Carolyn Davidson - Colorado Courtship

Even though Gage would yet pursue her, Finn Carson had already won the race.

The smaller of Jessica’s black kettles was steaming, its contents a savory stew, thanks to a roebuck brought down by one of the miners earlier in the day. The deer had been slaughtered swiftly, the meat passed among the wagons, according to family size, and Jessica had received a small chunk of venison from a hind quarter.

Now it simmered over the fire, having been dredged in flour and browned in lard. Half of her hoarded stash of tiny wild onions, dug from the prairie a few days before, garnished it with an appetizing aroma, Jessica having offered part of the tasty vegetables to the contents of Arlois’s stew pot.

Her small store of potatoes were wizened, but she’d washed three of them and added them, skin and all, to the kettle. Hopefully, the venison would be tender—and well it might—for the deer had been a spike horn. She spared only a moment’s pity for the animal, that his days were cut short by rifle fire.

Months ago she’d have been aghast at the thought of watching an animal butchered, her cooking limited to meat bought at a butcher’s shop. Things had changed, she thought, her spoon mixing a blend of flour, salt and soda. She added a bit of milk, a generous gift from Harv Littleman, whose dainty Jersey cow traveled behind the Littleman wagon every day.

With two little girls along, Harv had brought the animal, knowing full well that finding feed might be a problem. Thus far, the prairie had provided sufficient grass for the cow to produce her usual amount of creamy milk twice a day, and Geraldine had offered the excess in trade for other food to those families with children who had no such milk supply. Several others had their own cows along, with the understanding that should dire need arise, the animals could be slaughtered for food.

What a horrendous idea, Jessica thought, a shiver passing down her spine. Though what difference there was between a cow and the deer she was cooking was obscure, except that the cow was a treasured family possession.

“What are you building there?” Finn asked from behind her. “Whatever you’re cooking, it sure smells like home.” He squatted beside her and peered into the bowl she held. “Biscuits?” he asked.

“I’m going to spoon dumplings on top of the stew,” Jessica answered. “I’ll need the lid for my kettle from the wagon, if you don’t mind sorting through the box for me.”

“I can do that,” he said cheerfully, rising to step up into the wagon bed, and then poked his head from the canvas cover. “Is this it?” He held a black lid in one hand, and eyed the kettle. “There are two of them, but this one looks like it’ll fit.”

Jessica rose from the stump she used as a seat and took it from Finn’s hand. “Thanks, I appreciate your help.”

“Not nearly as much as I’m going to appreciate that kettle of food,” he told her. “And, not nearly as much as you’re going to enjoy my surprise for you.”

She slid a sidelong glance in his direction. “I’ll warrant I know what it is. Arlois told me about the creek even before we got here.” His mouth drooped, an expression she suspected he donned for her enjoyment, and she laughed softly. “You look like a little boy who’s just been denied a candy stick in the general store.”

Finn shook his head. “Women. Can’t put anything over on them. Here I thought I’d spring something on you, and you’re way ahead of me.” He settled beside her, watching as she dropped spoonfuls of the biscuit mix onto the simmering stew. “Does this mean you’re not going to let me finish out my plan?”

She scraped the final bit of dough into the pot and reached for the lid, clapping it in place. “You have a plan? If it involves filling my water barrel, I’m all for it.”

“Well, that, too,” he said teasingly. “I spoke to Harv Littleman and Dave Bates about taking our women to the stream to take baths tonight. Are you willing?”

“Depends,” she said, hesitating as the picture of clear water and a bar of soap tempted her mightily. “Will it be seemly for me to go with you?”

“You ladies can’t go alone,” Finn said firmly. “We’ll take you down to the stream and leave you there while we stand guard. I think there are several other women who want to go along. They’ll join us, and maybe their husbands, too.”

“Arlois said she feared the younger miners might try to sneak a peek at us.”

Finn’s mouth tightened and a stern look touched his features. “Not on your life, sweetheart. It will be as private as if you were in your bathtub in Saint Louis.”

“What bathtub?” she asked wryly. “I didn’t have one of my own after I left home to get married. It was one of the things I missed the most.”

“You should have gone back to your folks’ house a couple of times a week for a bath, then,” he told her, then frowned as he noted her silence and the quick bowing of her head. “What is it, Jessica? What did I say?”

“My parents washed their hands of me when I married Lyle,” she admitted. “Well, not actually right then, but later, when he’d stolen from my father’s company.” She looked up at Finn, hoping he would understand why she’d chosen Lyle over the mother and father who had loved her so.

“I’d promised to stay with him, for better or worse,” she said finally.

“And it only got worse, didn’t it?” His mouth had lost all traces of his usual good humor during their exchange and his eyes seemed to lose the sparkle she was wont to see in their depths. His hands touched hers and the bowl she held was lowered to sit on the ground at her feet, leaving her fingers free to twine with his.

“I’ve tried, especially on this trip, not to let others know how bad it was,” she said with a sigh.

“Most of those who traveled nearby your wagon knew you were being abused during the last weeks,” Finn told her, and she swallowed a protest. As though he read her mind, he nodded, a firm movement of his head. “There was no hiding the way he spoke to you, Jessica. And more than once you wore bruises.

“It was all I could do not to shoot him myself,” he admitted. “Jonas told me to stay out of it, that if you wanted help, then it would be time enough to interfere.”

“Lyle was difficult,” she said, looking down to where Finn clasped her hands in a grip so firm she thought she might never be turned loose from his hold. “You can let go of me,” she told him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not without me, anyway,” he said fervently. “From now on you’ll be mine to protect, Jess.”

“I haven’t said—”

“Look at me,” he said, cutting off her words with a wave of his hand. And then as if he saw something in her expression that made him hesitate, he only smiled. “Later on,” he said quietly. “We’ll talk after a while, when we’ve eaten and taken care of the bath detail down at the stream.”

She nodded, willing to set aside their discussion. Pewter bowls from the keg made an appearance within moments, and Jessica lifted the lid from the kettle a bit, peeping beneath to check on the dumplings. “I think they’re almost done,” she told him.

“I’ll wash up,” he said, reaching for the basin that hung on a hook beneath her wagon. “There’s fresh water on the water wagon, Jess. I’ll pour some in your barrel.”

She nodded, shooting him a smile of thanks. “All right. I’m beginning to run low.”

“We’ll fill all the barrels in the morning. Jonas said there’ll be time for the ladies to do their washing before we head out again and cross the stream. We’ll go upstream and make sure we dip clean water while the women get lines strung and scrub their clothes. We may be here for another full day.”