Читать книгу Jeb Hunter's Bride - Ana Seymour - Страница 13

They rode along for another few minutes before the wagons in front started drawing to a halt one by one. “The head wagon must have reached Silver Creek,” Jeb explained. “I told them we’d stop there.”

Almost instantly the twins’ mother appeared to collect her girls. Kerry noticed that the polite smile Captain Hunter turned on Dorothy Burnett was not any different than the one he used with Frank Todd or the motherly Eulalie Todd or anyone else on the train. Scott, on the other hand, who joined them immediately, as Kerry had predicted, flashed the pretty blonde a charming grin and cocked his head in a greeting that showed appreciation of her as a young, attractive woman. Jeb Hunter didn’t seem to like women all that much, Kerry decided. Or perhaps he saw himself in such a lofty position on the train that he felt above flirting with a pretty girl. Of course, either way, it was a matter of indifference to her.

“I’ve brought lunch,” Scott said, hoisting a heavy iron kettle. “Boone’s finest molasses baked beans. A whole tin of them,” he added, looking from Kerry up on the wagon seat down to Dorothy and Jeb and Patrick, who had dismounted from Jeb’s horse. “Plenty to go around.”

His tone held no indication that he was annoyed by Jeb’s presence, but Kerry already knew him well enough to sense a certain tenseness in him that was not natural to the easygoing Scott. She didn’t analyze why she felt it was her job to be sure that he and Jeb Hunter would not antagonize each other. She had been responsible for taking care of the males in her own family for so many years, it just seemed to come as second nature. “Captain Hunter is going to stay for lunch,” she said, sending Scott a bright smile and silent thank-you for his forbearance. Her gesture was rewarded by an immediate warming of Scott’s expression.

Jeb watched the interplay between Kiernan and the affable prospector with renewed confusion. There was definitely a communication between the two young men that went a step beyond neighborly. If he hadn’t seen the unmistakable look in Scott’s eyes when he’d been greeting Dorothy Burnett, he’d be almost worried that Haskell had unnatural designs on the young Irishman. A silly notion, he decided. After all, he’d felt some kind of pull himself toward both boys—a protective, paternal instinct.

Nevertheless, he felt a bit awkward and out of place as the prospector assumed control of things as if he were part of the family. “Will you and the girls eat with us, Mrs. Burnett?” Scott asked Dorothy with another charming smile.

“Can we, Mama?” Polly asked as she scrambled down from the wagon.

“I suspect your papa will want us to eat back with him, honey. He missed not having his kittens with him this morning.”

The girls were obviously disappointed at the refusal, but neither one pouted or asked again to have their way. With good-natured smiles they waved goodbye to Kerry and followed their mother back to their own wagon.

Scott had set the kettle on the ground and was building a small fire to heat the beans. “You can light it now, Patrick,” he said, straightening up and brushing off his hands. Then he turned to the wagon where Kerry was still perched up on the seat. He put his foot up on the sideboard. “Let me help you down,” he said to her.

Kerry looked over at Jeb. “I can manage myself, now, Scott.”

Ignoring her protest, he hoisted himself toward her and lifted her off the seat. In a minute they were on the ground, but not before Scott had said in a low voice in her ear, “But I like helping you, sweetheart.”

No one else could possibly have heard him, but Kerry’s face flamed. It was the first time he had used such an endearment, and it occurred to her that he’d decided to use it to somehow stake a claim on her right in Jeb Hunter’s presence. The thought irritated her. She pushed away from him the minute he set her on the ground and limped over to the fire. “I’ll do that,” she snapped at Patrick, taking the box of matches from him and crouching down by the fire.

Her brother looked at her in surprise. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, concentrating on lighting the curling edges of the branches Scott had placed under the logs for tinder. She kept her head down, still feeling the heat in her cheeks. “You go fetch some water,” she told Patrick. “It’ll be time to move before we know it and we’ll still be sitting here hungry.”

With another doubtful look at his sister, Patrick grabbed the bucket that hung from one side of the wagon and headed toward the river. Jeb stood watching the exchange. “There’s no hurry,” he said. “The animals need a good long rest on a day this hot. We’ll start up again later this afternoon when it begins to cool down a bit”

His voice had taken on a comforting tone, almost like an adult dealing with a cranky child, and Kerry realized that she was sounding churlish. She was at a loss to know what had set her off so. Scott had had no business calling her sweetheart, but it wasn’t a capital offense. And the captain had done nothing to deserve her ill humor. She raised her head and smiled at him. “It was kind of you to take Patrick today. Quite a treat. He always wanted to ride in New York City, but of course there was very little opportunity.”

“A city’s not the best place for a boy to grow up,” Jeb answered, returning her smile. “He’ll like the West. And I enjoyed having him with me. He can ride with me anytime.”

Kerry chuckled. “You’d better not say that or you’ll never be rid of him, Captain. He’s none too happy sitting up on the wagon with me.”

“I mean it. Storm’s a big animal—it’s no problem to have Patrick along. You’re welcome to give it a try, too, when your ankle’s better.”

Kerry found herself drawn to Jeb Hunter’s rare smile. It transformed his face from the authoritative wagon train captain to a man who would take the time to give pleasure to a young boy. The fire caught and blazed with a sudden flare of heat. She backed away, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Scott was watching her exchange with the captain with a slight scowl.

With a sigh, she reached to set the pot of beans on the fire. She felt a little like the jugglers she used to see sometimes on the streets of New York—trying to keep two quite different men happy. And she didn’t think it would get any better as they continued across the country. As much as she had hoped to make this trip without notice from anyone, the discovery of her secret, coupled with her accident, had provided her with a protector in Scott Haskell. And as much as she wanted to keep out of the way of their captain, she was already realizing that the long days on the trail became a little more interesting every time Jeb Hunter rode up to their wagon.

It had become the custom for Jeb and Patrick to ride together at least part of every day. The sight of the brawny wagon captain with the Irish lad bouncing along behind him on the big roan stallion had become a common sight up and down the train. And each day, Jeb found himself spending a little more time at the Gallivan wagon, staying for one more cup of coffee, listening to one more of Kiernan’s amusing tales of the scrappy life he and his brother had led back in New York City.

There was a special warmth between the two brothers that drew in their visitors, rather than excluding. Scott Haskell evidently noticed it, too. The aspiring gold hunter was often present at the Gallivan wagon when Jeb showed up there, and he never seemed overly happy at the wagon captain’s arrival, though Jeb wasn’t sure why. It should do no harm to have two men concerned with the boys’ welfare. Yet sometimes Jeb felt almost as if he and Haskell were rival suitors vying for the hand of a pretty girl.

Jeb became more fond of Patrick each day and more fascinated with the older boy. Kiernan’s ankle was almost healed by now, and he was again able to move around to the neighboring wagons at the camp each night. The young man always seemed to have an encouraging word for everyone. He’d sat for hours one night listening to Eulalie Todd’s reminiscences about St. Louis. And he regularly took the twins off for a walk or some other adventure to give Dorothy and John Burnett a few moments’ respite from their offspring’s constant activity. Jeb, himself, looked forward to his conversations with the young Irishman, whose questions about the trail and about what they could expect in California were intelligent and animated.

As he felt himself drawn to the Gallivan wagon for the fifth evening in a row, Jeb decided that the attraction must be that Kiernan Gallivan’s interest was flattering. He’d lived alone for so many years that he’d forgotten what it could be like to sit with someone and talk over his day.

As usual, Scott was also present at the Gallivan campfire when Jeb arrived, and all four Burnetts had joined them for some trail songs that were being enthusiastically led by Polly and Molly. Molly had gotten over her shyness with Patrick and now unabashedly made her fondness for the boy obvious to the entire group, always choosing the seat next to him and sitting as close as she dared. Even her sister’s occasional taunts on the subject had not dimmed her youthful infatuation.