Wagonmaster (4 page)

To Addie's surprise, the others on the train treated her differently now. By no means could she call their behavior friendly, but neither had they been as cold or gone out of their way to avoid her.

The new, slightly slower pace had helped to ease the utter exhaustion that had plagued her at the end of each day. She ignored the thought that Reynolds' evening visits had provided any extra boost to her energy levels. But she'd be lying if she said she hadn't enjoyed his company...and his kisses.

Each night he had joined her. Each night she melted in the warmth of his arms, beneath the heat of his touch, consumed by the scorching fire in his kiss. She sighed in remembrance of his palm against her breast. Memories of the way his muscles tightened in response to her roaming hands sent a thrill of satisfaction through her. A smile curved her lips with the knowledge that he'd shared her passion.

Passion
. She'd never known the feeling before, but it couldn't be explained by any other means. It must be passion—that marvelous, enticing, wickedly wonderful emotion.
Desire
could be the word to describe the pulsing need that raced through her body when his lips trailed kisses across the sensitive skin below her ear.
Lust
might even be the term for the wanton ache that settled between her thighs when his tongue stroked hers and his fingers pinched her hardened nipple. But the feeling that burned to a white-hot flame? The power that consumed and erased her thoughts, her fears, her modesty, and her inhibitions? The overwhelming drive to give herself fully, body and soul, to the man whose kisses stole her breath and stopped her heart? That had to be passion.

It had been an entire week of tender caresses orchestrated to maintain the illusion that they were truly married; seven nights of falling asleep in his arms, only to wake to a cold and empty bed. The past seven days had been a week of unfulfilled longing, unsatisfied desire. Nights with Reynolds only whetted her appetite. They left her yearning, hungry for more. The past week had been a glorious taste of the forbidden; a trial of her will and her morals. She knew she'd not been the only one tested. More than once she'd caught the gleam of lust in Reynolds' eyes, tasted the desire in his kiss. Yes, it had been seven days and nights of unconsummated, almost uncontrollable need. But one thing was certain: It had
not
been a week of
unrequited
passion.

With considerable effort, Addie turned her mind away from the fascinating man who so often stole into her thoughts. She'd almost made it to the halfway point of her journey with the wagon train. By taking the Sublette Cutoff, they'd bypassed Fort Bridger. In 1857, the Mormons had gone to war at the old fort. Things had calmed in the last three years, but reconstruction continued. Shorter by more than three days, everyone agreed the Sublette Trail to be the better choice.

Now it was Sunday again, and the train was at rest near Soda Springs. Reynolds had declared there would be two days of rest this week. Hunting and fishing would be scarce for the next part of the journey. Once they left the area, the river dipped too far south to follow it. The trail continued northwest through a mountain pass toward Fort Hall. Beyond the fort lay Thousand Springs and the Snake River, where water and game would once again be plentiful. The wagonmaster instructed everyone to collect as much fresh game and firewood as possible. They should store plenty of extra water too. Unless it rained, water would be limited until they reached Thousand Springs.

Laundry and other chores completed, Addie worked to bake some biscuits in the heavy iron box that served as a small oven. It was only large enough to hold one pie pan, but it suited her needs. She put the pan of biscuits in the box, replaced the lid, and used her long iron pole to push the oven further into the hot embers of her fire. She looked up at the sun, noting its position in relation to a nearby tree and resolved to check the biscuits when the sun reached the second branch. Mr. Johnson, or Jimmy as he'd insisted she call him, had cleaned her catch of fish again. She would cook them as soon as the snap peas were almost ready, but now she had just enough time to prepare a treat for dessert.

Addie made piecrust dough and cut two large apples into thin wedges. Dividing the dough into equal sections, she pressed it flat and put a portion of the apples on it. She sprinkled some of her limited supply of sugar on them along with a dash of the ground cinnamon she'd paid dearly for at the general store. To finish, she folded the dough over and pinched the sides closed.

She glanced up to find the sun directly behind the second branch. The fish, seasoned with salt and pepper, replaced the biscuits in the oven. Now that her meal was almost ready, she heated some lard in a deep pan and began frying her pies to a perfect golden-brown. Before they dried, she sprinkled each one with an extra bit of sugar. Reynolds would join her soon. She smiled at the thought and hoped he like fried pies.

By the time she'd finished the pies, her fish and peas were ready. She ate quickly and washed her dishes before brewing a pot of coffee. With the last of her cooking equipment cleaned and stored, she exited the wagon to find Reynolds waiting for her.

“Evenin', darlin'.”

She smiled and twined her arms around his neck. This was only pretend, she reminded herself, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy it. “I've a surprise for you tonight.”

He pulled her into his arms and wrapped her in a hug. “What kind of surprise?”

Gesturing toward a chair she'd placed near the fire, she moved to pour the coffee. “Sit down and I'll show you.”

“That's your chair, Addie. I'll sit on this bucket.” He grabbed the bucket, turned it upside down, and sat next to her chair.

“You could've sat there, but thank you for thinking of me.” She handed him a cup of coffee and returned to the covered basket where she put the pies.

“Mmm. You make the best coffee, darlin'. I wish you'd teach Jimmy how to do it.”

Addie couldn't help but laugh. “I've seen what Jimmy calls coffee. He makes it thick as molasses.” She leaned down in front of him with the basket and lifted the towel covering the pies.

“Fried pies? I must have died and gone to Heaven.” He reached for one without hesitation and bit into it. Chewing slowly, he closed his eyes. He swallowed and spoke quietly. “My mother used to make pies like this. I've never found anyone who could make them taste as good as hers did.” He winked at her. “Until now.” He motioned to the chair next to him. She seated herself, and he set about devouring the pie. He washed it down with some coffee.

“Would you like another?” She offered him the basket.

“I'd love another. But aren't you goin' to eat some?”

Addie pulled a pie from the basket and took a bite. They weren't the best she'd ever made, but compared to the fare she'd been eating lately, they were indeed a heavenly treat. She ate the whole pie and began licking the remaining sugar from her fingers. She sucked the tip of her middle finger into her mouth and looked up to find Reynolds watching her. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he answered in a gruff tone. He lowered his gaze and drained his cup.

“More coffee?”

He nodded, so she stood, retrieved the pot, and filled his cup.

“Another pie?”

“I shouldn't,” he said, “but I can't resist.”

Addie gave him the basket. “It's almost dark, Reynolds. I'd like to bathe. Do you mind?”

“Bathe?” He choked on his dessert, coughing and sputtering.

“Are you all right?” She moved behind him and patted his back.

He'd accompanied her the few times she'd bathed in the river. Most nights she heated some water over the campfire and washed before he joined her for the evening. But the knowledge that she wouldn't have the opportunity to bathe in the river again for two weeks made her all the more anxious to do so while she still could.

Reynolds finally recovered. “The river is getting colder, Addie. Are you sure you want to do that?”

“Oh, yes. It's almost impossible to wash my hair well enough using the small tub. And you said we'd be leaving the river for a while. I know it would be warmer if I wait until tomorrow afternoon, but I'd rather not be bathing in broad daylight when anyone can easily see me.”

Addie could have sworn she heard him groan. “Get your things. I'll take you.”

“Thank you!”

* * * *

Addie washed herself and her hair faster than she'd thought possible, but her teeth chattered as she and Reynolds returned to her wagon. He'd spoken no more than a few words to her the whole time. Clearly he hadn't wanted to accompany her to the river.

She donned her nightgown and a thick robe, but still shivered from the cold. With the sun setting earlier, the chilly night had become even cooler. She dragged her chair closer to the fire. The coals burned low, but she welcomed their warmth.

“You should dry your hair. You'll catch cold.” His voice remained gruff.

Addie nodded and pulled her brush from the pocket of her robe. She began brushing, carefully untangling the knots and fanning her fingers through it to help it dry faster.

Reynolds left for a few moments and returned with two thick pieces of wood. He put them on the fire and stoked it for her. She continued working on her hair.

Reynolds stepped next to her, covering her hand with his. “Let me do it.”

He tended her hair with great care, almost reverently, it seemed. Addie sighed in contentment and leaned back in her chair. Was this what it was like to be married? Common sense reminded her it was only pretence. A pang squeezed her heart. He only brushed her hair for her because the others would be watching. Reynolds had been right. The train treated her with less hostility now. The ruse they continued each night was working. But that's all it was—a ruse. A hoax. And much to Addie's sorrow, she found herself wishing more and more every day that Joshua Reynolds really was her husband.

She jerked upright with a start. She'd been nodding off. “This is so very nice,” she whispered.

He chuckled. “And you're almost asleep in your chair.” He moved around next to her and held out his hand. “It's time you went to bed, darlin'.”

Addie placed her hand in his, loving the now-familiar tingle that raced through her every time she touched him. Together, they walked hand-in-hand to her wagon and climbed in. No longer did she feel the least bit nervous. To the contrary, she eagerly awaited the time for darkness to fall each night because then Reynolds would join her in the wagon, give her passionate kisses, and lie beside her, holding her until she fell asleep.

Reynolds reached the lamp first. He lit the wick but immediately turned it down very low. Addie wound her arms around his neck and drew his head down, anxious for his kisses.

Reynolds groaned and gathered her to him. His kiss was not the usual tender caress. He covered her lips with his own, and his tongue boldly explored her mouth, commanding a response. She was only too happy to give him the answer he demanded. Addie pressed her body against him and met the thrust of his tongue with an abandon she'd never imagined. Her body ached, and her breasts swelled, heavy and sensitive. Heat spiraled through her, settling in her quivering belly and moving down to that secret place between her thighs. She moaned against his mouth as he grasped her hips, lifted slightly, and pulled her against the evidence of his arousal.

He broke the kiss and set her away from him. His deep voice shook as he said, “I can't do this, Addie. Not tonight. Not after watching you bathe. I want you too much.”

He turned to go. She acted without thought, stepping in front of him to intercept his departure. “Wait, Reynolds. Stay. I…I want you too. Don't leave.”

He tilted his head back and stared at the wagon cover stretched over them. He drew in a long, deep breath and blew it out slowly. He answered in a low, strained voice. “Damn it, Addie. I can't be your husband. I can't. You deserve far better than the likes of me.”

She moved closer to him and placed her palm on his chest. “I know you don't want me as your wife. I promise I won't go back on my word. We'll get a divorce as soon as we reach Baker City.”

“Addie, I—”

“Let me finish.” She slid both hands over his shoulders and higher, burying her fingers in his hair. “I'm a grown woman. I may be inexperienced, but that doesn't keep me from wanting you. Stay with me. Technically we are married. For now anyway. There's no sin in it.”

She watched the uncommon play of emotion on his face, in his eyes. His warm brown eyes held a primal heat that could only be desire. Shallow, quick breaths passed his lips. He closed his eyes and hid the emotions he so rarely revealed. He shook his head, reached up, and drew her arms down and away from him. “No, darlin'. I can't take what rightfully belongs to the man who will truly be your husband. I won't use you like that.”

He left the wagon before she could reply. Alone, Addie wondered if the chill shuddering through her was from the cool September night or the emptiness in her heart.

Addie awoke the next morning to the sound of heavy rain beating against the wagon's cover. She shivered, wishing for a cup of hot coffee. Determined to have just that, she crawled from beneath her warm quilt and lit the lamp. She dressed and pulled on a pair of heavy boots. Addie donned her raincoat and gathered another piece of canvas attached to four poles. The owner of the general store had assured her she would need it if she wanted to build a campfire in the rain.

Addie climbed from the wagon and set about staking the poles into the ground. The shopkeeper had explained that two of the spiked poles were slightly longer than the other two. This served to create a slope for the rain to slide off. She should be careful to arrange the little canopy so that the water ran away from her fire when it fell from the cover. Fortunately, the heavy rain had softened the ground, and it only took a few minutes to set the shelter up. It was tall enough for her to stand under without stooping, but Reynolds' height would never fit.

Reynolds.

A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. She'd thrown herself at him like a shameless wanton. Their temporary marriage was no excuse for her behavior. She pushed away thoughts of last night. What was done was done. But she'd be certain she didn't make the same mistake again. If she could even face him.

She shoved the sodden remainder of last night's fire into a circle, leaving room to start a new fire in the middle. Back in her wagon, she retrieved matches, tinder, and dry wood. Thank goodness she'd gathered extra wood yesterday, or there'd be nothing dry to burn. Addie tucked the supplies beneath her raincoat and traipsed back to the little shelter. In short order, she had her fire burning, so she returned to the wagon once again to fetch the coffee and breakfast items.

Addie left her wagon and scanned the area. Rain fell in sheets. Oddly, nothing else stirred. She glanced from wagon to wagon. No one had left their dry shelters. It seemed she was the only one awake this morning. Shrugging, she returned to her canopy, thankful for its size. It covered not only the fire, but her chair and a few feet around the fire as well.

A short time later, she'd finished the leftover biscuits she'd warmed and sat sipping on a wonderfully hot cup of coffee. A movement caught her attention. Reynolds hurried toward her, his hat and a leather vest his only protection from the rain.

He grabbed the bucket and sat next to her, warming his hands over the fire. “Mornin', Addie. Any chance I could beg a cup of that coffee?”

She stood and retrieved his cup from last night. Holding it beneath the steady stream of water falling from the canopy, she rinsed it out, filled it with coffee, and handed it to him.

“Thank you, darlin'. You're the only one with a fire today. None of the others have a tarp like yours. Might be the expense or just the lack of room to carry everything. Most everyone has a really small cover a couple of feet high, just enough to keep the fire from going out. But I reckon nobody wants to stand in this downpour tryin' to start one.”

“I'll have to give the credit for this,” she said and waved her hand at the canopy, “to the man at the general store. I never would have thought of it myself. It was rather expensive, though.”

He grunted. “All the same, I'm glad you have it. I would have helped you set it up if I'd known.”

“Thanks. It only took a few minutes.”

They both turned to see Mr. Fleming exit his wagon. He pulled his hat low and trudged toward the bushes. Addie surmised that the call of nature had drawn the man from his dry shelter. On the other side of the clearing, Mrs. Cooper leaned out of her wagon and used the rain to rinse a plate. She waved at them before ducking back under cover.

An awkward silence settled between Addie and Reynolds. She sought to break the silence. “Would you like some breakfast?”

He shook his head. “I had some hardtack and a biscuit with Jimmy.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Addie, about last night, I—”

Panic struck her, and she tried to stop his words. “Reynolds—”

Mrs. Wheeler's arrival stalled both of them. Carrying a coffee pot and a pan, she ducked under the edge of the canopy. “Mr. Reynolds. Mrs. Reynolds,” she greeted them. “I was wondering if you'd let me brew some coffee and warm some biscuits for the children.”

Addie was surprised at the request. No one on the train had ever asked her for anything, though she knew the others often borrowed supplies and worked together when help was needed. “Yes, of course, Mrs. Wheeler.” She hurried to move her coffee pot to the side, giving the woman plenty of room for her things.

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Reynolds.”

Once she'd put her coffee pot and pan over the fire, Addie offered her only chair. “Would you like to sit down while you wait?”

“Oh, goodness, no! I couldn't possibly take your seat. I'll just stand here out of the rain if you don't mind. It's nice just to be out of that stuffy wagon.”

“I can imagine.” Addie tried to be as gracious as she knew how. “Would you like a cup of coffee while you wait?” This was the first time anyone from the train had approached her. She wanted to make a good impression.

“No, thank you. That's very sweet of you, but it will only be a few minutes before this is ready. I wouldn't want to impose any more than I already have.”

“Impose? Not at all! Any time I might be able to help, you need only ask. I'm happy to share anything I have.” Addie smiled, hoping Mrs. Wheeler knew she was sincere.

The woman returned her smile. “Thank you. The same goes for you.”

Relief flooded through Addie. Perhaps things would be less hostile between her and the rest of the train now. At least it would be less awkward between her and the Wheelers.

* * * *

The rainy morning passed quickly with others from the wagons coming to borrow the fire. The rain continued, abating for a few minutes at a time, but returning with a vengeance the moment anyone tried to venture out. Addie suggested that they find some big pots and cook stew for the entire train. Everyone readily agreed to supply vegetables and meat, anxious for a hot meal to lessen the chill of the wet weather.

The rain finally ceased, and the day ended with stars peeping through the breaking clouds. Addie fell into bed, alone once again, grateful that the subject of her behavior last night hadn't been broached a second time. That was one blunder she'd just as soon forget. It had been nice working with the other women to make the stew today. Most of them had been quiet, not really friendly, but it was a far cry from the silent treatment she'd received for the past few weeks.

* * * *

Dawn broke clear and cold the next day. The train burst to life once again with everyone trudging through the mud. Josh made his rounds, announcing they would leave after the midday meal. He instructed everyone to use the extra time to hunt, fish, and store wood and water. The heavy rains yesterday had made it almost impossible to prepare for the next section of their journey. A few of the men tried to hunt, but no one brought back anything substantial.

After lunch, he stopped at Addie's wagon. As usual, she'd stored all her belongings, hitched up her oxen, and stood ready to leave. Josh waited for her to climb into the wagon seat. He led her toward the trail and pointed in the direction she should go. She simply nodded and set her oxen on the path. No hesitation. No complaints about the treacherous mud. No fear.

She never ceased to amaze him with her determination and strength. He'd learned so much about her during the last week. He looked forward to joining her after dinner every evening. She'd told him about how her father had decided to go west and become a rancher. He'd promised to come back for her after she'd finished school. He wanted to build a nice, safe home for her before he brought her to Oregon, but he'd gotten sick about three years ago and was unable to return. Although his mountain home helped with his condition, he was never able to fully recover.

She'd asked many questions of her own during their talks around the campfire. Josh had answered very few of them, purposely changing the subject. Only once had she asked about his former wife. That was something he didn't talk about. Not with anyone. She'd apologized for prying, but guilt rode him. He had been as nosey as any church busybody about her life, and she'd answered every question. But he'd been unable to do the same. It was yet another example of why he wasn't fit to be her husband.

The afternoon proved long and arduous. Travel was slower due to all the mud, but it was no less strenuous. Other than Addie, Josh had sent the wagons in order of strength. Those further back in the train found it even more difficult to navigate the trail. The muddy ruts became deeper and deeper, so those carrying lighter loads and the wagons with stronger oxen brought up the rear.

Josh found a suitable campsite for the night and instructed Addie to make camp. The others followed her lead, pulling their wagons into the usual circle. Jimmy, driving the last wagon, whistled loudly and pointed to the wagon in front of him.

The Wheeler's wagon tipped dangerously, mired in mud. Josh hurried to enlist the help of Adams and Fleming. Wheeler remained in the wagon seat to control the restless oxen while Adams and Fleming levered themselves around a wheel buried to the axle in mud. Both men struggled to find purchase in the knee-deep quagmire. Josh moved around front to help guide the oxen.

Wrapping his left arm around the yoke straps of one of the oxen, he used his right hand to stoke its head. He spoke softly to the animal to soothe it and calm its fear. Once the beast settled, he called to the others. “All right now. Fleming and Adams, tell us when you've lifted the wheel enough for us to try and move the wagon.”

Adams counted to time the lift.

A few moments later, Fleming yelled, “Go!”

Josh nodded to Mr. Wheeler, signaling him to set the oxen in motion. He pulled on the straps wound around his arm. The oxen were slow to react to Wheeler's prodding, so the man slapped them with the reins again. This time the beasts moved, but not in the intended direction. Pain tore through Josh's shoulder as the beast jumped away and jerked his arm with unexpected force.

Josh's breath seized, and it took him a moment before he could alert the others to his predicament. “Hold!”

Wheeler pulled on the reins and stopped the animals. Josh managed to free himself, but his knees buckled. The blood rushed back into his arm, sending a new wave of agony through him.

“You all right, Reynolds?” Concern etched Wheeler's voice.

Josh bit back a cry of pain. He could do no more than shake his head and grind his teeth together. His arm throbbed relentlessly, and his shoulder burned like fire. Certain he'd torn his arm from his body, he lifted his right hand, running it over his shoulder to check for blood. His shirt was ripped, but he found no wetness.

Suddenly, Jimmy, Wheeler, and several others stood over him. All of them spoke at the same time. The haze of pain fogging his mind made it difficult to understand what they said. It took him a moment to realize that they wanted to know if he was all right. He thought about trying to stand up but decided it would be best to catch his breath first. Still dizzy from the intensity of the pain, Josh tried to speak but had to stop and clear his throat to make his voice work. “I'll be fine. Just pulled my shoulder.”

Jimmy answered first. “All the same, you oughta have that wife of yours take a look at you.”

“I don't need—”

A soft, feminine voice interrupted his response. “What happened?” Addie pushed her way through the men, fell to her knees before him, and grabbed his chin with one hand, lifting it firmly while she removed his hat with the other. She looked into his eyes. As always, he could read her thoughts in those midnight blue orbs. She was worried about him, but there was something more. An offer of strength and support called to him. She spoke calmly, but the concern in her eyes betrayed her alarm. “Tell me where it hurts.”

“I'm all right, darlin'.” He tried to smile, but it was probably more of a grimace by the way she reacted.

“No. You're
not
all right. You're injured.” He shook his head, trying to convince her otherwise. She ignored him and turned to the others. “Tell me what happened,” she demanded.

Jimmy said, “The wagon was stuck. Reynolds here 'bout had his arm yanked off when the oxen tried to bolt.”

She examined the arm he cradled at the elbow. Briskly and efficiently, she pushed the sleeve back, pressing on his hand and wrist. Her hands moved higher. Josh wanted to pull away, but knew if he tried it would only cause more pain. “Addie, I'm fine.”

“I'll be the judge of that.” She spoke quietly, but her words brooked no argument. “You have bruising along your arm, but no broken bones.” Still on her knees, she ran her fingers along the top of his shoulder. “There's a great deal of swelling here. I think—”

Josh stood, grateful his knees didn't buckle again. He reached down with his uninjured arm to help Addie stand. “I said I'm all right.” He hadn't meant to snap at her, but he could tell by the hurt in her eyes that he'd done just that. Josh tried to soften his words. “I'll be fine, darlin'. It's nothin' a good shot of whiskey won't cure.” Aware that the others watched their exchange, he brushed her cheek with his thumb. “Go on now and tend to your supper. I'll be there soon.”

Addie rested her hands on her hips. She didn't speak a word. She didn't have to. The look she gave him clearly said that the subject of his injury was not closed. She would have her say later. And judging by the fire that danced in her eyes, she had no intention of letting him ignore her.