Carolyn Davidson - Colorado Courtship

She sighed in anticipation of a day spent doing the small bits and pieces of household chores that would allow her to stay in one place, and then volunteered a bit of help in his direction.

“You’re doing so much for me, Finn. Let me do your washing tomorrow, why don’t you?” she offered. “It’s the least I can do in return for your hard work on my behalf.” He considered her for a moment, then nodded agreement before he turned away.

Her gaze remained on him as he headed for the water wagon, heard the murmur of his voice as he spoke to someone while he poured water from a bucket into her basin, and then watched as he returned. The man moved with a natural grace, she thought, his stride long, his shoulders wide, and his body lean and honed.

For so long a time she’d made certain not to look at another man, lest she set Lyle into a temper tantrum. It was no wonder she’d paid no attention to Finn during the early weeks of the trip west. Her instincts were for self-preservation, and one glance from her eyes toward anyone wearing trousers was all the excuse Lyle would have needed to punish her for her lapse.

Now, she thought with a sense of freedom, she could look at Finn Carson all she pleased. And it did please her, she admitted to herself. She had the right to pick and choose who she would speak with, the privilege of walking beside another woman, passing the time of day, should that be her inclination.

She turned back to the fire and lifted the lid of the kettle with a folded towel, setting it aside with care, lest she burn herself. Her large serving spoon held a dumpling and over-flowed with gravy and meat as she turned it out into a bowl. Another scoop of the spoon added a potato, bits of onion and more gravy.

“Looks good,” Finn said, standing at her elbow, waiting to take the bowl from her.

He sat by the fire and watched her as she served the second bowlful and then joined him, easing to the ground with care, accepting his hand for balance as she settled beside him.

They ate in silence, broken only when Finn rose to serve himself another bowlful of the stew and offered her seconds. She shook her head, and he nodded, settling down beside her again, only to nudge her with his elbow as he pointed to where two little boys ran back and forth, chasing a dog between the wagons.

“I’ve always wanted a dog,” she said as she scooped up the final bite from her bowl. “Lyle said they weren’t worth the food it takes to keep them alive.”

“I’ll get one for you if you like,” Finn told her. “But probably not until we get to the end of this trip. Hell, you can have two of ’em, if it’ll make you happy, Jess.”

She laughed aloud in delight, and then quickly placed her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. “I can’t believe I did that,” she whispered. “I’m supposed to be in mourning, Finn. One day a widow and already I’m carrying on as if I’d never been married. Let alone the fact that I’m to have a child.” She smiled at him. “If you can get a pup, I’d appreciate it. And I’ll try to be more circumspect in my behavior. No more cutting up and carrying on.”

She felt the same weightless sensation she’d noticed earlier. “It’s almost as if I’m set free, Finn. As if the bars have been removed and I’m no longer a prisoner.”

“Well, you’ve about got that right,” he told her flatly. “After what you put up with, no one would blame you if you had spit on the man’s grave.”

“Oh, I doubt that would have gone over very well,” she said quietly. “There are a couple of the ladies who don’t seem to approve of me. Even at the graveside, one gave me a long look and sniffed, as if I smelled really bad.” Her eyes sought his, and she felt the old sense of loneliness creep closer as she spoke words that saddened her yet filled her with a new resolve. “I think they’d like to see me leave the train at Council Grove.”

Finn snorted and shook his head. “A pretty woman is always vulnerable to gossip,” he said. “And you’re the prettiest female around. Some women can’t help but keep a tight rein on their menfolk. Maybe they think you’re a threat to them.” He shot her a quick look. “And then there’s the single men, most of them needy—some of them really looking for a wife. Why do you suppose the vultures are circling? We’re all hoping you’ll give one of us the nod.”

“Is that so?” She took his bowl and stacked it in hers, then rose to clear up the remains of their supper.

He watched, relaxing for a few minutes, enjoying the sight of her graceful movements, the elegant line of her profile and the prospect of having her walk beside him to the bank of the stream a bit later on. “Harv said once Geraldine got their girls settled down for the night, we’d go to the stream for our baths,” he said quietly. “I see her scrubbin’ them up right now, and Harv’s cleaning up their supper dishes.”

“I won’t be long,” Jessica told him. “I’ll just need to clean my kettle out first.” She emptied the remains of the stew into a quart jar and set it aside, then poured clean water into the black container, sloshing it around before she dumped it on the far side of the wagon. Again she poured a portion of clean water into it and set it over the fire to heat.

The bowls went into it, along with the spoons and the mixing dish she’d used earlier. Finn watched, a comfortable sensation flooding him as she methodically did her evening chores. She would wash everything in a few minutes, adding soap and using a rag to clean every surface. He’d watched her from the shadows more than one evening as she organized her campsite, aware of the aura of loneliness surrounding her. Lyle had not invited the friendliness of others, and Jessica had suffered for it.

Now she looked up, smiling as Arlois approached, towel in one hand, a bundle of clothing in the other. “We’re about ready to walk to the stream,” she said. “Geraldine said she’d be ready in five minutes, and a couple of the others are coming along. Can I help you, Jessica? I’ll climb in your wagon and find your towel and nightgown and wrapper if you like.”

“Would you?” Jessica answered. “I’d appreciate it. I try not to hoist myself up over those boards any more often than I have to lately.”

His own towel and change of clothes were ready at the back of Jonah’s wagon and Finn sauntered in that direction, nodding at Arlois as he walked past her. “You and your wife going along?” he asked another of the men, and received a nod. He felt a part of the group in a different way tonight, he realized, aware that it was because of Jessica, because of her tentative acceptance of him as a suitor.

Glancing back to where she stood with Arlois, he caught her gaze and knew a moment of revelation. Limned in the light of the fire behind her, she seemed an almost unearthly figure. And wasn’t that a strange thought.

For the space of just a few seconds he was back in Saint Louis, watching as an unknown female stood by a covered wagon and then was tossed with uncaring hands to sit atop the seat. Her eyes had met his for only a moment then, her nod a polite response to his own.

And with an ironic twist of fate, she’d been destined to be the one woman he must pursue in order to avenge Aaron’s death. Marrying her would only solve part of the problem, he admitted to himself silently. If she found, somewhere down the road, that he’d courted her in order to gain possession of Aaron’s deed, she would turn from him in anger and disgust. He would lose her trust should his motives be revealed.

One day, he would tell her the whole story, one day when their marriage was secured and he’d had time to prove himself to her. And if she turned from him then, he would kick himself for keeping the secret from her.