Authors: Beth Williamson
The wagon train had stopped again for the night. She stayed in the wagon while her family took care of the oxen, built a fire, cooked and settled in. Frankie pressed her face against her knees and rocked herself. Her stomach was still twisted in knots and the happiness she’d found with John was a wisp of a dream she couldn’t grab.
“Francesca.” Her father climbed into the wagon and settled beside her. “Ah,
lapin
, you are hurting.”
“Papa, I am a coward.” The words burst out of her mouth, poisonous and painful. “A ridiculous shadow of a woman.”
He sighed and put his arm around her shoulders and tucked her under his arm. “There are things you haven’t told me.” The dog whined and moved closer.
Her heart ached for the lies she’d told by omission. “Yes.” She could barely force the word past the enormous lump in her throat. “I am sorry, Papa. So sorry.”
He kissed the top of her head. “No, I am sorry,
ma petite
. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t taken that loan. I don’t know the details of what you did, but I know why you did it. I was frantic with worry while you were gone.” He cupped her cheek and gently forced her to look at him. His green eyes, so like her own, brimmed with love. “You are the strongest, most courageous person I know, Francesca. Look what you have done for us. We have a new life ahead, an adventure that we would never have unless we’d left New York.”
Frankie heard what he said but her heart still burned with shame. “Because of me we had to flee our home in the dead of night like thieves.”
“Ah,
ma petite
, home is not a place. Home is here.” He pressed his fist to his heart. “Family is home. You were brave and took such risks with your life. I am very proud of you.”
Tears burned her eyes. “Papa.” Her whispered word held a world of meaning. Her father was the man she looked up to, the man who taught her how to be a good person. She had been hiding from everything and everyone. Her father most of all.
“Have you named this dog?” Her father petted the dog’s head. “He is very faithful.”
The dog had taught her a few things about being courageous and loyal. He deserved a strong name and it was past time to do so.
“Not yet, but I think I will call him Leon. He has the heart and courage of a lion.”
The dog whuffed softly, giving his approval to the name. She scratched behind his ears and his tail thumped happily.
“This man, John Malloy, is a good man,
oui
?”
Frankie’s heart thumped at the mention of the man who resided within it. “The best man I know next to you.”
He smiled. “I see him walk and ride past the wagon three or four times a day. I do not think he is looking for me.”
“I did not know.” A tiny flicker of hope lit inside her.
“You are a flower in the middle of the prairie, a beautiful, smart, courageous woman who could have her pick of beaus.” He waggled his brows.
Frankie shook her head. “You exaggerate, Papa.”
“No, I do not.” He chuckled and then his expression turned serious. “Do you love him,
lapin
?”
Fear had kept her confession of love buried and it was time to let it free. Telling her father would be hard, telling John would be much more difficult. She took a deep breath and dug deep inside. “Yes, Papa. I love him.”
“Then why are you hiding in the wagon? Life is outside. Waiting.” He got to his feet, hunched over by the height of the canvas, and held out his hand. “It is time.”
Her feet weighed her down, but she forced herself to move, to take her father’s hand and leave the wagon. The late afternoon sunlight pricked her eyes and she was blind for a few moments. A hand touched hers and held on tight. Frankie finally blinked away the stinging and saw her mother, smiling and helping her down.
“
Cherie¸
I am happy to see you out of the wagon.” Her mother gestured to the three young women behind her. “We are all happy.”
Her sisters all smiled, their expressions hopeful. Frankie was grateful for such wonderful people. She stepped down and pulled her mother into a fierce hug, then did the same to each of her sisters. Frankie’s heart felt lighter than it had in two weeks, bathed in the glow of her family’s love. They had shown her nothing but patience and support.
“Hell’s bells, Frankie, it’s about damn time you came out,” Charlotte pronounced.
“You are such an embarrassment, Charlie,” Isabelle said without rancor, a smile playing around her lips.
Frankie smiled at her sisters, happy to know they were the ladies she loved dearly. Jo shook her head at the two youngest Chastains.
“You have someone to go see,
oui
?” Her mother raised one brow. “
Monsieur
Malloy has been our shadow since your return.”
Frankie smiled. “I do have someone to see. Do you know where he is?”
“I saw him ride south about twenty minutes ago.” Jo pointed toward a gentle rise in the distance. “You will need a horse, I think.”
“I have a horse.” She grinned. “Her name is Liberté
.
” She could saddle the mare because John had taught her what to do.
Frankie had made hard choices in her life, but picking John to love had been the easiest. She had to find him and tell him she loved him. It was past time.
“Good luck,” Jo whispered, her expression one of longing. “I am happy for you.”
Frankie hugged her hard. “Thank you.” Someday her serious sister would find the right path for herself and stop hiding behind her spectacles.
She picked up her skirts and raced to the makeshift corral of horses, belatedly realizing she hadn’t even run a brush through her hair all day. Well, he would have to see her at her worst, that was for certain, although he probably already had.
Liberté trotted over immediately and stuck her great nose into Frankie’s neck. The mare made her feel welcome, and affirmed she was doing the right thing. With a bit of finagling, and a few curses, Frankie was able to get the horse saddled. Perspiration dotted her brow and ran down between her breasts, but she did it.
John would definitely see her in a not-so-ladylike state. She laughed aloud and the horse blinked her great brown eye at her. Frankie patted her neck and found a rock to use as a mounting block.
It was time to find her man. Her own inaction would likely drive him away and she had to stop it. She kneed the mare into a trot and followed the course Jo had indicated. Frankie saw a dark spot in the distance and hoped it was John. The sun was going down and darkness would be upon them soon. She wasn’t confident enough to find her way back to the wagons if she rode too far. It was worth it though, to finally admit her love.
Frightening, exhilarating and crazy.
She rode closer to the figure on the horse and her heart leapt when she recognized the wide shoulders and the mustang. “John!”
He swiveled around at the sound of her voice and pulled Blue to a stop. Her stomach flipped at the idea she was about to step across that final line, to leave behind the scared young girl and become the woman she was inside. She rode up to him, taken by the sight of the handsome, scruffy man silhouetted against the most beautiful spot she’d ever seen.
Her throat tightened as she finally faced him. His blue eyes were steady, watchful. Her courage faltered and she managed a shaky smile.
“Good evening, John. This is a pretty place.”
He moved his gaze to the scenery instead of her and she was able to suck in a lungful of air.
“Evening, Miss Chastain.” His formal address did not bode well. Had she waited too long and lost her chance? He stretched out his arm and pointed to a valley in the distance. “About two hundred miles that way is where my ranch will be. I got enough money to start it now. I, uh, decided to leave the wagon train. Declan has proved himself to Buck and he’s gonna let him take over my job.”
Icy dread washed over her at his pronouncement. “You are leaving me?”
He turned back to her and took his hat off. In his eyes, she saw a world of emotions, including love and hope. “No, it wouldn’t be the same without you, Frankie. I’ve been waiting for you to come out of that wagon for weeks so I could ask you to marry me. I love you. I think I’ve always loved you.”
It was all she wanted. The future was right there in front of her. Hers to grasp and hold onto. She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened. Her own emotions were running high, overflowing and overwhelming. How could she have found the man to spend her life with, to love and be loved in return? She could hardly catch her breath at the joy spreading through her.
The sound of horses’ hooves pulled her from her stupor. John was riding away. Away! How long had she been sitting there silent? Long enough to convince him she was rejecting him apparently. Silly man.
Frankie kneed Liberté into motion and galloped after him, terrified she would fall off the horse. It didn’t matter though. She had to tell him how she felt. Now.
“John, stop!” The sharp, jarring motion of the saddle sent pain up her tailbone.
He yanked Blue to a stop and pulled the mustang around to face her. “What the hell are you doing, woman? You don’t know this territory and you sure as hell shouldn’t be riding that fast in the shadows. Your mare could find a prairie dog hole and snap her leg.”
She rode right up to him, crowding the horse and man. “You,
Monsieur
Malloy, ran off before I could respond to your question. Unless you have changed your mind?”
He opened his mouth and then shut it without speaking. His gaze was wary but hopeful. She leaned closer and took hold of his shirt.
“My answer is yes. Yes, I will marry you and live on your piece of paradise in the Wyoming Territory. As long as the dog and the horse come with me—we have become a family, I think.” Her heart pounded hard, banging against her ribs in a staccato rhythm. “Yes
, j’taime. J’taime toujours
.”
I love you always
.
A wide grin split his face and he pulled her from her saddle, depositing her across his thighs. He cupped her face and kissed her hard and fast.
“You mean it?”
She smiled back, with everything in her heart. “
J’taime toujours
.”
“Damn, I
hoped
, but hell, I almost gave up.”
She kissed him on the forehead, cheeks and lips, breathing in his familiar scent. “Thank you for not giving up. I had to fight my way back from a dark place. I hoped you would be there when I did.”
His beloved face told her more than words ever could. “
J’taime toujours
.”
Frankie wrapped her arms around the man who had become hers. Life had brought her the most precious gift of all. Love.
They took their time getting back to the wagon train, walking their horses while they talked and laughed, dreaming of the future. John could hardly believe she was by his side and that she’d agreed to marry him. He never expected getting shot in the hand would lead to a partner, a lover, a best friend. She was everything.
“Who do we tell first?” He knew he had a stupid grin on his face, but he couldn’t have stopped even if he tried. This was what happiness and joy felt like. Damn good.
“Your intended bride, I think.” Her reminder hit him like a mule kick.
“Shit.”
“Shit, indeed.” She chuckled. “Now I sound like Charlie.”
“Harvey is going to shoot me. Either that or Veronica will.” He had completely avoided the Harveys the last two weeks. It hadn’t been hard considering how busy he was every day. He did check his tent each night to make sure it was empty though.
“No they won’t. I have my
petit mort
back. I will stop them if they try.” She held up her hand to show him the tiny gun. The dog woofed his agreement.
“Hell.” John ran his hand down his face. “Why are women so complicated?”
“Probably the same reason men are. Human nature.” She squeezed his hand. “I won’t leave your side. We’ll tell them together, okay?”
He pulled her hand up and kissed the back, nipping at a knuckle for good measure. She smiled and he saw his future in her beautiful eyes.
They arrived at camp when most folks were getting ready to relax after supper. Charlie was sitting on the edge of the wagon, legs swinging as she braided blades of grass. She spotted them and grinned from ear to ear. Her curly hair had escaped from the braid and stuck up in various places.
They secured the horses to the wagon wheel and waited for Charlie to jump down.
“Are we gonna have a wedding?”
Frankie nodded and Charlie whooped in delight.
“Holy shit! That’s so goddamn wonderful.” The youngest Chastain danced around them singing a silly song as they walked together into the center of the circle of wagons.
“Go get Mama and Papa, oh, and Jo and Isabelle too, please.” Frankie had hardly finished speaking before her sister took off running toward their family wagon.
The wagon master stood by the Harvey’s fire, speaking to Mr. Harvey. John’s gut told him to turn around and get the hell out of there, but Frankie was by his side. He could do anything. By the time they reached the fire, a small crowd had gathered, waiting for them, including young Arthur, who was smiling. Veronica stepped out of the shadows, her arms folded across her chest, a less than joyful expression on her face.