Chapter Ten

 

The sounds of activity woke me. I groaned and rolled over, tugging the comforter over my head. It was so-o early. I lay still for a few more seconds and must have fallen back to sleep because the next thing I knew, a loud, unmelodious bugle blared loud and clear. Right beside my head.

I shot upright, hand clutching my chest. Was it deliberate? Or just a chance proceeding?

I groaned again and swung my feet out from under the covers, feeling short of sleep. I comforted myself with the thought of having, later in the day, a comfortable shoulder to lean against when I needed a nap. I grinned, thinking of the long, glorious day ahead. Well, soon as I had a gallon or two of coffee onboard.

It took a bit of gyrating to get dressed in the confines of the wagon, but I was decently covered and presentable a few minutes later. I tucked my wild curls under the bonnet I was now happy to have, then jumped to the ground.

The camp was in full worker-bee mode, people scurrying about, some preparing breakfast, some already packing up. Yikes. I’d better get a move on. Ahh… Jack had started a fire early enough so the hot coals cast up the aroma of hardwood smoke. He’d also prepared the coffee. I scurried over to join him. The heavenly fragrance would have pulled me toward the devil if he was into sharing.

Without a word he handed me a tin mug filled with coffee, and I took it gratefully, gulping the strong brew with satisfaction. “Thanks,” I said. “You’re a lifesaver. Bacon and eggs all right?”

“That would do just fine.”

I set the frypan on the grate over the fire pit, then poured warm water into a basin and gave my face and hands a proper wash before I laid bacon strips onto cast iron. The meat sizzled into a fragrance few mortal humans can resist. I cracked eggs into a small bowl then, when the meat was close to ready, added them to the pan. “It’s all in the timin’,” as my grandma liked to say. At least I knew how to make a decent meal, thanks to her and my mother.

I plated the offerings and handed one to Jack. He’d crouched at my side the entire time, toasting the bread on a long fork held over the coals and drinking his coffee.

We ate in companionable silence, sitting near the fire and watching the others go about their morning routine. Was this what it had been like for Sadie and Seth when she lovingly cooked their meals, struggling with learning how to do it better every day?

I wanted to continue the journey with them and patted my pocket to ensure I had tucked the diary away this morning. Maybe later there would be time. The evenings looked to be filled with camp entertainment. Not that I was complaining; last night had been fabulous. I looked over at Jack, enjoying the calm face he presented this morning and the fact he didn’t talk much first thing. Good man.

Oh boy. This had disaster spelled all over it. I needed to pinch myself. Wake myself up. This was not the real world, but a false state of bliss brought on by circumstance, that’s all.

You need to keep that in mind, Daisey Winslow.

Fine, but you need to keep in mind that this kind of fun is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and I don’t want to miss out.

I think I could be rightly called a house divided.

I sat and stewed over the complicated thoughts preying on my conscious too early in the morning, my appetite gone.

“You planning to eat that bacon?”

“Huh?” I looked into Jack’s clear blue eyes and was sent right back to the present moment, realizing I had a fork poised in my hand and had been holding it there with a bite of bacon on it for quite some time.

Right. I held the bacon out to him.

He took my hand in his far larger one, sending heat sizzling up my arm and into unmentionable places. Then, maintaining eye contact, he directed the fork toward his lush mouth.

I watched mesmerized as he sl-o-w-ly worked those well-formed lips around the offering. His chiseled jawline sharpened as he swallowed before he broke into a generous smile of satisfaction. The fork clattered to the ground from my trembling fingers. Oh. My. Sweet. Lord.

“You all right?” he asked, the smile still hovering about his mouth, his eyes smoldering.

My heart was too busy trying to beat its way right out of my chest. I swallowed. “Right as rain. Just still full of last night’s dinner, I guess.”

I stood up abruptly and reached for the fork I’d dropped. He beat me to it and handed it to me, the touch of our fingers not conducive to lowering my heart rate anytime soon.

“I’d better get to washing the dishes. Looks like Mel’s about to call us to order,” I said.

“I’ll help. I’ve already hooked up the oxen. The wagon’s all set to go.”

Once more we washed and dried together, then stowed everything away. I watched Jack carry the sturdy wooden kitchen box to the back of the wagon and place it inside the canvas doorway.

“All ready?” he asked, rejoining me.

“You bet,” I said, chipper and bright, trying to hide my misgivings about spending yet another day in his company, especially after what had just happened.

I had a deep-seated worry that too many days like this on the trail with Jack could become addictive. The guy was that freakin’ good. I definitely wasn’t happy about it on a practical level. It was okay to live in the moment, just not to forget who you are and your future plans.

Jack helped me into the wagon, his large, capable hands encircling my waist a firm reminder of all the temptation I needed to avoid. I found a thick cushion already on the seat for me and shook my head.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, joining me.

“You think of everything.”

“That displeases you?”

“No—yes, maybe. It’s just this trip is feeling like some kind of utopian experience and it’s making me antsy. You know, for when we rejoin the real world?”

“Hmm. Let me share a story with you.”

Why was everyone always telling me stories? Curiosity overcame any misgivings and I waited for him to continue.

“It’s about my parents and how they found each other. They were both in university at the time, he was studying criminology and she was taking her degree in botany. They met at a campus rally and took an instant dislike to each other.”

“Really?”

“She was worried about the environment and he was concerned about keeping people protected. They were at loggerheads from day one according to my mom. My dad, however, has a different take on it. He said as soon as they met and their hands touched, he felt the zing of her being ‘the one for him,’ and he was going to wait out her objections. He courted her right from the beginning—that’s what he called it. He sent her flowers or chocolates every week until she finally consented to go out with him.”

“Courting her? That’s an old-fashioned expression.”

“Yes, even then it was, but my dad persisted, and one fine day she relented and gave him a chance, and they began dating. And you know, many years later, long after they were married, she finally admitted she had felt that same spark—that telltale zing—when they first touched. That it had annoyed her because she didn’t think they could possibly be a match what with their different takes on the world. They’ve laughed about it for years.”

“What a charming story.”

“Best part, it’s all true.”

I caught him staring at me as if waiting for me to see the proof in his eyes. Yup, he was telling the truth.

Finding it almost too intimate a moment I looked away toward the horizon. The sun had just slipped into view, its warming rays caressing the landscape in streaks of glowing light. My favorite time of day. I tried to run during the sunrise at least once a week, for it filled me with belief in a higher power. A heavenly miracle if there ever was one.

“Yoo-hoo, Daisey! Jack!”

The familiar voice captured my attention. Georgina Harris, our town librarian, attired in her worsted dress and yellow bonnet, her thick brown braid flying out behind her, came striding alongside the slow-moving wagons. In one quick movement, she grabbed hold of the carved wooden grip at the front of the frame and hoisted herself up onto the seat beside me. I squeezed over toward Jack to make room for her. Sparks tingled as our hips bumped together. Remembering the bacon incident and the story he just told didn’t help.

“Nice to see you, Georgina,” I said, catching the fresh fragrance of laundry soap and lavender.

“Ma’am,” Jack said with a touch of his fingers to his hat.

“My, aren’t you just the epitome of a lawman. I’ve come to ask you for your help, Deputy Sheriff Samson.”

“Whatever I can do, just ask.”

“Maybe you’d better wait until you hear what it is first. It’s rather a doozy, hon.”

Now I was intrigued. What exactly was Georgina going to ask for Jack’s help with? I had never heard her preface a request quite like that before.

“I’m sure if you’re the one asking, it will be fine.”

“Well, here’s the idea. The library raises funds each year by producing a calendar. For each month of the year, we have a man featured, from different occupations and interests. You would be representing the Sheriff’s Department. It was Sheriff Taylor who suggested you, so we have his approval for this project.”

“What kind of pose were you thinking of? One in my uniform?”

“Not exactly.” She hedged, her tongue pushing out one of her flushed cheeks.

“Dressier? Tuxedo?”

“No, we’re thinking more of just your hat. Strategically placed, of course.”

Complete silence greeted her pronouncement. I held my breath, waiting for the verdict. One. Two. Three…

“Uh, ma’am—”

She was just a few years older than me, having gone through school with Matt and his friends, and apparently liked being called “ma’am” about as much as I would. “Please, call me Georgina. Everyone does.”

“Georgina, I’m not certain I’m the right man for the job.”

“But you are! You’re handsome, virile, and a lawman. Based on your photo alone we’re sure to sell more calendars than last year’s landscape photos. I mean, how many more fields of crops or bald prairie can one look at? What month does your birthday fall in, Deputy?”

“December. I’m not sure—”

“That’s perfect. We have no December as of yet. Please, say you’ll do it!”

“Would you object to a bigger hat?”

“What?” Georgina’s eyes widened.

I choked back sudden laughter, hiccupping in the process from the trapped air as she said, “Oh my! Yes, whatever you need. So, you’ll do it then? I can count on you? Oh, we’re going to make oodles of money!”

If someone had told me this morning to expect something right out of left field, no way would I have been able to guess what it was. I hid my mirth, my body shaking involuntarily and making the full length of my thigh right down to my knee rub against Jack.

I was dizzy between the acute tingling his presence caused and from the hilarity Georgina’s scandalous proposal created.

This wagon train trek was not happening at all in the way I had expected. It was much, much better.

“Yes, you can count me in.”

“Thank you, Deputy. Now, I’ll just leave you two alone to enjoy this fine morning. Or what’s left of it. I need to be running along anyway. I have one more slot to fill and we’ll have the package completed. We’ll be calling on you in a few weeks for the photo shoot. I’ll be in touch.” And with that she jumped to the ground with cat-like prowess. Who knew our town librarian had those kind of lady balls?

I waited as long as I could stand it for Jack to say something, but the silence stretched and I had to ask, “A bigger hat, eh?”

“I think a ten-gallon Texas-style hat or a Mexican sombrero would fit the bill rather nicely.” He didn’t look my way, but I saw his lips twitching, his tell.

“You’re certain you need that kind of coverage?”

“I’d rather have too much coverage than not enough.”

“True. If it was my derrière in the wind, I’d want a lot more than a hat.”

“You know, I think I should propose that. Fair’s fair. This year the calendar can be all males, next year it should be all town females.”

“Luckily, I have a way out. Just leave town.”

His eyes snapped my way before he gave the reins a hard jerk. His jaw appeared made out of iron as he faced forward, studying the horizon.

I inwardly groaned at being the sole reason for the wall rising between us. I hid my chagrin and began chewing at a non-existent fingernail, having used up all new growth since the new deputy hit town.

“Hidey Ho the wagons. Stopping for the midday meal,” Mel Bridges yelled out at the top of his lungs.

Thank goodness.

I hopped down from my seat before Jack could come around and assist me, scurrying away to retrieve the bacon sandwiches I’d prepared for lunch.

The noonday break wasn’t long enough for a fire and a hot meal, so everyone had been instructed to have something at the ready. There was still lemonade and cookies left over, so we’d be fine.

He set up our temporary camp while I dealt with the food. We rinsed our hands with clean water poured from a bucket and dried them on a bit of towel.

The entire time I kept my gaze averted, feeling like the biggest idiot for spoiling what little time we would ever have together. That thought hurt more than expected, and I worked to hide my feelings.

I handed him a plate with a couple of bacon sandwiches and a few cookies, then poured the lemonade. We sat in an uncomfortable silence while I attempted to choke down the fare, pretending the day was just another day.

After downing my meal in three minutes flat, I shot to my feet. “I need to stretch my legs.”

“Try not to step in a gopher hole.” His uncaring tone suggested he was glad to see me go and probably would like me with a swollen ankle and in pain.

I hurried away, feeling him watching me, but I wasn’t going to look back. I needed a bit of time to get over the sting of his curt reply. I get that he was no happier than I was at the idea of never having the opportunity to see where our obvious attraction could take us, but this was time-out of reality. He had to understand that.

We had stopped closer to the Red River this time. The river’s soft tune drew me and I covered the hundred yards that separated us, cursing all the folds in my pink gingham skirt as its bulk hampered my stride. The banks were higher here than the Winslow land and I went just close enough to the edge to enjoy the view. The wide river with its fringe of greenery ran smooth, its satin surface mirroring the trees on its banks.

I thought about how pretty it would be in the fall, with a colorful banner of red and gold dressing its reflective edge. I stood for as long as I dared before turning back, not wanting to miss Mel’s cue to move on.

I caught sight of Jack packing up. I left him to the task and hurried to the front of the wagon, scrambling onto the seat before he joined me. I repositioned the cushion and made myself comfortable.

“You all right?” he asked, giving me a quizzical look from under the brim of his hat.

“You bet,” I said brightly. Not nearly as restorative as standing on my ancestors’ land in Sweetwater—nothing helped like that—but I did feel a bit better.

“You know, you don’t have to do that, right?” He picked up the reins that controlled the oxen but kept them loosely in his hands. Waiting, I presumed, for the order to move out.

“Do what?”

“Pretend all is well when it isn’t.”

His words surprised me, and I bit my lip before saying, “Really, there’s nothing wrong. I’m fine.” Darn it, there was that word again. He didn’t call me to task this time though, just sat in silence.

“What? No story, Deputy?”

“Just know if you ever need to talk to someone, I’m here for you.” He cleared his throat. “Now, onto other business. What should we sing tonight? I thought going over possible duets to wow the crowd might be a good way to spend some time.”

“Hmm. I’m very partial to ‘The Heart Won’t Lie’ by Reba McEntire and Vince Gill.”

“Nice choice. Or how about ‘The Battle Hymn of Love’ by Kathy Mattea and Tim O’Brien?”

“Is that a dig, Deputy?”

“No, of course not,” he said, with a twitch of his lips. “Not like ‘A Bad Goodbye’ might have been.”

“Or ‘Helping Me Get Over You.’” I laughed.

Apparently, song titles can tell a story. Just like that we were back on track, a fact that made me happier than it should have, knowing it could never lead us to anything more.

“I know one I would love to sing with you.”

“What’s that?”

“‘Baby Ride Easy’.”

I caught my breath. The song from Charlene Carter and Dave Edmunds was a fantasy, a pair of lovers committed to each other as long as his loving’ was good and her cookin’ ain’t greasy.

“I think we could manage that one,” he said. “And maybe ‘Crying’. Your voice would be perfect, like a younger k. d. Lang’s, singing that tune. You know, I can imitate the late great Roy Orbison some.”

“Nice. You’re on, handsome.”

“I like that better,” Jack said, giving the oxen the correct signal with the reins that told them to get a move on. I must have missed the call out by Mel, having too much fun choosing song titles.

“What better?”

“Handsome over Deputy. Or Jack’s just fine too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Not ten minutes later the Dakota sky began to cloud over. Not again.

Mother nature had decided what she intended to throw our way, like it or not, and within the half hour rain began to fall, light at first, then becoming a deluge within minutes. I jumped in my skin when lightning flashed and thunder roared a few seconds later, the hairs on my neck rising.

Jack brought the wagon to an abrupt halt, as did the other drivers. Pounding rain bouncing off the canvas nearly drowned out the nervous whinnies of horses. I moved farther back from the doorway, Jack joining me.

“Hopefully, like yesterday, we’ll be moving along shortly,” he said.

“I wish the poor animals could be in the barn right now. I’m feeling guilty, warm and dry and under cover.” I shivered. “Well, dry anyway.”

“You cold?” He moved toward me on the bench and placed his arm around my shoulders, drawing me in tight to his body.

Heat radiated from him, making me toasty warm in seconds. Acutely aware of how nice it was to be held in his arms, breathing in his male fragrance, I grew a bit giddy, but ignored the red flag waving frantically in the corner of my peripheral vision.

Why not enjoy the moment? Far as I was concerned, everyone could just get their own lawman to keep them sheltered from the storm.