The Western Dare (Harlequin Heartwarming) (22 page)

“Is something wrong?” Emily shifted in her chair and placed a hand on his arm. “Did the hash dry out? I can scramble some eggs.”

“It’s not the food. Would you like to live in the country again, Emily?”

She stiffened, then lifted one shoulder slightly. “I haven’t thought about it. I’ve thought of running away to a desert island, or to a remote cabin in the mountains. But I learned from my dad, who farmed and dealt with the fickleness of the elements all his life, that you have to face trouble head-on. He always said you could leave your problems behind but not your conscience. In my case, they amount to the same thing.”

“I assume you mean you’ve dreamed of escaping, of leaving behind your husband’s debts—and your in-laws.”

“That’s all it is—a dream. In today’s world it’s impossible for an honest person to simply disappear.”

“But what if someone paid your in-laws every last cent you owe?”

Face wreathed in smiles, eyes dancing, she said, “That mythical white knight on a fire-breathing steed? I know he doesn’t exist.”

Camp brooded a moment, trying to fit himself into that armor she teased about. He hadn’t tapped the trust fund his grandparents had set up. His folks and Sherry thought he should use some of it to hire a construction crew to finish his house. He’d much preferred doing the work himself. Now...

Emily rose, stretched like a contented cat and took the empty plate from Camp’s nerveless hands. “Talk about a tough day. You look positively catatonic. Nice as it is to sit and solve the problems of the world, I suggest we call it a night.”

Studying her bright hair and slender back as she efficiently set the pots and bowls to soak, Camp realized she didn’t have a clue as to the thoughts running through his head. And because she didn’t, he decided to bide his time. No sense jumping the gun, scaring her off. He had several weeks left on this trip. Time to talk Megan around. Time to let all the pieces click in his own mind. Although his arms ached to hold Emily close through the chilly night, he settled for an unsatisfying hug and a friendly good-night kiss.

Emily watched him put out the fire, wondering how even the simplest kiss from him affected her so strongly. She wrapped those feelings close as he escorted her to the back of her wagon. And thanked him politely when he offered her a hand up. But she sat in the darkness for a long while, listening to her daughter’s even breathing, fancying she’d just left that knight on the fire-breathing steed.

Ah, but she was a fool. If Nolan Campbell hadn’t found a damsel in distress to rescue in his thirty-eight years, he wasn’t likely to start with a widow who had two kids and more than her share of troubles.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Not even the toughest men who sought to tame the West messed with Mother Nature.”

—Awakened by a storm, Camp recalled this relevant tidbit from one of his lectures.

W
IND
,
BLOWING
THINGS
around outside, jolted Camp into wakefulness. He’d sat up long after parting from Emily, integrating Sherry’s account of her meeting with Professor Lock into his notes. Sherry skirted certain facts on her data sheet. Brittany’s diatribe would make a movie. And then there was his own encounter with the man....

Yawning, he climbed from his sleeping bag, immediately registering a severe drop in temperature. Now he knew why Maizie had insisted they stock up on long underwear. His were still in plastic bags. “Brr!” He rubbed his pebbled flesh. Once he had the long johns out and on his body, he applauded Maizie’s foresight.

Outside in the biting wind, Camp grabbed for things such as coffeepots and aluminum lawn chairs that whizzed along the ground. When the wake-up call sounded, he’d collected quite a few, including two webbed chairs belonging to Maizie, whose wagon sat the length of a football field away.

“Thanks, sonny,” she panted, running up. “Glad you’re up and around early. Don’t know if we’re in for a major blow, or if this is a lagging tail from yesterday’s storm.”

“I heard rumors of a gulf hurricane,” he said.

“Don’t like the sounds of that. Nosirree!”

“Should we batten down the hatches and stay put?”

Maizie’s faded eyes probed the blustery sky that had begun to lighten. “We’re sittin’ geese here. If we leave soon, with any luck we can make Round Mound or Rabbit Ears before she really cuts loose.”

No sooner had she spoken than Robert hurried toward them, resembling a bear in his leather hat with ear flaps and his heavy, plaid mackinaw. “Putrid-looking clouds to the southeast. What’s your take on them? Are we headed into trouble?”

Maizie unwrapped a square of bubble gum. “Campbell heard there’s a hurricane in the Texas gulf. I figure we got seven, eight hours of drivin’ before we know whether she dies on the vine or not. You two tell everybody we’re rollin’.”

Roll out they did after sorting through the tangle of property. They made short work of necessary chores, and no one mentioned breakfast. Even the horses sniffed the wind and laid back their ears. As usual, the Clydesdales took things in stride. The Belgians and Percherons frisked around, edgy as spring colts.

Camp stopped Mark before he pulled out. “Seems we’ll be bucking a stiff head wind, son. Fall in behind Robert. Let his wagon block the wind.”

“What about Sherry and the teachers? And Mom’s driving four Belgians.”

“I know.” Camp rested a hand on Mark’s arm. “They’re all good drivers. Jared’s a backup if anyone needs a break. Our first scheduled stop is McNees Crossing. We’ll touch base then.”

“Okay. And Camp, thanks for not making me turn this wagon over to Jared now. I know he’s older and has more experience.”

“You’re doing fine, Mark. Just remember, a real man recognizes his limitations. He’s not afraid to ask for help.”

The boy bobbed his head. “I understand. You never preach like Toby. When you say stuff, I understand what you mean. I wish you were my dad, Camp.”

Hunched inside his jacket, Camp massaged the back of his neck. “I’ll keep that in mind.” As he stood dumbly watching Mark guide his team into line, Gina Ames poked her head through the back canvas.

“If it matters, Campbell, you get my vote, too. The way Sherry talked before the trip, I figured you for a real chauvinist. Always nice to be pleasantly surprised.” Disappearing again, she tied the canvas closed.

Stunned, Camp moved toward his wagon. What did Gina mean? It sounded as if she and Sherry had been in contact prior to the trip.

“Camp? Is something wrong?” Emily slowed her wagon.

“Nothing.” He strode to her side and covered one of her gloved hands with his own. “Are you wearing long underwear?” All the trekkers but Emily looked as if they’d gained five pounds overnight. Camp didn’t want her suffering if she’d forgotten.

“What a thing to ask.” Her husky laugh volleyed on the wind. “Mine are silk,” she said, smoothing a hand along her leg. “Not as bulky as cotton, and warmer.”

“Pu-leeze, Mother!” Megan stuck a tousled head out into the blustery wind. Just as fast, she withdrew it. “If I told a guy what underwear I had on, you’d feeak out.”

Emily blushed furiously and slipped a neck scarf she had hidden beneath her jacket up over her ears. She slapped her reins repeatedly and the wagon lumbered off.

Camp followed her lead. As if his team sensed something in the air, they lunged against their traces.

Mile after brutal mile, the wind clawed at the drivers’ clothing. Less than two hours on the road, the canvas ripped loose from one side of the teachers’ wagon. Sacks, papers and clothing blew out and fell with a thud or danced across the prairie. The entire train stopped. Mark and Jared ran to corral the flapping, ghostly apparitions before they spooked more horses. The heavy canvas bucked and leaped constantly as Camp and Robert fought to tie it down.

Emily and Sherry parked, joining the chase for free-floating debris. They returned with the booty, breathless, faces red and chapped.

“Whew!” Emily rewrapped her neck scarf. “Now I know why pioneer women looked old before their time. This wind is murder!”

Sherry pulled out a tube of lip balm. “I’m sure this is cheating,” she said, aiming a grimace at her brother. “But I never agreed to end this trip looking like a crocodile.”

He turned up his sheepskin-lined collar. “I don’t recall asking you to.”

“You said women couldn’t give up creature comforts for the time it’d take to go from Missouri to Santa Fe.”

“Lyle said that.” Camp stripped off one glove. “If you share that stuff, I promise this weak moment will never find its way into my sordid tale.”

“Go ahead, tell the world I’m a wuss.” Sherry slugged him on the arm before she handed over the tube.

“Ouch.” He rubbed the spot. “Hit some poor man in the head with a slab of cordwood, and now you beat up on me. Maybe I should warn the world about this streak of violence in Sherilyn Campbell.”

She two-stepped around him, thumbing her nose as if ready to box. “Yesterday was self-
defense.” Pausing, she eyed Camp and Emily, who laughed openly at her antics. “You two look so...so outdoorsy. Like you enjoy this misery.”

Camp rested his forehead against Emily’s. They both grinned foolishly.

“See what I mean?” Sherry groaned. “There you go again. What’s with you two? Anybody would think you’re...involved or something.”

Camp hurriedly smeared balm on his lips.

Emily hunched against the wind. ‘I don’t like storms. But...I feel alive out here. Free. You know how tense I’ve been, Sherry.”

Capping the balm, Camp flicked a puzzled glance between the women. “That gives the impression that you two go back a ways.”

“Oh.” Emily covered her lips. Why had she promised Sherry that she’d hide their friendship from her brother?

“Didn’t you think Emily seemed tense the first time you met her?” Sherry asked breezily.

Her reply was too cavalier to suit Camp. He’d wondered before if Sherry and Emily had met through work. Perhaps they thought it’d skew his results. Or his perceptions. He’d have to consider whether it would.

Camp was glad that Maizie cupped her hands and gave her famous “Roll ’em” yell just then. He wanted some time to mull over how Emily’s comment fitted with Gina’s earlier statement. Or even
if
it did. It stood to reason that Sherry and Emily might have met at a conference, but how would either of them have known Gina?

What bothered him most was the fact that they’d—probably—lied. In some sort of conspiracy, yet, orchestrated—probably—by his loving sister. However, he didn’t have time to worry about any of this now.

“See you at McNees Crossing,” he said, giving each woman a brisk nod. “Can’t say I like the color of that sky.”

“Maybe it’s the sun trying to break through the clouds,” Emily murmured.

“Maybe.” Camp didn’t tell her that the only other time he’d seen a sky like that, a twister had demolished his uncle’s new brick house while the entire family huddled next door in the garage. Camp had been twelve, Sherry just a child. They’d gathered for a Campbell reunion and had steaks barbecuing on the outdoor grill, he recalled, when his mother noticed the muddy yellow sky. The group barely had time to seek refuge before a funnel cloud appeared out of nowhere. He’d never forget the wreckage.

Camp wished he’d made time for a word with Maizie about that sky. But he didn’t want to pull out of line and leave Emily unprotected.

Everyone was jittery, miserable and starved by the time Maizie called a short break at McNees Crossing. They sat on a wind-buffeted promontory looking down on the North Canadian River, now a mass of boiling whitecaps and deep whirlpools.

“Get these wagons across to the other side and keep moving,” their leader ordered. “If you’ve got something to nibble on, do. We’re not stopping.”

“It’s inhumane to drive us like donkeys,” Philly shouted. “We need rest and food. We ought to rebel.”

Maizie blew a giant pink bubble. The wind popped it. “Fine. Go ahead and stay. Prove you’re a moron. If you’d ever had the pleasure of butting heads with a twister, Philadelphia, you’d be shakin’ your bootie. I sure don’t fancy being caught on this plateau.”

“Twister?” Harv spit. “Those clouds are miles away. You’re bluffing. Running us to death because we lost time on account of those brats.”

“Uh-huh! It’s your pee-rogative to believe what you will. Ford this river one wagon at a time. Robert, you first. Stay east of that scrawny patch of rabbitbrush, and try not to drift downstream. Mark, can you make it on your own?”

Mark huddled in his fleecy jacket. His freckles stood out rust-colored against a pasty face. “I’m pretty tired. If Jared doesn’t need to help my mom or Sherry, I’ll ask him to drive a stretch for me.”

In her aviator’s cap that buckled firmly under the chin and a down coat pulled on over her fringed leather jacket, Maizie looked like an unhappy troll. “Emily and Sherry, listen up. I want one person per set of reins. Emily, you’re the experienced driver so you take the downriver side, giving Megan the up. Sherry and Brit, do the same. Doris, you and Vi decide which of you has the most power. Jared, give Mark a hand.”

Camp looked at the grim faces of the people Maizie had singled out. Megan seemed close to hyperventilating. Brittany’s face was a frozen mask.

Robert drove in close to his mother. “What if Camp and I tie the saddle horses to our wagons, cross, then swim them back to drive the women’s wagons over?”

Her eyes turned flinty. “Extra time we don’t have, Robby.”

“You’re the boss,” Camp grunted, still disturbed by the bruised-looking sky.

“Glad somebody recognizes that fact.” Maizie glowered at Harv Shaw. “Here’s the plan. Robert leads, followed by Emily and Megan. Then you, Camp. Sherry and Brittany next. Jared and Mark. Doris and Vi, then Harv. I’ll ford last, pushing spare stock ahead of me. Hop to it,” she yelled.

Robert made it across without incident. Emily’s lead horse stumbled and went to his knees.

Behind and upstream too far, Camp felt powerless to render aid. He continued on, teeth clenched, feeling Emily’s struggle to help her horse. Camp’s facial muscles didn’t relax until the front wheels of Em’s wagon found purchase in the shallows. He ran to her, shouting, “Good job!” Megan literally fell into his arms. Surprised, Camp offered comfort. The minute she realized what she’d done, she shoved him aside.

Midpoint in the raging river, Sherry battled her own demons. Brittany stared at the water as if entranced. The lead horse on her side reared, ripping the reins from her limp grasp. Snaking leather confused the team. They panicked, then stopped. No amount of coaxing on Sherry’s part could set the animals in motion.

Robert grabbed a rope and ran along the crumbling bank. Slick as any cowboy, he twirled a noose and dropped it neatly over the balky Percheron’s head. Between Robert and Camp, who threw his weight into the rope, they forced the team ashore.

Sherry wanted to throttle Brittany. But then the younger woman fell apart, and Sherry felt bad. “It’s all right, Brit. We made it okay. Don’t cry.”

Though shaken by Sherry’s experience, the others crossed safely.

“I know you’re all right proud of yourselves,” shouted Maizie, her words torn from her by the wind. “That storm is moving faster than we are. Save your attaboys and girls till we’re in the cradle of Rabbit Ears. Twixt here and there is open prairie. Line up four abreast. I’ll bring up the rear again. Anyone spots a funnel, yell like crazy. Everybody up on the seats, ready to jump and roll under the wagons if need be.”

“What about me?” Gina tapped her splint and her cast.

“I’ll help you,” Mark said staunchly. “I won’t leave you. That’s part of what you’re paying me for.”

Emily’s pride in Mark’s mature response was replaced by distress as Megan began to weep. She dragged her daughter closer, taking her own comfort from the warm hand Camp pressed to her shoulder.

Harv Shaw hitched his pseudo-western belt buckle higher on his paunch and swaggered over to Maizie. “Your brochure didn’t mention tornadoes.”

“Sorry, they’re hard to order for every trip,” she drawled sarcastically.

His bulbous nose flared. “This isn’t funny.”

“It sure isn’t. My neck’s on the line, too. So quit palavering and hit the road. The sooner we find cover, the better.”

“Why did you let all these women and kids come? They’ll slow us down.”

“Shut up.” Camp stalked around Emily and grabbed Harv by his jacket front. “These women aren’t pitching half the fit you are. They’re doing their jobs! And to top it off, they aren’t your concern.”

Emily applauded, slow and loud. Sherry and Gina joined in.

Philly brushed Camp’s hands aside. He stomped off, muttering darkly. “Far as I’m concerned, it’s every man for himself. Don’t expect me to baby any foolish women. Me and the missus are taking off. Catch us if you can.”