Trinity: Bride of West Virginia (Amercan Mail-Order Bride 35) (17 page)

“He really could use some ice, Winston. I know you don’t care about the prisoners, but I do. Can I get him some from the ice house?”

He sighed, leaning against the frame of the door. “I suppose. You seem awfully fond of Mr. Stott, Madeline.”

“She kissed him today,” said the man across the way. “I’d sure like it if a sassy little lass would come kiss me.”

“Oh, shut up!” Winston snapped. “I’ll get him some ice. You sit tight.”

Alone again with Jared, and an open door, I stared at the blood around his nose. “Does it hurt now?”

He smiled, grimacing. “It’s all right. If I’d known I’d get you to myself, I would’ve broken it earlier.”

I grinned. “You’re … ” I couldn’t get the words out, not even knowing what I wanted to say.

“I’m what?”

Being this close to him, I inhaled his manly scent, laced with whatever cologne or soap he used, hints of cedar wood and lavender lingering. Those eyes, so light and intriguing, the color of cold steel, had my full attention. He leaned nearer, his expression suddenly intense.

“I’m really happy to see you again, Madeline Ashton.” His lips brushed my cheek, sending a shiver straight through me. “You look fetching in that dress. I’m sorry I ruined it.”

I glanced at the blood splatters. “It doesn’t matter.”

A door slammed behind us, a shadow falling into the room. “Well, this is a strange excuse for a jail. Who leaves the door wide open?”

I glanced over my shoulder, seeing the bandit who had robbed me earlier today. “Tom Stott.”

He grinned. “In the flesh. Hello, little brother. You look like somebody smashed your face in.” His attention lingered on me. “I had no idea the jails around here had such pretty nurses. I’m liable to let myself get caught just to be administered to.”

Jared wasn’t surprised to see his brother, getting to his feet. “At long last. A family reunion. The venue couldn’t be more fitting.”

“It is indeed, but we’re going to have to take a rain check on the celebration. Are you coming with me or would you like to stay here and wait till they hang you?”

“I suppose I should, seein’ they think I’m a notorious train robber. I’m not too keen on dangling from a noose in the town square.”

Alarmed by these developments, I realized I might never see Jared again, my spirits plummeting. “I suppose this is goodbye then.”

Although bruised and battered, with a swollen nose and lip, he looked handsome, grinning. “No, sweetheart. We’ll meet again.” He brushed past me, his hand on my shoulder. “You’ve been a pearl. I’m sorry my brother robbed you and your friends. I’ll return that property to you, honey. I swear I will.”

“Time to skedaddle,” said Tom. “It’s now or never.”

Jared’s attention lingered on me, regret etched into the lines between his eyes.

Tom grabbed his arm. “For Pete’s sake. Out you go!” He pulled him from the cell, the men hurrying for the back door.

The prisoner had escaped. I had watched him go, and done nothing to stop it. I would never see Jared Stott again. I wondered when Winston would return, dreading it.

The man in the next cell laughed obnoxiously, “You’ll be all right, girly. He’ll be back. Then you can make sweet, sweet love.” He grinned, revealing a toothless smile. Then he mimicked kissing noises.

I rolled my eyes, as a nervous, embarrassed laugh escaped me, but I knew I was in trouble, in more ways than one.

End of Preview

Brides of the Rockies

Preview of
Crystabelle

It would be another two hours before the first of the travelers reached the river, our wagon being further down the line. Before anyone attempted to cross, we left our wagons, marching towards where Mr. McKinney and his men were, in discussion with several other men. The women stood near the banks of the waterway, their children tossing rocks in. Alarmed by the swiftness of the current, a moment of panic raced through me.

“Oh, my stars. This can’t be good.”

Mr. Cooper eyed the water, his expression displeased. “I’m not certain there’s an easier crossing. This seems to be the shallowest part.”

More of a flood than a river, the violence of the current had torn trees from its banks, the wood floating and bouncing downstream, disappearing around the bend.

I heard Laurence say, “I’ve been through worse. It’s not impossible, but we need to secure all belongings, including children. The last thing I want to do is drag a dead body out of this mess. It’s muddy and thick, like milk porridge. I can’t make out the bottom in the least.”

“We guide each wagon across, boss,” said Levi. “It’s one at a time. It’s the only way we can do this.”

“I agree.” Laurence glanced at the worried faces of the travelers. “We got no choice, folks. We gotta cross. We gotta cross now. Secure your things. Mind your children. Who’s first? Any volunteers?”

Several men spoke up, the miners wanting to give it a try, more out of bravado to impress the harlots, who stood by the banks observing the spectacle. I watched, as the first wagon went, its team of oxen none too pleased with the conditions, the water coming up past their bellies. They snorted their displeasure, but the brutes labored in the eddying current, pulling the cumbersome wagon to the other side.

“Next!” shouted Laurence, waving. He rode astride his horse, half submerged, the muddy water wetting his trousers, soaking his boots. “Come towards me!”

When the second wagon ambled over without incident, I felt somewhat heartened, hopeful we too would successfully cross. Joining Mr. and Mrs. Cooper, we waited our turn, as one by one, the wagons fought the rapid, roiling water, the banks lined with elm and cottonwood, the soil stripped away along the edges, revealing twisted roots.

The harlots traveled with other families, the occasional scream resonating, fear lacing the tone, as they ventured over the river, the oxen pulling the wagons up the embankment and further away to safety. I bit my fingernails, fretting about our turn, not wanting to travel in the wagon. Images of floating downstream filled my mind, a heady fear gripping me.

“I … wonder if it’s safe.”

Mrs. Cooper sat next to me. “It’s fine, my dear. You’ve nothing to worry about.”

“Maybe I could go on horseback? I'm not sure I want to … do this.”

Mr. Cooper untied the cow, handing her to Seth, who pulled the reluctant animal across, leaving her with the others to graze. When he returned, he eyed us expectantly.

“Your turn.”

Our wagon, not having a break, began to amble towards the embankment, the wheels crunching over rocks. The nearer we drew to the river, the worse my fear became. Images of drowning in the water, which carried what looked like crumbling mold and silt, brought a burst of bile to my throat, the taste sour. I hated feeling like this, wishing to be courageous and strong, like the others who had gone ahead. Swallowing the fear, I gripped the wood of the seat beneath me, praying to God that I would not perish today.

With the wagon ambling forward, a moment of sheer panic swept through me, stronger than the current in the river. I jumped from the wagon, my feet encountering water, the bottom of my dress soaked instantly. Scrambling for safety, I hurried back to where we had been, standing miserably, embarrassed by these actions, as the wagon began to cross.

“Crystabelle!” shouted Edna, glancing at me.

“I’m sorry! Don’t stop! You go on!”

“You silly girl!”

Annoyed with myself, I wrapped my arms around my belly, feeling decidedly irritated at my behavior. Everyone else had remained in their wagons, even the children tolerating the ride, some laughing with pleasure.

“I’m a coward,” I muttered.

A horse came my way, its rider familiar. “You forget somethin’, honey?” Mr. McKinney grinned, his legs drenched.

“I … I don’t know why I did that.” The wagon cleared the stream easily, the oxen steadfastly bringing it and its occupants to safety. Biting a nail, I dared not look at him, far too embarrassed.

“How do you propose to cross, Miss Marx?”

“I … I’m not sure.” Then I did look at him, not being able to hide the fear in my eyes, feeling petrified and ashamed.

His amusement faded. “Come here. I’ll take you over.” He reached for me, strong hands gripping my waist, as another wagon ambled towards the torrent, a family bravely defying the force of nature to reach the other embankment. I found myself seated, with both legs on one side of the saddle, and a firm arm around me. “How’s this?”

Gazing at him, I shuddered from the cold, my legs feeling icy. “I’m fine. I feel so stupid. I’m such a coward.”

“You’ve every right to be worried. Any number of things can go wrong. We’re very lucky so far. Anything can happen.”

He smelled of wet leather and horse. “I feel safer now, sir.”

“You do?” A grin emerged. “You looked petrified before.”

“I was. I had images of toppling over and floating downstream.”

“Can you swim?”

“No, sir.”

“Laurence.” His grip tightened around me. “Yaw!”

And with that, we crossed within seconds, the water wetting my clothing further. I hadn’t a moment to think about my fear before we trotted to the other embankment, as another wagon ambled in our direction. It had been easy—far too easy. The afternoon having worn on, the sun hanging low behind us, the colors vibrantly orange and purple, the streaks of sunset made for a pretty vista. Sitting with Laurence on his quarter horse, the animal feasting on the verdant grass, I succumbed to a moment of weakness, my arms encircling his neck, nearly knocking the hat from his person.

“Thank you.”

He held me close, his breath near my ear. “I’d rescue you anytime, honey.” The rough quality of his voice sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine. “I dare say; you’re becoming less and less annoying.”

“I thought I was braver than that.”

“You’re perfect just the way you are. You’re more than welcome to ride with me at the next river crossing. I’d be happy to escort you.”

Another wagon began its journey, filled with provisions and miners, the conveyance rocking precariously in the middle of the river. Being in Mr. McKinney’s arms with the sunset behind us, and the danger of the moment a distant memory, I found it slightly ironic, especially considering how I had confessed to not being a romantic in the least. The moment felt warm and comforting, the pleasure of being with Laurence singular and special, the feelings it stirred entirely passionate in nature.

“You sure are pretty. You’ve been a distraction from the start.”

A shout rang out then, slicing through my consciousness, bringing me back to reality. “Oh!”

Observing trouble, he set me down. “Sorry, darlin’, but duty calls.”

He spurred his horse to the water, the wagon having toppled over. Several men joined him, as provisions, crates, and tins floated downstream. Four men scrambled to their feet, soaked all the way through. With the wagon on its side and the canvas torn open, more foodstuffs, blankets, and bags of rice began to float, disappearing around the bend. No one had been injured, but the wagon would not budge, trapped in the middle of the river, water gushing around at all sides.

I stood near the embankment watching as the men gathered what they could, Laurence tying the wagon securely, while tossing the rope to Levi, who affixed it to a tree. Men grappled with the rope in hopes of dislodging the conveyance, pulling it apart instead, pieces of the axle splintering, a wheel floating free. They managed to remove most of it, although it could never be used in any capacity again, besides firewood. The miners who had lost everything, looked like drowned rats, one of them running down stream to look for provisions.

I joined the Coopers a short while later, finding them with another family. “Goodness, what a mess.” Mud encased my boots, while the bottom of the dress had stained terribly. “Did anyone lose anything?”

“No, my dear.” Mrs. Cooper frowned slightly. “You could have said you didn’t want to cross with us.”