Читать книгу Colorado Courtship - Carolyn Davidson, Carolyn Davidson - Страница 11

Laundry was the order of the day, with rope lines strung between wagons, where a motley assortment of clothing was hung to dry in the hot sun. Men carried baskets of trousers and shirts, dresses and undergarments up from the stream, and their womenfolk reached high to drape them higgledy-piggledy over the lines. Those men without wives did their own or paid out good cash money to willing ladies who were not averse to accepting their coins.

The children ran wild, as if it were a holiday, and even though they were ever under the watchful eyes of their parents, they splashed downstream in the water and played tag beneath the trees. The noon meal was taken together, the womenfolk carrying food from their individual campfires to where quilts were spread beneath the willows near the water. Upstream, several of the men had cast lines into the water, and their catch lay on the stream bank.

“It feels like Fourth of July, doesn’t it?” Arlois asked Jessica as she settled her youngest boy with a pewter plate on his lap.

Jessica nodded, remembering picnics from her childhood, and for a moment she was lonesome for the company of her parents, who were lost to her now. She would write them, she determined, before they arrived at Council Grove, and send the letter back to Saint Louis. By that time she would be able to tell them her news, of Lyle’s death and the man who would be her husband from this time on.

“You’d think we were celebrating July fourth early, wouldn’t you?” Finn picked up a drumstick from his plate and bit into it with gusto.

“That’s almost the same thing Arlois said,” Jessica told him, enjoying the smile he tossed so casually in her direction. She watched him eat, noting the manners he exhibited with unconscious ease. His upbringing had obviously contained the presence of a mother who taught her son well the everyday courtesies, judging from his ability to make himself at home with any company.

“I think these folks will take any opportunity to have a good time,” he said, waving his drumstick in the general direction of the men and women sitting in small groups beneath the shade of the willow trees. He looked down at his plate. “I’m glad the ladies were able to come up with picnic food. I saw some of them picking berries at daybreak. Must’ve been for this cobbler.”

“Hazel O’Shea contributed three eggs to make that,” Jessica said. “They’re about worth their weight in gold. Her husband had a fit when she insisted on bringing along her hens in a cage, but I’ll bet he’s happy now that she won that fight. He’s about the only man on the train who eats eggs for breakfast a couple of times a week.”

“How about seeing if we can pick up a couple of hens for you once we get to Council Grove?” Finn asked. “I can make a cage for them if there’s wood available.”

“Would you?” she asked. “I thought of it in Independence, but Lyle said it would be too much trouble turning them loose to scratch every evening, and they’d probably get eaten by hawks once we let them run free a bit.”

“You just have to keep a close eye on them,” Finn told her. “We could manage if it’s something you’d like. We’ll have a chance to buy some supplies at the general store there, too. The prices are high, but you’ll know better now what things you need to fill in the gaps in your supplies.”

“Your hunting expedition is what made this such a good meal, you know,” Jessica told him. Finn had headed up the group of hunters early in the morning while the women did their washing, and the wild turkeys and rabbits they’d shot and prepared for roasting over the fires formed the basis of the meal they shared. Along with the berry cobbler, another of the women had generously used her store of dried apples to make fried turnovers, then cut them in pieces for the children to share.

It was almost like being a part of a family, Jessica decided, and though the group would split off into different directions in a few weeks, she knew she would never forget the unexpected delights of this day.

The laundry hanging on the makeshift lines was ready to be tended by the time their picnic was finished, and the women turned back to their mundane chores as the menfolk watered the stock and carried quilts and weary children back to the circle of wagons.

It had been a joyous day, Jessica thought as she folded Finn’s shirts. She inhaled the fresh scent of the prairie breeze that seemed caught up in the very fabric of each garment, then stacked them neatly on a box. As she turned from the chore with the last of his shirts in her hands she caught sight of him, striding with long, firm steps toward her wagon, her quilt across one arm, a basket of her belongings from the picnic swinging from his other hand.

“I’ll take care of your clothesline,” Finn said after he deposited her things inside the wagon. He reached up to unfasten the length of rope from a hook on the rear bow, and walked slowly toward the next wagon in line, looping the coils over his elbow and hand as he went.

She watched, enamored by the idea of a man doing chores for her. She’d been so long without tenderness in her days and nights. And now Finn provided that quality in abundant measure. He twisted and turned the rope, forming it into a neat figure eight, and then leaned past her to hang it on the nail where she stored it.

Her fingers faltered as she smoothed the fabric of his blue work shirt, and she tugged the collar, straightening it a bit. “You do that so nicely,” he told her. “Reminds me of the way my mother used to handle the washing when I was a boy.” He watched as she tucked the sleeves inside and smoothed the placket down, then lifted the stack of his belongings into his arms, inspecting the top item more closely.

“Thanks for sewing on a new button for me,” he said. His brow lifted and a grin curved his lips. “I’ll be spoiled with you taking such good care of me.”

“It was an odd one I had and it doesn’t really match the others, but it’s better than nothing, I figured. And if that’s all it takes to keep you happy, who am I to complain?” she teased, and then felt her stomach clench as his gaze narrowed on her face. His eyes darkened with a look she recognized as a yearning—a yearning probably for the easing of his masculine need. Just such a look from Lyle had meant harsh hands that groped and demanded her compliance to his wants.

Not so, it seemed, with this man, for his fingers against her shoulders were soothing, and his lips formed words of promise against her skin. “You’ll find me easy to please, Jessica,” he said. “In fact, just being with you makes me happy.” He bent close to claim the softness of her cheek, and his breath was warm against her ear. His mouth formed a caress, his lips pressing against her flesh. And then she felt the dampness of open lips, as his murmur offered assurance. “All you have to do is smile in my direction.”

Such foolishness. She turned her head sharply and looked into eyes that seemed not to consider such flattery as nonsense. “A smile will do it?” she asked.

“Just looking at you gives me pleasure,” he told her, and she laughed, a quick, harsh sound.

“I’d put some stock in that if I didn’t know how I look these days, Finn. Those sweet words would be more credible if you aimed them toward a pretty young girl, or whispered them to a woman who’s been a success at pleasing a husband.” She set her jaw, deliberately acknowledging her own shortcomings.

He laughed at her. The man had the audacity to touch his fingers to her cheek and then bent to kiss the tip of her nose. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Jessica,” he said. His blue eyes lowered slowly, touching the bit of skin exposed at her throat, where her collar was undone, and then settled seductively on the fullness of her breasts.

Heat rose to color her cheeks as his gaze measured the rounding curves of her bosom, and her lungs expanded as if they required an inordinate amount of air. His smile was slow, as her breasts lifted with each indrawn breath, and his murmur was low, words she strained to hear. He leaned toward her, brushing their bodies together, and she felt the distinct swelling of his male arousal against her belly.

“Finn?” Her voice was choked, her throat too dry to swallow, and the fire from her rosy cheeks descended to diffuse its heat throughout her body, as if a fever had taken hold and spread languor the length of her limbs. She leaned against him, unable to remain upright without his support.

“I suppose I should apologize Jess,” he told her, his smile a bit crooked, as if he were embarrassed. “I don’t mean to offend you, but I can’t seem to help the way you affect me. Surely you’re not surprised.”

“Well, I can’t imagine that you—”

He laughed, the sound muffling her words as he took her lips with a kiss that left her question answered beyond the shadow of a doubt. Then he was laughing no longer, his mouth taking hers fiercely, his need so powerful, so elemental, she could not fail to understand the message. And then they lurched, almost in unison, as the baby made its presence known to them both, a tiny hand or foot poking indiscriminately in protest.

Finn recovered first, setting her away from him. “Enough of that for tonight, I’d say,” he told her, his chuckle soft against her ear. “I’ll see you in the morning, sweetheart.” His smile returned, quirking one corner of his mouth. “And yes, whether you believe it or not, I have a need for you, Jess. I said I’d wait, and I will, but don’t think for one minute that you carrying a baby is enough to turn me away.”

The creek crossing was accomplished early on the next day, and by noontime the train snaked out across the prairie, heading almost due west. The morning breeze carried the perfume of wildflowers directly to the wagon seat where Jessica was perched. One of the men, a miner, walked beside her lead ox this morning, having made the offer, probably at Finn’s instigation she thought. And it was an offer she could not afford to refuse, although she would soon climb down and take her place there, walking the trail for the early hours of the afternoon.

Her lungs filled as she inhaled deeply of the fresh air. Flowers bloomed on all sides, and mixed with their soft scent was the riper, richer aroma of soil, blessed by an overnight rain. It had been a dry spring, McMasters said, but this morning the trail held damp spots.

There’d been no sign of Finn after the crossing. Once the wagons rolled through the shallowest part of the stream, listing first to one side, then the other, men walking beside them, watchful lest one should tilt and threaten to overturn, he’d ridden off. With a jaunty wave in her direction he’d turned his horse to the southwest and had soon been gone from sight.

The crossing left them vulnerable, and though the Indian tribes had been peaceful, Jonas was alert for trouble. Finn, she suspected, had been sent ahead to scout out the trail.

The day passed quickly, Jessica taking over the duty of walking by the team for a couple of hours during the afternoon, and then retiring to rest when Arlois sent her son to relieve her. The feather tick in her wagon served her well, and she spent an hour there, her body weary, her legs aching. She was less than two months from delivery of her child, if she had it figured right, and the hardest part was yet to come. It was no wonder a woman was considered unfit to travel without a man’s company on a wagon train.

By nightfall, her back ached and her feet were swollen. Even with the afternoon nap giving her a burst of energy she was aware that her strength was lessening day by day. Sitting by the fire, she held her journal on her lap, scribbled a recital of the day, and then thumbed through the pages. Notes of the miles traveled, the meals she’d cooked and the sights she’d seen made up the entries of those early days of this trek, and she read them over by the flickering campfire.

There seemed to be a total absence of joy in her early postings and she could not help but compare them to the few lines she’d written of today’s happenings. Names of women and children appeared there, and prominent among them was Finn’s, the lone male she’d mentioned, but for the miner and Arlois’s eldest son, who had given of their time for her comfort.

She closed the book, and leaned back against a keg, allowing the sounds of children and animals to lull her. The sun was below the horizon, and the shrill cry of some wild animal blended in with the protesting howl of an angry child. A chill settled down upon her, and Jessica shivered, wrapping her arms around her middle, viewing the campfire through lowered eyelids.

And then he came to her in the half darkness, his boots silent against the hard ground. Crouching next to her, he spoke her name, and she opened her eyes, welcoming the sight of a smile that warmed her. She motioned to the kettle that still hung over the fire, and he nodded, settling beside her to eat. Dipping into the contents of her stew pot, he savored each bite, then spoke quietly of the trail he’d scouted out.

“I didn’t find anything to worry about,” he said. “Jonas heard some rumors about one of the tribes stealing horses from a train that went through here a couple of weeks ago, but everything looks quiet up ahead to me. The Indians don’t take much stock in oxen anyway. I think we’re pretty safe.”

Jessica nodded, content to watch him and listen to the quiet drone of his words, lulling her in the darkness. Finn poked at the buffalo chips with a stick, his attention never straying from her. It was as if they were already married, she thought, already forming a life together. Except for bedtime, when, as the camp settled down for the night, he stood beside her, offering his help. She rose and made ready to climb into the wagon.

His kiss was not unexpected, the slow, gentle mating of their lips that sent a shiver down the length of her spine. His mouth coaxed hers to open and her lips softened beneath his, allowing the patient exploration of her lips with the edge of his tongue. She’d hated such kisses from Lyle, dreaded the poking and prodding that invaded her privacy. Yet with Finn’s delicate touches, she knew a different sensation, felt the rush of sweet, awakening passion his kisses brought into being.

He left her then, after lifting her with ease over the tailgate, touching her hand in a silent farewell before he lowered himself to crawl into his bedroll beneath the wagon. A sense of rightness, of well-being, surrounded her with the knowledge that he slept so near, and she closed her eyes, weariness creeping over her.

Sunshine greeted them each morning as they made their way toward Council Grove. Water again became scarce and they took a detour, stopping by a stream bank one afternoon, then spent the night there at the women’s request. The animals were allowed to graze overnight and then led to the stream to drink deeply before they set off the next morning. The water wagon carried barrels for filling and Jessica was relieved to have hers delivered back to her wagon, the lid firmly in place, the contents making it heavy and cumbersome.

Finn was at hand, watching over her, appearing every morning to ready her oxen for the day’s travel, ever present at her fire each night. She accepted him as a friend, welcomed the warm touches of his lips against her mouth and forehead, leaned into his muscular form as his arms enclosed her in the darkness each evening—growing accustomed to his presence in her life.

They spoke little of the decision she must make before reaching Council Grove, only of the trail ahead, of the lives they’d left behind. And if Finn seemed reticent at times, skimming the surface of his early years, she simply put it down to the usual inclination of men not to discuss themselves.

And then, just two days out of Council Grove, he made the offer she’d been expecting, issuing a formal declaration of his intent. They had finished supper, and Jessica was putting away her bowls and spoons into the keg where she stored them. Beside her, Finn lifted it into the wagon bed, and then turned to face her, both of them hidden in the shadows between two wagons, where their last moments together each day were spent, speaking quietly before separating to sleep apart.

“I thought I’d better remind you that I’m planning to marry you once we reach Council Grove,” he said, smiling as he reached for her hand. He held it against his chest and felt the trembling of her fingers against his palm. The inclination to touch his lips to her cool flesh was almost automatic, so slowly and easily had their relationship developed, and he lifted her hand, then bent to press a kiss against her knuckles.

“I wondered if you’d changed your mind,” she said, looking up at him quizzically. “You haven’t mentioned it again, only that once. I hadn’t planned to hold you to it, Finn.”

“I don’t change my mind once it’s made up to something, Jess. I figured you knew that.”

“You know Gage Morgan asked me to consider his suit,” she told him quietly. “I suspect he’ll ask again before we get to Council Grove.”

“And what will you tell him?” He heard the harsh tones he uttered that spoke of his anger, and saw her brows raise as he clasped her hand more tightly.

“What do you think?” she asked. “You’ve been looking after me, Finn. I’ve fed you supper every night, and you’ve slept beneath my wagon. I told you before that it seemed to me you were staking a claim. The rest of the men stayed clear of me. All but Morgan.”

“Did he come around when I was riding out ahead?” Finn asked.

She nodded. “He was pleasant, but I don’t feel comfortable around him.”

“After we leave Council Grove, he’ll leave you alone,” Finn promised. “Once you’re wearing my ring, you won’t be fair game for any other man.”

“I’ll let you know right now, I’m not about to settle for a secondhand ring, Finn Carson. I’d rather do without.” Her chin lifted as she followed her assertion with an explanation that surprised him. “Morgan offered to buy one from one of the other women for me if I’d marry him.”

Finn shook his head in disbelief. The thought of Jessica’s hand being graced by some other female’s bit of gold was beyond consideration. “You’ll be wearing a brand new ring when we leave Council Grove,” he told her. “I understand there’s a jeweler there, and we’ll see what he has to offer.”

“Really? You mean that?” she asked. “I’ve never had a wedding ring.”

“Did you think I’d do any less for you, Jess?” He lifted her hand again, and this time his mouth lingered there. He looked up into her eyes and whispered words he’d considered long and hard. “I won’t demand anything of you. You’ll let me know when I can sleep inside the wagon with you. All right?” And within him blossomed the hope that his careful wooing, his small seductions each night might bear fruit.

Jessica was silent for a long moment, and he thought she held her breath. And then she nodded. “All right. That sounds agreeable to me.”

“I spoke to the preacher and he agreed to marry us in Council Grove. And if there’s a church we can use, I thought you might like to be wed in front of an altar.”

He watched as her eyes glistened, and two tears fell to roll down her cheeks. “Thank you, Finn. I didn’t expect you to think of that, but it would please me no end.”

“I’ve asked Dave Bates to be witness for me, and I thought maybe you’d ask Arlois to stand beside you.” He’d been jumping the gun a little when he presented his plan to Dave, but the other man didn’t have any qualms about agreeing to the notion, only teased him about planning his wedding night.

“I’ll ask her tomorrow,” Jessica said. And then she stood on tiptoe and leaned forward a bit, capturing their clasped hands between his chest and hers. Her face tilted upward and she smiled. “If I say yes nicely to your proposal, will you kiss me?”

“I’ve kissed you most every night, Jess,” he said quietly. “And I’ve waited two long weeks to do it properly,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to push you, sweetheart.”

He bent and his lips touched hers, at first a familiar, undemanding whisper of lips pressing together, of warmth and soft caresses that soon were not enough. His mouth opened over hers and he allowed his tongue and teeth the freedom to invade her mouth in the same way he ached to claim her woman’s warmth. She leaned against him and he rejoiced that his hands were to be allowed the freedom of touching her ripe, fruitful body.

Held tenderly in his hand, her breast was firm, the crest hardening against his palm and he lifted it with care, measuring its weight and squeezing it with a gentle touch. His other arm circled her, holding her close, aware of the burden of her pregnancy between them. The fact that an unborn babe was her gift to him in this marriage was uppermost in his mind, and he spoke the words that begged to be said.

“Once you’re my wife, this will be my child,” he said. “I want you to forget that Lyle ever had any claim to your baby.”

She bent her head and pressed her cheek to his chest. “I don’t know how easy that will be,” she murmured. “I’ll have a hard time forgetting—” She inhaled sharply, and he felt compassion for the memories she carried within her.

His palm lifted her chin and he looked down into her eyes, rued the tears that again swam on their surface and fell to stain her cheeks. “One day, I’ll make you put all that behind you,” he promised. “I’ll never hurt you, Jess.”

“I may not be able to be the wife you want.” As if the words were torn from her, she shuddered in his grasp. “I’m not very good at that part of marriage, I fear.”

And how much of that fear could be laid at Lyle Beaumont’s feet, Finn wondered? The man had much to answer for. A woman should not be made to dread the touch of her husband. Should Jessica be apprehensive about the coming days when she would become Finn Carson’s wife, he alone would suffer for it, would pay the price for Lyle’s cruelty.

And yet, none of that would make him change his mind. His arms hugged her close, swaying a bit, as if he would comfort her. “You’ll do fine,” he said quietly. “I’m not a harsh man, Jess.”

She nodded, her head moving against his chest. “I’m counting on that.”

Council Grove was a small town, one street running its length, storefronts on either side, with a primitive sidewalk of sorts to keep the ladies’ skirts out of the mud. This morning there was no sign of the recent rain, only a rutted road that held both wagons and men on horseback. The wagons were circled on the edge of town, positioned on a piece of land apparently used before for the same purpose, if the remains of campfires and ruts from other wagons were anything to go by.

“Mrs. Beaumont.” The voice speaking her name was familiar, and Jessica looked out the back of her wagon to see Morgan awaiting her attention. “Could I speak with you for just a minute?”

“Certainly,” she told him, unwilling to climb down in front of him, knowing how awkward her descent would be. She settled instead on the floor and met his gaze.

He walked closer, accepting her unspoken invitation to approach, and took off his hat. The man was good-looking. There was no getting around it, she thought. His gray eyes were dark, bold and searching as he paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. And then, as if he knew it was his last chance to speak his piece, he began.

“I’ve asked you to consider me as your husband, ma’am. I couldn’t help but notice you seem to have an understanding with Carson, but I want you to know the offer still stands.” A smile touched his firm lips and his fingers gripped his hat brim. “I made a mistake when I spoke of a wedding ring, about perhaps buying one from one of the ladies. Now I’ve heard that there’s a store in Council Grove where one may be bought.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that, too,” she said, her smile genuine. “In fact, that’s where Mr. Carson plans on purchasing one for me.”

“Is there anything I can say to make you reconsider my offer?” he asked. “I’m willing to go wherever you like, find a homestead and settle anyplace that suits you. I’ve got money enough to outfit us nicely in Council Grove, if you don’t have enough supplies to go with mine to make the trip.”

“And will you accept my child as your own?” she asked. And then saw the hesitation he could not mask.

“I’d certainly try,” he countered. His mouth firmed and his eyes became shuttered against her, and once more she thought that he was a man with secrets, and perhaps a plan that did not bode well for her. “I understood from talk around the campfires that your husband bragged of a deed to land near Pike’s Peak, ma’am. If you’ll share it with me, I’d be willing to work the land and make a home for you there.”

Jessica’s skin felt chilled, and pebbled at his offer. “I don’t have possession of such a deed,” she said, hedging the truth a bit. “I fear I will go to my new husband with nothing but the contents of my wagon and the child I carry.”

His gaze grew sharp and a disbelieving smile turned his mouth into a travesty of humor. “You don’t have a piece of paper that gives you the rights to a piece of land?”

“I have no such deed,” she said again stubbornly. Where Lyle put it is a secret he took with him into his grave. She’d tussled with that knowledge almost daily for the past two weeks, and looked forward to turning the search over to Finn’s capable hands.

“I see.” Morgan appeared thoughtful. “I’m still willing to marry you,” he said. “I’ll need a wife once I get a place to live.”

“Perhaps you’ll find a willing woman somewhere between here and Santa Fe,” she told him.

“But it won’t be you?”

She shook her head. “No, it won’t be me. I’m marrying Finn Carson this morning in Council Grove.” She watched as he clapped his hat on his head, offered her a nod and walked away.

“That was well-done,” Finn said from the front of the wagon. He climbed up onto the seat and made his way between the stacks of her belongings to where she sat. “I told you he’d make another stab at it before we got here, didn’t I? There’s nothing like leaving things till the last minute.”

And then he bowed his head to her in a solemn gesture. “You handled him nicely, Jessica.”

“Did I?” She thought of the hidden anger that had firmed the man’s jaw, the dark shadows in his eyes, and the determination that hovered over him as he stalked from her presence. “I fear I’ve only made him angry. But I didn’t lie to him.”

“It couldn’t be helped, sweetheart,” Finn told her. He was bent over beneath the canvas top, too tall to stand upright. “You look pretty today, Jess.” He offered his hand. “Are you ready to go to the store for your ring? Arlois and David are waiting for us.”

Her ring shimmered in the sunlight, a simple band given to her with solemn vows accompanying its placement on her finger. “With this ring…” She repeated them over in her mind as she turned her hand to catch the gleam of gold. The wagon seat was padded with Finn’s own bedroll, for her comfort, he’d said. Ahead of her, he walked beside the oxen as they leaned into their yoke.

Behind her, within the canvas walls, five new boxes of supplies vied for space with her remaining foodstuffs, and tied securely to the north side of the wagon was a cage carrying four laying hens, plus a rooster, who was a bit frustrated with the crowded conditions. Finn’s plans included building the lone male a cage of his own at the first opportunity.

His bargaining skills had made her smile as the farmer outside of Council Grove fought for the best deal he could get. Finn had made him throw in the cage and a large sack-ful of feed, to be used on those days when the chickens couldn’t be turned loose to forage. The bed of the cage held a nest in one corner, and even now, the biddies were jostling for their turn to settle there.

He’d bought canned fruit, a real treat, to be used sparingly, and then told her they would stand the empty cans up on a tree limb for her to aim at during a session of target practice, assuring her that she should learn to use a gun. Stubbornly he’d convinced her of the need, and she’d agreed to give it a try.

All in all, it had been a most satisfactory day, she decided, waving as Geraldine came into sight, waiting up ahead beside the trail for Jessica’s wagon to roll past. As it reached her, Jessica held out her hand and Geraldine climbed up to join her on the seat.

“I wanted to talk to you back in Council Grove and didn’t get a chance,” she said. She looked ahead to where Finn walked beside the oxen and then leaned closer to Jessica.

“I’m so glad you chose Mr. Carson. I was afraid that Gage Morgan’s good looks would sway you. The man is persistent, I’ll give him that, but I think you got the better of the two. The rest of the bachelors didn’t stand a chance with you. We all figured that out, and I think they all knew it, too, once Finn set his sights on you.”

“Morgan’s a good-looking man, but he doesn’t hold a candle to Finn,” Jessica told her. Her gaze dwelt for a long moment on the tall, slim-hipped figure who walked before them. “He’s as good-looking as Morgan, just in a different way. More importantly, he’s kind and generous.” She waved a hand at the extra supplies behind her, tied in place inside the wagon. “You wouldn’t believe the stuff he bought for us in Council Grove. I agree with you. I know I made the right choice.”

“Well, he’s getting a bargain, too,” Geraldine said, lifting an eyebrow with good humor. “He’s got a ready-made family, and chances are you’ll have a boy. First babies usually are boys, you know,” she said confidentially. “And besides that, you’re far and away one of the prettiest women I’ve ever known, Jessica. I’d say he got himself quite a good deal.”

“I hope he thinks so,” Jessica answered, even as she wondered what Finn’s thoughts were. He’d been quiet after the return to the wagons, working in silence as he sorted out their new supplies and packed them amid the wagon’s contents. But even though they spoke little, he was all that was kind and considerate as he readied Jessica’s seat for the afternoon’s journey and saw to her comfort.