Chapter 8

Ian wrung his hands. He sat on a trunk, alone in the Conestoga, wearing clean brown trousers and the yellow dress shirt Rhoda made for him before they left Saint Charles. And now, less than four months later, he was about to marry someone else. And why?

That was the question Neelie had asked when he delivered his proposal two days ago. We need each other. That was what he’d said, but was convenience enough?

How convenient would being married to a pistol-toting woman who looked more like a frontiersman truly be? Ian swatted at a pesky fly.

On the trail, it could be plenty convenient to have the added protection of an ace shooter following his children around. He smiled, remembering Neelie’s response to his scolding about her shooting demonstration for the children. “Mr. Kamden, I hardly think cougars care whether it is the Lord’s Day or Tuesday when their stomachs take to growling. Do you?”

Sassy but efficient. He could live with that.

In addition to the widow’s ability to defend his children, she seemed to have gained their respect in a short time. Hattie had told him how Duff quickly returned the fabric bunny to Maisie in response to Neelie’s prompting and even apologized to his sister. And Maisie had expressed her approval of the widow when she picked a black-eyed Susan for her.

Ian scrubbed his freshly trimmed beard. Neelie hadn’t said much about her life with her husband, and she seemed to regret saying what little had spilled out. Someone had killed him. After the war. Was her tough exterior and sharpshooting meant to protect more than her grief? Her heart, as well?

He couldn’t blame Neelie for wanting to leave the past behind and start over out west. He was doing the same thing.

Ian reached for the tin photograph he’d set on the salt barrel and traced the lines of Rhoda’s face with a quivering finger. He doubted his ability to let go of the past with Rhoda. But, for the sake of his young ones he needed to think of the future, not the past. Tugging at his shirt collar, Ian drew in a deep breath. He was doing the right thing for his family.

“Faither?” Blair called. “The preacher asked if you’re ready.”

Standing, Ian ran his finger over the rough lines in Rhoda’s image then slid the tintype back into the trunk and closed the lid.

“If you’re not, I can tell the captain and Mr. Caleb so.”

“I’m ready.” Ian stepped out over the seat.

Blair stood at the tongue of the wagon, her clasped hands bouncing against her skirt. Not yet ten, she carried the weight of his collapsed world on her narrow shoulders. If his marrying Neelie could lighten the burden for his daughter, then doing so was more than mere convenience.

It was a necessity.

Neelie wouldn’t admit it, but she needed him, too, and his family. Ian climbed down from the wagon.

Blair chewed her bottom lip.

“I know this is hard for you. Me marrying again.” He set a hand on her shoulder.

The strain of grief in her blue-green eyes pierced his heart. “I just wish Mither could come back to us.”

“I do, too.”

Blair sighed. “I know that’s not going to happen.”

Ian shook his head. He missed Rhoda, but the hardest part of losing her was watching his children suffer in their loss. Marrying Neelie wouldn’t right everything that felt wrong, but having her around would ease some of the burden.

Ian captured his daughter’s hand. “She can’t replace your mother. No one can. That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

“I know.” Blair tugged at her bodice as if it were too tight. “But she’s nothing like Mither.”

An understatement, if he’d ever heard one. “No. She isn’t.”

That was the only reason he could marry her. The fact that she wore trousers, a sombrero, and a gun belt assured him that he’d never confuse his emotions and forget Rhoda.

Neelie perched on the rim of a cask, staring at the shadow cast by a dim candle on the canvas. She still wore the green calico dress Anna had loaned her for the brief ceremony. Now that it was all said and done, she was expected to sleep in Ian’s farm wagon with Maisie, Duff, Lyall, and Davonna.

The older woman fidgeted in a hammock across the back of the wagon while the three children slept curled on trunks. Neelie turned to glance out through the flap she’d tied open. The countless stars that had served as her blanket most nights reminded her of the freedoms she’d lost. Freedoms she’d given away for a different surname and a place to hide out while she made her way west.

Was it just because she felt sorry for Ian’s motherless children? Or because what Ian had said rang true? She’d grown weary of a life with strangers who placed bets on her. A life without family.

“Dear.”

Neelie looked at the hammock, where Davonna Kamden held the ruffle of her nightcap up above her eyes like a curtain.

“You look lost, dear.”

“I suppose I am, ma’am. I’ve never slept in a wagon before.”

“Think of it like a cabin, dear. Only smaller.” Davonna looked at the canvas ceiling above her swinging bed. “And the roof and walls dance.” She waved her arm, nearly upsetting the hammock. “But the sad truth is, it’s nothing like home.” Home. A job and a room at a boardinghouse in San Francisco—that was what Neelie had been working toward the past six weeks.

“You’ll get used to it.” The smile in Davonna’s eyes seemed genuine. “Some of it. That blowing dust, you just can’t get away from it. We haven’t had a real bad thunderstorm yet.” She shivered. “I sure hope we don’t.” The older woman seemed more like a vulnerable and frightened child than a pioneer.

“I encountered one last summer in Arizona Territory.”

Davonna sighed. “Well, now you have a good husband to take care of you.”

A man who hadn’t said ten words to her since the ceremony.

“Ne … What was your name, again, dear?”

“Neelie.”

“I can’t seem to remember that. But you look real pretty in that dress.”

“Thank you.”

“I could tell my son liked it, too. I was watching him.”

Neelie had seen Ian’s reaction, too. She doubted he thought her pretty though. Probably just struck him how different she looked. But it didn’t matter whether he liked it or not. Tomorrow she’d go back to her old way of dressing. Ian had made his expectations clear, and she couldn’t afford to have affection for someone who didn’t care for her in that way.