One True Love (4 page)

“My pleasure.” She suddenly found herself in his arms—arms that felt like steel bands—and sat in the saddle. He rechecked the cinch, and then lowered the stirrup. “Everything seems in order. Do you need a light?”

A lantern. She'd not thought that far. She'd have to have light. “Yes—thank you.”

He indicated the item tied to the saddle. She stared at the heavy object. “What do I do with it?”

“Why, hold it.” He smiled. “Moon's bright tonight, but who knows what tomorrow night will be.” He stuck his hands in his front pockets and stared up at a brilliant sky. “Ring around the moon. Rain's coming in. I packed a slicker for you.”

Now how was she going to hold a heavy lantern, control the horse, and hang on the saddle pommel when she barely had the strength to exhale? With a sinking heart, she knew that she couldn't. She couldn't ride through unfamiliar terrain in the darkness, holding a lantern.

Again he had bested her.

“Well now, you have a good ride home, Miss Wilson.” He turned his collar up. “That storm will likely turn to snow but it'll melt the minute it hits the ground, but then in these parts you just never know. Could be knee-deep by morning and it could miss us and head north, but I'd
be sure and build a fire every night to keep the wolves at bay—those pesky critters can get mighty ugly when they're hungry.” He removed his hat. “Ma'am, I wouldn't feel right sending you off like this unless I remind you of the snakes—'course it's getting a little cold for the rattlers but you can never be too careful. If they get your horse then you're on foot, and that would be troublesome. Trying to pack a bedroll and food—that's tough, but if you're lucky you'll run into men on the road—but here again I'm presuming to tell you what to do and I do know how you don't take kindly to that sort of thing. Now, some of those men are the mean sort. Real mean.” He settled his hat back on his head. “Guess that's about it. You be sure and wrap up tightly because if snow moves in, a body can freeze to death in the elements.”

By now Copper had lain over the saddle pommel and was staring blankly up at him. The cad. He was going to let her ride off to face certain death—a woman alone. A woman in so much pain she wanted to roll on the ground and tear her hair out by the roots.

“Well.” He lifted his hand to smack the horse's flank, sending her on her way. “Have a safe trip.”

“Stop!” She barely recognized her voice, but she knew she'd yelled. She broke into sobs. She hurt so badly.

Redlin gently gathered her into his arms, and she buried her face in his warm shoulder and let her emotions come.

His voice was warm against her temple. “I know you detest me, Copper, but I am not the enemy. I'm trying to help you.” He paused, lifting her chin, forcing her to look at him. Hot tears coursed down her cheeks. “You're a sensible woman. What I'm going to tell you isn't meant
to frighten you, but you have to know the severity of your wound. The injury is so grave that you could lose your foot unless it's handled properly. Infection might set in, but isn't likely at this point since there's no break in the skin, but Dr. Smith doesn't know what we're dealing with. Dr. Dyson will.”

Her face nestled deeper into his buckskin jacket as the frightening words penetrated. She would be a cripple. She didn't want to live.

“There's an excellent doctor in Fort Riceson, and Matthews believes this man can save the limb.”

“My ankle isn't infected now?”

His tone gentled. “It doesn't appear to be. That's why we can't waste time going on wild-goose chases. Let's get to the fort first and see what Dyson says.” His gaze met hers in the moonlight. “Can we please call a truce in this insane feud between us? Will you stop fighting me and help me get you to Fort Riceson and back to good health?”

She was so exhausted his plea barely touched the corner of her mind, but she understood the animosity must stop. If she was to have any chance to save the foot, she had to swallow her pride and get along.

“Nod if you agree.”

She nodded.

“Then let's get you back to Adele's wagon. She has a hot water bottle waiting for you.”

“Can I have two spoons of laudanum tonight?”

“Adele tells me you haven't been swallowing the ones she's given you. There's a precious, limited supply.”

“I won't spit it out again.” That she could promise if this dreadful pain would only cease.

“I'll speak to Adele. We'll keep you comfortable.”

Josh Redlin might be the most maddening man the good Lord ever put on this earth, but at that moment Copper thought he was very close to being an angel.

And she would swallow every beloved drop of laudanum.

That was one promise she would have no trouble keeping.

T
he wagon creaked over the rutted terrain. Copper lay on her pallet thinking that she had seen enough canvas ceiling to last a lifetime. Lying flat on her back all day staring up at a wagon roof was enough to send a body mad. The compresses Adele applied to the injured ankle three times a day helped, but the throbbing never let up. Pain was a constant companion, and the laudanum was now limited to nighttime use. Because of her folly, she'd wasted some of the precious supply, and now she had to tolerate the anguish until evenings when she could take the medication and drop into oblivion.

She'd spent most of this morning dressing. What used to be a ten-minute duty had turned into a two-hour ordeal. First she would pull on her pantaloons and then her dress. Then sit for ten minutes to gain enough strength to button the bodice. Lacing up her shoe and then brushing her hair left her exhausted. She had to lie down to recuperate.

By the noon hour, she was ready and intent on rejoining the world. She had determined on that frightful night Redlin had carried her, helpless and terrified, back to Adele's wagon that she would not give that man another moment's trouble. If it killed her, she would keep her thoughts and criticisms to herself and simply pray for him—for surely if any man needed her prayers, it was he. She'd not seen him in a couple of days and she was grateful she didn't have to face his glee that her plan had fallen flatter than a pancake.

Most had eaten their fare of cold soda biscuits and fat pork when she eased from the back of the wagon. Some chose to spread the biscuit with thick beans that had jelled overnight. Either fare stemmed hunger and kept the travelers eager for a hot supper. Eyes turned to acknowledge her appearance. A couple of men sprang to their feet and came to her assistance but she brushed the help aside.

“Thank you, but I have to learn to manage, and I'd prefer to do this on my own.” When the words came out more stridently than she intended, she softened the objection. “You are very kind, but please, I need to do this alone.”

The men nodded and stepped back as she slowly hobbled to where women and children grouped. Adele and Sadie stood up, but Copper waved their help aside. “I thought I'd enjoy a few minutes of fresh air.” Her eyes focused on Redlin, who was engrossed with Frank Richardson, second in command. Josh glanced her way, frowned, but continued with his conversation.

Copper dropped down on a fallen tree trunk and set aside the crutches Sadie had dropped by the wagon last night, saying they'd belonged to her deceased husband, and
she had no use for them. At the time Copper had seriously doubted that she would ever have use for them, but a new day often brought new hope, and this day she'd wakened with fresh determination. Now Eli wouldn't have to make her a pair.

When she looked up she encountered so many pairs of eyes focused on her she burst out laughing. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”

Uneasy snickers broke out. Adele said, “We're just not used to seeing you up and about. Shouldn't you be…?”

“Sleeping? No. If I'm ever to survive this ordeal, I'll have to help with the process.” She smiled. “Please, don't let me disturb you.” She drew her shawl closer against a bitter cold wind. “I'll visit a moment and then return to the wagon.”

“We'll be pulling out shortly,” an older woman observed. “Take care that you don't catch a chill.”

Copper's gaze traveled to a small cluster of children huddled around a tree base. Wind ruffled the pages of the open book a teenage girl was reading. Rapt eyes focused on her. She inclined her head toward the gathering. “What's going on?”

“That's Reba. She's reading to the children like she does every day at the noon hour.”

They seemed to be enjoying it immensely. From this distance Copper recognized the title:
Tom Brown's Schooldays
.

“Oh, the young'uns love it.” This came from Lil, trying to control her young toddler. “Reba tries to school the children, but she's not trained, not like Laura Fedderson. Laura was an educated teacher.”

“Why isn't Miss Fedderson teaching the children now?”

“The Feddersons had to drop out of the train shortly after
we pulled out. She had this awful cough, and it worsened. Her husband thought it best to take her back home until she fully recovered.” The woman shook her head. “Near broke Laura's heart. She was looking forward to a new start, moving to a better climate. They lived with her husband's folks, and Laura longed for a home of her own.”

Copper's gaze was drawn to the children's studious faces, and she was reminded of her class. Little Mackey. Emily and Harold. What were they doing now? Would Beeder's Cove resume school without her? Of course they would. They'd find a replacement until she was back. Being a cripple didn't mean that she was a freak or couldn't work. Once, when she was a child, she saw a man whose feet were so twisted that he had to be pushed in a chair with wheels on it. Copper remembered how she'd recoiled at the sight. Would people look at her with the same pity? She would have both feet, but how severe would her limp be? Would folks stare at her in pity? One of the ladies pitched the last of the coffee on the fire. “Miss Wilson? You're a teacher, aren't you?”

Adele answered before Copper could. “The finest! Why, that's how she injured her ankle. Bravest thing I'd ever heard. Fire broke out in the schoolroom, and Copper got all the children out alive and well. Why, she even defied the inferno and went back into the building and pulled two of the youngest to safety.”

Murmurs of approval circulated.

“It was nothing,” Copper said. “Any teacher would have done the same.”

“Still,” Sadie praised, “it was a heroic thing you did. And now with that injury—”

Copper broke in before Sadie could make a prediction that she didn't want to hear. “My, the wind is brisk today.”

“Josh says it's gonna be a bad winter this year. The geese are flying ahead of time, and the tree bark is awfully thick. We could be in for an ugly one.”

The women started breaking camp. “Praise the good Lord we should be in Colorado in another few weeks. Maybe the heaviest snows will stay well to the north of us.”

Copper insisted on making the short trek back to Adele's wagon alone, though her ankle screamed with misery. After two tries, she managed to negotiate the step into the wagon and drop to the pallet, staring at the canvas top, which strangely didn't look as tedious at it had half an hour earlier.

While the travelers checked rigging and axles, Copper considered the children on the wagon train. How many were gathered beneath the tree? Ten? Twelve? She thought the young lady reading the book was quite articulate, and the interest shining in the children's eyes inspiring. She missed seeing young, fresh faces eager for knowledge, at least most of them. But in time, even the reluctant ones could be introduced to a subject that would grab their attention, and the world would open to them.

The call of “Wagons roll” sounded from the head of the train, and rig by rig the command went down the line. Sadie gave a whistle and the wagon lurched. Copper clamped her jaw in pain, but willed her thoughts back to the children. She could teach. She could lie here day after day or she could work past the ache and offer to give a simple lesson at noon hour. She didn't have books, or rulers, or chalk, or a board, but she had a sound mind the Lord had given her, and a good education Papa had provided.

So what will it be, Copper? Lie here and wallow in self-pity? Or do something worthwhile.

The answer came surprisingly easily.

 

Only one problem troubled her. She hadn't factored Josh Redlin into the equation.

The wagon train rumbled over rain-soaked trails, and she mulled over the best way to approach the ogre without upsetting him. She had no doubt that he was true to his word, and if she caused him an ounce of trouble he'd set her off at the next town, though strangely enough he had indulged her earlier break for freedom. Maybe Sadie had influenced his thinking. The woman clearly wanted that man, even though Redlin was younger than she. Sadie didn't seem to fit with the wagon master, yet stranger things had happened.

After supper, Copper once again eased from the wagon and set off to find the testy wagon master. The crutches were clumsy and made her armpits sore. She stumbled more than she walked. This was so humiliating. She must have made a pretty sight when she found him beside the chuck wagon, shaving. Flushed, hair hanging loose, she leaned on a support and waited for him to notice her. Finally his eyes briefly acknowledged her and he continued his task, focused on the mirror hanging from a tree limb.

“This makes twice that you've been on that ankle today. Do you think that's wise?”

“I'm not putting my weight on it. I use the other foot.”

“Whatever.”

“May I approach you?” She felt like a lowly servant begging permission to approach the king.

He remained focused on his chore. “I thought we had an agreement.”

“We do, but since you're boss…” Oh, how she hated to admit his superiority. “I'll be forced to consult you from time to time.”

He bent to run the straight razor closer to his nose, and she could have sworn he was grinning. “What's on your mind?”

She explained about the noon meal and witnessing the children's rapt interest in knowledge, or at least in the book
Tom Brown's Schooldays
.

When she finished her presentation she held her breath. He'd refuse her. He was just ornery enough to make the children suffer because he didn't like her.

He straightened, absently wiping cream off his face. “Do you feel up to giving a lesson every day?”

“I'm in pain, but I refuse to lie in that wagon and be medicated all the way to Fort Riceson. I would very much appreciate the opportunity to do something to pass the time.”

He set the razor aside, and reached for a towel. “That's right admirable of you, Miss Wilson.”

“Then you'll permit me to teach?”

“If you feel up to the task, I have no objection. The mothers on the train should be very grateful.”

“I haven't spoken to anyone but you about this.”

He winked. “You're learning.”

There it was; the tone. That maddening pitch like he was her father and she was a willful child. “Learning what?”

“You're learning you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”

Vinegar indeed.

“You do like to gloat, don't you?”

“Miss Wilson.”

She clamped down on her tongue. Turning her back on him, she shuffled off, but not before she stuck her tongue out at him.

If it hadn't been for that dratted shaving mirror nailed on the tree, she'd have gotten away with it too.