Authors: Phoebe Conn
Although Gabrielle could hear the men's conversation, she moved closer still, afraid she might miss something important if she didn't. Mrs. Duffy was standing nearby, far from eager to rejoin her husband's company. Gabrielle felt sorry for the woman. She appeared to have been pretty once, but now her right eye was black and her lips were so swollen she probably couldn't even sip liquids without suffering considerable pain. Gabrielle wondered if she had loved Sam Duffy when they'd married, for it certainly didn't look as though she did that morning. When Jason spotted her he gave her a warning glance as if he expected her to cause some further disturbance, but she just smiled prettily, as if she had every right to be there.
Knowing he was beaten, Sam Duffy had to agree, but he looked far from pleased about it. "All right. You'll have no more trouble from me, I swear it."
"Mrs. Duffy, will you come here please?" Jason waited for her to approach; then he explained what had been decided. "I'll not tolerate another incident like yesterday's. If you even
suspect it might happen again, I want you to come to me immediately. Is that clear?"
The battered woman nodded. "Yes, sir," she finally managed to whisper.
Satisfied that his rules were understood Jason turned away. He headed straight toward Gabrielle, not realizing he had drawn Sam's attention to her. The hostile man's expression darkened and an evil gleam appeared in his eyes, but he knew better than to insult the attractive young woman when Jason could overhear him.
"You should have known better than to come over here this morning, but at least you kept your mouth shut. I'm grateful for that." He was pleased to see she bore no trace of the scuffle she'd entered, and he smiled as he greeted her.
Turning to take her place by his side, Gabrielle responded truthfully. "I wanted to know what would happen to the man, that's all. How could he manage tofollow the trail if he were all alone? Wouldn't he be attacked by Indians, or become lost?"
"Definitely, that's why he'll be a model husband for as long as the trip lasts. I hope he learned something from this. His wife told me he is a good man except for an occasional burst of jealousy."
"What?" Gabrielle was astonished by that comment. "How can she consider such a man 'good'?"
"It isn't all that unusual for a man and his wife to argue, Gabrielle, but no man has the right to abuse a woman, no matter what the reason for his anger." Jason pushed his hat back, trying to adjust it more carefully upon his curls. His hair had grown too long—he'd simply had no time to trim it—but that was a slight annoyance. "Did your aunt and uncle never have disagreements?"
They had reached her wagon now and Gabrielle took only a moment to explain. "My aunt was a spinster. I have no experience with families except from what I observed in my friends' homes, and their parents were undoubtedly on their good behavior when they entertained guests."
"Oh, undoubtedly," Jason agreed. "You don't know a damn thing about life, do you Gabrielle?" he asked with a sly grin, her innocence now having an understandable cause. Her aunt must have been shocked when she'd had to assume the responsibility for a child, especially one who'd grown up to be such a lovely young woman. Since she hadn't approved of Beau, he could well imagine what the woman would have thought of him.
With a fiery glance, Gabrielle responded sarcastically. "Only what I've learned from you, Mr. Royal. Now good day." She left him then, since she knew he had to give the command to begin the day's march, but when she turned he was watching her, an amused smile on his face. This made her angrier still for she thought she knew a damn sight more about life than he did.
As they rode along the trail that day, Gabrielle noted the continuing changes in the landscape. The rolling hills had given way to a new flatness. This was a barren terrain devoid of the pretty spring flowers whose fragrance she'd so enjoyed. They soon discovered the Oregon Trail was not a well-worn road, but a route which was two to three miles wide. That was why each wagon train's experience was approximately the same, but in subtle ways each was also different.
When Paul had finished serving lunch he sat down with his charges and joined in the discussion of the morning's ride. "We've left the valley of the Little Blue. That's why you've noticed such a difference in our surroundings. We should reach the Platte River by tomorrow afternoon if Mr. Royal keeps to his usual pace and I have no reason to doubt he won't. That man is as steady as they come. He doesn't waste a moment that could be better spent on the trail."
"The Platte?" Gabrielle remarked with a vacant stare, overcome by a sudden wave of apprehension. She'd known all along that they couldn't avoid the river, but she'd not thought the mere prospect of sighting it would fill her with such terrible dread. She could barely chew and set her plate aside after taking no more than a few bites.
"Yes, we've been making a good fifteen miles a day Til bet. We'll reach the Platte easily by nightfall tomorrow."
"Is that a fact?" Gabrielle whispered hoarsely, feeling she was expected to make some comment.
"We should be able to hunt some, antelope or buffalo. Have you ever tasted buffalo meat?"
"No, I'll look forward to trying it."
As the others picked up the conversation Gabrielle grew silent. She tried to follow her friends' comments as they teased Paul about his cooking, but she could not escape the feeling of foreboding which swelled within her until she could scarcely draw a breath. Excusing herself, she walked toward the horses, knowing her devotion to Sunny would attract no attention, but even as she stroked Sunny's glossy coat she thought only of Beau.
Jason stood in front of the fire over which he and Clayton had cooked their lunch, and he watched Gabrielle with a fond gaze. She is delightfully graceful, rather like a wood nymph, he thought, with her talent for taming even the most spirited of beasts. He had to chuckle then, for he knew her touch to have a far different effect upon a man. Her stallion nuzzled her shoulder affectionately, and they appeared to be such a contented pair that he did not intrude. However, the following afternoon he made a point of seeking out the young woman he'd come to regard so highly.
"Come with me!" he called, and pushing Duke to a gallop, he wasn't surprised when she responded to that challenge. Sunny overtook Duke with a few long strides, and once they were sufficiently ahead of the first wagon to avoid being observed, he drew his stallion to a halt. "I did not want the river to take you by surprise. We will reach the Platte withing the hour."
Gabrielle nodded thoughtfully, as if she weren't already aware of that fact. "Thank you, it is most considerate of you to think of my feelings." Jason continually surprised her, and as usual she wondered what his true motive was for being so kind.
Jason shrugged nonchalantly. "It's only one of my many
duties, ma'am.''
"Of course, but it is appreciated all the same," Gabrielle responded seriously, not knowing how she should react to his teasing sarcasm. If only he were not so damned good looking, she thought, suddenly determined to resist the charming grin he was flashing so easily. She'd lost her head completely with him once—several times actually, although the last had been the most devastating in terms of surrender—and she did not want to repeat that intimacy ever again since it was pointless. Had he been a true gentleman he would have asked for her hand before they'd made love, or immediately thereafter. He most certainly would not have waited to see if he had to marry her just to avoid a scandal. Now just looking at him was painful, for she could imagine no fate worse than having to marry a man who didn't love her.
Seeing her glance grow troubled, Jason spoke of the only topic which came to his-mind. "We'll follow the South Platte for nearly sixty miles. Should be about five days with good weather. Then we'll cross over and follow the bank of the North fork of the river."
"That sounds like a complicated path to follow, I'm glad you know the way," Gabrielle replied, relieved he'd not said something more suggestive.
"I'll see you aren't lost for a minute, Gabrielle." Jason knew he was flirting openly with her now, hoping to distract her from her gloomy memories in the most outrageous manner possible. "Let's have that race we didn't have the opportunity to try. You take Duke and I'll ride Sunrise if you're willing."
Gabrielle tried to read the message in his glance and in his words, but she saw nothing that led her to believe he wanted to do more than simply race.
"Why not? It was my idea in the first place as I recall."
Jason slipped from his saddle and held Duke's bridle to make certain he would stand still while Gabrielle leaped upon his back. She was as agile as a deer, mounting the animal with no more effort than she would expend in taking a step upon the
ground. Satisfied that she was comfortably seated, he turned to Sunny. He stood by the horse's side for a moment, hoping the spirited staUion would be as cooperative as his mistress.
"Has he ever been ridden by a man?" he asked curiously, for he judged Gabrielle's weight to be little over one hundred pounds while he weighed closer to two.
"Only one," the auburn-haired beauty replied sadly, touched by the pain of that unexpected memory. "I have taught him no secret signals, but if you are afraid to ride him we needn't have the race. "
Scoffing at the absurdity of that idea, Jason leaped upon the roan and tipped his hat. "I'll let you set the course, my dear."
After surveying their surroundings for a moment, Gabrielle could find no point of sufficient interest to use as the finish line. "Shall we return to the wagons or go on toward the river.*^
"If we race back the way we've come, we'll scare everyone needlessly for they'll think we're trying to escape a pursuit. What do you say to racing to that boulder on the rise just ahead?"
"Yes, that's fine." Gabrielle adjusted her hold upon the reins, making certain she'd be able to control Duke. "Since you claim I didn't give you a fair start, I want you to say when to go."
"We'll both count to three then, how's that?" Jason offered agreeably.
Nodding as her expression grew serious, Gabrielle counted with him, but when they reached three and Sunrise took off with a burst of speed, she held Duke back for a second or two before giving him his head. She then tore off after her horse as if she'd wagered her life savings on the outcome of the race and Jason had no idea what she'd done. Duke's long powerful stride crossed the ground with admirable speed, but even with Jason's additional weight Sunny won handily. Laughing as she drew alongside them, Gabrielle congratulated the winner.
"That was an inspired ride, Mr. Royal, but since it was my
horse who won I do not feel as though I have lost."
Jason knew she preferred to ride her own horse so he dismounted quickly. As he passed Sunny's reins back to her he whispered in her ear, "I'd say I deserve a nice prize, but I'll settle for a kiss."
Tossing her flowing red hair, Gabrielle gave his request scant consideration before she agreed. "Fine, but you'll have to catch me first!"
She was too quick for him, however, and was in the saddle and gone before he could lift his foot to the stirrup. He had no choice but to stand where he was and swear loudly, for he knew he could never catch her when Sunny was the more swift stallion.
When the wagon train reached the South Platte late that afternoon, Gabrielle found the sight of the wide, muddy river as unnerving as she'd feared it would be. Beau had not died there, but nearly a week's journey ahead, at the place where they'd ford the river. That thought provided her with no consolation, however, and she felt a nearly uncontrollable rage at the river which had claimed her beloved's life. Rather than join the singers after dinner, she strolled aimlessly around the circle of wagons until she heard a man's voice call her name in a low-pitched snarl. He was standing in the shadows and she could see little more than his silhouette, but she could think of only one heavyset man who would wish to greet her so rudely.
"Yes, Mr. Duffy?"
"I'll not have you spying on us. Miss MacLaren. That is your name, ain't it?" he growled hoarsely.
"Yes."
Aware that the hour was later than she'd realized, Gabrielle lifted the hem of her skirt slightly with her right hand, ready to run should the man come any closer. "But I'm merely taking a walk, not spying upon you and your family."
Sam negated her denial with one short obscenity. "I catch you near our wagon again, you'll be damn sorry, now git before I change my mind and teach you the lesson you deserve!"
Since Gabrielle knew exactly how he chose to give instruction, she did not bother to reply but walked swiftly away. The man was offensive in the extreme, but what would happen to poor Mrs. Duffy and their children if Jason forced him to leave? Would the woman go with him or try to continue on her own? That was a matter she wanted to discuss with the woman herself, but she'd have to be certain her husband didn't see them talking since he'd taken such a dislike to her. Lost in thought, she walked swiftly by Jason's tent without stopping to say good-evening, but he leaped to his feet to give chase, catching her by the hand and turning her back to face him when they reached the next patch of deep shadow.
"Oh, Jason, don't ever do that again!" Gabrielle protested breathlessly, her heart pounding wildly for in the darkness she'd thought he was Sam Duffy making good his threat until she'd heard his deep chuckle.
"You said I'd have to catch you, and I have. Now don't be such a poor loser," he whispered softly as he drew her into a close embrace.
Gabrielle made sure they were hidden by the shadows before she lifted her hands to his shoulders, thinking herself lucky he had demanded only a kiss. She felt safe in his arms despite his teasing words, and when his mouth met hers she did not resist his affection but returned it, her tongue playfully teasing his until he lowered his hand to her breast. When he slowly caressed the flushed tip with his fingertips, she drew away, for the sheer muslin of her dress offered no barrier to his touch and she was afraid of what would happen should she not flee immediately.