Читать книгу Keeping Faith - Hannah Alexander - Страница 12

Chapter Four

Joseph might have been a copy of the wood carving outside the trading post door at the last town, where the wagon train had stopped to purchase supplies. Silence seemed to hum with the power of a beehive. The chatter of the others merged into a low echo in the distance. The wagon train had struggled through deep mud, broken wheels, lost wagons, illness and loss of livestock. Few things had disconcerted Captain Joseph Rickard these past weeks on the trail, but this definitely affected him.

She wished it hadn’t been necessary to tell him, and yet he needed to know how dangerous it would be to follow the killer’s trail.

“Who murdered him?” he asked at last. Was that a tremor she heard in his voice?

She hesitated, bracing herself against the pain as she relived that day. “A slaver by the name of Broderick Thames.”

“How do you know?”

“I heard the shots on my way home from town, where I was purchasing medicines. I was out of sight.”

“Or your life would most likely have been snuffed out, as well.” Joseph glared at the ground, his jaw muscles flexing with an obvious attempt to quell the effects of his fury.

“Likely.”

“Thames,” he said. “I don’t know the name, and I’ve been making an effort to learn more about our enemies.”

“Oh, Joseph, believe me when I tell you that this man is an enemy.”

“Are you sure he wasn’t a robber?”

“He didn’t rob us of goods, only of a good man with a heart of pure kindness.”

“Was there laudanum missing? I’ve heard of doctors being attacked for their supplies.” Joseph’s tone was clipped with anger. She knew his ire was not directed toward her, and she was touched deeply by his outrage.

“No.” Tears stung her eyes. “Matthew was a specific target. His killer rode away before I could get my rifle sights on him, or I’d have put him on the ground instead of grazing the side of his neck and staining his silvery hair.”

“You’re the one who did that?”

For a moment she couldn’t take a deep enough breath. Joseph knew of that wound? “What do you mean? What do you know about Thames?”

“Only what I overheard at one of the trading posts.” Joseph nodded as if her confession seemed to have made some puzzle pieces fall into place. “A dour man with a long, silver braid and a deep red scar along his neck and jaw was asking questions about abolitionists in the area.”

“The red scar was from my weapon.”

“Good. You do, however, seem to shoot squirrels better than you do retreating murderers.”

“Joseph, I’ve seen evidence of him on this trail. He rides a red horse shod uniquely, as if part of the right front hoof is missing.”

“You’ve tracked him?”

“Of course. What would you expect? I know where he’s headed. That much I was able to discern from Matthew’s final words.” How she grieved those moments. Though she’d never been able to love her husband the way she knew a woman should, Matthew Fenway’s heart had been that of a true healer, kind and strong. She’d always honored him as her husband, and he’d honored her on a pedestal of his own making.

Joseph gently touched her arm. “Where did Matthew say this Silver Braid was going?”

“Kansas Territory, and if he’s going the same direction we are, that might mean he’s caught wind of our movements, possibly of the town you’re building. You’ve been through here several times, and I don’t care how cautious you are, people talk.”

“Then we’ll have to change our route. I’ll talk to McDonald, but I still worry that Thames will know what you look like, Victoria.”

“He couldn’t have seen my face that day. I was wearing a kerchief over my nose and mouth because the road was dusty. My hair was braided behind me and I wore a hat.”

“But wouldn’t he have known who you were, especially if Matthew was a target already? He may well have observed you when you weren’t aware. He likely discovered your connection with John Brown.”

Victoria nodded. “Matthew and Thames went head-to-head in public debate about slavery versus abolition a few days before Matthew was killed. You know how well-spoken Matthew was. He managed to enrage Thames, and he received much applause from crowds who’d crossed the river from Illinois.”

The muscles of Joseph’s jaw flexed as his eyes darkened. “Then you can count on Thames knowing everything there is to know about you, Victoria. Did your husband not give a thought to his wife when he did such a thing?”

She looked down at her hands. “You knew Matthew had a calling that, to him, was more vital than any other.”

“What about caring for his wife, as a man is supposed to do? I thought he gave you a place of highest honor.”

“Would you choose one woman’s safety over the lives and freedom of millions?”

“Had he felt that way, he should never have married.” The gruffness of Joseph’s voice somehow warmed her.

She blinked up at him and was touched more deeply than she would have expected. “I willingly joined Matthew in his quest. I felt as he did. Be honest, Joseph, you feel the same. Your whole life right now is focused on helping millions of captives.”

“Not at the cost of your life.”

“I’m with you now, in the middle of dangerous territory.”

He reached up and touched the back of his fingers against her chin. She nearly gasped at the instinctive caress.

He straightened and dropped his hand. “Forgive me. It isn’t my wish to speak ill of the dead, but I believe a man should protect his wife above all else.”

“Which is why you remain single.”

He swallowed and took a long, slow breath. “Perhaps it’s why I’ve remained single to this point. I’d had no cause to give it thought until...” He looked into her eyes and for a moment she barely allowed herself to breathe. “Please,” he said at last, “tell me more about Matthew’s killer.”

Why she felt such a strange mixture of elation and disappointment she refused to consider. “Thames is a member of a newly formed group of men from Louisville, Kentucky, who call themselves the Knights of the Golden Circle.”

“I’ve heard of them. Their goal is to expand slavery into nearby southern nations. I’m talking about whole countries, Victoria,” Joseph said. “I believe if men of good conscience allow that to happen, we may see anarchy rule the world.”

She met his gaze, and she couldn’t look away for a moment. Some things about him had definitely changed, and she liked those changes. “John Brown believes there’s a connection between the knights and the border ruffians of Missouri.”

“Of course there is.”

And of course, throughout this journey, he’d known more than he’d let on to her. “My presence could be a danger to this wagon train if you’re right about Thames knowing me.” Why hadn’t she considered this? And Sadie, her mare...Matthew’s mare...why hadn’t she traded in St. Louis?

“I believe this is where you need to be.”

The gentleness of his words and the affection in his eyes settled something that had nagged at her since his first arrival in St. Louis this spring. She could relax a little. Not completely, of course. What would he do if he knew she continued to carry some dangerous secrets?

* * *

Joseph was in trouble and he knew it—had known it since first arriving in St. Louis. How was he supposed to think straight when his thoughts and attention automatically sent him looking for Victoria first thing every morning, when he had to force himself several times a day not to ride past the wagon she often reined or the horse she rode?

He needed his wits about him, for sure, now that she had confirmed for him that the most dangerous men in the country might be focusing on his little group of trusting, good-hearted people.

“John sent word to us about a conspiracy,” Victoria said. “This was only a few days before Matthew was killed.”

Though the lilt of her Pennsylvania accent and the soft, musical quality of her voice could draw him to her through the most threatening of battlefields, her words were like a splash of ice water in his face. “How did he send word?”

“Through a mutual friend. He needed our medical aid in Kansas Territory.” She placed the muddy cloth on the log and pulled another from her bag. She dampened it with a splash of whiskey and dabbed at his chin again. “He told Matthew that the Missouri slave owners traveled en masse to Kansas to vote illegally to make Kansas a slave state.”

“There’s going to be a deadly battle over that territory as voting time draws near.” Joseph took a moment to digest the reality that Victoria’s safety could well lie in his hands. “Do you think that’s why Matthew was killed? Could your contact have been followed?” He reached up and stilled her hand for a moment, relishing the feel of her skin.

“It makes sense, doesn’t it? Men risked their lives to infiltrate the coalition of slavers and to pass this information on to Washington, D.C. Many died.” Gently but firmly, she pulled away.

“I wish I’d known about your precarious situation sooner, Victoria, though I suppose I should have guessed.” Joseph would have hacked his way through head-high drifts of snow to reach her and protect her.

“John also sent some friends of ours, Francine and Buck Frasier, to the Village of Jollification.” Victoria reached up as if to sweep the hair from his forehead, but she stopped herself. “Have you been there?”

“Often. Locals call it Jolly Mill. It’s on a main road from Springfield to Kansas and Indian Territories.”

“Francine and Buck traveled there last autumn with their so-called slaves, John’s adoptive son and daughter-in-law.”

Joseph looked at her in surprise. “I heard he’d adopted a freed slave.”

“Yes. He’s fully invested in helping the slaves in every way. I hear we’ll be passing by Jolly Mill in a few days.”

“No,” Joseph said. “Not after what you’ve told me. It’s sure to be overrun by border ruffians.”

Victoria gave a soft sigh. “Yes, I know, but someone needs to help them get past the border.”

“Tell me Matthew didn’t drag you into the middle of that situation, as well.”

Victoria didn’t meet Joseph’s gaze. “Matthew and I were planning to travel this way.”

“Do you think Thames knows about the Frasiers and their charges?”

She picked up the whiskey again and soaked the cloth more thoroughly. “Word is that he is leading a group tasked to kill off the influential Brown family one by one, and that would especially include the adopted son.”

Joseph knew by the darkening of her eyes and her fidgeting hands that there was more she wasn’t saying. “Victoria, you realize we must lie low.”

She nodded. “I won’t do anything to endanger these people.”

“Or yourself.”

She didn’t reply.

He hated this. “I’ve seen you ride ahead of the rest several times until you were out of sight.”

“It does no harm to have an extra scout.” She reached for his hand and pulled it toward her, then began to dab at more scrapes on his forearm.

“I saw you once when we came riding around a stand of trees. You had dismounted from Sadie and were studying something on the trail. I had supposed you were hunting for mushrooms.”

She looked down at the cloth in her hands, dabbed at another spot on his neck then discarded this cloth, as well. “Tracks. I need to see your ribs.”

He blinked at her. “What?”

“Your ribs. Pull up your shirt so I can check your ribs. You’ll need to have medicine on them, too.”

“So you did see tracks that day?”

“Not what I was looking for. Not Thames. Now, shirt, please?”

He sighed and glanced toward camp. “This might be misconstrued.”

“Then so be it. I’m a doctor. Right now you’re my patient. If you’d rather I call Heidi to come—”

“No.” He tugged out the left side of his formerly blue plaid shirt, which was now thick with drying mud. He could already feel his face flushing.

Victoria busied herself soaking another cloth, then visibly winced at the sight of Joseph’s bruised and scraped ribs. She pressed the cloth against them. “They must hurt a great deal.”

He gritted his teeth against the sting of the whiskey. “To be honest, I haven’t had time to think about it.” Until now. He’d been too distracted by Victoria’s bracing presence and the shock of her news.

“I gathered some wild onions yesterday,” she said. “I know it isn’t the science I’ve learned under Matthew’s tutelage, but I learned a lot from a tribe of Cherokee who lived near us when I was growing up. If you would allow me to make a poultice—”

“I would be grateful.”

“Good. It’ll take the soreness out much more quickly.” She dabbed again at his ribs until the mud that had leaked through his shirt had been cleaned away. She had the most gentle touch, and a caring spirit with a strong thread of heroism that he admired.

“I’m frustrated by the hard rains,” she said as she wrapped a long cloth around his rib cage and fastened it to itself with a knot, deftly woven. “It would have removed any tracks we might have used to warn us.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t track this man.” He knew she probably wouldn’t listen. “You can tell McDonald what to look for. And Reich. In fact, I’d prefer anyone else in the wagon train be on the lookout for the tracks, just not you.”

She tugged his shirt back down. “Come with me and we can get the onions. I can pound them and then slide them beneath the cloth. It’s true we’d best not start tongues wagging. If we stay closer to camp everyone will realize I’m simply treating a wound.”

He suspected she was using his wound and the onion poultice as a ruse to prevent him from pressing her further about her tracking plans.

She turned and gathered up her bag and supplies. “Speaking of camp, Joseph, despite all we’ve tried to do, some of our people may have contracted cholera. I wish to play it safe and separate those who were in the water from the rest of the travelers for a couple of days.”

“That means you and Heidi will have to remain separate from her mother and brother,” he said. “She won’t like that.”

“She’ll do as I ask,” Victoria said. “She can ride her mule and camp with the Reichs until we know for sure our friends are out of danger. I will stay behind the train with the patients and keep watch over them.”

“Placing yourself in harm’s way.” He fell into step beside her.

“Believe me, Joseph, I know how to avoid illness. I’ve done well for ten years. This may be all for nothing, but the moment I see signs of illness I’ll be able to start treatment immediately. We have seven who were in the water.” She stopped and turned, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You were telling me the truth earlier about not swallowing the water? You didn’t inhale any, obviously, or you’d have choked.”

“I was telling you the truth. I’d like for you to make a drawing for me of the track you’ve been searching for. I want to show the adults so all can be on the lookout for it, just in case.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You don’t think you’ll start a panic?”

“These people know how dangerous this trip could be. They don’t panic easily.”

“True.” She continued ahead of him and stepped from the shadows of the forest into the churned mud of the trail. The dried mud had begun to cake and fall in clods from her dress. Her hair had all but fallen from its binding, and he could do nothing but stare at her; to him, she was the most beautiful woman in the world, and always would be.

“I need to have Heidi collect some rabbit-ear leaves to go with the onion compress,” she said as she crossed the trail. “I’ll use some of the tea bags we just filled to make a batch of comfrey and chamomile tea for everyone, including you.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “You’re going to be sore if we don’t get those ribs taken care of, and that won’t help when you’re on horseback.”

He caught up with her to steady her in case she slipped. “I’ll do whatever you say, Doc. You obviously know what you’re doing.”

Her steps slowed and she looked up at him, her blue eyes glowing with gentle appraisal. “Why, thank you, Captain Rickard.”

Welcoming the warmth in her voice and eyes, he took her arm. “I don’t recall Matthew using the plants you’ve been utilizing on this trip.”

She shook her head. “As I said, I learned a lot from the Cherokee back East.”

“Did that ever cause discord between you and Matthew?” As soon as he asked, Joseph knew he was being too intrusive. Still, he couldn’t help wondering if Victoria’s natural skill and unique intelligence had ever caused her difficulty in her marriage. Most men were too proud to walk in the shadow of a wife with superior talents, and Joseph had to admit to himself that he had a selfish reason for the question.

Joseph’s old friend had never seemed to hold grudges or experience the typical human emotions others grappled with—such as the jealousy Joseph had fought within himself for ten years.

“At first,” Victoria said. “He even tried to order me not to use them on the women who came to me.”

Joseph chuckled. “I’m sure he learned his lesson quickly enough.”

“He did.” She cast him a mischievous grin. “I eventually managed to teach Matthew a few herbal treatments, and once he realized I knew what I was doing, he swallowed his pride and learned all he could from me.”

“And now you’re teaching Heidi.”

“She seems eager to learn.” Victoria slipped on a muddy rock.

Joseph held her firmly. “You’re good with her and the other children.” He paused, judging to see if his next remark might generate an uncomfortable answer. But he needed to know. “I always thought you would make a wonderful mother.”

She tightened her grip on his arm as she continued to walk toward camp. “I would have loved children.”

They reached camp as Joseph suffered shame for pressing her. “I’m sorry, Victoria.”

She released her grip from his and looked up at him. “You’ve done nothing for which to be sorry, and as for children, I wouldn’t have wanted them to endure what I have, to be in danger. Maybe someday....”

“Captain?” Mrs. Reich called to him from a bonfire the men had built. “You think we’re safe here? Maybe we oughta move farther away from the water.”

“We’ll make camp where we are,” Joseph announced for everyone to hear. “If we don’t have any more rain tonight, the water should be low enough for us to make a safe crossing at dawn, but if we do have rain, we’re high enough up that nothing should touch us.” He looked over his shoulder toward Buster and Gray, where some of the ladies were already sharing blankets and utensils, food and clothing with the Johnstons. At least the young men would be mothered on this trip. Not that being mothered would help them grow up and meet the hardships of life head-on.

Victoria glanced up at him over her shoulder. “You don’t expect more rain?”

He shook his head, and for a moment held her gaze and tried to study the thoughts taking place behind those deep blue eyes. After a few seconds her eyelids fluttered and the shadow of dread lined her face. His stomach grew taut with tension.

He’d seen it twice before—ten years ago, when he received the missive from his family to return to the plantation where his father struggled for his life. He’d also seen that look a month ago in St. Louis when he stepped into Victoria’s office for the first time since he’d left—perhaps as if refining their former relationship might bring still more heartbreak if she were to allow it.

“And now,” she said, “time to prepare that plaster for your ribs.”

Four people met him with questions, and as he answered them, he watched her work. He marveled that the two of them were together in this place after all this time. He made a promise to himself and to God that he would do all he could to keep her safe, no matter what it took, but would that be enough? Would the rogue searching this trail for abolitionists find her? Had he already?