Читать книгу High Plains Bride - Valerie Hansen - Страница 11

Will swung by his house, then backtracked to the High Plains settlement as soon as he felt certain his men could manage without him. His home was unscathed, but he was concerned about his friends. And, he was worried about the fate of the wagon train.

He huffed in self-disgust. Who was he kidding? It wasn’t the whole train he cared especially about, it was the young woman he’d met mere hours ago. He wanted to believe that her strength and spirit would ensure her safety, but he knew that wasn’t the case. It didn’t matter how capable or brave a person was, no one had the advantage when caught in a storm the likes of the one that had just passed over the area.

Groves of trees had been mowed down in a narrow swath leading directly to town. As he rode nearer he was flabbergasted by the damage to the buildings, too, not to mention the destruction of the less substantial tents and shacks along the river that had not yet been replaced by more sturdy construction. Many of those were not merely damaged, they were gone! Will paused to murmur a brief prayer for the new settlers. He hoped they had all found a safe place to weather the storm.

Judging by the brave souls who were out and about, picking through the rubble and surveying the destruction, most had taken shelter in time.

He paused to ask the closest survivors, “How is everybody?” and was relieved to hear that there had been no deaths reported, as yet.

The town hall, of which they had all been so proud, had been leveled as well, leaving nothing but the limestone rock foundation. Part of the roof was also off Pete Benjamin’s blacksmith shop and it appeared that some of the substantial stores along Main had been hard hit.

Will cantered upriver, in the direction of Zeb’s mill, slowing to allow his horse to choose its footing carefully in view of the debris. An amazing amount of refuse littered wide Main Street and it got worse along the narrower Mill Road that led west, toward the falls. There, although many of the trees still stood, they were missing their tops and their remaining branches held all sorts of rubbish, as if a giant, malevolent hand had discarded it there.

He passed a small group of wagons, also tattered and wrecked, before he encountered his old friend, hoofing it into town. “Zeb? You okay?” Will shouted, quickly dismounting to join him.

To his relief, Zeb answered in the affirmative. He had a slightly bloody handkerchief pressed to one temple and his clothes were filthy, but he seemed otherwise unscathed.

“I’ve been better,” Zeb said, dusting off his trousers with his free hand. “The mill’s a mess. I don’t think there’s even one shingle left, not to mention the heavier lumber. How about you?”

“My house made it and the rest of the Circle-L is fine, too, along with all the hands, thank the Lord. We headed off a stampede and kept the buffalo at bay. It was close though.”

“Sounds like you did better than we did,” Zeb said, grimacing and gesturing at the destruction all around him. “Look at this. It’s unbelievable.”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed,” Will told him, “as long as all the folks are okay. How about your sister?”

“Cassandra’s fine, thanks.”

“Good. Has anybody checked Pete’s? The livery stable didn’t look too good when I rode past. I didn’t see any sign of him or his farrier, Edward.”

“I’m going to organize a search party to cover everyone’s place and make sure they’re alive and kicking. What are you going to do now, go back to your spread or stay here and help us?”

Hesitating, Will was reluctant to admit what was nagging at his conscience. “I’ll help, of course. But first, I thought I might ride out and see how that wagon camp is faring.”

“Some of them pulled out before the storm. I warned them, but…”

Will muttered under his breath. “I can’t believe it. What was their wagon boss thinking? Didn’t he see the signs in the changing weather?”

“I wouldn’t worry. They probably didn’t get far,” Zeb said. “But you know settlers. They’re all alike. Once they get it into their heads that they have to press on, there’s no reasoning with them.” He paused and sighed. “Can’t tell about the ones who left. The ones that tarried certainly didn’t escape damage.”

“Did you happen to notice a wagon with a real pretty older daughter? She had blue eyes and a dress to match, and dark hair.” He blushed when his friend waggled his eyebrows and stared at him.

Zeb chuckled. “If I didn’t know you the way I do, Will Logan, I might think you were interested in her in a personal way. I thought you were looking for a widow woman with older children who just needed a home and hearth, not a swain.”

“I didn’t say I was going to court the girl,” Will said flatly. “But her father is a nasty old man, a lot like mine was, and she was having to take care of a wagonload of children, including some that weren’t her kin. It’s perfectly natural that I’d be concerned for my fellow man.”

“Yes,” Zeb said, “it is. Except in this instance, your fellow man is a woman.”

“As if I didn’t know that.” Fisting his reins, Will put his left foot in the stirrup, grabbed the horn and vaulted easily into the saddle. “How long ago did the first wagons in the train pull out?”

“About two hours, I think. I remember that the sky was already darkening when they passed by.”

“All right. I’ll head down the trail and see how they’re doing, then come back and help you here.”

“Be careful,” Zeb warned. “Just because the worst seems to be over doesn’t mean it can’t fire up and hit us again.”

Will knew he was right. And that thought gave him chills all the way from his nape to the toes of his boots.

Not only had the wagons been in danger before, they could be again. Soon. Perhaps even before he managed to reach them.

Hoping against hope that someone from the rest of their train would ride ahead to check on their welfare, Emmeline kept scanning the trail and surrounding hills. When she spotted several riders silhouetted against the gray sky, she was at first encouraged. Then, she realized that the stationary men, watching from the backs of their horses, were Indians!

Her hand flew to her throat. She didn’t know what tribe they were from, nor did she care. The few Indian women she had noticed, in or near small towns along the trail, had seemed wary, almost afraid. She fully understood their reactions. The Indians were outnumbered and vulnerable in that particular situation. And now that she and what remained of her family were stranded in the middle of nowhere, that was exactly how she felt, too.

As she and Johnny prepared to put their shoulders to the side of the wagon to try to move it, Joanna kept insisting that they wait. “Don’t try to push that over by yourselves. You’re not strong enough. Do as I told you. Get your papa. He’ll know what to do.”

Emmeline didn’t want to inform her that Amos was dead, yet what choice did she have when her mother kept insisting? “Papa’s…Papa’s not able,” she said, hugging Glory and speaking through one of the cracks in the upended wagon.

Joanna gasped audibly. “Dear Lord. Why not? Is he hurt?”

“Yes,” Emmeline said.

“Then you should be tending to him. Go. Do it now. I’m fine. Really. I’m not injured a bit and I can wait as long as need be.”

Emmeline’s voice broke as she forced herself to explain. Reality was almost too terrible to voice. “Papa’s gone to heaven, Mama.”

“No! No, that can’t be. He’s just hurt. You’ll see. Go look again. You must be mistaken.”

“When the wagon turned over, an ox fell on him. Big Jack is okay but Sam is dead. And Papa’s underneath him.”

“Get him off. Save your father.”

“It’s too late.” Emmeline was fighting tears and so was her brother. “By—by the time I reached him to check, he was already getting cold.”

Joanna began to wail incoherently. Glory sobbed softly. And Johnny gritted his teeth while Emmeline struggled to stay strong for the sake of the others.

“Mama, listen. We’ll try to push the wagon over enough for you to crawl out,” she shouted above her mother’s loud, heartbreaking sobs.

Setting Glory out of the way, she motioned to Johnny and got into place beside him. “On the count of three. One, two, three.”

They pushed with all their might but to no avail, which Emmeline quickly realized was a blessing. Even if they could have managed to raise the side of the wagon a little, there was no way to keep it stable and guarantee that it wouldn’t drop and crush their poor mother during her escape attempt, the way the ox had done to Papa.

Exhausted, Emmeline shook her head, stood back and addressed her brother. “Stop. Mama was right. We aren’t strong enough to do this alone.”

“No!” the boy insisted. “I can do it.”

She knew the helplessness he was feeling and sympathized. That didn’t, however, change facts. Touching his thin arm, Emmeline stopped him physically. “We’ll get her out. I promise. Only we have to think, not just try harder. There are some things that are beyond us. Let’s pray for help to come.”

He jerked his arm away and glared at her with reddened, puffy eyes. “That doesn’t work.” His glance darted toward the place where their father still lay. “I prayed for Papa and look what happened.” Emmeline flinched as she heard her brother voice her own doubts. Her prayers hadn’t been heeded either. Why?

“Was…was it quick?” Emmeline asked, needing to know yet not wanting to hear that her father had suffered.

Sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve, the young teen choked back a sob before answering. “I don’t know. When I woke up, Big Jack was standing over me and there was Papa, already so still. I tried to wake him, to pull him free, but…” Johnny stifled another shaky moan. Tears streaked his cheeks.

Touched, Emmeline enfolded him in her arms and held him while he wept on her shoulder. It had been years since the boy had permitted her to show him any affection and their shared hug reminded her of the closer sibling relationship they had once enjoyed. In truth, she’d missed the sweet child her brother had been before he’d grown up enough to begin to emulate their father.

When Johnny finally pushed her away, Emmeline was chagrined. She truly loved the members of her family, all of them, even though they were sometimes less than lovable.

Swiping at his damp cheeks, Johnny pointed east, up the trail. “Look!”

At first, Emmeline feared that the distant Indians had decided to approach. Then, she realized that the horseman was riding with saddle and bridle as well as wearing a slicker that flapped out behind him like great, black wings. No Indian would ride or dress like that, at least not any she had seen thus far in her travels.

She held up her arms, waved boldly and shouted to the rider. “Over here. Hurry! We need help.”

He slid off his mount and started to run toward her before the horse had come to a complete stop.

She knew that man. Glory be! It was the cowboy from the mercantile. And no one had ever looked better to her, not even erstwhile beaus from her old hometown.

Unable to recall his name, she nevertheless greeted him with unbounded enthusiasm. Clasping her hands, she shouted, “Hallelujah!”

“What’s happened? Are you all right?”

“Some of us are,” Emmeline answered, sobering and glancing over her shoulder toward the place where the remains of the ox still lay. “The important thing right now is rescuing my mother. She’s trapped under the wagon. Johnny and I tried to lift it but it was too heavy.”

Will was fetching his rope from where it was tied at the fork of his saddle. “Where’s your father? We’ll need all the muscle we can get.”

Emmeline lowered her voice. “Papa will not be helping. He’s gone to meet his Maker.”

The cowboy merely nodded and went to work instead of asking for further explanation.

Relieved, Emmeline sighed. There was really nothing else to say. And now that a friend had arrived to help, she finally had a moment to step back and take stock of the situation. It wasn’t a pretty picture. When the last breath had left her father’s body, their whole life had changed. They had no home, no money to speak of, very few possessions and no predictable future. She didn’t know how things could get any worse.

And then she remembered that Bess and the twins were still missing.

Will had formally introduced himself to Johnny while he threaded his rope through two of the wagon wheels on the off side. Then, he and the boy used his horse in tandem with the surviving ox to pull.

The rope held. The wagon creaked and groaned as it tilted onto its side. It wobbled for a moment, then settled there in the soft mud, as stable as could be expected, considering the rutted ground.

He watched the tearful reunion of mother and daughters, noting that Johnny stood back with the ox and made no effort to join them.

“Help me free my rope, will you?” Will asked the boy. At first he thought Johnny had not heard. Then, the wiry youngster clambered atop the wagon to assist him.

“Appreciate it,” Will said, coiling the stiff, braided rawhide as he spoke.

Still, the boy did not reply. He seemed to be fixated on the dead ox, so Will started to approach it.

Johnny broke into a run and dashed past. “Don’t touch him. Don’t you dare touch him.”

In moments, Will took in the entire picture and understood everything. He gently patted the man-child’s thin shoulder. “Somebody will have to do it, son. You don’t want your ma and sisters to see him this way, do you?”

There was no answer, yet Will could feel the youngster’s shoulders slumping and see the slight shake of his head.

“Then go fetch me a cover. Not your mama’s nice things. Bring something old that she won’t mind losing. When we’re ready, I’ll use my horse to pull the critter aside and you can cover your pa yourself if that’s what you want to do.”

Staring at Amos’s remains while he waited for the boy to return, Will thought of his own father and the last time he’d seen him alive. He’d been drunk, as usual. And as mean as a snake. Also his normal state. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to paint this man as the same kind of villain, but he’d heard him speaking about his wife and children in the mercantile and his words had been anything but kind.

Johnny hurried back and displayed a soggy blanket for Will’s approval. “That’s—that’s all I can find that didn’t blow away. Mama wants to come see, but Emmeline is stopping her. We’d better hurry.”

Emmeline? So, that was the eldest girl’s name. Pretty. And fitting, he guessed, although if he’d been naming her he might have chosen something a tad less pretentious.

Shaking himself to clear his head and concentrate on the necessary task at hand, he looped his rope over the ox’s horns, mounted his horse and used it to tow the animal a few yards. Part of the man’s body was pressed into the mud as if it were barely there and the boy was tenderly covering it.

What was this poor family going to do now? Will wondered. What, indeed? He supposed they could try to find another team and keep heading west, but not without at least one drover, not to mention someone who could also hunt to add wild game to their victuals. The laying hens that might have survived the tornado were long gone into the tall grass, and nobody could manage with only one ox. Plus, most of their larder, such as flour and beans and bacon, had been lost or ruined when their wagon had tipped over. The box was cracked and every bow that had held up the canvas cover—which was missing—had been smashed to smithereens. If they had money it might be easiest to give up their own wagon and pay for space in another family’s…but Will doubted they had enough funds for that, even if anyone could be found with room to spare.

He was about to inform the women that it was safe to look at the place where the man lay, when Emmeline approached him. He dismounted to speak with her and removed his hat while her mother fell to her knees beside the older man’s body, rocking and keening disconsolately.

Emmeline offered her small hand and Will took and held it for a brief moment.

“I would like to thank you for everything you’ve done, Mr.—” she began, finally adding, “—forgive me. I don’t seem to recall your name.”

“It’s Will Logan.”

“Then thank you, Mr. Logan.” Withdrawing, she folded her arms across her chest to pull her shawl closer. She was still dripping wet and clearly shivering. He took off his slicker and handed it to her.

She accepted the gift graciously. “Thank you. My mother will need this. I have no earthly idea where most of our belongings ended up. They’re not in the wagon anymore.”

Although she was handling herself well at the moment, Will could tell she was suffering and he didn’t know what to say or do to help her further. When she continued speaking, however, he realized that the family’s predicament was far from over.

“My, my sister Bess and the twins are missing,” Emmeline said haltingly. “It’s all my fault. I sent them off the trail to look for shelter and now I don’t know where they are.”

Will was thunderstruck. He supposed he should have missed the others right away, but in all the confusion following the upset wagon he’d not thought of anything else. “Where did you see them last?” he asked.

Unshed tears filled the young woman’s eyes, deepening their blue color. “I’m not certain. I think it was back twenty or thirty feet where Papa first stopped the wagon. When they ran off it was opposite the direction the terrible wind was coming from.”

“Then they went northeast,” Will said, mounting up. “I’ll start looking in that direction. You stay here with your mother. I came past part of your train about two miles back. They said they’d head this way to check on you just as soon as they’d rounded up some livestock that stampeded in the storm.”

“We have to find Bess and those poor little tykes,” Emmeline said, her voice breaking. “Please, please find them, sir.”

“I’ll do my best,” Will told her. He reined his excited horse in a tight circle to keep it from racing off before he was ready. “Looking for their trail after the grass has been so flattened will be difficult, but I’ll give it a try. If I’m not back by the time more help arrives, tell them where I’ve gone and have them start a more careful search.”

He paused, then decided to say all that was on his mind. “And don’t get caught out in the prairie alone, Miss Emmeline. The local Indians are friendly enough, under the right circumstances, but they can’t be trusted.”

Her eyes widened. “I saw some.” She pointed. “They were over there. On that ridge.”

“Watching for a chance to help themselves to whatever you leave behind, I reckon,” Will said. “They don’t usually steal brazenly, but they aren’t averse to picking up the spoils.”

“What about my sister? Bess is only fifteen.”

Nodding, Will knew he had to be truthful for the young woman’s own protection, yet he was loath to frighten her unnecessarily. “If she keeps her wits about her, she won’t be harmed,” he said, only half believing it.

In his heart, he wished mightily that the missing girl was a lot younger, like the orphan twins with her, so that if she was captured she’d be treated as a member of the Indians’ families, rather than as a slave.

He gritted his teeth. Or as a potential bride.