Colorado Courtship

“I’m sorry there wasn’t more,” she said. “Maybe Arlois Bates has leftovers to spare. Want me to ask her?” As a scout, Finn was welcomed at almost every campsite, and offered food from various kettles each night. He carried supplies in Jonas’s wagon, but rarely needed to set up a fire of his own.

“I’m fine,” Finn assured her. “I have to ride out for a while. If I see any game, I’ll bring you back something for supper. Will you mind pacing the oxen for a couple of hours?”

She shook her head quickly. “No, that’s fine. If you’ll get my burlap bag I’ll keep an eye out for chips for the fire tonight. I need to walk for a while anyway,” she told him, sliding over the back of the seat into the wagon bed. He was at the rear when she made her way through the piles of boxes and bits of furniture stacked on either side of the floor, and reached in to lift her from the canvas shelter with a total lack of ceremony. He reached back inside for the burlap sack she’d left handy.

“Here you go,” he said, and then hesitated as she grasped the heavy burlap. “I hate you having to gather buffalo chips,” he said.

“I’m healthy and able,” she told him. “I’m just lucky not to have run out of wood before this. All the other women do their share, and I’m no different.”

“That’s where we’re going to disagree,” Finn said. “You are different. In the first place, you’re going to have a baby.”

“All women have babies,” Jessica told him. “I knew when I started out from Saint Louis that this wasn’t going to be an easy trip. I’m not afraid of work, and I can certainly do my share, whether it’s picking up buffalo chips or cooking or walking with the team. As a matter of fact, the responsibility is mine—all of it.”

“Not anymore it isn’t,” Finn said gruffly. “You’re going to have a man to take care of you, Jessica. I’m planning on it being me.”

“I thought I had a choice in this,” she said smartly. “Gage Morgan is interested in me. And I’ve had several other of the men looking my way.”

“And you wouldn’t take on any of them,” Finn told her. “Maybe Morgan, in a pinch. But I’d rather you didn’t consider him, either.” His jaw was taut and his eyes blazed with an icy fire. “I want to marry you, Jessica. It isn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing with me. I’ve been committing the sin of looking at a married woman with desire in my heart for the past—”

“Stop it, Finn Carson,” she said, cutting his declaration short. “I don’t want to hear this. It makes me feel like you’ve been waiting for something to happen to Lyle so you could come courting me.”

“No, I didn’t wish him dead,” Finn told her firmly. “But I sure as hell wished he wasn’t your husband. The man didn’t deserve you, Jessica.”

She snatched at the burlap bag and stalked away, heading for the team, the pair of them standing with their heads down waiting for the signal to leave. Finn’s admission was honest, she’d give him that. And he was right—it was a sin to be looking at another man’s wife. Look what that sort of shenanigans got poor King David in the Bible.

Jessica laughed beneath her breath. She was no Bathsheba, that was for sure. But she’d be willing to bet that an offer from Finn Carson was as good as she’d ever come by in this lifetime. The man was prime. Golden hair that tempted her fingers to measure its silky length, and blue eyes that touched her with tenderness.

“Can I walk with you?” Arlois approached, her own bag in hand, and Jessica smiled a welcome.

“It looks like we’ve been given the job of gathering up tonight’s fuel for the fires,” she said, holding her own bag at arm’s length.

Arlois wrinkled her nose. “I’d think firewood would be the better choice,” she said. “I told David that handling buffalo dung was not my idea of fun, and he told me he’d give me fun after dark tonight.”

Jessica laughed softly, a yearning for the sort of happiness Arlois shared with her David sweeping over her. She’d heard their murmurs as they walked outside the circle of wagons on occasion, had noted David’s possessive gaze on his wife, had seen his hand reach for Arlois as they sat by the fire at night. They had two children, and yet there was a shine about them that made her think they still resembled newlyweds.

She’d had little of that sort of affection with Lyle. Maybe with Finn, she thought. And in her mind’s eye she could envision his hand enclosing hers, imagine his body sheltering her from the wind.

“Jessica?” Arlois peered at her. “Did I upset you, talking that way about David? I wasn’t thinking.” Her cheeks blushed crimson, as if she regretted her impetuous remark. “I forgot for a minute about Lyle…about him being gone.” She faltered and then leaned closer to hug Jessica.

“Do you miss him at all?” she asked. “I mean, I know he wasn’t a very kind man, but he was your husband—and I’m just rattling on like an idiot, aren’t I?”

Jessica stifled a laugh. “You’re not an idiot,” she said, admonishing Arlois. “And you’re right about Lyle. He wasn’t very kind to anyone, least of all me. We were married, but never close the way you are with David, or Geraldine is with Harvey.”

Arlois squeezed her tightly for a second and then stepped back. “Well then, I won’t apologize for being so blunt. I think you’d be better off with any one of the other bachelors than you were with Lyle.” She grinned. “Although I’m partial to Finn Carson, if the truth be known.” And then her eyes widened and she groaned.

“Here comes another suitor, Jessica. And this one is scary. I’m not sure what there is about Mr. Morgan, but he’s a little frightening if you ask me.” She set out at a fast pace. “I’m going to do a roundabout for a while, see if I can fill my bag and make David happy.” With a wave of her hand at the approaching horseman, she walked at an angle, joining several other women who were scanning the ground on either side of the train for fuel for tonight’s supper fires.

“Mrs. Beaumont.” Gage Morgan slid from his gelding and held the reins in one hand, then closed the gap until he walked apace with Jessica. “I thought I’d check on you and see if there’s anything I can do to lend a hand.” He gestured toward her bag. “I see you’re going foraging this afternoon. Maybe I can bring you some wood from our stockpile instead,” he offered.

“I doubt your partners would appreciate you sharing their supply,” Jessica said. “I don’t mind gathering chips.”

He nodded, as if he accepted her refusal of his offer, and then took her arm. “I made you a walking stick,” he said. “I hope you have use for it. I thought I’d ask first and then bring it by later if you like.”

She looked down at his hand, and he grimaced and released her elbow, murmuring a soft apology. “I’m sorry if I offended you,” he said nicely. “Perhaps I’ll stop by the wagon and get the stick now. It will make it easier for you, I think.”

“That’s thoughtful of you,” she said, unwilling to be rude, yet not wanting to be beholden to the man in any way. His gaze touched her again, dark and shuttered, as if he saw within her and could know her thoughts. His next words supported that theory, she decided.

“I wonder what there is about me that frightens you,” he said quietly. “I don’t think I’ve ever done anything to cause you alarm, have I?”

She shook her head. “No, of course not. I’m not easily frightened, Mr. Morgan.”

“I’m sure,” he said agreeably. “But nevertheless, I’d like to get to know you a little better, ma’am. But I don’t want to be pushy or infringe on your grief.”

Jessica met his gaze head-on. “I’m not grieving, Mr. Morgan. My marriage was not a happy one, as you have probably already guessed.” Her shoulders lifted in a shrug as she continued. “I’ve decided that life must go on, no matter what.”

“Then would my proposal to you be out of line?” he asked. “I’d like you to consider marrying me, ma’am. I know that Jonas McMasters has given you a choice of either marrying one of the single men of the group, or leaving the train in Council Grove and going back East.”

“News travels fast, doesn’t it?” She picked up her pace, feeling a flush paint her cheeks at his words. “I feel as if I’m up on an auction block, Mr. Morgan, and I’m not enjoying it one little bit.”

“You’re a good-looking woman,” he said bluntly. “I’d be foolish if I didn’t throw my hat in the ring. I won’t be the only one trying to persuade you into a wedding ring.”

“And you have a ring handy?” she asked, glancing at him skeptically.

“I’ll come up with something,” he told her. “If I have to buy one from one of the ladies on the train, I will.”

“I doubt any of the married women would give up their wedding band for my sake,” she said. “I wouldn’t wear someone else’s, anyway. I’d rather go without.”

“That’s all right with me,” he said. “The ring isn’t the important thing.”

“I’ll be very blunt with you, sir,” she said after a moment. “I have two weeks to make up my mind. I’ve already had one offer, and I’m considering it carefully. I’ll put your name in the hat and let you know my answer.”

“I can do more for you than Finn Carson,” he said harshly.

“Really?” She looked at him, saw the flash of anger he hid with lowered lashes and felt a shiver of awareness spin the length of her spine. She’d been wrong. There was an element of fear in her that responded to this man’s presence. Relief flooded her as he turned aside and mounted his horse. The nod he tossed in her direction was quick and his horse spun from her, its rider obviously holding a tight rein.

She walked alone for several minutes and then heard Arlois’s call as the other woman hastened to catch up. “Wait for me, Jessica.”

With a look over her shoulder, Jessica stepped to one side, allowing her team to plod ahead, and Arlois joined her, breathless from her hasty jaunt. “David is sending Joshua to walk by your team for a while,” Arlois said. “Let’s climb inside and rest for a few minutes.”

Even as she announced her idea, Joshua, a cheerful youth of perhaps thirteen years, took Jessica’s place by the lead ox. Arlois gripped Jessica’s arm and together they paced the wagon for a few minutes, then climbed into the back as it lumbered over the rutted road. Weaving their way through the assorted barrels and boxes inside, they gained the front and shared the wide plank seat.

“Whew!” With relief, Arlois untied her sunbonnet and lifted it from her hair. “I’m about tired out. That sun is really beating down today.” The breeze teased the few locks that had escaped her braid and they curled over her forehead, giving her a youthful look, Jessica thought. The woman had become a good friend over the past weeks, ever present when help was needed, offering an ear and reserving judgment.

Now she looked as though her curiosity was about to burst the boundaries of good taste, and Jessica took pity on her. “No, I didn’t accept the man’s proposal,” she said with a laugh. “Not that he wasn’t persuasive. He even offered to buy a wedding ring for me from one of the ladies on the train.”

“He didn’t!” Arlois was caught between laughter and disgust, it seemed, and she made a face. “As if any decent woman would sell her wedding ring.” She tilted her head to one side. “Not unless her children were starving, or some idiot offered an outrageous amount.” Her laughter won out, and Jessica joined in.

“I needed that,” she whispered, wiping her eyes as her giggles subsided. “The man is handsome and even a bit dashing, but pompous doesn’t begin to describe him. He told me he could do more for me than Finn Carson, as if he were offering to buy my affections.” She considered that idea. “I think he’d want more from me than I could offer,” she said quietly, her humor retreating as she recalled the man’s anger.

“How about the other bachelors?” Arlois asked in a teasing manner.

“Most of them are still wet behind the ears, as well you know,” Jessica said, “and the rest haven’t had a bath since we left Independence.”

“Speaking of which,” Arlois said, her voice rising as if she announced something of tremendous import. “We’re going to be crossing a nice shallow creek in the morning, David said. Instead of dabbing around in a bucket, we’ll be able to wash clothes and get ourselves clean all over while we’re waiting to cross over. Maybe even by tonight, he said.”

Jessica would warrant that the creek ahead of them was the surprise Finn had spoken of this morning. Just the thought of fresh, cool, running water made Jessica’s heart beat faster. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” she said, already plotting her strategy. “Maybe we can gather up all the ladies and go as a group.”

“Not unless we have some menfolk to watch out for us,” Arlois said sharply. “I wouldn’t put it past those scruffy young miners to sneak up and take a peek if they got the chance. I doubt David would let me go without him tagging along.” Her eyes lit with mischief. “Of course, he’s liable to sneak a peek himself.”

Jessica felt a tinge of envy as Arlois spoke of her good-looking husband. She’d never had such rapport with Lyle, but the prospect might be feasible with a man such a Finn. It was a prize to be considered in the gamble she was considering.

The thought of Gage Morgan’s eyes on her naked body was enough to send goose bumps traveling the length of her frame. In fact, the idea of any man catching a glimpse of her swollen belly and oversize bosom was enough to make her shudder with dread.

Even Finn? The thought rattled her and she closed her eyes. She could almost imagine his warm gaze sliding over her, his callused palms curving beneath her breasts.

“Jessica?” Beside her, Arlois spoke her name and Jessica’s eyelids flew open. “Are you all right? You looked so funny there for a minute. You’re not having any pains, are you?”

Jessica shook her head and dredged up a smile. Not pain, she thought. But an aching void that would only be filled by the tender care and attention of a man—though not just any man would do. Her choice was as good as made.

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

Chapter Three

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.”

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.”