mare to within a short distance of the intruders and reined up. The pain from her ankle was more than she had expected, but it was secondary to the urgency of her mission. Nothing stirred. She glanced at the sky, dark with gathering rain clouds. Drat the weather. The last thing they needed was more rain.

Her gaze scanned the quietness. Nobody was up. Perhaps that meant they planned to stay in camp today. Her spirits rose. There wouldn't be a confrontation; the Redlin party would be pulling out early and these folks would still be abed. But—and this thought elated her more than the party's laziness—she'd beat Josh at his game.

Wheeling the horse, she came face to face with her adver
sary. A grim-faced Frank Richardson sat beside Redlin. Both men looked anything but happy to see her.

Looking away, the wagon master apparently reined his anger before he turned back. “Miss Wilson.”

She nodded. “Mr. Redlin.”

“I see you're up and about early this morning.”

She braced for the explosion that oddly enough failed to come.

Inclining his head toward the four wagons, he asked, “Is anybody home?”

“I'm not sure.” Copper turned to trace the men's eyes. “I assume they're all still sleeping.”

Her mare snuffed, shaking its mane.

Strained silence settled over the three riders. Finally Josh kneed his horse forward, and Richardson and Copper fell in behind. As they approached the camp, Josh called out, “Friend!”

A man's voice came back. “Over here!”

The animals rounded the lead wagon, and Copper spotted a well-dressed gentleman standing in front of the fire holding a cup of coffee. The bone china cup and saucer caught her attention: flow blue pattern, and exquisite.

The man frowned, curiosity etched in his aristocratic features. “May I help you?”

Copper eased forward in the saddle, ready to argue her case, but Josh's strident glance rendered her speechless.

“Name's Redlin. I'm head of the party in front of you.”

“Oh yes.” The man extended a hand. “Reginald Newsome, from Shreveport. What can I do for you?”

“Noticed you folks have been following us pretty close for the past few days.”

“Following you?” The man shook his head and sipped from his cup. “I believe this is a public road. One does occasionally have to follow other wagons if they're headed in the same direction.”

Josh remained pleasant. “You're right, but I thought you might like to join up with us. We'd be glad to have the extra hands.”

Join up? Copper seethed. She knew he'd do something like this. Join up indeed! They needed to drop back. Way back.

“No, there's only the two wagons. We're doing fine.”

Copper's eyes focused on four wagons.

“Two?” Josh's gaze followed hers. “One of us can't count.”

“Only two containing my family and myself. The other two contain supplies.” He bent closer, whispering. “I have a young daughter. She requires more—er—room, shall we say? The remaining two wagons hold her clothing and frivolities. You know women.”

A black woman appeared, carrying a supply box. She bent and set to work frying bacon.

Josh met the man's direct gaze. “You're aware that it's wise to travel with a larger train.”

“Yes. So they say, but we prefer to do it our way. We haven't spotted an Indian, and as you can see”—he flashed an indulgent smile—“we prefer to sleep late and get a tardier start than you people.”

Yet they were always half a mile behind their train. Copper bit her lip, determined to let Josh handle the situation. She wouldn't step in unless forced to, and this elite snob, though naive, appeared harmless.

Josh smiled. “Want to invite you again to join us. River's
coming up, and more rain will likely have it out of its banks. It'll be hard to move your wagons across with so little help.”

“There's a river coming up?”

Richardson glanced at Redlin.

“Buffalo. Be coming to it soon. When it's out of its banks, it's hard to cross.”

“Well, you needn't be concerned for our welfare, but we thank you for the invitation. My girls.” He inclined his head to the lead wagon, where all was quiet. “They abhor rules and regulations, and quite frankly, they've spoiled me. I don't like guard duty.” He chuckled and lifted his cup to sip. “I'm afraid I've grown quite slothful in my waning years.”

Josh reined his horse around. “If you change your mind let us know. Otherwise, keep your wagons back a day or two from ours.”

“A day or two?” Reginald's features sobered. “I think not. This is a public roadway. You don't own it.”

“No sir, I don't, but neither do you, and in these parts there's no law except the ones we make for ourselves, and I'm telling you to keep your wagons back two days from ours.”

He visibly stiffened. “I shall not. You have no call to ask such a thing.”

“Then join up with us, do your share of work, and we'll help you ford the river.”

“I'll do no such thing.”

A young woman parted the back canvas and peered out, blinking sleep from her round blue eyes. Copper took note of her stunning beauty. She wasn't much younger than Copper, but her porcelain skin, blond hair, and stunning shade of ocean-blue eyes could turn any man's head. Glancing at Josh, she noticed he hadn't missed the sight. She glanced at her
hands, red and rough from hours of washing clothes in a cold stream. She quickly stuffed them into her pockets. And she hadn't bothered to comb her hair this morning.

“Daddy!” the daughter complained. “It's so early! You woke me.”

“Sorry, Pudding.” He turned accusing eyes on the Redlin party. “Now you've wakened Milly.”

The flap dropped back into place and Reginald lowered his tone. “I believe our business is concluded. We shall not join your train nor shall we keep our wagon two days back. We're not accountable to you, and I would appreciate it if you'd ride out. Milly and Florence are trying to sleep.”

Copper couldn't hold her tongue another moment. “If you intend to keep up with our wagons, how can you sleep this late?” Redlin pulls out at eight o'clock sharp.”

The man lifted his nose. “Our niggers take care of the mundane. The women sleep as long as they're so inclined.”

Copper had to bite her lip to keep from lashing out at the man like a coiled rattler. Indeed. She had helped fight a war over the attitudes inherent in that ugly term. Men like Reginald Newsome should be strung up and horsewhipped.

“Miss Wilson,” Josh softly warned.

She drew a deep breath and clamped down on her tongue.

He nodded. “Like the man said, our business is over.” Reining the mare, Copper fell in behind Richardson and Redlin and the three galloped out.

“Mean enough for you?” Josh asked Copper on the ride back to camp.

“You were a kitten—a meek little kitten. He's a thoughtless, vile snob. But I suppose he got the message.”

“That's what you think.”

She glanced over. “Don't you think you made your point?”

Redlin shrugged. “We understand each other.”

“Well, at least we won't be delayed,” Copper said. “You say the fort is within a day's ride once we cross the river?”

Josh nodded. “We're nearly there.”

The three horses galloped into camp, and Mike ran out to meet them. “I was about to ride out looking for you.”

Copper handed him the reins. “Why? I had a splendid ride, and I haven't been gone long.”

“Just splendid,” Josh mocked her.

Mike's young features closed. “We got big trouble.” The urgency in his tone turned heads.

Josh frowned. “What's wrong?”

“The Sniders' toddler. She wandered out of camp half an hour ago. We've been searching everywhere but we can't find the little girl anywhere.” Mike paused. “And she's not wearing shoes.”

F
ourteen-month-old Carrie Snider had walked barefoot away from her wagon and disappeared. A lost child struck terror in the hearts of all fathers and mothers, and the weather had turned mean. Rigging and teams were forgotten as almost everyone spread out to search for the girl. Those that remained with the wagons formed a supportive cluster around the hysterical mother.

Against everyone's wishes, Copper insisted on participating in the search. With all the confusion she barely noticed the pain in her ankle. She was aboard the mare, and no one, not even Redlin, was going to talk her out of looking for that baby.

When full daylight arrived a cool west wind blew through the camp. The baby was shoeless on a windy, overcast day. The thought of the darling cherub, with her sunny disposition and chubby cheeks, drove Copper farther and farther away from the circle of wagons. Three men rode with her,
friends from neighboring rigs. Grim-faced men scanned every bush, rain-swollen ditch, and creek.

The party passed the Louisiana wagons that strangely enough were now hitched and awaiting departure. Only the thought of the lost child prevented Copper from stopping long enough to give those folks a tongue-lashing they would not soon forget.

An hour passed, then a second. Threatening clouds roiled overhead. A sense of urgency was present in the faces of each of the searchers.

By mid-morning, Copper could no longer ignore the torture radiating from her ankle. Her foot was puffy inside her bandage, yet she refused to give in to the agony. She could sit in camp and help comfort Lil Snider, but her nature wouldn't permit it. Children were God's gift. She was gaining a better understanding of why she had chosen to teach young minds. She'd come from an affluent family, her papa from a line of “old money” as some were known to say. She had been given two choices: Choose any man within her realm of society or (to her socialite mother's chagrin) further her education. She chose the latter. She'd been told that she was a gifted student, completing her early education by the time she was fifteen. Papa and Mother had turned absolutely green when she informed them that she wanted to move to Texas and teach, but Papa had never denied his only child a single thing. Only now was she starting to realize that perhaps through her parents' love and complete devotion, Mama had raised a selfish daughter and Papa had created a self-centered individual.

 

During noon hour, the clouds opened and the rain began again. Not a single sign of the missing child had been found.
Not a lost bonnet, a strip of torn dress, or the rag doll the child carried constantly.

Richardson insisted that the mother be given something from the train's medicine box to calm her. The young woman's collapse was hard to witness, but if the child wasn't found soon the mother would be inconsolable. She tossed fitfully on a pallet in her wagon while the distraught husband searched or paced back and forth in front of the wagon.

“You shouldn't be doing this, Miss Wilson.” Mike helped her back aboard the mare and settled her injured foot in the stirrup.

“Don't fuss at me, Mike. You know I can't sit by and watch. I need to be doing something.”

“Just don't ride off on your own,” he warned. “I haven't seen an Indian but they're out there.”

Yes, they were out there, and the thought haunted every member of the search party. Little Carrie would make a fine Comanche trophy, or a thoughtful gift for a childless mother. She nudged the horse to catch up with the rest of her group.

Mid-afternoon her party caught up with Redlin's group. The searchers paused in a willow stand, their horses blowing white breath in the falling temperatures.

A man from Copper's party said, “We've searched every inch of the area, Josh. She's nowhere to be found.”

Redlin nodded, openly confirming everyone's unspoken fear. “We've covered it well. She could have fallen into the stream. With this rain, the current would have swept her downstream.”

Copper's heart caught in her throat. The woman riding beside her turned her head away.

Redlin glanced at the sky. “We have a couple hours before dark. You take the riverbank leading north and we'll take the south bank.” He pulled the brim of his hat lower. “Be back in camp an hour before dark.”

Copper protested. “But we can't just leave the child out here.”

Josh reined his horse. “An hour before dark.” Nudging the animal, he rode off, and his party fell in behind him.

Copper's group rode the south bank. Occasionally the searchers would form a huddle and one or the other men led them in prayer. “God, we need your help” sounded so many times, the phrase echoed over and over in Copper's mind. The huddle would break up, and the riders would continue the search down the bank. Rain thrummed the ground and the small stream swelled to new heights.

An hour before dark, Richardson reined up. He faced the weary riders, and Copper wondered if she had ever seen such raw emotion on any man's face. “We're due back.”

Some argued; to leave the child out on a night like this would be a certain death sentence.

Richardson was so much like Josh that it both broke and strengthened her heart. Someone had to be strong. Someone had to say when to stop, and the agony of leadership was imprinted on the faces of both men.

Quietly turning their animals, the small party rode back to camp. As they galloped past the four wagons, Copper noted they'd waited. The Negro slave bent in the steady rain to coax the fire where fat slabs of beef struggled to sizzle.

 

After supper, Josh led a prayer service for Carrie Snider. Copper's heart ached when he asked for comfort for the griev
ing mother and father. Every person in the group knew that when the train pulled out in the morning, the little girl was lost forever. Prayerful vigil had not produced results.

“How can this be?” a distraught mother called softly from the sidelines when Josh admitted that he didn't always, if ever, understand the ways of the Lord. But he stated again, with an air of certainty that seemed almost cruel under the circumstances, that he only understood that they were to trust and accept, regardless of how painful the situation.

He shook his head, rain dripping from the brim of his hat. It was as though the angels were crying tonight. “I wish I knew the answer, Mrs. Bellows. Good Lord knows I wish I knew.”

Copper wiped her eyes, recalling the way the toddler was always hungry. She seemed a bottomless pit, always asking, “Num, num,” her word for
hungry
. And she loved books. Oh, how she loved books. No matter how many times
Mr. Bear and the Moon
had been read to her, she always wanted to hear it again.

Talk quietly centered on erecting a small marker in the toddler's name before the train pulled out the next morning.

Josh ended the service with a prayer for trust and guidance, and then asked that every man present stay for a brief meeting afterward.

The women departed, heading for dry wagons, while the men gathered in the center of the corral. Adele's rig was parked directly in front of the meeting place, so when Copper stepped upon the box into the wagon she could hear the men's conversation.

Redlin spoke. “You've all noticed the wagons following us?”

“Yes, what's that about,” a fellow asked.

“I had a talk with them this morning. A man, his wife and daughter, and some slaves. Seems they hail from Shreveport, and I didn't ask where they were heading. They don't like rules and regulations. I invited them to join up, but they prefer to remain on their own. We'll be coming to the river soon. The question is this; do we help them across or let them fend for themselves?”

“How are they going to get four wagons across a river? This rain will have the water roiling by morning.”

Josh again. “That's the purpose of this meeting. They won't get across, not without help.”

“One family? Why four wagons?”

“I understand a couple of them hold supplies and the daughter's dresses and furniture.”

Copper could imagine the men's reactions. Adele and Sadie were sitting with Carrie's mother, so she had the wagon to herself. She drew the curtain to block the light, and began to unbutton her rain-soaked dress, ear still tuned to the men's exchange.

“What's our choice?” someone asked.

“We can help or we can move on and let them go it alone.”

“You invited them to join up?”

“Twice. Left the invitation open, but I told them if they don't join up they need to stay two days ride behind us.”

“They weren't planning on that this morning. Their wagons were hitched and ready to roll when we rode out looking for the girl,” Richardson said.

“I say we take a vote,” a gruff voice called.

Redlin's voice followed. “All those in favor of helping when we come to the river, call out.”

Dead silence followed.

“Those who want to grant their wish and let them go it alone?”

The
ayes
rattled Adele's wagon. Copper slipped into a warm nightgown, proud of their stance. Stupidity bothered her, and the Newsomes had a terminal case. She didn't wish the family harm, but they'd been given a choice and refused help. She'd have to hand it to Josh. He had handled the situation with empathy but with strength and wise judgment. She would have started a war if she'd been left to deal with the high-and-mighty family.

The Newsomes had chosen unwisely. Somewhere in the Good Book it said, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom,” and that family seemed not to have any of either. And the servants. Had Newsome given them a choice to leave, or had he failed to mention that the war was over, and slavery was abolished.

She hopped to her pallet, wincing when she encountered a smattering of soda cracker crumbs on the wagon floor.
Adele
. She had the messiest eating habits. Copper brushed away crumbs, too weary to sweep up. It could wait until morning.

Outside, the crowd dispersed. Several of the women, including Adele and Sadie, were still with an inconsolable Lil Snider. Copper had spotted Carrie's father sitting beside the wagon, coiled fists to his eyes.

Sighing, she dropped the laudanum under her tongue, and then blew out the light. Not only had this been the most tragic period of her life, they'd lost yet another day's travel. It seemed God didn't want her to reach the fort.

Crawling beneath cold sheets, she stretched out, and then suddenly froze. With a yelp, she rolled to the wagon floor
and sucked in her breath when the injured foot struck the end of Adele's rocker. The pain reminded her of the abuse she had forced on her ankle all day.

Something
was in her bed. Something rather large. And foreign.

Snake? Her heart hammered, and logic sat in. How would a snake get into her pallet? A snake would not be warm!

With trembling fingers, she struck a match and relit the lamp and then cautiously eased the blanket aside.

Carrie sat up, blinking her eyes.

Copper sagged with relief. Easing to her knees, she smothered the toddler with a bear hug, delirious with relief. “Where have you been, sweetie? Your parents have been looking for you all day!” Hadn't the child heard them calling. Shouting? If she had, she had chosen to ignore the summons.

The little girl, still drowsy from sleep, blinked innocently. “Weed.”

Weed. Weed? Read! Copper spotted the mound of books.
Mr
.
Bear and the Moon
was lying on top. The child had attended every noon school session, and books fascinated her. Somehow she had climbed on top of the box step after Adele and Sadie left, into the wagon, and had spent the entire day huddled on the bed looking through the picture books or napping. Everyone was so preoccupied with the search or tending the stricken parents, they hadn't thought to thoroughly search the wagons.

The little girl said, “Num, num.”

“You're hungry? Of course you are!” Copper recalled the patch of crumbs that she'd blamed on Adele. With only soda crackers to eat all day, the child must be thirsty and famished.

“Stay right here, sweetheart. I'll be right back.”

Copper hopped through the pile of cracker crumbs and parted the back canvas. “Hey everybody! I have a hungry little girl in here!”

If Copper had ever once doubted that there was a God, he'd shown himself tonight.