Brides of Prairie Gold Read online

  The silence continued until Ona Norris, one of the younger brides, appealed to Cody. "Perhaps Mr. Snow should"

  He raised his hands. "Work it out among yourselves."

  Uneasily, they turned back to each other while Cody continued to gaze at Miss Ona Norris. Ona Norris was barely into her twenties, pretty in the way that young women always seemed pretty, youth placing a bloom on otherwise conventional features.

  Jane Munger, sharp-eyed and sharp-featured, finally spoke. "Everyone here knows everyone else, so maybe you see things differently than I do. Maybe you think it makes sense to keep drawing from Mr. Snow's hat until Miss Boyd approves of whoever pulls the X." She looked at Augusta and raised an eyebrow. "But I think we should honor our agreement. We agreed to accept as our representative whoever drew the X."

  Perrin Waverly lifted grateful eyes to Jane Munger. Her cheeks had turned fiery after Augusta's comment.

  Hilda Clum and Sarah Jennings glanced at each other, then Sarah cleared her throat.

  "Miss Munger is correct." She cast a troubled glance toward Perrin Waverly, speaking with obvious reluctance. "If we begin reneging on our agreements at this point, it doesn't augur well for the journey." Clearly, her statement made her uncomfortable, but she turned to Perrin, drew a breath, and said, "Therefore, I agree that the choice is made."

  "I concur," Hilda Clum added after a brief hesitation.

  Mem Grant nodded and elbowed her sister, but Bootie Glover sat twisting her hands together and gazing at Augusta with an uncertain expression as if she sided with Augusta but lacked the courage to stand against the majority.

  Mem muttered a sound of exasperation. "My sister and I support Mrs. Waverly in accordance with our prior agreement."

  Eventually, reluctantly, all the women grudgingly nodded assent except Augusta and Winnie something-or-other. Uninterested in the discussion, Winnie dreamily contemplated the flame dancing within a lantern glass.

  Perrin rose in front of her chair and pressed her gloves together. "I've never done anything like this, but I pledge that I'll do my best to represent our interests to Mr. Snow." Briefly her cinnamon-colored eyes flicked toward his. Then she glanced at Augusta Boyd's rigid expression of loathing and bit her lower lip. "If I have to make decisions, I'll do so fairly."

  Augusta stood and snapped her fingers at her maid. Cora Thorp pushed to her feet and handed Augusta a small beaded purse.

  "You'll regret that you refused to take my advice to choose someone else," Augusta announced curtly. "I doubt it will take long for Mrs. Waverly's low character to reveal itself. I predict we shall all suffer for tonight's lapse of judgment."

  Sweeping her velvet skirts to one side, she tossed her blond curls and glided from the meeting room, Cora Thorp a step behind her. The other brides smoothed their skirts or gloves, looking everywhere except at Perrin.

  Perrin Waverly stood as straight and stiff as a ramrod, her hands in small, shaking balls by her sides. Although her lips trembled and humiliation pulsed on her cheeks, she spoke in a steady voice.

  "Mr. Brady was kind to allow us the use of his hall. I'm sure he would appreciate it if we restore his chairs to their original places," she said quietly.

  Grateful for a task to relieve the awkwardness, the women jumped to their feet and scraped their chairs back into line.

  "Be at your wagons by five-thirty," Cody called as they hurried toward the door. "We depart at six o'clock sharp." He touched Perrin Waverly's arm, holding her back.

  When the others had departed, he detailed her duties as the women's representative and suggested they meet for a few minutes every evening. While he talked, she straightened the rows of chairs, turned down the wicks in the lanterns.

  "May I escort you home, Mrs. Waverly?" he inquired politely as they emerged from Brady's Mercantile and stepped into the darkness draping Main street. The lanterns on a gig bounced past them then receded. Otherwise the street was deserted.

  "No!" she said sharply. She glanced toward a low light shining in the apothecary's bay window, then she sighed and spoke in a milder tone. "Thank you, but I'm just around the corner."

  Silk roses adorned the brim of her bonnet; the color had faded to a dusky pink that matched the color of her lips. "Tell me something. You don't seem to lack spirit, so why do you allow Miss Boyd to insult you?"

  He could have kicked himself. But despite his intention not to get involved with these women, he had always cheered for the runt of the litter. And that was Mrs. Waverly. Although she'd been affirmed as the women's representative, none of the brides truly accepted her except Jane Munger, a stranger to the group.

  Instantly she stiffened and lowered her head. "I doubt my problems would interest you, Mr. Snow."

  In other words, mind your own business, Cody thought. And she was right. "Sorry I asked," he muttered, angry with himself. He had no idea why he felt so drawn to this small prickly woman or why she had scratched his interest. Runts were always more trouble than the rest of the litter.

  She clutched her shawl tightly against her throat, seeking protection from the chill night breeze. "Good night, sir."

  "Good night." And good riddance, he silently added, vowing to put her out of his mind. The brides were just freight, he reminded himself as he watched her walk away from him.

  When she reached the corner, she turned abruptly and stared back, her features lit by the dim light in the window of the apothecary. "Sometimes people don't have choices." She delivered the statement in a defensive tone that dared him to disagree. He could have sworn thorns sprouted from the faded roses trimming her bonnet.

  "I believe people always have choices, but I'll concede that sometimes it doesn't appear that way."

  "You're wrong," she stated flatly. "Sometimes there are no alternatives, none at all. Regardless, everyone deserves a fresh beginning. That isn't asking too much."

  He didn't understand her defiant tone. The conversation seemed too mild to warrant the angry tremble in her voice. "I'm definitely in favor of second chances," he agreed, frowning.

  She nodded curtly, then spun on her toes, leaving him to watch the seductive sway of her skirts as she marched beyond the apothecary's window. Cody imagined he spotted a giant shadow cast by the chip on her shoulder.

  "Damn it." He waited until she rounded the corner like a soldier on parade. And he caught himself wondering how she would look with a smile curving those beautiful lips. He hated it, truly hated it, that such a thought would enter his mind.

  Three-quarters of the town rose early on a chill spring morning to see the brides off. Church ladies passed out hot coffee and tarts baked in honor of the occasion. A sprightly fiddler moved through the crowd playing a wedding polka and encouraging hand clapping and a spontaneous jig here and there. During the night a well-meaning prankster had painted Oregon or bust on several of the wagons and a cheer went up at the sight.

  Other than Perrin Waverly, Jane Munger, and the sisters, Mem Grant and Bootie Glover, all the brides had a collection of family or friends to wish them bon voyage and good luck. Hurried embraces were exchanged, tears shed, and last-minute gifts pressed into trembling hands. Then Smokey Joe Riley banged his dinner gong, signaling it was time to climb aboard the wagons.

  Webb Coate cantered to a stop beside Cody at the head of the line and they watched with thin smiles as the women decided who would drive first before they took up the reins trailing across the broad backs of the oxen. One of the cattle tied behind Thea Reeves and Ona Norris's wagon broke loose. Midway down the line, a bonnet tumbled under the wheels.

  "It will be a damned miracle if we get these women to Oregon," Cody observed, watching a young boy rush to toss the crushed bonnet back toward a wagon seat. The throng of spectators cheered as Miles Dawson jumped from his horse to retie the cow to the back of Miss Reeves's and Miss Norris's wagon.

  Webb turned sparkling black eyes toward the low hills they would cross before nightfall. His hair lifted off his shoulders and the fringe on his buckskins f
luttered in the cold wind.

  "We'll make twelve miles even with a late start."

  Cody looked at him. "You love this, don't you?"

  "I'd give half of my father's fortune to do nothing but scout trains for the rest of my life."

  Cody's smile broadened. "That sound you hear is not the wind. It's your father rolling in his grave."

  Webb laughed. "Actually, I think he would have understood. What's hard for me to understand is why you've decided this is your last trip."

  "You know the reasons."

  Someday soon the plains would explode into violence. Each time Cody led a train through Indian territory, he observed fresh confirmation of growing anger and unrest. He had friends in both the Indian and white cultures and he wanted no part of the coming conflagration. That it would come, he could no longer doubt.

  "Well, Captain." Webb leaned on the carbine resting across his thighs. "Are we ready or are we going to sit here all day?"

  Cody looked down the line of wagons toward the townsfolk bunched together near the ferry. He thought about the eleven greenhorn women in his charge, twelve if he counted the maid. God help them all and keep them safe.

  He removed his hat and swept it in a broad wave above his head.

  "Wagoooons hooooo! Move 'em out!"

  The journey began.

  * * *

  CHAPTER TWO

  They rolled past the first graves shortly after the noon rest on the third day.

  "Mr. Coate says it's cholera." Drawing her shawl tighter around her shoulders, Perrin peered at the mounded earth through a thin fall of spring snow. She tried not to think about how cold her feet were. "They didn't get very far."

  The wagon she shared with Hilda Clum tilted over a large stone, then rocked past the pair of wooden crosses. Falling snow obscured any names that might have been carved in remembrance.

  "My mother says it isn't the destination that's important, it's the journey." Hilda accepted the reins from Perrin; it was her turn to drive the oxen. She peered through the snowflakes at the wooden markers. "I hope their journey was a happy one."

  Now that Perrin didn't have to worry about the oxen, she relaxed her spine against the short wooden seat with a sigh and considered her own life's journey. So far, life's road had been rocky, strewn with obstacles and problems. Most of her problems could be laid squarely at the feet of some man.

  Men took. That's how it was and had always been. Garin Waverly had taken her confidence and self-esteem and crushed them beneath his bootheels; Joseph had taken her reputation and cast her good name to the winds.

  There was no reason to assume that the unknown bridegroom awaiting her arrival in Oregon would be any less of a thief. He would take her body, her labor, and her future. And she would have no say in the matter, no choice.

  She touched the fingertips of her gloves to her forehead. "Odd, isn't it? How small decisions can lead to such enormous consequences," she murmured, not realizing she spoke aloud. "One day you take stock, and you don't really know how you got to where you are. But chances are, the first step began with a small decision."

  Seeing the graves called to mind all the people she had lost. Her parents, the aunt and uncle who had raised her, her husband. A friend here, an acquaintance there.

  Joseph was her most recent loss, though she couldn't properly mourn him. To be absolutely honest, Perrin wasn't sure how deeply she grieved Joseph's death. Her feelings were so mixed about him. There was affection, yes, and gratitude, certainly, but also a deep reservoir of resentment and anger.

  It was Joseph who had prompted her thought about small decisions leading to large consequences. An insignificant decision to accept a ride in Joseph's carriage to escape a sudden downpour had eventually led to her flight from Chastity, Missouri.

  Actually, the beginnings were even more trivial. Perrin would marry an Oregon stranger because it had rained on a certain morning a year ago when she had decided to walk to Brady's Mercantile to beg for an extension of credit.

  Or maybe she was sitting on this wagon because Garin Waverly had died needlessly, leaving her destitute, which had led to an accumulation of debt at Mr. Brady's store, which had caused her to walk out on a rainy morning, and that in turn had led to accepting a ride in Joseph's carriage.

  Or perhaps she would wed a stranger because Garin Waverly and his brother had purchased her uncle's riverside warehouse and thus she and Garin had met and decided to marry, which had led to Garin's jealousy, which had led to that terrible moment in the street and the sound of gunfire, which resulted in Garin dying needlessly, which had Perrin rubbed at the headache forming behind her forehead.

  Hilda coughed into her hand and shook her head to dislodge the snowflakes accumulating on the brim of her bonnet. "Everyone makes mistakes," she said after a minute. She gave Perrin a quick look of curiosity mixed with sympathy. " Ja . Sometimes we all do things that we later regret."

  Perrin nodded gratefully. After three days together, she could guess this was Hilda's way of saying that she didn't judge or condemn. The problem was, Perrin doubted the other brides would be as generous. By now Augusta would have made sure that all of them knew. If they hadn't heard rumors beforehand.

  Ducking her head, she picked at her gloves and realized there wouldn't really be a fresh beginning for her. With Augusta on this train, Perrin was taking her reputation with her.

  "I don't know why I'm here," she said in a low puzzled voice, gazing at the slanting curtain of falling snow. "I keep wondering if I'd changed one small decision, maybe a decision I made years ago, maybe I would be somewhere else now."

  "I know exactly why I am going to Oregon," Hilda offered with a chuckle. "I am twenty-eight years old, plain as a boot, and I have never had a single marriage offer. This is my chance to marry and have children of my own. I will not likely have another." Cold silvery vapor plumed before her lips. "With more and more families going to Oregon, I expect there will be opportunities for teachers. In every way, this is the best thing that has ever happened to me," she added brightly.

  Perrin examined Hilda's expression and wondered how she could sound so cheerful when they were both feeling wretched, suffering the effects of coach fever.

  All the women except Sarah Jennings were ill with coach fever, which Sarah said the army referred to as motion sickness. Despite Smokey Joe's advice that they suck on pebbles, the only genuine relief arrived when the wagons halted and the rocking, shaking, jarring, jostling mercifully stopped.

  "I'm concerned about Winnie Larson," Perrin remarked. Despite the snow and frigid temperature, she blotted feverish perspiration from her brow and stifled a groan as the wagon tilted and rocked over another large stone. "Winnie is still our worst case. Jane Munger made her a bed in the back of their wagon. Jane's driving the team with no relief."

  Conversation diverted her thoughts from a queasy stomach and the headache banging at her temples. She tried not to think about the unrelenting rocking motion, the hard wooden seat bruising her tailbone, or the icy fingers of cold creeping into her gloves and down her collar. Cody Snow had grinned and promised the coach fever would pass, but so far it hadn't.

  Cody Snow was another subject Perrin didn't want to consider right now. She hadn't made up her mind how she felt about him or how to take him. It irritated her that she wasted so much time thinking about him and planning their evening meetings.

  "Winnie's mother and mine knew each other in Germany," Hilda offered. Her face was red with cold above the scarf wrapped around her throat.

  "Then you and Winnie are friends?" Perrin hoped the question didn't betray her surprise. Hilda's sunny intelligence seemed at wide variance with Winnie's drifting lack of focus. Whenever Perrin encountered Winnie Larson, as recently as during the noon rest, Winnie appeared drowsy and withdrawn. She was agreeable in a distracted sort of way, but her attention wandered in realms an observer couldn't follow.

  "I do not really know her." Hilda glanced at Perrin. "The Larsons live in Chastity
; we live three miles out." She explained that the Clum family owned a prosperous dairy farm, whereas the Larsons were town people.

  Perrin sucked on her pebble and watched the snowflakes swirling over farmland and low hills. The landscape hadn't yet changed much.

  "How much longer do you suppose Mr. Snow and Mr. Coate will continue before we stop for the night?" Hilda shivered, then wiped her nose and eyed the snow collecting on the oxen's backs.

  "Not long, I hope."

  The coach fever would ease when the wagons halted. But their problems wouldn't end. The last two nights had revealed that only Sarah Jennings had the slightest inkling how to cook in the open. A few of the brides had gone to bed hungry. Others, like Perrin and Hilda, had choked down charred biscuits; hard, half-cooked beans; and coffee that tasted like flavored creek water. At least the weather had been dry and Hilda had managed to get their fire going. Ona Norris and Thea Reeves had given up and ended by accepting Sarah Jennings's invitation to join her and Lucy Hastings for warmth and a bite of the stew that made Sarah the envy of everyone who walked within sniffing distance.

  Following supper came the problem of erecting their sleeping tents. The first night the teamsters had helped those baffled by poles and tie-downs, but last night they had all had to manage on their own. Since Winnie was too ill to help Jane, Perrin had lent Jane a hand while Hilda assisted Cora Thorp with the tent Cora shared with Augusta Boyd. As far as Perrin knew, Augusta had not done two minutes worth of driving, cooking, or physical labor.

  Thinking about Augusta Boyd and how much Augusta hated her made Perrin's stomach cramp. Changing direction, she let her thoughts wander to Cody Snow. His handsome, rugged face sprang into her mind, one eyebrow lifted in a roguish expression.

  She couldn't decide what Cody was all about. During their two brief meetings since they'd been on the trail he had treated Perrin with unfailing politeness, but he'd erected a barrier between them. At first she told herself that his mind was focused on the numerous details that had to be addressed to ensure a successful journey. Then, she couldn't help it, she started worrying and wondering if he had heard the gossip about her.