Hannah Alexander - Keeping Faith

She met his gaze, and she couldn’t look away for a moment. Some things about him had definitely changed, and she liked those changes. “John Brown believes there’s a connection between the knights and the border ruffians of Missouri.”

“Of course there is.”

And of course, throughout this journey, he’d known more than he’d let on to her. “My presence could be a danger to this wagon train if you’re right about Thames knowing me.” Why hadn’t she considered this? And Sadie, her mare...Matthew’s mare...why hadn’t she traded in St. Louis?

“I believe this is where you need to be.”

The gentleness of his words and the affection in his eyes settled something that had nagged at her since his first arrival in St. Louis this spring. She could relax a little. Not completely, of course. What would he do if he knew she continued to carry some dangerous secrets?

* * *

Joseph was in trouble and he knew it—had known it since first arriving in St. Louis. How was he supposed to think straight when his thoughts and attention automatically sent him looking for Victoria first thing every morning, when he had to force himself several times a day not to ride past the wagon she often reined or the horse she rode?

He needed his wits about him, for sure, now that she had confirmed for him that the most dangerous men in the country might be focusing on his little group of trusting, good-hearted people.

“John sent word to us about a conspiracy,” Victoria said. “This was only a few days before Matthew was killed.”

Though the lilt of her Pennsylvania accent and the soft, musical quality of her voice could draw him to her through the most threatening of battlefields, her words were like a splash of ice water in his face. “How did he send word?”

“Through a mutual friend. He needed our medical aid in Kansas Territory.” She placed the muddy cloth on the log and pulled another from her bag. She dampened it with a splash of whiskey and dabbed at his chin again. “He told Matthew that the Missouri slave owners traveled en masse to Kansas to vote illegally to make Kansas a slave state.”

“There’s going to be a deadly battle over that territory as voting time draws near.” Joseph took a moment to digest the reality that Victoria’s safety could well lie in his hands. “Do you think that’s why Matthew was killed? Could your contact have been followed?” He reached up and stilled her hand for a moment, relishing the feel of her skin.

“It makes sense, doesn’t it? Men risked their lives to infiltrate the coalition of slavers and to pass this information on to Washington, D.C. Many died.” Gently but firmly, she pulled away.

“I wish I’d known about your precarious situation sooner, Victoria, though I suppose I should have guessed.” Joseph would have hacked his way through head-high drifts of snow to reach her and protect her.

“John also sent some friends of ours, Francine and Buck Frasier, to the Village of Jollification.” Victoria reached up as if to sweep the hair from his forehead, but she stopped herself. “Have you been there?”

“Often. Locals call it Jolly Mill. It’s on a main road from Springfield to Kansas and Indian Territories.”

“Francine and Buck traveled there last autumn with their so-called slaves, John’s adoptive son and daughter-in-law.”

Joseph looked at her in surprise. “I heard he’d adopted a freed slave.”

“Yes. He’s fully invested in helping the slaves in every way. I hear we’ll be passing by Jolly Mill in a few days.”

“No,” Joseph said. “Not after what you’ve told me. It’s sure to be overrun by border ruffians.”

Victoria gave a soft sigh. “Yes, I know, but someone needs to help them get past the border.”

“Tell me Matthew didn’t drag you into the middle of that situation, as well.”

Victoria didn’t meet Joseph’s gaze. “Matthew and I were planning to travel this way.”

“Do you think Thames knows about the Frasiers and their charges?”

She picked up the whiskey again and soaked the cloth more thoroughly. “Word is that he is leading a group tasked to kill off the influential Brown family one by one, and that would especially include the adopted son.”

Joseph knew by the darkening of her eyes and her fidgeting hands that there was more she wasn’t saying. “Victoria, you realize we must lie low.”

She nodded. “I won’t do anything to endanger these people.”

“Or yourself.”

She didn’t reply.

He hated this. “I’ve seen you ride ahead of the rest several times until you were out of sight.”

“It does no harm to have an extra scout.” She reached for his hand and pulled it toward her, then began to dab at more scrapes on his forearm.

“I saw you once when we came riding around a stand of trees. You had dismounted from Sadie and were studying something on the trail. I had supposed you were hunting for mushrooms.”

She looked down at the cloth in her hands, dabbed at another spot on his neck then discarded this cloth, as well. “Tracks. I need to see your ribs.”

He blinked at her. “What?”

“Your ribs. Pull up your shirt so I can check your ribs. You’ll need to have medicine on them, too.”

“So you did see tracks that day?”

“Not what I was looking for. Not Thames. Now, shirt, please?”

He sighed and glanced toward camp. “This might be misconstrued.”

“Then so be it. I’m a doctor. Right now you’re my patient. If you’d rather I call Heidi to come—”

“No.” He tugged out the left side of his formerly blue plaid shirt, which was now thick with drying mud. He could already feel his face flushing.

Victoria busied herself soaking another cloth, then visibly winced at the sight of Joseph’s bruised and scraped ribs. She pressed the cloth against them. “They must hurt a great deal.”

He gritted his teeth against the sting of the whiskey. “To be honest, I haven’t had time to think about it.” Until now. He’d been too distracted by Victoria’s bracing presence and the shock of her news.

“I gathered some wild onions yesterday,” she said. “I know it isn’t the science I’ve learned under Matthew’s tutelage, but I learned a lot from a tribe of Cherokee who lived near us when I was growing up. If you would allow me to make a poultice—”

“I would be grateful.”

“Good. It’ll take the soreness out much more quickly.” She dabbed again at his ribs until the mud that had leaked through his shirt had been cleaned away. She had the most gentle touch, and a caring spirit with a strong thread of heroism that he admired.

“I’m frustrated by the hard rains,” she said as she wrapped a long cloth around his rib cage and fastened it to itself with a knot, deftly woven. “It would have removed any tracks we might have used to warn us.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t track this man.” He knew she probably wouldn’t listen. “You can tell McDonald what to look for. And Reich. In fact, I’d prefer anyone else in the wagon train be on the lookout for the tracks, just not you.”

She tugged his shirt back down. “Come with me and we can get the onions. I can pound them and then slide them beneath the cloth. It’s true we’d best not start tongues wagging. If we stay closer to camp everyone will realize I’m simply treating a wound.”

He suspected she was using his wound and the onion poultice as a ruse to prevent him from pressing her further about her tracking plans.

She turned and gathered up her bag and supplies. “Speaking of camp, Joseph, despite all we’ve tried to do, some of our people may have contracted cholera. I wish to play it safe and separate those who were in the water from the rest of the travelers for a couple of days.”