Clay (12 page)

He got to his feet and picked up the tub.

“You wouldn’t!” she cried, and backed away as he stalked her.

“Oh, yes I would, and with great pleasure.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” she conceded, trying not to laugh.

“You will be when I get my hands on you.”

“That’s easier said than done.” She shoved him, and he lost his balance and dropped the tub, spilling out the remaining water.

Giggling, she raced toward the river with Clay in pursuit. Without thinking, she ran into the shallow water. The quicksand sucked her feet into its depth. The more she struggled to free them, the more the sand clutched and held. She couldn’t budge a foot.

“I’m stuck!”

Clay, who had halted on the bank, folded his arms across his chest. “Kind of looks that way.”

“You’ll have to get a rope and pull me out, Clay.”

“More likely eight yoke of oxen. It’ll take a while to round them up and get them harnessed, though. I’ll be back in an hour or so.” He turned to leave.

She felt a rising panic. “Clay, you aren’t leaving me here, are you?”

He turned back. “Well, you see, Rebecca, my feelings are a little bruised. Maybe if I heard that apology again, I’d—”

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry.
Now
will you get me out of here?”

“Do you promise to behave yourself?”

“I promise. I
promise
.” She tried to move, but her feet wouldn’t budge, and she fell forward into the sand.

“Oh, no!” She managed to free her hands as the sand tried to suck them in.

Clay started to laugh. “Lady, you’re just digging yourself in deeper.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Are you going to get me out of here, or do I have to start screaming for help?”

“What’s it worth to you?”

“If you’re suggesting that I let you sleep with—”

“Kiss. I’m suggesting my wife kiss me.” He shook his head. “Tsk, tsk, Mrs. Fraser. Your remarks are very revealing. Well, stay where you are until I get back with a rope.”

“Very funny, Clay. I’ll wait.”

Within minutes he returned with a rope and tossed the end to her. She grabbed it like a drowning person reaching for a lifeline.

“Hang on.”

He began to tug on the rope and gradually freed her from the watery sand.

Once on the bank she sat down and shook off the quicksand that still clung to her hands and clothing. Then she looked up at Clay and grinned. “I sure could use some of that water and suds we wasted, now.”

He grinned back, and they both broke into laughter.

“Come on, Trouble.” He reached out a hand and pulled her to her feet.

The water fight between her and Clay broke the tension between them, and after cleaning herself up, Rebecca boiled more water and finished the laundry, while Clay milked the cow and then returned to cleaning his firearms.

Later they gave the wagon a good scrubbing together, and then reloaded the supplies. The remarkable thing about it was that they spent hours together and never exchanged a cross word between them. They even found things to laugh over as they worked side by side.

After eating an early dinner, Clay left to stand guard. When he returned at eight, he challenged her to another game of backgammon. Two hours later they settled down in their bedrolls.

Rebecca fell asleep instantly, her mouth curved in a contented smile.

Clay didn’t understand why he couldn’t sleep. The damn chickens had wakened him early, so he should be able to fall asleep easily. Instead, he was wide awake. Turning over on his side, he stared at Rebecca sleeping nearby. Try as he might, he just couldn’t stay angry with her.

He had to give credit where it was due: She had a lot of grit.

And he grudgingly had to admit that it was no longer reasonable to put Rebecca in the same category as Ellie. They were complete opposites in every way: One had hair the color of sunshine, the other the darkness of night. Rebecca worked that trim little butt of hers off from sunrise to sunset. He’d never seen Ellie do a whit of work, and she’d go thirsty waiting for someone to bring her a drink before she’d get up and get it herself. Expecting someone to wait on her would never enter Becky’s mind.

In retrospect he was damn lucky. He had thought the sky had fallen when Will told him Ellie had married another man. Now he’d come to realize Ellie’s vanity. She was very aware of her physical beauty and used it on men to serve her interests. He doubted Becky was even aware of her beauty, and it puzzled him why some man had not convinced her into remarrying in the past four years. It must be that she didn’t want to remarry.

His gaze rested again on Rebecca’s sleeping figure. Lately, his thoughts dwelled more and more on the mysteries behind this woman—and that scared the hell out of him.

He closed his eyes and felt the welcoming lethargy of drowsiness. All things considered, he could put up with the arrangement between them, if they’d only share a bed. It was too bad she disliked him so much, because the truth of it was, he was beginning to enjoy having her around. He was ready to forgive and forget—but she wanted to hold on to that independence of hers. And she still wore Charley Elliott’s wedding ring.

Well, before they reached California, that would change.

That and her idea of an annulment.

After a warning from the wagon master to make certain their water barrels were filled to capacity, the train pulled out promptly at seven the following morning. The landscape was gradually rising, with only an occasional buffalo in view.

Late in the day they reached a steep hill, and after cresting it, the terrain stretched out in a high, flat tableland. Even though there was no river or water hole, Scott called a halt for the night to rest the stock, with an added warning to go sparingly on their water since they would not encounter any the next day, either.

The following day the wagon train made the best progress thus far. After covering over twenty miles, they halted at a steep declivity where the tableland dropped suddenly into the North Platte Valley below. In the distance they glimpsed the leafy boughs of trees, something they hadn’t seen in the weeks they’d crossed the plains. Everyone’s spirits were renewed.

That evening, while the men were at a meeting organizing the following day’s activity, Rebecca and Henrietta strolled over to the trail and gazed down the sharp slope into the valley.

“I can’t see how it’s possible to drive a wagon down that hill,” Rebecca said.

Etta nodded in agreement. “Daddy said he figures they’ll have to lower them some way.”

“You got it all figured out, ladies?” Clay asked, joining them. Tom Davis was with him.

The young couple exchanged meaningful glances, then Etta said, “I’ll see you later.” The two departed.

Clay looked perplexed. “What got into her?”

Men were so dense when it came to matters of the heart. “I have no idea. So what was decided at the meeting?”

“We’re going to skid the wagons down the hill.”

“How do you do that?”

“By locking the wagon wheels to the box, and harnessing them to mule teams instead of oxen. The oxen are too slow and the wagons would probably overrun them.”

“But wouldn’t the wagons overrun mules, too? I can’t believe the brakes will do any good at that sharp angle.”

“We’re using human brakes.”

At her confused look, Clay grinned and said, “Men and ropes. Scotty said he’d probably need eight or ten men to a wagon to skid them down. The women, children, and rest of the livestock go down by foot. Unless you want to ride the wagon down, Becky.” He grinned.

“I bet you’d like to see me try.”

“I wouldn’t let you try.”

“Oh, I see. You’re playing husband again.”

“I’m not
playing,
Becky. You’re the one who’s tried to turn marriage into a game.”

Even though there was no anger in his tone, there was no denying he was dead serious.

Her stomach suddenly felt tied in a knot and she forced a smile. “Well, at least you can look forward to the game coming to an end when we reach California. That should make you very happy. I never intended to be a problem for you.”

“And what if Garth and I catch up with our sister before we reach California? We’d have no reason for continuing on with this wagon train.”

“You have my word, Clay, that I would file for the annulment as soon as I reach California.”

“Did it occur to you, Becky, that you wouldn’t get to California if Scotty made you leave with us?” He walked away.

It certainly hadn’t occurred to her! It was devastating to think that after coming so far, she might very well have to turn around and go back if Clay left the wagon train. She could only hope that Melissa stayed far ahead of them.

At dawn they prepared to lower one of Scott’s wagons. The wheels were chained to the box to keep them from turning, and then, with a driver handling the reins, four men on each side, and two more at the rear manning ropes tied to the wagon, they began the descent. The mules struggled to keep their footing, and the men strained at the ropes to keep them taut and the wagon from sliding forward too rapidly. By the time they were halfway down, the dust cloud formed by their heels dug into the earth obliterated them from the anxious eyes of those watching from above.

The descent was as slow as the river crossings. There were five teams of men, and once a team got a wagon down, they had to climb back up the hill, passing a team on their way down with another wagon.

Thus far all the wagons had made it down without a mishap. The Garson wagon was being lowered, and they were preparing Rebecca’s wagon for the descent. She felt a pang in her chest when all was ready and Clay climbed up on the box and took the reins. After assuring her beloved mules that they could do it, she stepped away.

“Be careful, Clay,” she called out.

“You, too. Take it easy going down that hill, and if that cow loses its footing, don’t try to hold on to it. Do you hear me?”

“I’ll take care of Clementine; you make sure you get my mules down there safely. And be careful with Katharina and Lady MacBeth. You know if Kate gets jarred around too much, she can’t lay eggs.”

“If those chickens weren’t so dumb, they’d have figured out their wings are for flying down.”

“Just be careful with them. See you below.”

As soon as they started to lower the wagon, Rebecca tugged on Clementine’s rope and began her own descent. The grade was steep, and she moved cautiously. Suddenly her foot slipped out from under her and she fell forward on her stomach, losing her grip on the cow’s rope.

“Show off,” she grumbled when, undisturbed, Clementine continued down the hillside.

Rebecca crawled to her knees and managed to sit up. Laughing gaily, several children passed her, skimming down on their butts. They appeared to be treating it all as a game, so why shouldn’t she? She finished the descent on her rear end.

Clay was at the foot of the hill when she finally reached it. To her surprise, he looked concerned.

“What’s wrong, did you hurt an ankle?”

Rebecca stood up and brushed off her skirt. “No, I’m fine. It was me or my dignity, so I let my dignity take the fall. Did the wagon and mules make it down okay?”

“No problem. I have to head back up. I parked the wagon over in that copse of trees. I saw Clementine and tied her to the rear. Drive about a mile down the trail, and you’ll come to Ash Hollow. Becky, you’re not going to believe the place. There are fresh pools of water everywhere! It’ll take two or three more hours to get all the wagons and oxen down, so Scotty said we’ll be laying over there for the night.” He started to walk away, then turned back. “By the way, there’s some Indians in camp, but don’t be alarmed: They’re Sioux, not Shawnee. They rode in with Hawk and Garth. Hawk said the Indian scare is behind us. We’re in Sioux territory now, and they aren’t hostile at this time.” He grinned. “Of course, Hawk didn’t warn them you were coming.”

“That’s very funny, Clay.” Darn him, he always managed to have the last word.

For a long moment she watched him as he started up the hillside. He moved with a smooth stride and made climbing the steep hill look easy. She’d observed that he seemed to take everything in the same easy manner as that smooth, even stride of his. Well, maybe everything except getting tricked into marriage.

After complimenting the mules for the fine job they did, Rebecca apologized to Katharina and Lady MacBeth for the jolting ride they’d just had. Then she climbed into the box and headed down the trail. Occasionally she’d come upon one or two people walking. She offered a ride to any who were interested, but they just waved and shook their heads.

When Rebecca reached Ash Hollow, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Surely she must have died and gone to Heaven. The mammoth meadow was abundant with tall ash trees, and leafy bushes ripe with grapevines, gooseberries, and currants. Trickling streams merged into translucent pools throughout the meadow. Countless wildflowers carpeted the ground in colorful splendor, and the sweet fragrance of wild roses and jasmine permeated the air.

She located the Garson wagon and parked nearby. There’d be no cramped circle of wagons that night; Scott had given the word they could spread out and enjoy the surroundings. Rebecca took the team to the distant grazing area that had been roped off for the livestock to eat and drink without dirtying the clear water in the pools.

Returning to her wagon, Rebecca saw that Helena and Eleanor Garson were already in the process of making currant jelly. She grabbed a pan to gather some fruit, and joined several other women who had the same idea. As soon as she finished, she hurried back to her wagon.

As she was rolling out a piecrust, five mounted Indians rode by on their way out of camp. This was her first glimpse of a mighty Sioux. Mr. Scott had praised the Sioux Nation at great length; he considered them the noblest warriors they’d encounter—and the deadliest, if they were on the warpath.

One in particular held her attention. He looked magnificent astride a black stallion, and held his head with the bearing of a crowned sovereign. Wearing only a flapped breechcloth over his loins and fringed moccasins on his feet, the Indian’s muscled, bronzed chest and legs were free of body hair. A white feather dangled from the end of his coal black hair, which was woven into a single braid. But even more compelling were his black piercing eyes when he glanced at her as he rode past. His expression never altered as he continued on his way.

Somewhat awed, Rebecca returned to the task at hand. She had two gooseberry pies baked by the time Clay and Garth showed up, and a kettle of currants bubbling on the fire.

Later, needing a cup of milk, Rebecca glanced over to the wagon. Both men had dozed off, and she didn’t want to disturb them. Going up and down that hillside all day must have been exhausting.

What the heck! She had seen a cow milked before; surely she could figure out how to do it herself. Grabbing the camp stool and milk bucket, she walked over to the cow, who was chewing on grass near the wagon.

“Clementine, I need a favor from you. I want to make a cream sauce and I need a cup of milk. I’d appreciate, my dear, if you’d let me have one. I’ll tell you, now, I’ve never milked a cow before, so you’ll have to be patient with me.”

The cow raised her head, looked at Rebecca with its big round eyes, and then went back to chewing grass.

Rebecca sat down on the stool, put the bucket in place, and reached for the cow’s teats. They felt like skin—hard skin. Clementine turned her head, a quizzical look in her eyes. Rebecca squeezed, but nothing happened. She tried again with the same result.

“You aren’t cooperating, dear,” Rebecca said. “Shall we try again?”

This time Rebecca squeezed a little harder. The cow switched its tail. Rebecca tried to dodge it but the tail caught her on the cheek, and she fell backward off the stool.

For a long moment she lay there, glaring at the animal. “That was not nice, Clementine. Not nice at all. I just want one little cup of milk.” Rubbing her stinging cheek, she sat back down on the stool. “I’m not leaving without it.”

Once again she reached for the teats and squeezed. No milk, but she succeeded in dodging the tail this time when it swung in her direction.

“Look,
dear,
” Rebecca said, through gritted teeth.

“I’m trying to be very patient about this.”

“You probably aren’t squeezing hard enough.”

She jerked her head around. Clay was standing behind her. He knelt in back of her and enclosed her in the circle of his arms, cupping his hands over hers.

She was enveloped by the heat of his body, the power in the arms embracing her, the sensual huskiness of his voice at her ear. It made concentrating on a cow’s udder most difficult.