Orchids in Moonlight (24 page)

"So tell that to my heart," she whispered bitterly and kept on walking, head down so no one would notice the tears.

Chapter 15

The storm fully abated, and once more the travelers were blessed with good weather. But while everyone else rejoiced over drawing closer to their destination, Jaime's hurt increased over the way Cord avoided her.

She walked with the women. At first, she had been a source of curiosity. They had fallen eagerly in step every day to ask questions. Some were friendly, while others were prying, but all she would reveal about herself was that she was going west to meet her father. Eventually they gave up, and conversations focused on the journey at hand.

One afternoon, when she was walking with Jerusha Potter, Cord reined in on Jerusha's side. It was his habit to make sure he took time to speak to each and every adult during the day to ensure all was well, and also, Jaime knew, to bolster spirits, if necessary—but never did he address her directly. He always made sure she was with someone else.

Jerusha, who never seemed to need cheering, greeted him warmly. "It's always good to have a chance to chat with you, captain. How about telling us what we'll find when we get to Sacramento? I can't wait. Crossing these mountains has been the worst part of the trip, I tell you."

Cord stole a look at Jaime from the corner of his eye. As always, when he was around her, he could tell she was worried about the way he was treating her. He felt a flash of regret but knew it was best for both of them.

Responding to Jerusha's question, he said, "You're going to find quite a boomtown there, that's for sure. John Sutter settled there first and built a huge fort, but he fell on hard times and sold out. His place is in ruins now, but for a time it was the first bit of civilization the earlier pioneers saw after leaving the East."

"Oh, dear, if it's expensive to find lodging there, we'll have to keep going. We don't have very much money with us."

Jaime grimaced to think how she didn't have any. She hadn't worried before, because Ruth and Martha had promised they would persuade their new husbands to help her when they got to California. Now she had no one and didn't know what in the world she was going to do when she reached San Francisco to keep from starving and have a roof over her head till she could locate her father. Still, she figured she was actually in no worse shape than she was the night she left home so long ago. She hadn't had a cent to her name then either.

Cord told Jerusha he was taking them to a place they would find clean, fairly comfortable, and most of all, cheap. "It's run by some Kanakas that Sutter brought from the Sandwich Islands, and they offer the same hospitality he used to give the earlier pioneers. It's at the edge of town, away from the gambling halls and saloons. I can promise you'll like it, because I know from firsthand experience." Kicking his horse into a trot, he called with a grin, "We'll be there before you know it."

Still not glancing at Jaime, he rode on to the next group of walkers.

Jaime stared after him with longing but told herself for probably the thousandth time that he had made no promises and owed her nothing. Theirs had been a melding of spirit and body sired of desperation and loneliness. The needs that had brought them together no longer existed; therefore, they had no further ties to each other.

With a determined lift of her chin, she knew she was stronger for the experience, no matter how deep the heartache. She had learned so very much. When it came right down to it, there was nobody she could depend on except herself. Everyone she depended on had let her down.

Yet from deep within, something reminded her that the trip wasn't over. She hated that niggling feeling which kept hope alive. Truly, she yearned to forget yesterday's passion, but her secret self was not ready to let go.

* * *

It started snowing again, and for two days they walked in the swirling flakes, grateful the temperature had not dropped sufficiently to allow accumulation. "Living on borrowed time," was how Cord put it when he spoke to them at night, as they huddled about the huge fire built within the ring of wagons. Any time, the skies could open and relentlessly cover them with several feet of frozen white, so they pushed ever onward, despite weariness and chill.

Finally, they came down a rocky slope and headed up a slight incline. Cord promised they were about to gaze on a landscape dotted with farms and houses leading into the bustling port city of Sacramento. At last, civilization loomed.

Thaddeus Potter ran ahead. "I see it!" he yelled, and pointed. "Sacramento. The river. Everything. It's a real city!"

The men broke into a run to join him, yelling so loudly that horses began to stamp about nervously. Women abandoned their children to run to their husbands in unbridled joy. Some wept with near hysteria, arms tightly about each other. The youngsters broke into cartwheels and dances.

Jaime stood to one side, relieved to have arrived but not wanting to intrude on family celebrations. She noted Cord was also hanging back from the others and wondered how it would have been had they not stumbled on the stalled wagon train. Would they have grown closer? Would they now be clinging together, dizzy with plans for a future they would share? Perhaps not, but at least they would not regard each other as strangers.

As promised, Cord led them to the lodge, situated on the grounds of what had once been Sutter's Fort.

A few buildings still remained but were in great disrepair.

The dark-skinned Kanakas greeted them warmly. The men helped unhitch the mules, oxen, and horses and took them to shelter. The women showed the weary travelers inside the warm lodge, where they reveled in the smell of their first good meal in too long to remember.

The menfolk drifted away to celebrate with whiskey, cider, and cigars, while the women began settling their children before offering help with supper.

Jaime found herself alone once more. It was a time for families, and she had no one.

One of the Kanaka women, a plump, motherly sort, noticed her standing to one side. Walking over, she offered a big smile, said her name was Tolah, and then asked, "Is anything wrong? You aren't joining the others to make merry.''

Jaime was quick to assure her everything was fine, but she had neither appetite nor family to make merry with and would appreciate being shown to her quarters and told where she could take a real bath in a real tub.

Tolah pursed her lips thoughtfully. "By yourself, eh? Well, I just found out all the rooms will be taken by the families, but there's a place we use for storage. I'll find a cot while you get your bath. Then you'll feel like celebrating."

Jaime doubted it but said nothing.

She was led upstairs and down a wide hallway to a room no larger than a closet. It was cluttered, but Tolah began shoving around boxes and crates and remarked, "At least it's better than the back of a wagon."

Jaime was quick to agree.

After bathing, she put on her clean dress. They had camped two nights ago by the river, and, like the other women, she had done her laundry, wanting everything fresh for arriving in Sacramento. Now she realized she actually did feel better. She was also hungry, her appetite whetted by the delicious smells wafting up.

Hiding her satchel way under the narrow bed that Tolah had brought in, Jaime brushed her long gold hair, pinched her cheeks for rosiness, pasted on her brightest smile, and descended the stairs.

With so many crowded into the lodge, it was necessary to take turns at table. The men were served first, then the women, and finally the children, with whom Jaime found herself seated, since she was late.

By the time she finished, the men had disappeared once more with their cigars and whiskey, and the women were starting to bed down the children.

Because so many families needed shelter, they spilled over into cabins in the rear. Jerusha, assigned to one of them, had her brood in tow as she headed out the back door and paused to say to Jaime, "I'm glad you made it down in time to eat. I got worried when you didn't sit with the women, but one of the Kanakas—Tolah, I think her name is—said you wanted to settle in."

"I wanted a bath," Jaime explained, "and now I feel much better. I still can't believe we're here. Do you know how long before we continue on?"

"Lem and the others are talking with Captain Austin about that now." She frowned. "There seems to be some differing opinions as to how long we should stay. Some are so worn out they'd like to rest a week or longer and take in the sights of the town. Some, like me and Lem, want to keep on going after a day or two. I'm sure something will be decided tonight, though." Giving Thaddeus a little push, she continued on her way.

Jaime hoped those wanting to leave won out, for she was anxious to reach her destination.

Tolah set a huge bowl of apple dumplings in front of her. "I don't think I can." Jaime frowned, hand on her stomach to indicate she was full.

"Eat," Tolah said with mock sternness. "You're thin as a rail."

She took a bite. It was delicious, but she had eaten more at this meal than at any other in the past months and was stuffed. Tolah had returned to the kitchen, so she pushed back the dessert and quietly left the dining room.

The men had gone into the living room, but she discovered a small parlor at the end of the hall. No one was around, so she sank down on the couch in front of a cozy fire and began to mull over what she should do. There was no point in asking Lem or any of the others to help her look for her father. They all had families and their own business to tend to. They had no time to concern themselves with her problems. Maybe she should just get up her nerve and confront Cord, despite the way he'd been treating her, and offer him a strictly business proposition. She had no way of paying him now, but if he would wait for his money—

"Well, well, so this is where you ran off to. I been looking for you, little lady."

Jaime jumped, startled at the sight of the bearded man towering over her. He wore an outfit of deerskin, stained and worn, suede boots laced to his knees, and a wide-brimmed felt hat.

Without asking, he dropped to sit beside her. "You're one of Austin's women, aren't you?"

She inched away from him. "I came with Captain Austin's wagon train, yes," she said uneasily.

"Where's the rest?" He glanced about the room as though others might be obscured by the shadows.

Jaime asked thinly, "What are you talking about?"

"The women Austin told me he was going east to get last time he came through here. All the ones I seen so far look like they got husbands already. You're one of them, ain't you?" He licked his lips in anticipation like a dog about to happily devour a bone. "I was watching you through the dining room window, eatin' with the younguns. I didn't see no man around, so I figured you was on your way to San Francisco to meet up with one."

He did not give her time to protest, slinging a beefy arm about her shoulder to yank her close as he proudly declared, "Well, you ain't got to go there, 'cause here I am. I told Austin to bring me one, that I didn't care what she looked like, just so she was female, but I sure did luck up with you. You're real pretty."

"No. No, you've got it all wrong." Jaime pushed at him, but he held tight. "I'm not one of the brides. They dropped out a long time ago—"

He chuckled. "Well, that don't matter. You got a husband?"

"No, and I don't want one. Now let me go." She pushed at his barrel-like chest with both hands but to no avail.

He ignored her protests. "I can take real good care of you. Give you a good home, lots of younguns too."

She stared at him, wide-eyed and incredulous.

"The name is Cotter. Link Cotter. I got my own place north of here. Got a cabin, too. Winnie, she was my first wife, died last year tryin' to birth our first youngun. It died too. I ain't been able to find nobody to take her place—till now." His lips spread in a snaggletoothed grin.

She saw it coming—the kiss he intended—and ducked in time for his mouth to strike her forehead instead. With a cackling laugh, he caught her chin in his burly hand and held her, viselike. "Aw, come on, little lady. You and me are gonna get along fine. Now give me a little kiss, and then we'll go find Austin and I'll pay him whatever he's askin' for bringing you to me."