Orchids in Moonlight (11 page)

Undaunted, she fired back, "This
is
my business. It's everybody's business. For over two months and six hundred and forty miles, we been looking forward to getting here so we could relax a little, but it's being ruined by them whores. I say you leave them here."

Others were gathering, women in robes or shawls wrapped about their gowns, the men bare-chested and wearing long johns. A few were emerging from their wagons carrying weapons.

Cord saw that sentries at the fort had noticed the goings-on and alerted others. Soldiers were starting to run across the grassy slope to investigate.

Jaime groped in the darkness for Hannah and Ella, softly calling to them. Only Ruth and Martha were there, and it was Ruth, beside her, who whispered that Hannah and Ella were still inside. "They met two men and seemed to really like them."

Just then, Jaime saw her friends coming from the fort. With a stab of apprehension, she noted that Hannah was clinging to the arm of a man clad in buckskin, while Ella held hands with one wearing the uniform of an officer.

Outside the wagon, Fletcher and Henderson showed up to stand beside Cord. The drunken soldiers had been gathering their nerve to jump him but began to back away.

Holstering his gun, Cord said, "All right, everybody back to your wagons and tents. It's over."

"Not as long as those whores are around," Wilma cried, striking the air with her fist. It made her even madder the way Imogene continued to poke her head out the wagon, watching with a smirk on her ruby-painted lips. "We're going to keep on having trouble. It's time you did something about them, got them away from decent Christian folk."

Wearily, Cord attempted to reason with the woman. "Mrs. Turnage, this isn't the first time prostitutes have been transported to California. It won't be the last. And you're wasting your time and mine griping about it."

Muttering to those around her, she joined them in leaving.

The officer who had been walking with Ella left her to ask what was going on. Cord told him, saying he thought it would be best if the wagon train was declared off limits to army personnel.

The officer assured Cord it would be done. It was the policy of the Army to maintain good relations with the passing wagon trains. Since Fort Laramie had become an official government post in 1849, between nine and ten thousand wagons had come through each year. From time to time, there were incidents and altercations, but for the most part peace prevailed.

Jaime was disappointed when the officer led Ella back to the fort, with Hannah and her scout right behind. She was lonely and wanted to hear all the details of the party.

But something else happened to keep Jaime and the others peeking out of the wagons.

Cord, careful to keep his voice low despite his fury, whirled on Imogene. "You almost started a riot. I told you before we left Independence you wouldn't carry on any business till we reach California. I should have known better than to let you go inside, but I thought you could behave yourselves. No more, understand? You and the others are not to leave this compound."

Imogene gave her long hair a haughty toss and downed the rest of the whiskey she was drinking before informing him airily, "There won't be a next time, captain. I've talked to the other girls, and we're fed up with being treated like lepers. We're not going any farther."

Any other time, Cord might have argued, but right then, he just didn't give a damn. A seemingly simple assignment had turned into nothing but aggravation, and he wished he could just saddle his horse and ride out and let them all go to hell. "Fine, if that's what you want, but I hope you realize you women won't stand a chance out there alone."

She gave a careless shrug. "So we'll stay here till we decide what to do."

"And I don't suppose you care about the money that's been spent to get you this far."

"Honey," she drawled, smiling, "you know I'll be glad to let you take it out in trade."

Cord knew then what the oxen must feel like at day's end when the yoke was lifted from their shoulders. He didn't care about the whores or the money. All he knew was relief to have one less problem to deal with.

Without another word, he stalked away.

And Jaime, still spying, felt a great wave of compassion as she watched him go.

The news that the prostitutes were staying at the fort spread like wildfire. The post commander was just about to declare it would not be allowed when several families announced they were turning back. The prostitutes decided to join them.

When the commander learned that Cord had never led a wagon train before, he told him he should not feel bad to be losing some of his people. "Every time a caravan comes through, it happens. They're worn out and weary and homesick. Don't blame yourself."

Cord was quick to answer. "Believe me, I don't. To be honest, it would suit me fine at this point if they all wanted to turn around. But they can damn well find somebody else to lead them. This is my first and last wagon train."

Jaime was deeply disappointed to hear that Imogene and her friends would not be continuing. Despite everything, she had liked walking with them from time to time. They had known her secret and kept it well.

Ella and Hannah had not been around much during the layover, but they came to the wagon the night before they were scheduled to depart and she was able to bring up the subject of the prostitutes and how she would miss them.

Ella and Hannah exchanged uncomfortable glances. They were dressing to join their new men friends for dinner at the fort. Jaime wondered why they were acting so strange but before she had a chance to ask, Ella made a shattering announcement. "We aren't going on to California either. We're staying here, at Fort Laramie. Tom has asked me to marry him, and Charlie proposed to Hannah."

Hannah added, "Most of the other brides are staying, too. If they haven't already found somebody to marry, they will. There are lots of men looking for wives right here. Why should we keep on with this miserable trip?"

Jaime went pale and could only stare at her two friends in stunned disbelief.

"You see," Ella rushed on, putting an arm about Jaime in an attempt to console her, "Hannah is just plain worn out. And since the whole idea was for us to make a new life somewhere else, it doesn't have to be all the way out in California."

"But here?" Jaime gestured, eyes wide. "An army post in the middle of nowhere? And you only met these men two days ago—"

"At least we
met
them," Hannah defended. "We were on our way to marry complete strangers, remember? At least I've had a chance to get to know Charlie and see what a fine man he is. And it's the same with Ella.

"It's our lives," she said, lifting her chin, "and we can do what we want."

Ella spoke up to remind, "Once you get to California and find your father, you'll have a new life, too. You won't need us then, and you really don't need us now. You've got Ruth and Martha. Even Wilma is your friend, and though she and her husband grumble a lot about Captain Austin, they've decided to keep going since Imogene and her girls are turning back.

"You'll be fine," Ella went on, giving her another hug. "You've got to believe that."

But Jaime did not know what to believe anymore, for emptiness had already begun to gnaw at her.

And all of a sudden California seemed farther away than ever.

Chapter 7

As they continued onward, with Ruth and Martha finally taking turns driving the oxen, Jaime saw the road beyond Fort Laramie was littered with still more discarded household goods from those who had passed before. Soon they learned the reason, for they had begun the ascent of the Rockies in earnest, and it was better to lighten their loads as much as possible than to curse and beat the exhausted animals onward.

Barren land surrounded them. From a distance the mountainsides appeared green and lush, but as they drew closer, reality became dry sand and rocks, accented by stunted sage clumps and greasewood. A fifty-mile trek along the North Platte took them to the Sweetwater River; from there, the trail led deeper into the Rockies, and the scenery became more spectacular.

With so many having turned back, and only two women supposed to be in her wagon, Jaime had to be very careful lest she be noticed by Cord and his sentinels, Fletcher and Henderson. Gradually, the others learned of her presence, and they all conspired to keep her secret. As a result, she started feeling as though she were part of a huge family. It was wonderful. Despite the grueling trip, she was happier and felt better than ever before.

She had taken to spying on Cord whenever possible, a diversion she enjoyed. Hiding in the shadows, she would watch for him to drift away from the circle of wagons to take his nightly walk. She would follow, keeping a safe distance. Eventually, he would stop—to meditate, she supposed. If they were near water, a river or a stream, he would sit down, light up a cheroot, and stare quietly into the night.

Sometimes he would stay for hours, and so would she, playing a game with herself as she tried to guess what he was thinking. If it had been a particularly grueling day, she could tell by his restless fidgeting, the occasional sighs of disgruntlement. But after a good day, which meant one without incident, such as a broken wheel, collapsed animal, or sickness, he would sit quietly, obviously at peace with himself and the world around him.

She had come to realize there was a side to him others never saw. By day, he was unflappable, coldly reserved, forceful, and unyielding. But observing him as she did, she felt he was deeply concerned about his responsibilities. Maybe some felt he ruled with an iron fist, but she suspected that beneath the harsh facade he was a very sensitive man.

Some nights, despite the chill, he would strip off his shirt. When there was moonlight, she was awed by the sight of his muscular chest, powerful shoulders, and sinewy arms. Sometimes, he would take off everything and go for a swim or take a bath. And, again, if there was ample radiance, she would marvel shamelessly at his tight, sculptured buttocks, the backs of his rock-hard thighs.

The spying caused her no particular feelings of guilt, for no one knew. Her dreams were all that bothered her, stirring and haunted by wonder over what it was really like to be loved by a man. Images. Fantasies. She would awaken bathed in perspiration, feeling as though she were glowing inside and out.

And on those mornings after a passion-riddled night of imaginings, she felt a strange affinity for Cord she could not understand that evoked delighted shivers if she happened to see him. And, as always, she chided herself for such weakness.

* * *

Finally, they reached the eastern boundary of the Oregon Territory, but many did not rejoice over the milestone. Some wished they had turned back at Laramie, while others no longer looked to California as a land where hopes and dreams would be fulfilled.

Due to the increasing discontent, fueled by exhaustion, Cord found his job even more difficult. Like dry grass waiting to be struck and ignited by lightning, the atmosphere of the wagon train became volatile. Arguments increased, along with fist fights. Some of the women even engaged in hair pulling over trivial incidents. Accordingly, he had come to dread the nightly meetings, for they always turned into trying to resolve some dispute between families. Fighting seemed a welcome diversion to the misery of their existence.

The night Harry Turnage asked how long a layover they would have at Salt Lake, Cord knew what the reaction would be when he replied, "Two days."

"Two?" Harry echoed above the angry rumbling around him. "But it's our last big stop before crossing the Sierras."

Another voice joined in, also irate. "He's right. We deserve to stay longer than two days, for God's sake. We got to cross the Sierras, and we deserve a rest."

With a sigh, Cord asked wearily, "How many times do I have to say it: we've got to cross before the snows come? We could be blocked in the passes till the spring thaw. Even the relay riders suspend mail runs when the worst weather comes, and they've got those newfangled snowshoes for their horses. We've got to keep moving. Every day counts."

Wilma Turnage yelled, "I say we take a vote. Let the people decide how long we stay."

Cord felt his ire rising but managed to respond calmly. "As long as I'm wagon master, I'll make the decisions."