Chapter 6

Clutching the stem of a black-eyed Susan, Neelie set one foot in front of the other, her steps punctuated by the sound of bawling cows, clanging pots and pans, and chattering children. Fabric bunnies and dolls poked out of the pockets on Maisie and her friend Gabi’s pinafores. Giggling about who-knew-what, the little girls followed a throng of boys, Lyall, Duff, and Angus among them. The wagons rolled single file, Otto Goben’s, led by Anna, and then the Kamdens’ wagons. Sixteen-year-old Hattie Pemberton held the lead on the farm wagon, and Blair, Ian’s oldest daughter, directed the lead ox on the Conestoga. Her grandmother perched on the bench, wearing her feathered hat like a crown.

While the animals’ hooves churned the dry dirt, Neelie’s mind roiled over recent events. Principally, her decision to leave the camp last night then being followed by Ian Kamden. Would Archie have even noticed she’d left?

“Someone hurt you.”

No matter how many times she asked herself why she’d disclosed so much to Ian, she couldn’t imagine a suitable answer. She hadn’t even told her brother that her husband had been killed after the war ended. No one but the gang Archie ran with knew how he’d treated her. And not one of them ever cared that he’d hurt her.

Yet a stranger out on the prairie had noticed.

Ian Kamden was as different as a buffalo from a prairie dog from the man she’d married and traipsed the west with like a vagabond. Like a common criminal. The Scotsman cared for his family. Despite his frustration with her, he’d given her a ride when she’d lost everything she owned. He didn’t even know her, and he’d seen to her needs.

Neelie swatted at the swarm of no-see-ums buzzing about. First thing that morning, Caleb had apologized for being so hardheaded about her being a shootist. He even said he was thankful she had the skill to protect the children.

“I’m repeating myself, but I’m so glad you’re here.” Anna smiled.

Neelie looked at her sister-in-law, who didn’t seem the least bit rattled by the clunking of yokes behind them, the buzzing gnats, or the sweat beaded on her forehead. “I am, too.” It wasn’t a lie. She was grateful Ian Kamden had stopped her last night.

Archie would say she’d gone soft for not organizing a shooting exhibition while she had a captive audience. And maybe he’d be right. But finding Caleb felt more like a second chance at family than a missed opportunity for a fleecing.

Neelie matched Anna’s steady stride. “I’m assuming you and Caleb were friends in Saint Charles before the wagons rolled out.”

A smirk lifted one corner of Anna’s mouth and brightened her blue eyes. “We’d met all right, in a dry goods store. But, at the time, friendship seemed quite impossible. Even during those first weeks on the road.”

“But you married him. Must have been something, uh, between you.”

“Antagonism, that’s what there was between us.” Anna giggled. “I’d backed out of marrying Boney Hughes.”

“The trail hand?”

“That’s the one. Caleb thought I was fickle and cruel. Didn’t like me in the least, and the feeling was mutual.”

“Something must have changed, because you two seem well matched. And not in the least antagonistic.”

Anna blushed. “Your brother is a real good man, though he can be more than a little stubborn, at times.”

“He was like that even as a boy.” Neelie cocked her head. “To be fair, it runs in the family.”

“I can see that.” Anna’s grin revealed a dimple in her cheek. “But you’re both in good company. My mother was a drinker and said I have the doggedness of a long winter. I thought I could separate her from the bottle, but in the end, I couldn’t save her. She got hold of some rotgut whiskey and died the other side of Fort Kearney.”

“I’m sorry.” Regret clutched Neelie’s throat, making her wonder if her own parents were still alive. She’d been too ashamed to send them a letter since she left home two years ago. “It sounds like we’ve all lost a lot. Caleb, his regiment. You, your brother and your mother. Ian, his wife.”

Anna glanced at the ragtag group of children flanking them. “And now,” she whispered, “those dear children are without a mother.”

Neelie nodded, a surprising lump forming in her throat. The four youngest ones had not hesitated to befriend her, coming to see her at her brother’s camp, walking with her on the trail, and thanking her for coming to their rescue with the cougar. Blair, being the oldest, had been given responsibilities looking after the Conestoga and her grandmother. They hadn’t done more than cross paths. The children needed a mother, especially on such a long journey and settling in new territory.

And she needed to keep her heart free of attachments.

“Good day, ladies.” The greeting came with a Scottish flair to it.

Neelie looked over her shoulder. Sitting atop his Palamino, Ian Kamden doffed his tam cap. He had referred to her as a lady, something that hadn’t happened since her first weeks in Santa Fe.

“Mr. Kamden.” Neelie worried a button on her shirt, suddenly wishing she’d taken more time to freshen up that morning.

“Please, call me Ian.”

“Ian, then. Good day.”

Anna pressed her lips together, but that didn’t hide the grin adding shine to her eyes. “You have any scuttlebutt to report?”

“I might. Boney’s back from scouting with Isaac.” His beard looked more red than brown in the sunlight. “He said we’ll camp upriver from an Arapaho settlement tonight.”

Good. Maybe she could get a proper washing in the river.

“He said they have moccasins to trade, if anyone is in need of footwear.” He glanced down at Neelie’s worn boots then over at the gaggle of children. “They minding their p’s and q’s?”

“And then some. Lyall gave me a shiny rock.” She pulled the stone from her pocket then raised the flower. “Maisie brought me this black-eyed Susan.”

Ian’s face blanched and his lips pinched together. Had she done something wrong? Was he upset because his children liked her?

He shifted in the saddle, and his coloring improved. “Maisie used to pick wildflowers for her mother.”

Neelie’s stomach clenched. Nodding, she focused on the Palomino’s muzzle. “You needn’t worry about them. I’ve been keeping an eye on the children, and they’re fine.”

“Thank you. It’s kind of you to help out.”

Was that what she was doing, helping out? Or was she growing attached despite her best intentions?

Neelie walked alongside the four oxen pulling Caleb and Anna’s covered farm wagon. Her new beaded moccasins peeked out from under her rolled trouser cuffs, making her smile. The Arapaho had gladly accepted a dozen of Anna’s beeswax candles for them, and Anna beamed with delight when she gifted them to Neelie. Today, Neelie insisted Caleb and Anna let her help out so they could spend some time together. Watching them ride off on Caleb’s Tennessee pacer and Anna’s bay, bantering and giggling, made Neelie’s heart ache for something more. Her brother and sister-in-law shared the kind of love she had once thought she had with Archibald. But she and Archie were never that sappy. Or even that kind to each other.

She’d been traveling with the wagon train company for eight days now. Before Caleb’s Bible reading that morning, the captain announced that they had another month or so to travel before reaching Fort Laramie. The caravan was slow going. Could she afford to wait that long before striking out on her own again?

Duff Kamden scuffled toward her, tugging at the blue kerchief at his neck. Lyall, Angus, and Maisie lagged behind him. “Miss Neelie, we saw the preacher and his missus out riding. Thought maybe you could use some company.”

“I’d like that. Thank you”

“There’s more.” Maisie raised up on her tiptoes, staring at Duff.

“Oh?”

“Yes, mem.” Duff adjusted the curled rope hanging from his shoulder. “We’ll be stoppin’ soon for a rest, and we want you to eat with us for the midday meal.”

She looked at his siblings. They smiled, their nods exaggerated. “Have you talked to your father about this?”

“He likes you now, Miss Neelie.” The freckles over the bridge of Duff’s nose danced when he smiled. “Miss Hattie said we’re having shortbread and ham. I’ll even get the extra stool out for you.”

Not an easy invitation to refuse.

Within the hour, the wagons formed a semicircle. Neelie walked to the back of the Kamden’s covered farm wagon. Still questioning her decision to accept the children’s invitation, she viewed the scene in the shadow of the wagon.

Little Maisie sat on a quilt in the grass, with Miss Hattie bent over her bare feet. Her brother, Lyall, sat beside her, burrs and foxtails covering his trousers and stockings. The eldest sister, Blair, stood at the back of the wagon, peering into the grub box. Duff stood off to one side, swinging a loop of rope. Several three-legged stools dotted the grass topped with various toys. Duff let the rope fly, lassoing Maisie’s cloth flop-eared bunny.

“Floppy!” Maisie’s screech split the air.

“Duff Kamden!” Hattie straightened abruptly, rocking the straw hat on her head. “Thanks to your tomfoolery, I like to have pushed this thorn deeper into your sister’s foot.”

“I’m practicing to be a cowboy.”

Hattie’s shoulders sagged in a deep sigh. “Practice somewhere else.”

Duff stuck his tongue out at Maisie. “The stupid bunny is all right.”

“Floppy’s not stupid.” Maisie pumped her hands, reaching for the doll. “Give her to me!”

Neelie took a step forward. “Duff, you heard your sister. Hand over the bunny.”

Hattie jerked around. “Ma’am. I didn’t see you there.”

His eyes wide, Duff took quick steps to his sister and thrust Floppy into her arms. “I’m sorry.” His apology was a bonus Neelie hadn’t thought to request.

No one could be more surprised by Neelie inserting herself into a family matter than she was. Since when had she taken it upon herself to be the children’s keeper?

“Miss Neelie!” Maisie looked up, her green eyes glistening with tears. “I’m glad you came to save me.”

If hearts could melt, hers just had. Something about this little one—these children—seemed to bring out the best in her. They made her wish things were different. For her. And for them. One thing was certain—these children needed a mother. Their mother. Hattie was in over her head and no doubt anxious to spend more time with her own family.

Neelie walked to the quilt where Hattie held tweezers over Maisie’s angry red foot. “What happened?”

Hattie peered up at her, a frown framing her mouth. “She decided to follow Lyall into a sticker patch.”

Blair closed the lid on the grub box and walked toward Neelie, carrying two cloth-wrapped bundles pressed against her plaid pinafore. “Did you need something?”

“Me and Angus and Maisie invited her to eat with us.” Duff set the coiled rope over his shoulder.

“Did you ask Faither?”

The girl’s cocked head and tight lips told Neelie she didn’t belong here. Ian had said so, too, even if he’d later claimed he was wrong and apologized. Clearly, his oldest daughter didn’t want her here. Neelie forced herself to take a deep breath. She’d faced down criminals and shady barkeeps. Was she really going to let a girl not yet ten intimidate her?

“Where is Angus?” Neelie asked.

Blair’s deep sigh pierced Neelie’s heart. Maisie might be ready to pick flowers for other women, but her big sister wasn’t feeling so accommodating. Something Neelie understood. She met Blair’s gaze. Blue-green eyes like her father’s.

“He went with my father to help Dr. Le Beau with a wagon wheel.”

“If this isn’t a good time for me to be here, I’ll go.” Neelie turned to leave.

“No. We want you to stay.” Lyall spoke from the blanket. “We do, don’t we, Blair?”

“Blair!” Mrs. Kamden peered out the front of the Conestoga, practically hanging on the canvas flap. “I’m feeling the vapors. I need you, dear.”

Blair held the two bundles out to Neelie. “Will you help me get the food set out?”

“Gladly.”

Sharpshooting might not impress Blair, but lending her a helping hand might make an impression. Neelie watched the girl take quick steps to the Conestoga. She couldn’t say why she wanted Blair to like her, but she did.

At the worktable, Neelie freed a stack of shortbread pieces from one of the bundles and salted venison from the other. After slicing the venison, she pulled a stack of tin cups from the box.

A gasp caused her to look up to where Ian stood with his mouth hanging open.

Ian couldn’t believe his eyes. Where Rhoda had been unassuming and constant, predictable, Neelie seemed to be none of those things.

Tin cup in hand, Neelie went to the pot boiling above the campfire. She filled the cup with coffee and held it out to him. “You’ll be trapping flies in there, if you’re not careful.”

“Thank you.” Ian closed his mouth and looked directly into her eyes. “You’re here? Preparing our meal? Is something the matter?”

Hattie cleared her throat but didn’t get up from the quilt where she sat with Maisie and Lyall. “Mrs. Kamden said she had a case of the vapors and needed Blair’s help.”

Duff walked toward him as if he’d been in a saddle all day. “We invited Miss Neelie to eat with us.”

Angus joined him, carrying a stick. “Today when we were walking, and she said yes.”

“Blair was upset we didn’t ask you,” Duff added.

“Then Nana needed Blair.” Maisie clung to the fabric rabbit her mother had made.

“I told Blair I’d help.” Neelie removed the lid from the mustard jar. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Ian drew in a deep breath, trying to ease the tension tightening his stomach. It felt foreign to see another woman in his camp, taking charge. Serving him. He drew in another deep breath, savoring the rich scent of the coffee, then looked her in the eye. Eyes the color of the brew with a drip of cream in it. “I’m glad you’re here. Uh, sounds like we needed your help.”

Neelie looked away, toward the worktable. “I think I have it all laid out.”

Following Hattie’s explanation of Lyall and Maisie’s venture through a weed patch and Blair settling her grandmother for a rest, seven of them each grabbed shortbread and meat from the table and settled onto a stool. He sent Hattie back to her wagon to eat with her brother and mother.

Most of the conversation centered around the dry heat, chapped lips, and sticker patches. Although Neelie mentioned her love of the trees in Tennessee. Before he’d drained his second cup of coffee, Ian was fighting a sudden urge to walk among the trees with a certain sharpshooting widow.