Valerie Hansen - Frontier Courtship

Lowering the cup of broth, Faith set it aside before taking advantage of the comment to ask, “When you say mess, are you referring to my injury, or to our business dealings with Ramsey Tucker?”

“Both. Mostly Tucker, I reckon.”

Faith reached for the older woman’s callused hands, clasping them tightly. “Please. I must know everything you’ve heard.”

“You won’t like it.”

“Ramsey Tucker has made more than one inappropriate suggestion regarding my lack of a husband or father to care for me and my sister during the crossing. I’d hardly be shocked at anything you’d tell me about his character. He’s detestable.”

Nodding, Anna led Faith over to the edge of the rope bed and they perched together on the wooden frame. “You’re right about him. He’s passed through here seven or eight times. I liked him less every time I laid eyes on him.”

“But why? I’ve seen that he’s cruel. He’s even whipped my poor, innocent mules for no reason except pure meanness. But there must be more. I feel it.”

“Maybe so. Not that I have any sworn word on it, mind you, but I hear your captain’s been made a new widower on just about every trip.” She paused, patting Faith’s hands for comfort. “They say he picks out a woman of property, sidles up to her, and before she knows it they’re married. Trouble is, his brides don’t reach Californy.”

Faith’s eyes widened. “And he inherits?”

“Every penny. And all his dead wife’s possessions, to boot. Makes himself a pretty piece of change, what with sellin’ off their rigs and all.”

“Oh, dear Lord!” Faith’s hands fluttered to her throat again. “He started making up to my sister after I rebuffed him.”

“That ain’t good. Not good at all.”

“I know. But what can I do? We have to get to my father somehow.”

“Stay here then. Wait for the next train to come through and join up with them.”

“We can’t.” Ringing her hands, Faith began to pace, oblivious to the pain in her side. “Tucker has most of the money I was able to raise by selling what was left of the farm. We can’t afford to pay again. And we might not be able to talk another party into accepting us, even if we could. Not two women alone.”

Shrugging, Anna got to her feet. “You’re probably right about that.” She reached into her apron pocket, came up with a fistful of coins, and placed them in Faith’s hands. “Here. Take this. It’s not much but it’ll help.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Have to, as I see it,” the shopkeeper countered. “It ain’t my money. It come from the soldiers I told you about. Way too much for what little your stay here cost.”

“Well…”

“Good girl. Take whatever the Good Lord supplies and don’t ask questions. That’s the way to get by out here.”

“Thank you.” Faith smiled with gratitude. “Now, what advice can you give me about handling Ramsey Tucker?”

Snorting in derision, Anna shook her head. “That’s another kettle of burnt beans, ain’t it? As I see it, all you’ve got to do is keep your little sister locked up tight for the next couple o’ thousand miles. Anything so’s she don’t go gettin’ all het up about marryin’ that son of perdition—excuse my plain speakin’.”

“No pardon necessary. I’ve thought to call him worse than that myself, once or twice.”

“I’ll bet many a sensible woman has. It’s the foolish ones what get taken in and pay so dearly. I’ll be prayin’ for you, Faith. I truly will.”

“Thank you. Please do. I suspect I’ll need all the help I can get before I ever set eyes on the American River.”

Dozing in the soft, slightly sagging bed, Faith was nudged into wakefulness just before dawn by the low timbre of a man’s voice. Before she was fully aware of what she was doing, she’d donned the wrapper again and tiptoed across the floor to her door, opening it a crack so she could listen.

The voice was unmistakable, both in its inflections and its concern. She knew if she looked out her window to the street below, she’d no doubt see a big red horse waiting at the hitching rail.

The trouble was, she couldn’t make out what her self-appointed defender was saying. Nor could she hear Anna’s quiet responses. At home in Ohio she never would have ventured out onto the upper landing dressed as she was, but this wasn’t Burg Hill. This was the frontier. Her need to know was greater than any false modesty. Nervous, she crept to the railing and looked down.

The plainsman had slicked back his sandy-colored hair and, hat in hand, was speaking with Mrs. Morse at the base of the stairs. One booted foot rested on the bottom step.

“You’re sure she’ll be all right?”

“Fine,” Anna said. “She’s a strong one. Stubborn.”

“Her ribs?”

“Prob’ly cracked, like we figured. No fever, though. I checked on her twice during the night.”

He took a deep breath, releasing it noisily. “Thanks.”

Anna merely nodded. “Soon’s I get the store ready for today’s business I’ll take her up some breakfast. The train fixin’ to pull out soon?”

“Looks like it. Think she’ll be able to travel?”

“Oh, it’ll hurt, that’s for certain. But she’ll do.”

Connell muttered an unintelligible curse. “What are idiotic women thinking when they try to make a journey like this practically alone?”

Still poised one floor above him, Faith closed her hands tightly over the banister. She’d heard it all before. Too often. Who had made the rule that women ought to live their lives according to the rigid rules men set down for them, anyway? It didn’t have to be that way.

Her father had left his family to pursue gold. Wealth. Supposed happiness. Waiting behind, her mother had adjusted beautifully to life without a husband to sanction her daily decisions, and Faith had every intention of following that good example. Nobody, least of all a drifter, was going to tell her what she should or shouldn’t do. The fact that he’d helped her once didn’t give him any right to criticize her personal choices.

The hackles on the back of Connell’s neck began to prickle. He’d spent the past eleven years making his way through varying degrees of wilderness. The ongoing experience had honed his natural senses to a keen edge. Either an Indian was about to chuck an arrow his way, a hungry rattlesnake had a bead on his ankle, or Faith Beal had overheard his last comment. For the sake of his hide, he hoped it was the latter.

Raising his eyes, he looked up the stairs, intending only a quick glance. What he saw changed his mind in a blink.

The rising sun was coming through a window behind her, giving her a golden, glowing aura. The plain white wrapper was belted at her waist, its long sleeves gathered at her wrists, the skirt reaching to the floor. And her hair! Soft brown curls framed her face and cascaded in a tousled sheet of silken beauty over her shoulders. Most of the women he’d known, including Irene, had plaited their long hair at night. The wild, untamed look of Faith’s tresses took his breath away.

Nodding, he acknowledged her. “Ma’am.”

In spite of Anna’s sputtered protest, Faith did not withdraw.

“I apologize if I offended you,” Connell said, seeing undisguised ire on her face as he spoke.

“Not at all,” Faith said. “I’m quite used to men assuming that because I’m a woman I’m about as dumb as an old muley cow.”

Connell stifled a chuckle. “Some of those ol’ mossey-backs are pretty smart critters. It might be a compliment, ma’am.”

“I doubt it. At any rate, my sister and I do thank you for your care and concern, even if it is uncalled-for.”

“A pleasure. Can I take a message to your sister for you? I’m headed out that way.”