Trusting Sarah
Cassandra Austin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Janet and Aggie

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Prologue

Albany, New York—1853

Sarah Tanton shivered. The thin shawl around her shoulders did little to ward off the chill of the courtroom, and nothing to stop the dread that turned her blood to ice.

Her attorney had told her what to expect, had told her in essence what Daniel would say, but, as she watched him walk confidently toward the stand, she didn’t want to believe it. He looked the same as always, wonderfully tall and handsome, dressed in a well-tailored suit, new for the occasion.

“State your name.” The bailiff’s voice rang in the silence.

“Daniel Harrison.” With one hand raised and the other on a Bible, he swore to tell the truth.

“It was late Saturday night, close to midnight. My father had a large amount of money at the store. The other employees and I were to take turns guarding it until the bank opened on Monday morning.”

Sarah knew she should listen carefully to the words, not just the reassuring sound of his voice. Surely he would explain. He would put an end to this terrible misunderstanding.

“I remember feeling a little uneasy as I came through the alley, like someone was watching me, but I can’t say I heard or saw anything then. The back door was supposed to be locked, but it wasn’t even closed. I took a couple steps inside and found Frank. Frank Abernathy, I mean. He had the shift just before mine. I knew he was hurt, and I was kneeling down to help him when I heard a sound in the alley. I rushed to the door, and that’s when I saw her running away.”

“Is the person you saw in this courtroom?”

Sarah had been gazing at the familiar face, willing the blue eyes to turn in her direction. Now, suddenly, they did.

“Yes. That’s her.”

It took Sarah a full minute to understand. Her mind screamed, “Why, Daniel? I thought you loved me! What happened to all our plans?”

Of course she didn’t speak aloud but stared into his cool blue eyes in frozen silence. He was the first to turn away.

She sat through another hour of testimony, thinking the pain would crush her at any moment. Finally, she stood with the rest, and the jailer took her arm to lead her out of the courtroom. As usual, her attorney joined them for the walk back to her cell.

The scene from the large window at the landing between the second and third floors had become Sarah’s only view of the outside world, and the jailer routinely gave her a moment there, “to catch her breath.” It was at this window that Sarah managed to find her voice. “Tell Daniel I want to see him.”

The attorney turned away from her, gazing out the dirty window. “I don’t believe that would be a good idea, Miss Tanton,” he said after a moment.

“Please,” she begged, “I have to see him!”

The man’s expression didn’t change. “As you wish, miss.” He turned to descend the stairs without another glance at her. She and the jailer continued their quiet walk to the jail.

Sarah paced the cell for what seemed like hours. She had imagined Daniel hurrying to her. The longer she waited, the more she dreaded his explanation. Finally she heard voices and the jingle of keys as the outer door was unlocked. The jailer and her attorney came down the short hall to her cell.

She barely dared to whisper, “Daniel?”

“He refuses to come, Miss Tanton. You better get some sleep.” With these words, the attorney turned and left the cell block, the jailer close behind.

Sarah found his advice impossible to follow. She entered the courtroom the next morning, hollow-eyed and trembling. The attorney barely acknowledged her as she took her place beside him.

“All rise.” The bailiff’s clear voice brought everyone to their feet. Sarah watched the judge enter and take his place. She sat with the others, and the bailiff spoke. “The defendant will rise.”

The attorney’s hand on her elbow urged her up again.

“Sarah Tanton, you have been found guilty of robbery and assault. Do you have anything to say?”

Sarah swallowed. She couldn’t have spoken if she had wanted to. She shook her head.

The judge frowned. “You have been uncommonly stubborn, young woman. In light of your total lack of remorse, I have little choice but to sentence you to twenty years in Auburn Prison. If, at some future time, your cooperation leads to the recovery of Mr. Harrison’s money, this court will reconsider the sentence. Court is adjourned.”

The judge’s gavel struck the block, and Sarah cringed.

“All rise,” the bailiff said.

Sarah turned toward the spectators in the courtroom, needing to see Daniel again, to plead with him to help her. The jailer took her arm and pulled her away even as she found him. His back to her, he was walking away. She tried to call to him, but his name came out a whisper. “Daniel.”

He turned then and their eyes locked. His face was unreadable.

The tightened grip on her arm made her realize she was struggling. “Daniel!” The cry lodged in her throat as she was pulled from the room.

Chapter One

Outside Fort Leavenworth Kansas Territory—1859

The wagon master sat at his plank-and-barrel desk, tapping the end of the pencil against his gray mustache, and studied the young woman. While she wasn’t tall, she stood so straight with her head erect that it kept her from looking tiny. Her straight hair was a chestnut brown, red where the sun caught it, and smoothed back from a gentle face that seemed somehow at odds with her stiff bearing. Her soft brown eyes made him want to help her.

She turned to watch a flock of blackbirds, her face registering such delight the man glanced at the birds himself before eyeing her curiously. Why would a flock of noisy birds be so entertaining?

Pete Milburn considered himself a good judge of character, and this Miss Sarah Tanton looked like a stayer. He was sure she would make her request of other trains if he turned her down.

She brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek as she turned back to face him. “Well, Mr. Milburn?”

Milburn took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Miss Tanton, let me be honest. I’m afraid I will be shorthanded, but what I need is someone to drive the supply wagon. I got Rice pulling double duty till River catches up. Can you handle an ox team, Miss Tanton?”

Sarah didn’t miss the hopeful note in the question. She looked toward the grassy riverbank where the gentle beasts were grazing. They looked massive, and Sarah’s confidence slipped. “I don’t know, sir. That’s why I didn’t purchase a wagon and team. All I’ll need...”

“Are the supplies to cross the continent. Miss Tanton, this isn’t a passenger train.”

“Perhaps I could learn to drive a wagon, sir.” Her eyes were silently pleading.

Milburn sighed again. He adjusted the pencil and studied the ledger in front of him. Carefully he wrote “Sarah Tanton—May 3, 1859” on the topmost vacant line. Under the amounts paid by the other travelers, he wrote “Hired.”

“Mr. Milburn, I—” she began.

“Rice!” he yelled over his shoulder, startling her into silence. In a softer voice he asked, “Where are your things?”

Before Sarah could do more than stammer and point, a gangling young man, barely in his teens, hurried up to his boss.

“Rice, this is Sarah Tanton. She’s going to be helping Eli. Find room for her things in the lead wagon.”

“Helping Eli?” Rice glanced at Sarah before tilting his blond head toward Milburn. “But Eli—”

“Don’t argue, boy!” Milburn rose from his seat, smiling at Sarah. “If you’ll excuse me, miss, there’s a fella coming I need to talk to.” He tipped his hat and left them.

Rice stared dubiously after his boss, and Sarah felt apprehensive. “I only have one trunk,” she said.

Earlier, Sarah had caught a ride out from town. Now she found the trunk where the driver had left it. Rice was stronger than he looked, and the two of them had little trouble carrying it to the lead wagon.

“Thank you for helping me, Mr. Rice,” Sarah said.

“Shucks, ma’am. I ain’t no Mr. Rice. I’m just plain Rice.”

“Don’t you have a first name?” she asked, smiling.

“Yes, ma’am.” He blushed. “I’ll make room for this.” He scrambled over the tailboard so quickly he nearly fell in.

Sarah smiled after him. She sat down on her little wooden trunk. Everything she owned was inside. Somehow it seemed appropriate to perch herself on top of it. Here sits Sarah Tanton on all her worldly goods, in the middle of a meadow where the East ends and the West begins. She might have added, “where the past meets the future,” but her thoughts were interrupted.

An old man rounded the wagon and stopped in surprise when he saw her. “What are ya doin’ here?”

Sarah came to her feet as the man went to the wagon demanding, “What’s goin’ on in here?”

“Oh, Eli,” Rice mumbled. After some scraping and shuffling, Rice stuck his head out the back of the wagon. “Eli, this is Miss Tanton. Miss Tanton, this here’s Eli.” The boy grinned broadly at his display of proper manners.

“That don’t tell me nothin’,” declared the old man.

“Oh.” Rice sobered. “Mr. Milburn, he hired her to... uh...to help you.” His smile was more hopeful than happy.

Eli looked Sarah up and down. “We’ll see about that. Don’t ya move nothin’ in that wagon till I get back!” He hurried toward the supply wagon and Milburn’s makeshift office.

Sarah looked after him in horror. She hadn’t had a chance to say a word. He would never allow her to work with him. She turned to thank Rice for trying to help.

Rice hopped out of the wagon and unhooked the hinged tailboard. “Eli ain’t so bad.” He grabbed her trunk and hoisted it into the wagon.

“What are you doing? You’ll get yourself in trouble.”

“No, ma’am. Mr. Milburn’s boss. Eli, well...he’s Eli.” Rice nodded to punctuate his explanation. “Eli’s just Eli.”

Sarah was not reassured. “What does Eli do?”

“Whatever Mr. Milburn needs done,” was the boy’s reply. Perhaps realizing that was an inadequate explanation, he added, “Cooking mostly. Helping with breakdowns, stuff like that.”

Eli returned, obviously displeased. He told Rice to build a fire and stood by until the rocks and wood were placed to his satisfaction. Dismissed, Rice waved and trotted away. Sarah waved back, then turned to find Eli scowling at her.

“I guess Pete hired ya, a’right,” he said. “Ya ain’t what I had in mind when I said I wanted better help ‘an that boy.”

Sarah found herself tongue-tied again.

Eli lifted the tailboard parallel to the ground and fastened it to chains on the side of the wagon. Using it as a table, he took tins and utensils from a small cupboard that faced outward. “I guess I’m stuck with ya, long as ya last. We always meet a few wagons goin’ back. When ya give it up, ya can get a ride with one a them.”

Sarah felt she should say something. “Mr. Eli—”

“I ain’t gonna call ya Miss Tanton, so there ain’t no use callin’ me Mr. Eli,” he interrupted. “I’m Eli, and yer Sarie. If ya don’t like it, you best answer to it anyhow.”

“Fine, sir,” she lied. Sarie! It sounded terrible. “What would you like me to do?”

“Do? Don’t do nothin’. Just stay outta my way.”

Sarah watched his agile movements, wondering if he was younger than she had first thought. What hair she could see under the brim of his black slouch hat was dark, but his face was lined and tanned until it resembled leather. His gray eyes were clear and ageless.

The ingredients in his bowl had become a stiff dough. He stirred it vigorously with a wooden spoon. “Some city gal decides to go west, and Pete gets soft.” He shaped handfuls of dough into biscuits and crowded them into a heavy iron skillet. “Softheaded, if ya ask me. Stubborn as an old mule, and I ain’t got no use for mules!” His words faded to unintelligible grumbles.

Slamming an iron lid on the skillet, he shoved it directly into the fire. “Ya didn’t think I could just pop ‘em in an oven, did ya?” He was obviously hoping to have shocked her, and expressed his disappointment at her calm gaze by muttering again.

Eli added spices to his kettle and set tin bowls and cups out on the tailboard. First Rice then Milburn joined them. Sarah noticed other groups around other fires, taking their evening meal. A few had tables and camp stools, but most sat near their fires, balancing plates on their laps.

Sarah took her portion and sat on a crate near Rice. The stew was hearty, with a meat she couldn’t identify. She didn’t consider asking about it. The biscuit was a little heavy, but she wouldn’t mention that, either. She ate slowly, not wanting to show how hungry she was.

Rice had no such concern; he ate twice as much as anybody else in half the time. Eli had evidently come to expect it. “This is my third trip west, Miss Tanton,” the boy announced between servings.

“Don’t go bragging about it,” Eli scolded. “Ya ain’t no old hand, by a long shot.”

Sarah smiled at the youth, and he beamed back. “I’m gonna be one day, Eli. I’ll be a scout like River. River says we’re leaving in the morning. That right, Mr. Milburn?”

Milburn grinned at the boy. “There’s grass enough to support the stock. We’ll pull out tomorrow.”

Rice’s delight was too great to hold inside, and he whooped for joy. Milburn laughed. “Help me tell the others.”

The boy rose eagerly, setting his bowl aside. “River says he ain’t leaving with us. That right, too, Mr. Milburn?”

“We’ll wait for him at Fort Kearny, if he hasn’t caught up by then.” He put an arm across the boy’s shoulders. “I can count on you to fill the gap, can’t I, son?”

“Yes, sir!” he responded.

Eli grumbled something about fool boys.

As Sarah helped Eli clean the dishes and put them away, she began to feel uneasy. After tomorrow, there would be no turning back. She silently scolded herself. The things she had kept from Milburn shouldn’t matter anymore.

Eli spoke, causing her to jump. “Ya don’t talk much, do ya?”

Sarah had to take a slow breath so her voice wouldn’t shake. “I’m used to working in silence.” At his curious look she amended, “Working alone.” Eli went on with the cleaning, but she knew he watched her.

“I don’t guess ya come prepared with blankets and such,” he commented as he closed the door on the last of the dishes.

“I have blankets in my trunk,” she said.

Eli frowned. “Ya can sleep in the wagon. Better turn in. Day don’t start at noon out here like in the city.”

As he sauntered away, she almost laughed. When had she slept past daybreak? Suddenly she remembered the parties, the nightlife of Albany, and Daniel. How could she have forgotten? Still, it seemed like a different lifetime, a different Sarah. She shuddered and climbed into the wagon. She wouldn’t think about Daniel.

The interior of the wagon seemed dim and gray. There were boxes and crates neatly stacked and a canvas cover overhead. The canvas was equipped with pucker strings that could close the ends completely. She moved forward in the wagon and loosened the strings as much as possible.

Finding her trunk in the settling darkness, she removed her little jewelry box and let her fingers trace the flower carved in the walnut surface. This was her most treasured possession, a gift from Daniel years ago. Disgusted with herself for becoming melancholy, she opened the box and dropped the hairpins in as she removed them from her hair. She needed to separate the happy memories from the sad, she decided, or not think about Daniel at all.

Her blankets spread on the floor between the piles of crates, Sarah listened to the sounds outside, trying to let the soft voices reassure her. She willed herself to relax on her hard bed but found herself gripping the blankets so tightly her fingers hurt. The images that intruded were too vivid. Knowing them for what they were made little difference. She crawled to the rear of the wagon and breathed in the fresh cool air.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, but the camp grew still, and the fires died. Quietly, afraid of disturbing the others, she took her blankets a short distance from the wagons. The ground was no harder than the wagon, and the stars overhead brought her a peace the gray wagon had not.

* * *

Activity in the camp awakened her. Though it was still dark, men were bringing in teams and meals were being prepared. Their own fire had been rekindled, and Eli hovered near it. She stretched stiff muscles and, gathering up her blankets, hurried to put them away and tend to herself.

When she returned, Eli eyed her sourly. “Ain’t much left for ya to do.”

Sarah wondered if he had let her sleep in order to confirm his own assessment of her. Breakfast did seem to be nearly ready. A coffeepot sat on a grate above the fire, and Eli held the long handle of a skillet in which bacon hissed and crackled.

After setting out the tin plates and cups, she moved near the fire, letting its warmth ease the morning chill. Breathing in the smell of wood smoke, bacon and brewing coffee, she felt an unexpected sense of freedom. She wished she had Rice’s lack of inhibitions and could throw back her head and whoop. She could imagine what Eli would think of her then.

Rice brought the teams in, and Milburn came to help hitch them up. Sarah wondered if she should offer to help or take over the breakfast so Eli could. She wished someone would tell her what she was expected to do. Questions formed in her mind, but Eli’s closed expression kept them there.

When Milburn and Rice came to the fire, Eli served their breakfast. “Can Miss Sarah ride with me?” Rice asked, passing his plate for more.

Milburn laughed. “I imagine Eli wants to talk to her about her duties, Rice. Maybe another day.”

Sarah glanced from Rice’s frown to Eli’s scowl and felt as bad as Rice. She tried to be more careful not to show it.

It was more than an hour, however, before she had to climb onto the wagon seat with Eli. Milburn called a meeting to explain the route by army road to Fort Kearny and announce the order of wagons, describing the rotation system that would keep any one person from always having the dusty rear position.

He introduced the Reverend Fleenor, a young man with an unruly shock of dark hair who invited everyone to worship services on Sundays.

“Hold on a minute!” A hard-faced, stocky man pushed his way through the crowd. “I don’t got time to waste while the Reverend prays for our souls. I say we move as far and fast as we can.”

There was a murmur in the crowd, of assent or dissent, it was hard to tell. Milburn raised his hand. “We’ll avoid longer delays if we keep wagons and harnesses in good condition. Besides, both man and beast need rest. We’ll stop on Sundays if we can.”

The authority in his voice made the man back down. Sarah watched him join two other hard cases. The youngest sported a black eye. From a brawl, she imagined.

Finally, Eli helped Sarah onto the lead wagon. He seated himself beside her and waited. It wasn’t long before Milburn waved his hat in the air. Eli hollered at the oxen, cracking a whip above their backs, and the wagon moved forward.

Off to their right, another train was preparing to pull out. A lone wagon was already ahead of them. Sarah breathed deeply, taking in the crisp spring morning. Birds were singing, and an occasional wildflower peeked among the prairie grasses.

She was leaving the states behind. Leaning out the wagon to look behind them, she could see Fort Leavenworth, with its flag catching the breeze, and the town across the river. There were clusters of wagons still behind them and thirty-six wagons following Milburn into the unknown.

“Ya wishin’ ya’d stayed back there?” Eli asked.

“No. I just want to remember.”

Eli glanced at the pretty face and frowned. In spite of himself, he was curious. Why was she going west, and how did she come to be all alone? The way women liked to talk, he’d bet his back teeth he’d know all about it by the end of the day.

As the sun rose higher, Sarah donned the sunbonnet she had been holding in her lap. It restricted her view but protected her skin and hair from the relentless rays. It also, she discovered, offered some protection from Eli’s curious glances.

At midday, Milburn signaled for a stop. Eli angled his wagon off the main track, and Rice pulled his up beside it. The others did the same. They ate a cold meal, checked stock and harnesses and were on their way again in less than an hour.

Back in the wagon seat, Sarah wondered if she should ask Eli about her duties. She was afraid he would tell her she was useless. She was planning her defense when he broke the silence. “Sarie, what do ya ‘spect Pete hired ya for?”

She decided not to answer directly. “I intend to earn my keep, but I’ll have to be told what to do.”

Eli grunted. “Ya think ya know how to take orders, huh?”

It sounded more like a challenge than a question. She couldn’t imagine anything he could tell her to do that would bother her, except handle the oxen. Their yokes and harnesses looked too complicated to ever understand, and the beasts themselves seemed enormous. Eli watched her, probably taking her silence as hesitation. “Try giving a few orders, sir,” she said.

Her answer seemed to satisfy him; at least he said nothing more. Sarah was free to enjoy the countryside and think about her future. But the future was too uncertain, and the past always hovered in her mind.

The past seemed to consist only of Daniel Harrison. She wondered how six years had changed him. No one back home would tell her where he had gone, but then few had been willing to tell her much of anything. Her former jailer had had some information, even some newspapers, but had been quiet about Daniel. That was probably the way his family wanted it.

She guessed he was doing well. With his father’s money it would be hard not to. Perhaps he was running a branch store or had found something else to interest him, with Papa’s approval.

She watched storm clouds gather in the southwest, their changing shapes fascinating her. They rolled over one another much as her own memories did. Soon they would become too full of anger and pain to hold it inside any longer.

She quickly shook off the illusion. She couldn’t start to cry now, not while she sat beside Eli!

Near a deep ravine where a spring-fed creek watered a stand of cottonwoods, Milburn gave the signal to stop. Eli turned his team in a wide arc and pulled up behind the last wagon, turning again at the last moment to put the oxen outside the circle.

Eli sent Sarah to gather firewood. She had found only a few skinny sticks when a woman near her gave a cry of alarm. She had tried to balance too much wood in her small arms and was now clutching at the pieces as they tumbled out of her grasp. She stomped her foot in exasperation and threw one last stick after the rest.

“Let me help you,” Sarah offered.

The woman brushed at the bits of dirt and bark that clung to her sleeves. The thin fabric of the much mended dress stretched tightly across her round middle. She bent awkwardly to retrieve her load, and Sarah knelt beside her. “Such little pieces of wood will burn quickly, and I didn’t want to make two trips.” When her arms were full and Sarah had helped her to her feet, she added, “I’m Martha Williams.”

“Sarah Tanton.”

“I wish I could help you now,” she said as Sarah began to gather sticks for herself.

Sarah smiled. “I can manage.”

“I’m just glad there’s wood. I’ve heard out on the prairie we’ll have to burn—” Martha leaned closer, whispering “—buffalo dung.” She wrinkled her nose.

Sarah eyed her skeptically. They walked back together, parting at the supply wagon.

“Took ya long enough.” Eli was directly behind her.

Sarah jumped and dropped the wood, her reaction startling Eli into a hasty step backward. As she gathered the sticks, she stammered, “I’m s-sorry.” She was too embarrassed to look at him.

“There you go, Eli, frightening women and children again.” Milburn put a hand on her elbow, helping her to her feet.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and hurried to put the wood where Eli had told her. She wished she had more control over her reactions, but Eli’s tone had sounded too familiar.

* * *

The next morning the camp woke to a cold drizzle. Sarah wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and helped Eli begin breakfast. Several of the emigrants had hung tentlike structures from their wagons to shelter their fires. Eli scoffed, saying he would save his for a real rain.

When breakfast was finished and the wagons hitched, Rice asked, “Miss Sarah can ride with me today, can’t she, Eli?”

Eli shoved the iron skillet into its place at the back of the wagon and scowled at the grinning boy. “Well now, I guess so. That is if she wants to ride with a no-account boy.”

Neither the tone nor the words dampened Rice’s spirits. “You do want to ride with me, don’t you, Miss Sarah?”

Sarah was delighted but tried not to show it for fear of insulting Eli. “I think that would be nice,” she said.

Milburn rode toward them and drew up near Eli. “No hurry,” he said. “Half the train’s not ready yet.”

“I’d give ‘em five minutes,” Eli declared.

“Eli, if it was up to you, you’d leave the whole dad-gum train back in Missouri.”

Eli chuckled as Milburn rode away.

Even before Milburn gave the signal, Sarah was enjoying the pleasant company. Rice told her about Milburn’s organization of guards and hunters, and how he was the best person to travel west with. “He even tries to see that there’s a doctor with us,” he told her. “That’s why River’s going to meet us at Fort Kearny. Mr. Milburn heard from a doctor wantin’ to go, but he hadn’t showed up yet, so River’s gonna wait for him. River’s another reason this here’s the best train. He’s worked for the army and for a stagecoach line and knows all about Indians. He’s gonna get me a rattlesnake skin for a hatband. I’m his best friend.”

Sarah smiled at the boy’s enthusiasm. “You’re part of Mr. Milburn’s team, too. How did he find you?”

Rice grinned proudly. “I’m an orphan, but Mr. Milburn and my grandpa were real good friends. When I lost everybody, Mr. Milburn came. He was going to put me in some sort of school, but I knew all kinds a stories about Mr. Milburn and Grandpa in the war with Mexico, and in the mountains, and I reminded Mr. Milburn about all them times.” He grinned again, and Sarah could imagine how he convinced Mr. Milburn.

“Anyway, I got to call him Mr. Milburn and do my job the best I can, or he’ll send me off to that school.”

Sarah looked at the earnest face. “I don’t think you have to worry,” she said.

* * *

That evening, while Sarah was peeling potatoes for the stew, a loud voice announced, “I’m Amy. I’m four years old!”

A little girl with dark curls working their way free from short little braids was standing in front of her. “My mommy’s peeling ‘tatoes, too. Do you have any candy?”

Sarah smiled. “I’m afraid not, but friends are almost as good, Amy. I’m Sarah. Won’t your mommy be worried?”

“No,” she said simply.

Sarah set aside her knife and, wiping her hands on her apron, got to her feet. “I think we better tell her where you are, anyway.” She took the little girl’s hand and let her lead the way to her wagon. Stirring a pot at the fire was the woman Sarah had met gathering wood. “Hello again,” Sarah greeted her.

“I see you’ve met Amy,” Martha said.

“See? She’s not worried. I’m big.” Amy skipped to a wooden box and cooed to its contents.

This earned a quick response from the mother. “Amy! Don’t wake the baby.” With a sigh she turned back to Sarah. “I’ll have to have Tom fix a harness for her, too.” She nodded toward a small boy on the ground, a leather harness and string keeping him within three feet of the wagon wheel.

Sarah assured her that Amy was welcome to visit anytime but reminded the little girl to tell her mother first. After saying goodbye, she returned to her own wagon.

“While ya was off socializin’ I had to finish the taters.” Eli kept his eyes on the pot as he spoke.

Protests formed in Sarah’s mind, but they all sounded like excuses. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Eli scowled at her. She had already turned and was unpacking the tin bowls. There was something peculiar about a woman who hardly talked at all, especially when she had an opportunity to argue.

* * *

“It’s just perfect ‘cause there was more rain here and it’s early in the season and we’re one of the first trains,” Rice reported in one breath. They always rode together now, except for two or three times a day when they would walk, with Rice driving the team from near the rear left ox’s shoulder. The days with the exuberant Rice made up for the evenings with Eli.

“Rice, what are you talking about?” Sarah asked, smiling.

“This is Saturday!” Rice explained. At Sarah’s puzzled expression, he continued more slowly. “If there’s enough grass to feed the stock a whole day, we’ll rest tomorrow. Mr. Milburn said we oughta make it to Walnut Creek early. When we camp early, especially on Saturday, there’s a dance!”

Sarah could tell he thought she was extremely slow, but he had gone from rain to dance in one leap of logic. “Is there one girl in particular you’re hoping to dance with?” she asked.

He grinned at her. “Naw. I dance with all the girls. I’m good at it. River taught me. He dances with all the girls, too. Can you dance, Miss Sarah?”

“I used to, but your dancing tonight might be different.”

Rice shrugged, and Sarah tried to keep her mind from recalling the dances of her past and Daniel’s warm arms around her.

As Rice had hoped, it was early when Milburn led the train to a grassy area near a creek. As soon as the livestock was turned loose, banjos and fiddles were unpacked, and a small band was formed.

The dancing began almost immediately. Rice left Eli to grumble over the meal preparations. ”Weren’t you ever young, Eli?” Milburn asked.

“I can’t say as I was,” Eli replied.

Sarah watched the dancers. The twirling calico dresses looked like elegant gowns in the waning light. Daniel had loved to dance and had bought her pretty dresses to dance in.

Milburn pointed a finger at Sarah. “Don’t think you’re going to be left out. There’s always more men than women, and someone will come get you sooner or later.”

It turned out to be sooner. A man whose wife was already in a round needed a partner and, seeing Sarah, hurried over. While Eli tried to protest, Milburn waved her away.

The dance sent everyone spinning from one partner to the next with a momentum greater than the music warranted. The music grew louder as the dance brought Sarah closer to the players and faded at the other end of the circle. The campfires seemed to flash by. When she came to Rice, he grinned and whirled her into the arms of her next partner.

When the music stopped, Sarah found herself standing next to her last partner. “My name’s Gaines,” he said, taking her elbow and pulling her out of the crowd. He was of less than average height but broad and heavily muscled. “Folks call me Bull.” He drew himself up in a way calculated to impress her.

“Sarah Tanton,” she said. Even in the uncertain light she recognized him as the man who had objected to stopping on Sundays. It was silly since she had just danced with him, but she didn’t want to shake his hand.

The musicians started again, and he reached out to pull her into the dance. She stepped away. “I have to get back.”

“Anyone that wants you will know where to find you, missy.” He caught her arm and forced her toward him.

The tune had no established steps, leaving the dancers free to improvise. Bull kept Sarah on the edge of the crowd. “You traveling with Milburn’s bunch?” If it was a question, he didn’t wait for an answer. “I seen you with him and that old man.” He was leaning closer to be sure she could hear, and Sarah drew away. “You that old man’s daughter or somethin’?”

Sarah thought of saying she was his wife. It wasn’t natural for her to lie, however, and she told him Milburn had hired her. Seeing his leering face in the light of one of the fires, she regretted her honesty. When the dance was over, she stepped away. “I have to get back.” She wanted to run, but hesitated. The dancing had ruined her sense of direction.

“I’ll walk you to your wagon, missy,” he said. Again he didn’t wait for a reply but took her elbow and started away. “I’m traveling with my friend, Herman Kirby,” he told her. “Him and my brother’s boy, Nathan. He’s alone now ‘cept for me.” He led her slowly around the circle of wagons, tipping his hat to the folks they passed. “We’re gonna take land in Oregon,” he went on. “Each of us will take a piece, but I’ll have to run it all, ‘cause they ain’t exactly up to it.”

Sarah gave no answer, but he didn’t seem to expect one. “That’s my wagon,” she said when she saw Eli. She was actually glad to see the grumpy old man. Without looking back for fear Bull would take it as encouragement, she went directly to the wagon and climbed inside.

“Who’s that?” she heard Eli ask in his usual gruff tone.

“Oh, his name’s Gaines,” Milburn said. “He’s a little hard to get along with, but I guess he’s all right.”

In a few minutes Sarah climbed out carrying her sewing basket. She wouldn’t have time to do any mending until after supper, but getting it was an excuse for hiding in the wagon.

“I don’t like his looks,” Eli said, scowling at Sarah.

Sarah stared. How could he blame her?

“Well, Eli,” said Milburn, “I don’t reckon he likes your looks, neither.”

Chapter Two

“We thank the Lord for leading us to this grassy meadow,” Reverend Fleenor shouted with outstretched arms. “As long as we are faithful, He will lead us safely to our new homes.”

The dance floor of Saturday night had become the church of Sunday morning. Nearly all the travelers had left their work to listen to the reverend and add their voices to the hymns.

“Chances are I’ll hear it all from here,” Eli had said. “But ya go on, Sarie, if ya want.”

Noticing the disdain in his voice and certain his humor would be even worse if he had to do the baking alone, she decided to stay and help. He turned out to be right; they didn’t miss a word. The effect of the sermon was somewhat changed, however, by Eli’s continual comments.

He thought, for instance, that Milburn should receive the credit for leading them to the meadow. When Sarah pointed out that Milburn had found it, not made it, Eli grunted and told her to knead the dough.

Emotion made Fleenor’s voice crack. “Everything, from the fall of a leaf to the birth of a child, is God’s will.”

“I reckon ya go along with that, too,” Eli said, reaching for the flour to mix up a second batch.

“I guess so.” How had she gotten herself into this kind of discussion, and, more important, how could she get herself out before she made Eli impossibly angry? She had been working for Eli for five days, and this was the first time she had dared to disagree with him.

“Ya guess so,” Eli repeated slowly. He slammed his spoon into the dough. “What about death?”

“Every sorrow,” Fleenor said, as if in anticipation of Eli’s argument, “is God’s will.”

Eli grunted. “Then He wills more pain than He’s worth.”

Sarah looked at Eli, shocked by what he had said and by the fact that he had said it so loudly. She didn’t have the nerve to see if anyone else might have heard.

“Let me ask ya this,” Eli went on, trading the dough he had finished mixing for what Sarah had kneaded and motioning her to continue. “Yer life weren’t all parlor games and gay-las back home or ya wouldn’t be moving west. Am I right?”

Sarah was sure her expression held a mixture of disbelief and fear. She quickly looked away.

Whatever Eli read in her expression didn’t discourage him. “Well, do ya think ya deserved whatever it was that made ya want to start over?”

The reverend’s shout seemed to be directed at her alone. “God punishes us for our sins. If we did not sin, there would be no sorrow.” She swallowed but couldn’t make her voice work. Finally she nodded.

Eli grunted in disgust. “Well, too often the sorrow goes to someone other than the fella committin’ the sin.”

When both batches of dough were shaped in cloth-covered pans and set in the sun to rise, Eli found other work for Sarah, all of which kept her near the wagon where he could bait her with questions she couldn’t answer.

When he finally sent her to the creek with a bag of clothes to wash, she wanted to run. Sheltered by the trees, she dropped the bag on the ground. How had Eli guessed she was running away? What could he further guess from what she had said? Nothing, she hoped.

When she heard a twig snap, she jumped. Grabbing the laundry, she tried to look busy. In a moment Martha Williams joined her.

“I saw you come this way and thought it would be more fun to do this with a little company,” she said. She upended her basket, letting the clothes spill to the ground. Kneeling on the bank, Martha wet the first garment and rubbed it with her cake of soap. Sarah followed her example. “You look kind of pale, dear. Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m fine,” Sarah said, afraid to look at her companion.

“Please don’t worry,” Martha said. “You can talk to me. I saw how that old man made you work all morning and miss the service.”

This time Sarah did look up. Would deception be this easy? Letting Eli take the blame for her uneasiness wasn’t a lie, anyway. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, realizing how easily the quiver in her voice could be misinterpreted.

Martha looked sympathetic. “Where you from, honey?”

“New York.” Sarah braced herself for more questions, but Martha just wanted an opening to talk about herself.

“We’re from Tennessee,” she began. “We’re moving west because Tom’s afraid there’s going to be a war. Tom says with the three babies, and one more on the way...” She stopped working long enough to pat her damp waist with an even damper hand. A dreamy smile formed on her face before she continued, “Tom didn’t want to risk leaving us alone if he had to fight.”

“Surely they wouldn’t take young fathers.” Sarah had heard talk, but it had seemed far away from her and her own problems.

“To tell you the truth,” Martha confided, “he’s wanted to go west for a long time. Now he can say he’s protecting his family instead of endangering us with the trip.”

The two women finished their washing and walked back to the camp together. Sarah imagined Eli waiting to pounce on her, having spent her absence thinking of new ways to upset her.

“Got a string twixt the wagons for the clothes,” Eli said.

Sarah eyed him suspiciously; he sounded almost pleasant.

“The hunters came in whilst ya was gone,” he said. “Got us a big chunk of deer to roast for dinner.”

Sarah offered no reply.

Around the circle, several wood-burning stoves had been unloaded. Their owners were doing a brisk business renting them to travelers who hadn’t brought their own. Eli, however, was baking his bread in a Dutch oven in the fire. “I’ve seen a lot a stoves just like ‘em,” he said when he noticed what Sarah was watching. “Most was lying along the trail farther west.”

The recollection made Eli happy. When he smiled, his face looked like the cracked leather cover on her grandmother’s Bible. What would Eli think of that image? she wondered.

Secretly, she thought the stoves would come in handy when the families built their new homes. She kept quiet while she helped Eli rig the spit for the venison, peeled potatoes and sliced a loaf of the fresh bread. She was glad when she saw Milburn and Rice coming.

Rice found a place to sit near the wagon. His hair was mussed more than usual. He had a smear of axle grease on his cheek and another on his shirt, which Sarah realized she would be expected to wash out. “That smells good, Eli,” he said.

“Ya think any food smells good,” Eli grumbled.

Rice turned to Sarah. “If River’d been here last night, he wouldn’t’a let that Gaines fella walk you home.”

“Now, it’s none of yer affair who walks Sarie anywheres, boy,” Eli scolded.

Rice continued as if he hadn’t heard. “Me and Mr. Milburn helped everybody check their wagons, and Gaines didn’t let us check his. He—”

“Ya needn’t tell everything that happens,” Eli interrupted.

“Aw, the boy’s not talking to you,” Milburn said. “Rice saw Sarah and Gaines last night, and he wants to tell her what he knows about him.”

“I guess I don’t like him much myself,” Eli conceded.

“River wouldn’t like him, either, Eli,” Rice insisted. “He’s mean and grumpy, and he called me a `no-account boy.’”

Eli took a thin knife and tested the potatoes. “I call ya a no-account boy all the time.”

“But he ain’t got no right to,” Rice said reasonably.

Milburn laughed. “Go wash your face, boy.”

“Yes, sir.” Rice cast Sarah a questioning look. She gave him her most reassuring smile and was rewarded with a grin.

Milburn took off his hat and rubbed his sleeve across his forehead. “I best join Rice and get cleaned up for supper.”

Eli was watching Rice walk toward the creek. “Funny to see that kid wantin’ to look after somebody else, ain’t it, Pete?”

Milburn studied Eli for a long moment. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Eli. You’re almost cheerful. Did you find someone willing to fight with you all day?”

“Oh, just get outta here.” Eli threatened Milburn with the knife. He glanced at Sarah before becoming busy at the fire.

* * *

Five days later, the wagons stopped at a clear stream some sixty yards wide, by far the largest they had crossed. “That’s the Big Blue,” Rice told Sarah. He had proudly shared all the place names with her. “Mr. Milburn’s makin’ sure it’s safe. If River was with us, he woulda done it.”

Sarah clung to the seat as the wagon rocked down the ford into the water. Rice didn’t seem nervous. “We’re real close to a trail crossing,” he told her. “There’ll be wagons all over and not near as much grass. We might see Indians, too.” He looked at Sarah with childish anticipation. “You don’t need to worry about them, though. These around here ain’t much trouble, and by the time we get to where the bad ones are, River’ll be with us.”

Sarah smiled at the boy’s attempt at reassurance.

The wagon rocked again as it climbed onto dry land. “You’re the best guide anybody could hope for, Rice. You’re willing to explain things everybody else thinks I should already know.”

“That’s just ‘cause I only learned it a while ago, and I know how you feel,” he said, blushing at the compliment.

“Sort of like repeating a lesson,” Sarah suggested.

Rice wrinkled his nose, and she laughed.

* * *

“Breakdown! Breakdown!” Milburn brought the word to the front of the line. Rice set the brake and jumped down, craning his neck to see where Milburn had headed as he helped Sarah. By the time her feet were on the ground, Eli had joined them.

“Will we circle and stop here?” the boy asked. Sarah didn’t miss the hopeful note in the young voice.

“You don’t have to tell me it’s Saturday,” Eli responded.

A large crowd had gathered around a wagon halfway down the line. As Eli elbowed his way through, Rice and Sarah followed in his wake. “It’s not too bad, but we’ll have to remove the wheel to fix it,” Milburn was saying. “Another hour and a half and the sun’ll set. Let’s circle up. It’ll be a hike to the creek, but we can manage one night.”

When the teams were unhitched, Eli took the heavy jack and went to help Milburn. As Sarah started a fire with wood from the possum belly, a sling that hung under each wagon, Rice began the quarter-mile walk to the creek to replenish the supply.

A shout of alarm caught Sarah’s attention. People ran toward the broken wagon, and Sarah found herself moving with them. Over their heads, she could see the top of the wagon, twisted at an awkward angle. Pushing through the last of the crowd, she found Milburn on the ground, Eli kneeling beside him. Sarah’s mind rebelled, and she looked away, seeing instead the smashed jack under the corner of the tipped wagon box. She turned from that, as well; it looked too much like Milburn’s legs.

“I sent a couple fellas to unload the supply wagon,” Eli said.

Sarah watched a distant figure move toward them for a full minute before recognition penetrated her foggy brain. “Rice!”

“Don’t let him see Pete till he’s under a blanket.”

Sarah nodded and started across the prairie. Rice’s long legs carried him toward her with alarming speed. She walked slowly, stalling, if only a few minutes.

“Hey, Miss Sarah, what are you doing out here?”

“I have to talk to you,” she said.

“Sure,” he replied, expecting her to follow as he continued toward the wagons. When she didn’t, he stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“Rice,” Sarah began. “There’s been an accident.” She had to tell him; blunt seemed the best way. “Mr. Milburn was hurt.”

The boy stared at her, his mouth shaping his boss’s name. Suddenly he dropped the wood and turned to run. Sarah caught his arm, aware that manners stopped him, not the strength of her hand.

“Give Eli some time to make him comfortable.”

Face white with horror, the boy whispered, “How bad?”

Sarah swallowed. “Bad.”

“He’ll want to see me,” he said.

“Of course, but give him a few minutes. And we’ll still need the wood.” Together they gathered up the sticks and walked silently to camp.

Reverend Fleenor and Mr. Williams were climbing out of the supply wagon as they approached. Nodding to Sarah and Rice, the reverend said, “We moved Mr. Millburn inside. Mr. Eli is with him now.”

His grim face wasn’t encouraging.

“Better call out before you go in,” Sarah said, nudging Rice forward.

She watched Rice make his way through the clutter of unloaded supplies and turned her attention to the meal she had started, not so long ago. She wished Eli would come and scold her for spoiling the supper, tell her there wasn’t enough wood, anything to make things seem normal again.

Rice came out and sat by the fire. At her questioning look, he shook his head. Supper was ready, but neither wanted to eat. The camp was as quiet as midnight by the time it was fully dark.

Finally Eli left the wagon. He went directly to the fire and dipped up a bowl of stew. “Eat,” he said, handing the bowl to Rice. “Both a ya.” He didn’t speak again until they had begun to eat. “I give him some laudanum, and he’s asleep. Soon as ya finish eatin’, turn in. Ya’ll be walkin’ back and forth to that crick most all day.”

“Yes, sir,” Rice responded between mouthfuls.

When Sarah began to clean up after the meal, Eli told her to leave the coffeepot and went to check on Milburn. He returned in a few minutes and refilled his cup. When the rest of the dishes were put away and Rice had fallen asleep under the wagon, Eli suggested Sarah turn in, as well.

“It’s your chance to sleep while Milburn does,” Sarah said. “I can wake you if he stirs.”

Eli shook his head. “I wouldn’t sleep.” Sarah knew he spoke for her, as well. Silence stretched between them before Eli spoke again. “He won’t make it, ya know.”

Sarah glanced at the shadow where she knew Rice slept.

“Ol’ Pete’s been a friend long as I can remember,” Eli continued softly. “If I cut off his legs he might live, but probably not. I ain’t got the heart to do it.”

Sarah didn’t trust her voice. Eli didn’t seem to expect an answer anyway.

* * *

With the first dim light of dawn, Sarah watched the camp come slowly back to life. Eli returned from one of his frequent trips to the supply wagon and made a fresh pot of coffee. Rice awakened and was sent to the creek for wood. Sarah tried to concentrate on breakfast preparations.

Shortly after breakfast, Reverend Fleenor came, but Eli’s scowl discouraged him from asking to see Milburn. He mumbled his concern and hurried away. Sarah watched him try to get a gathering for Sunday service, but several families were slower than usual with their morning chores. Also, the pastor had competition. “What’s going on?” Sarah asked Eli, tilting her head toward a knot of travelers.

Eli studied them with narrowed eyes and grunted. “I reckon they’ll be letting us know soon enough.” He sent Rice for water and went to the supply wagon. Sarah could only wonder if he knew something she didn’t.

She had the first batch of bread mixed when Eli sent her to find Rice. Wiping her hands on her apron, Sarah ran to the creek. Rice barely gave her time to explain before he headed for the wagon.

Sarah returned to camp just as Fleenor started his service. There were fewer attending than the week before. The reverend’s words didn’t carry so well this morning, and Sarah hoped Eli wouldn’t comment on what little they could hear. The other gathering, whose purpose was still a mystery, had grown during the few minutes she had been gone.

At the fire, Eli sat watching this latter group. A deep scowl creased his leather face. He showed no sign of noticing her presence so she didn’t speak. She kneaded the bread, her mind following the words of the hymn.

“Wouldn’t take no more of the laudanum,” Eli said abruptly. “Didn’t want to sleep through what was left of his life.” Eli glanced toward the supply wagon. “I suspect once he’s had his talk with the boy he’ll take some.”

Presently, Rice came out of the wagon, pale and shaken. He seemed to want to say something to Eli, but the old man only clapped him on the shoulder as he hurried past.

Sarah had quit working to watch him, and Rice took it as an invitation to join her. “He says he’s gonna die,” Rice said.

Sarah slowly nodded and turned to her baking. She didn’t want Rice to see how much her heart ached for him.

Rice paced near the wagons, squatting occasionally by the fire or standing close to watch her work. He came to quick attention when Eli climbed out of the supply wagon.

“He’s asleep” was Eli’s reply to their unspoken question. He took the seat he had vacated a few minutes before and went back to staring at the travelers across the camp. When the benediction was pronounced, the group, swelled by a few of the worshipers, made its way toward them, Bull Gaines in the lead.

“Say what ya come to say.” Eli stood like a watchdog prepared to protect its master.

“We’re moving out in the morning.” Gaines put his hands on his hips, and Sarah understood how he got his name.

“But, Bull, I ain’t so sure.” A man tugged at his sleeve.

“Shut up, Herman. You ain’t never been sure about nothin'!”

Herman looked hurt. The poor man was clearly slow-witted. Sarah wondered how he had gotten mixed up with Bull Gaines.

“This wagon ain’t movin’ till I say so,” said Eli.

“I don’t care about that wagon. It’s mine I’m thinkin’ of. And these folks’, too,” he added as an afterthought.

Eli spoke to the crowd instead of to Bull. “Ya all paid yer money for a guide west. In a day or so, River’ll catch up. He’ll guide ya on. Ain’t no need to go strikin’ out on yer own.”

“Well, I ain’t worried about a guide.” Bull raised his voice. “It’s the time we’re wasting that worries me. That man could linger for weeks. We gonna sit here that long?”

A murmur rose from the crowd.

“It won’t be weeks,” Eli said. “But if it is, we’ll sit.”

The murmur grew louder, and Bull smirked. “You’d risk trapping us in the mountains rather than pull out? Now that don’t make sense. A lot of trains elect their own captains and travel without a guide. Just give back the money to those of us what want to pull out.”

“Can’t,” said Eli. “It’s been spent on extra supplies.” Everyone but Eli glanced at the crates scattered haphazardly around the supply wagon. “Ya wanna take yer money in supplies, won’t bother me to see ya go.” He stalked to the back of the lead wagon, removing a metal box. Setting it on a stack of crates, he unlocked and opened it. He lifted out Milburn’s book, found the page and scowled at the crowd. Several people looked away, unwilling to be the first to abandon the train.

Bull Gaines hesitated only a moment. “You’d overload our wagons with supplies we don’t need. I want mine in cash.”

Eli’s scowl deepened. With a muttered oath, he lifted a leather wallet from the box. “It’s my own savings, but it’s worth it to get rid of ya,” he said.

While Gaines pocketed the money, another man took a place behind him and a line formed, most willing to take their pay in blankets, flour and the like. Gaines approached Sarah. “You best come with me, missy,” he said. Sarah was too startled to speak. He took it as indecision. “That’s Herman and my nephew.” He indicated his companions at the edge of the crowd. “You’d be safer with us than that old man and his dying friend.”

“No,” Sarah said, barely able to find her voice.

Bull grinned, stepping closer. “You wanna come but can’t say so in front of the boss’s boy.” He touched her cheek with his rough knuckles. “You’ll wish you’d spoke up.”

Sarah drew away, but Gaines only laughed and joined his friends. Sarah wiped at her cheek with her apron.

* * *

The next morning, Rice pointed to each of the wagons scattered on the prairie. “That’s the preacher fella, Fleenor,” he began, “and you know Tom Williams and his family. That one way out there’s the Hess family.” Rice indicated the wagon with the broken wheel. “And next to it is Old Man Daugherty and his wife.” His eyes seemed to brighten as he came to the last wagon. “Them’s the von Schiller family. They don’t hardly speak no English, but the girls are learning a little.”

Sarah smiled ruefully, realizing it was Rice’s version of English they were learning. Even from this distance, Sarah could see that the girls were young women. Rice waved and beamed when the girls waved back.

“Any change?” Sarah asked when Eli joined them.

Eli shook his head. “Tell the folks to bring the wagons in,” he said to Rice. “Let’s make a circle again. And count the men. We need to set up guards for the stock.”

“Yes, sir,” Rice murmured and started away.

“Rice—” Eli stopped him “—find out who has a jack. We still got a wagon to fix.”

Sarah saw Rice hesitate before turning to do as he was told.

The day seemed to go on forever. Sarah divided her time between what mending or cooking tasks she could think of and watching the crippled wagon through the gap in the shrunken circle. She checked on Milburn often, but he was always asleep.

By midafternoon the Hess wagon was hitched and pulled into the circle with the rest. Sarah relaxed a little, realizing she had been worried someone else would get hurt.

Sarah fixed supper for the three of them, which they ate without comment. When the dishes were put away, she decided to turn in. Eli was with Milburn, and she was sure he wouldn’t let her take his place.

She slept with the wagon flap tied open and her head where she could see the stars. Some small sound awakened her. She stuck her head out the wagon and saw Eli sitting near the fire, shoulders slumped and head bowed. He heard her behind him and straightened, waiting until she had found a place to sit before he spoke, then he simply said, “He’s gone.”

* * *

The next morning, Sarah repacked the supply wagon. Tom Williams had lifted the heaviest crates to the tailboard while Rice and Eli finished at the grave. They had had a simple service at dawn and everyone was eager to pull out.

Sarah was trying to remember all of Eli’s rules for loading a wagon when she heard Rice shout. Leaning out of the wagon, she saw a rider coming and Rice waving at him excitedly. The white-and-brown horse picked up speed until it was running directly for the boy, the space between them shrinking at an alarming pace. The fringe on the rider’s buckskin jacket danced to the rhythm of the horse’s gait. In seconds, Rice caught the man’s arm, leaping up behind him, and they galloped away.

Sarah put her hand to her heart to try to slow its rapid beating as the horse and riders made a wide circle in the prairie. In a short time, the horse was walking toward the wagons. This, she decided, must be River.

She had just finished the packing when she heard Eli’s voice. “So I give ‘em supplies in place of their money and promised the ones what stayed that ya’d lead the wagons.”

“You promised them what?” came the reply, and Sarah jumped.

“I woulda promised to do it myself, but I’m an old man, River. Nobody’s gonna listen to me,” Eli replied.

“You’re no older than Milburn.”

“Don’t matter. They’ll trust ya.”

“They don’t even know me.”

Eli’s voice changed slightly. “It was his last wish.”

“It was what!”

Sarah didn’t hear the rest; the blood pounding in her ears had reached a pitch that drowned out the voices. She had turned hot, then cold, and found herself sitting on one of the crates. Her hands were shaking, and she clasped them tightly in her lap. She had to calm down and listen; she must be sure.

Carefully, she moved to the back of the wagon. Holding her breath, she pulled the canvas aside. Eli and River walked past as they talked. The two men stopped and turned to face each other. River was a full head taller than Eli. His hat was encircled by a snakeskin, as Rice had mentioned, with a menacing rattle dangling over the edge of the brim. Long muscular legs were encased in brown twill trousers that disappeared into the tops of knee-high boots. A sheath stitched onto the thigh of the pants held a bone-handled knife. Sarah almost laughed in relief. Her mind was playing tricks on her.

“I’ll bring in the Carroll wagons,” River said.

“We’ll be ready to pull on out when you get back.”

The men shook hands, and River turned in her direction. She jumped back, pressing her face against the cool wagon cover. She hadn’t been mistaken! The new arrival was Daniel!

Sarah waited until Daniel had ridden away before daring to venture out of the wagon. It would only delay the inevitable, but she didn’t want him to see her. How could she have thought she had escaped her past?

But how could she have imagined Daniel Harrison on this train? Rice’s talk of River hadn’t sounded anything like Daniel. And why was he using this strange name?

She finished the preparations for travel out of habit, aware only of the fact that Daniel was here. She realized she wanted desperately to see him but at the same time she was terrified. She had gone back to Albany after her release to talk to him, but that was before she had put her past behind her. Nobody here knew anything about her, and she had thought she was safe. Now Daniel was here, and he would ruin everything.

She climbed onto the wagon seat and donned the sunbonnet. She usually went without it as long as the wagon cover offered her shade. If Rice noticed anything unusual, he didn’t mention it. But he was wrapped up in his own thoughts about Milburn’s death and River’s arrival. Daniel’s arrival.

She sighed. What was she going to do? Could she go to him and beg him to keep quiet? Six years ago he hadn’t given her a chance to explain, let alone beg. Why should she expect things to be different now?

She imagined a desperate escape from the train, but here in the middle of nowhere, that was pure foolishness. Rescue by another train would lead to more questions than she could expect from this one.

Rice leaned over the side of the wagon to look behind him. “Here comes River!” he called, straightening in the seat without noticing Sarah jump. “I can call him over so you can meet him.”

“No,” Sarah said too quickly. “He’s busy. I can meet him tonight.”

Sarah watched him gallop past and pull up beside Eli’s wagon. A moment later it started forward. Daniel wheeled the horse and galloped toward the two new wagons. Sarah breathed a sigh of relief as Rice called to his team, and they started after Eli. She had been afraid Daniel would come to talk to Rice, but she had been right, he was busy. She could postpone for a little longer the meeting and the painful scene that would follow.

In truth, she had no choice. She had to accept the fact that her charade was over. She would have to live with the shame the truth would cause. But Daniel hadn’t seen her yet. He had ridden away and given her one more day to enjoy her friendship with Rice before that, too, was over.

Chapter Three

River rode away from the wagons to the little rise where he had watched the funeral. He hadn’t known then that it was his friend being buried, that the seven wagons were all that was left of Milburn’s train.

Now he watched the circle of wagons work its way into a straight line, move back onto what the army called a road and head out once again, toward Fort Kearny. The Carroll and Ortman wagons came toward the others and neatly added themselves to the end of the train. That was the first time those two had managed to do anything right.

Dr. Carroll and his brother-in-law had shown up in Leavenworth the night before Milburn had pulled out. Both men and the doctor’s wife had marched right into the saloon to find him, scaring away the girl he had been talking to. When he thought of Prudence Carroll, he wondered why he hadn’t run, himself. She was large and imposing, her eyes condemning him for being where he was, even though she was in the place, too.

Her brother, Ernest Ortman, was tall and as skinny as she was fat. He had tried to match his sister’s glower, but that was a tall order. Dr. Carroll was plain and quiet, everything about him seemed average, at least in contrast to the company he kept.

River would have gladly turned them over to Milburn if they hadn’t been the worst-prepared emigrants he hoped he would ever see. He had spent an entire day helping them buy their supplies, while Ernest Ortman argued with every statement he made. In spite of his good intentions, everything he said or did offended Prudence and Ernest.

“Damn,” he muttered, and the pinto twitched its ears. “I was really looking forward to turning those folks over to Milburn.”

River rode down as the dust settled on the abandoned camp and grave. No marker, he thought. And nobody here to visit it on Sundays. Why mark what no one’s ever going to try to find?

He dismounted at the site. Eli had carefully replaced the sod so it barely looked like a grave. A few of the wagons had even rolled across it, further obscuring its presence. There would be no Indians digging up this grave for clothes.

“Sorry I wasn’t here, boss,” he said, playing with the reins in his hands. “Sure hate to think of you going like that.” He pressed a loose piece of sod into place with a booted toe and looked across the prairie at the receding wagons. “But that was one dirty trick, leaving me in charge. I’m a good scout but a sorry captain.”

* * *

Sarah went about the meal preparations, telling herself she should feel lucky for every minute but knowing the waiting was making her tense and jumpy. Eli had startled her twice, though that had happened often enough before tonight.

“If ya’d take off that silly bonnet, a body couldn’t sneak up on ya so easy,” he had said the last time.

But she didn’t want to take it off. She wore it until the sun was sinking beneath the horizon and she could no longer claim she needed it for shade. Finally, she tossed it into the wagon, glad to be free of it but missing the illusion of safety it had given her.

She set out the last of the dishes and tried to come to a decision. She could plead an upset stomach and refuse supper. It was tempting to go to bed, but she slept in the wagon where all the dishes were kept and the tailboard served as a table. Perhaps she could visit Martha and Amy, tell Eli she had been asked to watch the children for a while.

That seemed like her best choice, and she decided to tell Eli at once. She spun around and gasped. There he stood, leaning against the supply wagon, watching her. His arms were folded across his chest, his hat pushed to the back of his head. One ankle had been casually thrown across the other. He had been there long enough to make himself comfortable.

The sight of him did alarming things to her pulse. He startled me! she thought, but deep inside, she knew it was more than that.

While Sarah was still trying to catch her breath, he spoke. “Sarah Tanton.” It wasn’t a question.

Sarah didn’t know what to say. She took a step backward and steadied herself against the tailboard. It was Daniel, but he looked so different. Maybe it was the buckskin jacket, but his shoulders seemed broader than she remembered. His dark blond hair was longer and sun-streaked. In spite of a few days’ growth of sandy beard, he was at least as handsome as he had been six years ago. It seemed a most inappropriate thought. She tried to ignore it and continue her study of this familiar stranger.

Six years had added some lines at the corners of his eyes, and the sun had darkened his skin, but little else had changed. No, the biggest differences she could find were his clothes and this unusual name, River.

His blue eyes, which she had so often seen dance with mischief, watched her curiously. She still hadn’t found her voice. Her mind seemed to want her to gaze at him forever.

“Rice has been telling me a lot about you,” he said. He pushed away from the wagon and closed the distance between them. She leaned back, bending over the tailboard as he grew nearer, too confused to think of stepping out of his way. He stopped mere inches from her.

“You’re the last person I ever expected to see,” he said in a low voice. “I’d like to know how you managed to be here. But we’ll talk some other time.” He reached around her, lifted a plate from the stack and turned to go.

“Daniel.” She barely breathed his name.

He faced her again. What had she wanted to say? That he was wrong about her? That she could explain? That she still loved him and was ready to forgive him? In the end, she said nothing, and he walked away.

It was then she discovered Eli watching her. She had been so intent on Daniel she had not seen him. Perhaps Daniel had. Had his whispered comment meant he would give her a chance to talk this time? Perhaps it wasn’t too late. Perhaps he hadn’t yet said anything to Rice or the others. Could it be that Daniel didn’t want his friends knowing about their former association any more than she did?

She realized she had been staring at Eli without seeing him. He looked from her to Daniel and back, and Sarah quickly turned away. She wanted to run, but Rice was beside her.

“Did you meet River?” he asked cheerfully, grabbing two plates and shoving one into Sarah’s hands. “What’s to eat? I’m starved.” He headed toward Eli and the cooking pot, and Sarah didn’t know what to do but follow. She filled her plate, sitting a little away from the others.

“How far are we from Fort Kearny?” Rice asked, finding a place close to River and to the food.

“Around a hundred twenty...maybe forty miles,” answered River, smiling at the boy. “Take about a week, I think.”

“There’s a little store near here. That right, River?” Rice glanced at Sarah to see if she was listening. She smiled to let him know she was impressed by his knowledge.

“At the Cottonwood Creek crossing. At least it was there last year. We ought to be going by sometime in the morning.”

“We gonna stop?”

Eli leaned to the side, making a big show of looking at the side of Rice’s leg. The boy looked at Eli, down at his pants and back at Eli. “What?”

“Don’t see no smoke, but them coins von Schiller give ya must be gettin’ mighty hot by now.”

River laughed. The sound brought back so many memories, Sarah found herself staring at him again. It was hard not to picture the same handsome face in different surroundings, different circumstances.

River turned his easy smile on Rice and said, “Some of the folks will need things, and the rest’ll want to see what it’s like. I reckon we’ll stop.”

“I reckon” was not something Sarah would have expected Daniel to say. Maybe the changes went deeper than she had first thought. Of course they did, she realized, if the reckless storekeeper was now a respected scout. He caught her watching him, and she looked quickly at her plate.

“I’m taking the first watch,” he said. “Thanks for dinner.” He carried his plate to the tailboard and walked away without another glance in Sarah’s direction.

She tried not to gaze after him; she needed to act as if nothing were amiss. Rising to scrape her half-finished plate of food into the fire, she noticed Eli studying her. He would start asking questions if she continued like this, and until things were settled between her and Daniel, she wouldn’t be able to relax. She would have to talk to Daniel tonight.

* * *

River tried to make himself comfortable. The most he could hope for on guard duty was something to lean against, and he had found it tonight in the form of a boulder on a hillside. From here he could look down on both the train and the herd of cattle a short distance away. The horses were picketed near the wagons. He cradled the rifle in his arms and watched the sky darken until all he could make out of the train was the silhouette against a few flickering fires.

How in all the world did she end up out here, on my train? he asked himself. Could she have wanted to find me?

When Rice had first mentioned her name, he had been surprised but honestly thought he didn’t care. She could do whatever she pleased as long as she stayed away from him. But seeing her had changed that. There were too many memories between them and the wounds weren’t as healed as he had thought.

Damn her! What can she want now? Her frightened little-girl act wasn’t going to fool him. He knew her! She had used him, betrayed him! What was she planning now?

River laughed at himself. What could she do on this train that could possibly compare with what she had done six years ago? Since then, he had tried not to think about Sarah Tanton. As he sat in the lonely meadow, he let the memories come back. He told himself he had to remember so he would be prepared for what she did next, but he knew he couldn’t have stopped the memories if he had tried.

Six years ago, he had been working for his father. Sarah was a local girl he had known all his life. He smiled slightly at the memory. She had been a little wild but lots of fun. His folks hadn’t liked her, but mostly he had done what he pleased in those days.

He couldn’t even remember which of his father’s many enterprises had generated the money that was to be in the store overnight. It had arrived in town on Sunday, and rather than calling attention to it by asking the bank to open, the old man decided to keep it in the store until Monday morning. He often had someone stay at the store at night, so a guard on duty didn’t seem unusual. Hardly anyone knew about the money. But River had known, and he had told Sarah.

River shook his head as he remembered. He had wanted to impress her. As if she had been hard to impress! He had been a complete fool, and she had used the information to rob his father.

Damn her! If anyone else had claimed to have seen her running from the scene, he would have called him a liar and stood by his Sarah to the end. His Sarah? Honest to God, that was how he had thought of her. But he had been the one and only witness, and he had found no choice but to turn her in. How could he help but recognize her? She had even been wearing the red dress he had bought for her.

River sighed and tried to bring his thoughts back to the wagons and the stock. They were peaceful and couldn’t hold his attention. Sarah had been arrested that very night. He hadn’t seen her again except briefly at her trial.

But he had tried. Fool that he was, he had gone every day and asked to see her. The jailer consistently reported that she did not want to see him. He had even begged her attorney to get him in. Again he had been refused. He had been slow to believe that she had betrayed him.

“Why, Sarah?” he murmured under his breath. “Why did you do it, and why are you here?”

At her trial, she had denied everything, pretended she couldn’t understand what was going on. She had been sent to prison, supposedly for twenty years. But he was sure his father would have been willing to work for her release in exchange for the money, and his father usually got what he worked for. Something like that must have taken place after he had left New York.

The law might have forgiven her, but he hadn’t. She had pretended to love him when all along it had been his money she wanted. When she realized the old man would never allow her into his family, she had found another way to use him. Well, he wasn’t such a fool now; she wouldn’t use him again.

The moon was making a feeble attempt to light the sky, and River could make out the wagons more clearly. As he watched, one shadow broke away from the others and moved toward the stock.

* * *

Sarah slipped out of the wagon after moonrise. She wasn’t sure how to find Daniel, but she had to try. She was equally unsure of what she would say to him.

The guard was supposed to watch the stock to see that nothing frightened them. Therefore, that was the direction she headed. Moving about in the pale moonlight was more difficult than she had anticipated. The tall grass and brush tugged at her long skirts and made her afraid of stumbling.

She walked what seemed to be a long way from the wagon but saw no sign of River. This was a stupid idea, she told herself. But how else could she talk to him with no danger of being overheard? When she stumbled over a loose stone and came close to crying out, she decided she was never going to find Daniel out here in the dark. If he was any kind of guard he would have found her by now! In frustration, she turned toward the wagons.

One step was all she took. A strong hand fell across her mouth, forcing her head against a hard shoulder while another arm went around her waist, lifting her off the ground. Long quick strides carried her farther from the wagons.

Sarah was horrified! She had wandered away from the wagons and was being carried off by an Indian! That was, she had learned, the worst fear of all the women on the train. She had thought it was foolish. Now she was paying for her disbelief. In her horror she imagined Daniel witnessing her capture and not bothering to come to her rescue.

When her feet were on the ground again, her knees were too weak to hold her weight, and she found herself leaning against the man who still held her. A voice near her ear spoke as the hands slipped away from her. “What do you think you’re doing out here?”

“Daniel,” she breathed, weak with relief and thrown off-balance as he drew away.

He saw her sway and caught her shoulders, turning her to face him. “So far, that’s all I’ve heard you say.”

She pretended a courage she didn’t feel. She could barely make out his features in the dark, and his voice hadn’t given much away. “I have to talk to you,” she said, surprising herself with the coolness in her voice.

Feeling the narrow shoulders straighten, River slowly dropped his hands. “There are a few answers I’d like myself.”

Now was her chance, but she still didn’t know what to say. How could she make him listen long enough to explain everything? She wasn’t even sure where to start, and he might walk away at any moment. “I just want to start over,” she blurted.

“Not with me!”

She was taken aback by the force of the statement. “No,” she whispered. “Of course not.”

River wanted to pace. His arm could still feel the softness of her body; he absently rubbed the spot on his shoulder where her head had rested. “How did you find me?”

“You found me.”

“I don’t mean tonight. I mean the train. How did you know to ask for Milburn’s train?”

“I didn’t. I didn’t even know you had come west.” She took a step toward him. “I went home to find you, but no one would tell me where you had gone.”

“It’s just bad luck then,” he said.

Sarah tried not to be hurt by his words. She had seen his arrival that morning as a stroke of bad luck, as well.

River sighed. “Once you decided to come west, I guess it isn’t that surprising that we’d meet. There are only about three major jumping-off points, and Leavenworth seems to be the most popular this season. Milburn’s is the largest and best-equipped train. Was,” he added almost under his breath.

They watched each other while an owl called its question to the night. Sarah shivered and finally spoke. “No one knows. I don’t want them to know.”

Daniel took a step closer. “Let’s do each other a favor. You stay the hell away from me, and I’ll keep my mouth shut. Will that satisfy you?”

Sarah nodded.

“Can you make it back to the wagons?”

“I think so,” she said, but made no move to go.

River sighed. “I’ll walk you partway.” He took her arm and led her back the way she had come. “Answer me one question,” he said. “Is the law after you?”

“Of course not!” She shouldn’t have been surprised by the question, considering what he thought of her.

“Of course not,” he mumbled.

At the sarcasm in his tone, she turned to him. “Daniel, let me explain.”

“Listen! You had a chance to explain in court,” he said, holding her at arm’s length. “My name is River, and I don’t know you. Can you remember that? You see, I’d just as soon these people didn’t know what a fool you made of me six years ago.”

Sarah slowly nodded. He walked with her until they were some fifty yards from the wagons, then his hand left her arm, and he slipped away.

* * *

The next morning in the wagon seat beside Rice, Sarah tried to pretend that this was the same as any other morning. It seemed, however, that everything had changed. Milburn was dead. Daniel was here. Somehow neither seemed quite real.

She tried to sort out her feelings about last night. She should be grateful for Daniel’s promise. River’s. She must remember to think of him as River. That had been a condition of his promise. She didn’t know him; he didn’t know her. If she called him River, her secret was safe.

Wasn’t his silence all she had wanted from him? He had promised that much, and she should be relieved. Why had she found herself crying when she returned to the wagon? Why had her mind been full of questions about him and his life these past years? She wished she had plied Rice with questions about his friend during that first week and a half of travel. Now she was afraid to ask.

At midmorning they came to the trail crossing and could see wagons coming from the southeast and more ahead of them. The wheels stirred up a fine dust, and Sarah, holding a small white handkerchief over her nose, wished for a large bandanna to tie about her face. For the first time she understood what the passengers in the rear wagons experienced.

Rice didn’t seem to be bothered. “Some places the dust is so bad you can’t hardly see the team, and where the soil’s white it’ll about take your skin off.”

There seemed to be wagons everywhere. It was as if with Daniel’s arrival, the rest of the world had taken the opportunity to intrude, as well. She thought she had accepted the fact years ago that what they had was over. She would never have guessed it would be so upsetting to see him again. Her feelings were a mixture of fear that he could ruin her new life, anger that he refused to listen and sorrow for what was lost. How was she going to live so close to Daniel and never call him by name. River, she told herself again. His name is River. I must think of Daniel as dead.

“It won’t always be this bad,” Rice said, startling her. She turned toward him and saw the concern in his face. “You can wet your handkerchief and wipe the dust out of your eyes. It’ll work better to breathe through when it’s wet, anyhow.”

“Thanks,” Sarah said, ashamed to discover she was crying again. She found the canteen they kept under the seat and poured a small amount onto the cloth.

“We’ll be stopping at the store soon,” Rice went on. “You gonna buy anything?”

“I don’t think so,” she answered.

“I want to get something pretty for the von Schiller girls, but I don’t know what. Besides, I don’t think their mama likes me at all, only I can’t understand what she says.”

Sarah smiled at the boy’s perplexed tone, glad for the distraction. “Maybe you should find something pretty for Mama, too,” she suggested.

Rice wrinkled his nose but fell silent, and she guessed he was thinking over her suggestion.

Suddenly he called a friendly greeting, and River reined in beside their wagon. Sarah tried not to look at him but found him impossible to ignore.

“We’ll make noon stop just past the Hollenberg Ranch so you and the others can go spend your money,” he said with a grin.

“It’s still there, then?”

“Looks like he’s had a good year. He’s added a stable that could hold a hundred horses, I reckon.” Rice laughed in disbelief, and River went on. “It’ll be a little later than the usual nooning, but it saves us stopping twice.” His only acknowledgment of Sarah was “Ma’am,” and a touch to his hat before riding away.

The sun was high enough for Rice to complain about hunger before they reached Cottonwood Creek. As they crossed, they could see the long low buildings of the Hollenberg Ranch a few hundred feet away. The stable was every bit as large as River had said, and Rice whistled in admiration. “Don’t you want to come in, Miss Sarah?” He craned his neck to see, and Sarah worried he wasn’t paying close enough attention to the team.

“I’ll look forward to your description, Rice,” she said.

When they stopped, Rice unhitched the oxen in record time. Eli was unpacking bread and last night’s venison when he hurried by. “Rice!” Eli called, stopping him in his tracks. “Eat!”

“Miss Sarah can save me something,” he said, backing away. “I’ll eat it on the road.” He turned and ran before Eli could argue.

“No-account fool boy,” Eli muttered, and Sarah felt her pulse quicken when she heard River laugh.

“I suppose I better see he stays out of trouble,” River said, reaching around Eli for a slice of bread.

“Well, who’ll keep ya out of trouble?” Eli tried to pull the meat away before River could grab a chunk with his fingers.

River’s arm was longer, and he soon balanced his prize on top of the bread. “You could come watch us both, Eli,” he said, grinning.

Eli grunted and shooed him away. Sarah watched as his long easy strides moved him quickly toward the store. She turned to get her own lunch to find Eli eyeing her. She wasn’t sure what he might have asked if Amy hadn’t interrupted.

“We’re gonna go to the store,” the child called, running ahead of her mother and brothers.

“That sounds like fun, Amy,” Sarah said, trying to pretend Eli wasn’t still watching her.

Martha joined them in a minute, holding one small boy by the hand while balancing the other on her hip. “We need to look for a couple things,” she said, a little breathlessly. “Would you like to come along?”

“How will you carry anything back with your arms full of boys?”

“Tom’ll be along,” Martha said, glancing over her shoulder.

“Let me watch the boys,” Sarah offered. “I hadn’t planned on going, anyway. You’ll stay with me, won’t you, Allen?” Sarah reached for the younger boy, who wailed and hid his face in his mother’s shoulder.

Martha laughed. “You come with us. He’ll go to you in a little bit. Or you can carry our things. Trust me, they won’t weigh as much as he does.”

Sarah ignored Eli’s grunt as they started away. Amy’s hand was soon in hers. “I think Lizabeth needs a new dress. You think they’ll have one here?”

“Hush, Amy,” Martha scolded. “The child doesn’t understand money. The food seems to be lasting like we expected, but I’m almost out of thread. I think I’ll try to find Tom a new shirt and use one of the old ones to patch everything else. Seems like all I do is mend. I tried mending as we traveled and almost ran the needle through my finger.”

“I could help with some of it if you’d like. I plan to open a dress shop when I get settled.”

“That sounds wonderful. I’ll ask Tom if we could pay you a little.”

“If you like to sew,” Amy piped up, “you could mend my dolly.”

“Amy,” Martha scolded. “Your dolly’s fine.”

“Her leg’s loose again, Mama.”

Sarah looked down at the little girl. “I think I could mend your dolly, Amy. Bring it by the wagon as soon as we get back.”

The little girl beamed up at Sarah as she skipped along beside her.

The store was crowded with emigrants, and Allen, who had stared at Sarah all the way up the hill, decided she was safer than the dark noisy building. His eyes never left her face as she carried him around the yard.

* * *

Young Allen wasn’t the only one staring at Sarah. River had taken a look at the horses Hollenberg had for sale and had noticed Sarah with the baby as he turned toward the store. He froze, forgetting the horses and the people milling around him, aware only of Sarah and the small child in her arms. She was thinner than he remembered, and he remembered all too well.

She had left the sunbonnet at the wagons, and her hair shone with the sun’s reflected fire. It reminded him suddenly of lamplight and red ribbons, ribbons he would loosen to allow her hair to cascade around her shoulders. He could almost feel the silken tresses between his fingers.

He watched her point out things to the baby, who refused to turn his head. After a few minutes he began to squirm, reaching toward the door where he had last seen his mother. River was surprised Sarah’s thin arms could hold the determined child, but, after a brief struggle, she won the battle, pulling the little body against her chest. She rocked him slowly, and he gave in, resting his head on her shoulder. She began to turn in a circle, continuing the rocking motion, caressing the tiny head as she comforted him.

For a moment River was in a lamp-lit room, watching her dance with someone else. He felt the stab of jealousy and pushed it away. It was a remembered emotion and had nothing to do with how he felt now. He looked toward the waiting wagons to bring himself back to the present, but she was still in front of him, dancing with the baby in the dusty yard, and there was nothing he could do but watch.

When Rice joined her, she quit turning but continued the rocking motion. The baby looked up to see who had interrupted and, with a little shudder, settled against her again. Rice held something up for her to see. Ribbons. Sarah nodded as they discussed them. Finally Rice folded the ribbons inside a paper and carefully tucked them in a pocket. He looked around the yard, catching sight of River. He waved, and Sarah turned, as well. Their eyes met for only a second before she turned away. The family returned, and Rice came running toward him.

“I bought ribbons for the von Schiller girls,” Rice told him eagerly. “I bought three like Sarah said. I’ll give the light blue one to their mama.”

“Ready to go, then?” River asked, looking over the boy’s shoulder to find Sarah. She had started toward the wagons, having traded the baby for the purchases. She held the hand of a little girl who was crying harder than the baby had been.

Rice interrupted his thoughts. “Did you ever give a girl something like a ribbon?”

River looked at the worried face and laughed. “Once or twice.”

“It don’t seem like much.”

“They’ll like the ribbons if they like you.”

“But I thought a present would help them like me.”

“I’m not sure it works that way,” River said. He glanced again at the retreating family. “Look, Rice, do me a favor. Tell Eli to pull out as soon as everyone is back. I’ll catch up in a little bit.”

“Sure thing,” Rice said, and started away.

“And, Rice...” The boy turned back. “The girls would have to be crazy not to like you.” Rice grinned and hurried toward the wagons and his previously forgotten lunch.

Chapter Four

“Now where’s that fool boy gone off to?”

Sarah decided Eli was muttering, not asking, and therefore didn’t require an answer. She could guess that Rice had gone to the von Schiller wagon, but she hadn’t seen him go, and he hadn’t told her. She saw no reason to share her guess with Eli.

“I was about to go for the wood,” she told him. “Do you want me to look for Rice instead?”

“Well, I’ll need more wood than ya’ll find on the ground. Get River to go with ya and chop down one a them trees.”

River had just entered the camp. He dropped his saddle and gear near the supply wagon. “I got better things to do,” he said without sparing Sarah a glance.

“Don’t see what. Ya already assigned guards, and ya ain’t one a ‘em. Don’t see nobody askin’ for yer help with nothin’.” To illustrate this, Eli looked around the busy circle. “Go help Sarah bring in enough wood to fill the possum bellies in case we don’t make it to the Little Blue tomorrow and have to stop in the hills somewheres.”

River glared at Eli before chuckling in defeat. “I’ll get the wood, but what do I need her for?” He cast Sarah a dismissing glance, grabbed the ax and headed for the creek.

Eli called after him, “To help ya find yer way back.” He eyed Sarah curiously for a moment. She tried to pretend he hadn’t embarrassed her. “Fetch the water,” he directed.

Sarah unfastened the buckets from the side of the wagon, glad River’s long legs would keep him well ahead of her. She had barely left the camp when Rice caught up with her. He took one bucket from her and hurried on, making her walk faster. “I’m sorry I’m late. Is Eli mad?” He looked over his shoulder then walked faster still.

“I don’t know, Rice. With him it’s hard to tell. River’s gone after the wood, and he sent me for water.” To her dismay, Rice’s pace was threatening to make them catch up with River.

“I’ll get the water,” Rice offered, taking the second bucket. “See if you can keep Eli from being mad.”

Sarah stopped, too out of breath to argue, and watched the boy hurry away. At camp, Eli was muttering but no more than usual. She told him Rice would bring the water and went on to other duties. She had no idea how to keep the grumpy old man from being angry at Rice.

Rice and River returned at the same time. Before Eli could do more than stand up, pointing his paring knife at Rice, River said, “Introduce me to the folks, Rice. I’ve barely met some of them. We can start with that German family.” He threw an arm over the boy’s shoulder, steering him away.

Sarah failed to hide her amusement from Eli. “Just a clever way to get outta work, if ya ask me, which ya won’t. I suppose ya want to go, too. Well, go on. You ain’t met all these people, neither. Ain’t enough folks left for it to take long, anyhow.”

He sat back down and resumed his potato peeling. Sarah looked at him in dismay. Eli’s voice had been loud, and Rice and River had stopped, waiting for her to join them. Rice’s eager face and River’s glower left her torn for a second. But only for a second. She waved them away.

Supper was ready before they returned, and Sarah took advantage of the chance to look through her trunk. Somewhere there had to be something she could use to make Amy’s doll a new dress. Her supply of fabric was small, and she had plans for all of it. Dreams more than plans, she decided. It was what she hoped would get her started as a seamstress, along with taking in mending and probably laundry, as well. Surely she could part with a corner of something. She went through it all again, trying to decide what she could spare.

“You missin’ somethin’?”

Sarah jumped, almost knocking over the trunk. She steadied it as Eli climbed into the back of the wagon. His body blocked the light that came through the back flap. She turned up the wick on the lantern with an unsteady hand.

“No,” she answered him. “I was just trying to decide on something.”

“Didn’t mean to spy, but ya looked like ya’d lost somethin’.” Eli sat on a crate and showed no sign of going away.

Sarah considered a moment and decided the truth might bore him into leaving. “I was looking for something to use to make a doll dress.”

Eli grunted, and Sarah waited for the muttering to start. “Won’t need much to fit that shabby little doll ya was practicin’ surg’ry on yesterday.”

Sarah almost smiled. “That’s the one,” she said. She didn’t look at him but carefully smoothed her pieces as she packed them back into the trunk.

“Pete had a couple extra shirts.”

Sarah stared at him in surprise. He was scratching his whiskered chin. “One was kind of a bluelike gray color. Almost new, I think, when he tore it up some. Oughta work.” He got up and moved some boxes, looking for Milburn’s personal trunk.

There was barely enough room in the wagon for the two of them and all the things that were stored there. Sarah moved to the back and pulled the flap open further. She hoped Eli would think she was trying to give him more light. The last thing she wanted was him asking why the enclosed wagon made her so uncomfortable.

Eli found the trunk and opened it. “Got to go through all this stuff, anyhow. Guess it’s Rice’s now, but he won’t miss the shirt.” He found what he was looking for and closed the trunk, carrying the shirt to Sarah. As he handed it to her, he asked in a lowered voice, “Where’d you know River from?”

Sarah was so startled she was sure she jumped again. “I...I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered.

They heard Rice’s voice and River’s laugh. In a few seconds they would be at the fire. She clutched the shirt and wondered if its price was information.

After watching her a moment, Eli said, “Don’t matter,” and climbed out of the wagon.

Sarah stayed behind, closing her trunk and putting the shirt and her sewing box where she could get to them easily. Last, she blew out the lantern and, hoping she looked calmer than she felt, left the wagon.

The others had already filled their plates, and Sarah did the same, looking for a place to sit away from them. She needed time to think, to decide what to do about Eli.

“Sit here, Miss Sarah,” Rice called, and she had no choice but to sit near him, near River.

“River said he didn’t see no sign of Indians today, did you, River?”

Sarah tried to give the boy her full attention without looking at River. She heard River’s negative response and looked quickly at her plate.

“But we might see some Pawnee anytime,” Rice added, making sure Sarah knew he had his facts straight.

“Could.” There was humor in the familiar voice, and Sarah couldn’t resist looking up to see the face. He was trying not to smile as he continued to eat his meal, but there was merriment in his eyes as he gave the boy a sidelong glance. “You been scaring Miss Sarah with Indian stories?”

His eyes met Sarah’s, and she held them for a moment before she turned to Rice, pretending her heart wasn’t beating alarmingly fast. Were those blue eyes alone enough to cause it? Or was it fear that sent her pulse racing? Even now, she was sure Eli watched her.

“I told Miss Sarah there wouldn’t likely be trouble but we are in Pawnee territory.”

“It’s Pawnee territory as long as they can keep it,” Eli put in. “There’s gonna be more folks who ain’t satisfied to just pass through. Like that Hollenberg fella.”

River chewed his food thoughtfully. “Now, some folks would say that anybody who can manage to take it from the Indians has a right to it. Maybe our Miss Sarah, here, would agree with that.”

Sarah looked up to see the blue eyes on her, all humor in them gone. She heard Eli grunt; he didn’t expect an answer. But River did. They both knew he wasn’t talking about Indian land. Did he think she would offer some excuse in front of all these people? An admission of guilt? An apology? She felt her face turn red with anger. It took an effort to pull her eyes away from his piercing gaze.

“Excuse me,” she murmured. She rose and carried her plate to the lead wagon. She didn’t want to go back and sit with the others; she needed a little time alone. Slowly she stepped around the wagon, letting it block the firelight. The prairie was lit by the sunset’s pale afterglow. The air away from the fire was crisp and clear. She let it cool her burning cheeks.

River watched Sarah leave the camp. He felt a twinge of guilt and fought against it. She had made herself so damn comfortable with Eli and Rice that he felt like an outsider. He couldn’t resist the opportunity to remind her that he knew who she really was.

Still, it could be dangerous to wander away from the wagons. He took his plate to the back of the wagon and looked for Sarah without appearing to, he hoped. She was standing a short distance away, looking at the stars.

He grabbed his saddlebags and walked back to the firelight, choosing a different seat, one where he could see Sarah through the gap between the wagons. “Rice, let me see your hat,” he said.

“What for, River?” Rice asked. The anticipation in the youth’s eyes told River he could make a guess, however.

“Well,” River began as he lifted an odd bundle from his bag, “you know the doctor’s wife, Prudence? She was stomping around the camp one night when she let out this horrible scream.”

“A snake,” Rice whispered, watching as the cured skin appeared from River’s bundle. River handed him the rattle and he rolled it in his fingers reverently.

River glanced at Sarah once more before he began folding the skin to hatband width. “I didn’t know it was a snake at first. I was just glad she wasn’t screaming at me. When she paused for a breath, we heard the rattle. I didn’t think she was going to stand still for more than a second or two. In fact there was real danger that she’d faint away right on top of the snake. Hold this.” He handed the hat to Rice while he searched his bag for his sewing kit. He glanced toward the wagons. Sarah had moved.

For a moment he was torn between finishing Rice’s hat and going after Sarah. He told himself he was being ridiculous. There were things a person needed privacy to do; he couldn’t go crashing after her.

“What happened?” Rice asked, drawing his attention.

River cut a length of heavy thread and threaded it on a needle before he spoke. “I decided speed was the most important thing under the circumstances, and I jumped right on the snake.”

“Wrestled with it for nigh on an hour, I suppose,” Eli interjected. The other two ignored him.

“My boot heel came down just behind its head. I grabbed my knife and...” He made a slicing motion with his hand.

“Did Mrs. Carroll faint?” Rice asked.

“Nah,” River said. They read each other’s disappointment and laughed.

River looked up in time to see Sarah step over the wagon tongue. She hadn’t made any sound that he could identify. It was as though he had felt her return. He was much more relieved to see her than he wanted to admit.

Rice drew his attention back to his project by rattling the tail. River took several lengths of the thread and fastened one end to the seam at the back of the hatband. As Rice handed him the rattle, he spoke again. “I thought Ernest might faint when he saw me skinning the snake. He thought I planned to eat it, at first. Seems he’d seen my hatband but had never recognized it for what it was.”

“Did ya?” Eli asked.

“Did I what?” River winked at Rice as he handed him the hat.

“Did ya eat the snake?”

River glared at Eli for a moment, conscious that Sarah was watching him. “I thought about smoking it overnight just for you, but I was afraid it’d turn up in my supper if I did.”

* * *

It was early afternoon the next day when River found the perfect campsite. This was beautiful country, and the place he had chosen was shaded by oak and cottonwood. Willows grew near the swift clear stream. He turned his mount and set an easy pace toward the train. They would reach this site in about two hours, maybe less. It would be early to make camp, but everyone could use the rest.

The day before, the train had made its way across the hills from the Big Sandy to the Little Blue River with no water between but what they had stored in their barrels. It had been a long day, and he had had to push them until nearly dark in order to get to the river.

It’s what Milburn would have done. The thought came suddenly and made him smile. And I would have been the first to argue with him. He missed Milburn more than he would ever admit to Rice or Eli, but Eli had been right. The people of the train trusted him and followed his instructions.

Even Ernest and Prudence were causing him less trouble, now that they were with the larger train and River was officially in charge. Of course, they were easier to avoid with more people around.

Dr. Carroll had come to Eli’s fire during supper the night before to report that his wife and brother were unhappy about traveling so late. The good doctor sat and drank two cups of coffee before he mentioned it.

“Well, you can go back and tell ‘em you complained,” Eli had told him cheerfully.

River grinned at the recollection. The grin didn’t last. Also at the fire had been Sarah. Avoiding her wasn’t as easy as he had thought. Because of the communal nature of trail life, they virtually lived together.

At camp she was always with Eli, and sometimes he simply had to talk to Eli. During the day, she was with Rice, and River found himself avoiding his friend because of Sarah.

What kind of lies is she telling the boy? he wondered. He had seen her charm work before, and Rice certainly was taken with her. He toyed with the idea of separating them by asking Eli to take her on his wagon, but how would he explain? He had promised to keep her secret, and he would, but that promise would last only as long as hers did. If I get one hint that she’s up to something, he vowed, Rice and Eli get the whole story.

The train had come into view, and River put spurs to his horse to reach them. He pulled up at the lead wagon. “About three miles ahead is a clearing where the river turns left.”

Eli squinted at him. “It’ll be a little early to stop, won’t it?”

“Yeah, maybe. We put in a hard day yesterday. I, for one, could use a rest.”

“Won’t never get nowhere restin’.”

River knew to expect that kind of comment from Eli, but it irritated him, anyway. “It’s a good camp, old man. Don’t argue with me.”

Eli cracked the whip over the backs of the oxen and muttered, “A body can’t express himself without bein’ accused of arguin’.”

River refused to feel guilty. “I need to talk to Rice,” he said, pulling on the reins.

“Wait!”

River rode beside Eli again.

“Been meaning to ask ya somethin’,” Eli began. “Where do ya know Sarie from?”

River managed his most carefree shrug. “What makes you think I know her?”

“Ain’t sure why I think so, just do.” He thought on it and added, “She watches ya.”

River laughed. “Eli, lots of women watch me.” He pulled up on the reins and let the wagon move ahead. He could hear Eli, calling after him or talking to himself, River couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t going to bother to find out.

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