Clint turned away from the wagon and couldn’t help thinking of the lovely lady whose cheek he’d caressed. Lord, how was he going to get through this trip without showing his lust for this woman? He’d been with a lot of women through the years, but never had one affected him as quickly and as thoroughly as Fiona Webb. Yes, she was beautiful. Her golden hair reminded him of the yellow roses his grandmother always had planted in the garden of her large two-story home in Baltimore. Her aqua-blue eyes made him think of standing on the sand and staring at the deep ocean on Galveston’s beach. And watching as she moved about the fire with her skirts molding to her shapely legs and her full breast straining behind the buttons of her fitted bodice made him want to grab her slim waist and drag her into the woods and explore her exquisite body.
Damn you, he said to himself as his denims grew tighter. You’ve got to remember you’re tied to another woman. It doesn’t matter your marriage is something you can never explain to anyone. You love Rose because of what she has done for you. Somehow you have to learn to hide your growing attraction to Fiona.
Shaking the thoughts away, he moved to the wagon where Rufus was leaning against his tailgate, peering into the night. “Seen him again?”
“No. Not a sight of him.” He turned toward Clint. “I’m not making it up though. I saw a man. It wasn’t my imagination.”
“I know you did, Rufus. I have a feeling it was the man Fiona is so afraid of. He didn’t appear to me to be the kind of man to give up his pursuit easily.”
“I agree.” Rufus pushed back his battered hat. “What’s with him and Fiona? Are they related or something?”
“All I know is that he’s determined to take Joey away from her and she is just as determined he won’t.”
“Don’t reckon he’s Joey’s father, do you?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s not.” Clint shifted his eyes to the west of the wagons. “He told me he had a bunch of daughters and he needed Joey to work on his farm, but I can’t help wondering if he didn’t have a more sinister plan for the kid.”
“Then we’d best be sure he don’t get his hands on the boy.”
“I agree.”
* * * *
Luther rejoined Wade and Leo at the camp they’d set up about three miles behind the wagon train. “What did you find out?” Wade demanded as Luther climbed from his horse.
“Not much.”
“But that’s why you insisted on scouting out the wagon train without us,” Leo complained. “We should have gone with you.”
“Shut up, you fat fool.” Luther shuffled to the dying embers and picked up the coffee pot. Pouring the last of the coffee into a tin cup, he eyed Leo. “They’re guarding the train, like I suspected. I’m sure they rotate the guards. Tonight happened to be Clint Larson’s turn. Of course he was staying close to his wagon and the people in it.”
“Did you see who was in it?” Wade asked.
“No. His wife wasn’t anywhere in sight. Neither was Fiona. I figured the women were in the wagon. I saw Clint grab the boy from under the neighbor’s wagon and shove him inside with the women.” He shook his head. “If I’d have known the boy was outside, I’d have grabbed him before they knew what was happening.”
“I’m not interested in the boy.” Leo threw down the stick of wood he had in his hand. “All I want is the beautiful Rose back...with her family, of course.”
Luther eyed him. “Looks to me like you’re awfully concerned about a woman who’s not your daughter.”
Leo sputtered. “I told you, Rose is like a daughter to me.”
“Leo has always loved Rose as if she was his own. He’s spent a lot of time with her over the years.”
“Don’t you have any young’uns of your own?” Luther still eyed Leo.
“No.”
“Leo’s children were all weak and unable to survive into adulthood. His wife died after the fourth child passed away at age twelve. She and Rose were the same age at the time. He became close to my youngest daughter at that time. I think she filled in for his lost family.”
“Of course she did. She’s like my own daughter.” Leo puffed out his chest.
“Why the first time Rose visited with Leo she came home with an arm load of presents and she said he’d been wonderful to her.” Wade looked at Luther. “He’s given her many gifts in the last six years.”
“Still seems strange to me that he’s more interested in getting your daughter back than you are.” Luther drained the coffee and sat the cup down. “A father—”
Wade interrupted. “Listen, Markin, I’m very interested in getting my daughter back. Why do you think I came all the way from Baltimore then hired you to lead us to this place? I can’t stand the thoughts of Rose being in this God forsaken land with a bastard like Clint Larson.” His voice was not only full of anger, his eyes flashed and Luther wondered if he was going to strike out at someone.
“Calm down,” Luther said. “I didn’t mean nothing.”
“Well, why don’t you think of a way we can get some sleep tonight. I’ve never slept on the ground before,” Leo complained.
“Hell, I don’t care if you sleep or not, but I’m sure not going to let your complaining stop me from getting my rest.” Luther moved to his horse and removed his saddle and bedroll.
“Markin’s right, Leo. We bought these bedrolls for the purpose of sleeping on the ground.” Wade’s voice had calmed down. “I’m not looking forward to it myself, but do you see a hotel?”
“I still think we should have brought cots or something.” Leo was fumbling with his bedroll.
“If you’re going to keep complaining, move it away from here.” Luther spread out his bedroll beside the saddle he’d dropped to the ground. He then moved to a grassy area and hobbled his horse. Shaking his head, he turned to the two men. “You fools! You can’t leave a horse saddled and tied to a tree for the night. Even a tenderfoot should know that. Get your asses over here and unsaddle them.”
Leo looked confused. “Didn’t we hire you to take care of such things?”
“Hell no. You hired me to follow the wagon train and help you find his daughter. I’m not going to do anything else.”
“Well, I don’t know how to do it,” Leo whined.
“Damn!” Luther walked to the two horses and removed the saddles. He didn’t bother to bring them to the campfire. He dropped them where the horses stood. He moved the animals to the grassy area and hobbled them so they could eat. “Now,” he turned to the two wide eyed men, “I’ve done it for you tonight, but don’t expect me to do it again. Your damn horses can drop over and leave you to perish on this prairie as far as I care.”
“I didn’t know it was done this way. I’m sure we’ll be able to do it from now on,” Wade said.
“I don’t like horses.” Leo turned up his nose.
“I didn’t figure you did.” Luther laughed. “You’re more the jackass kind of man, if you ask me.”
“Why, you uncivilized...”
“Go to hell!” Luther removed his gun belt and sat down on his bedroll. After removing his boots, he stretched out and covered his face with his hat and ignored the two men from Baltimore.
* * * *
Bruce Fritz was not sleeping well. In fact, he hadn’t slept well since leaving Independence. Or maybe even before. It wasn’t because his father snored so loudly. He was used to that. Tonight, he lay under the wagon and tried to figure it out. Was it when the Larsons joined the wagon train? Or was it when Clint Larson first brought the beautiful Fiona and her son to meet the group? She might be the mother of that little squirt, but to Bruce she was the epitome of the woman he hoped to someday spend the rest of his life with. He just hadn’t expected to meet her so soon. He knew he was only sixteen and he had some living and loving to do before he settled down, but still, if he could win Fiona’s heart he’d give up all the women in his future. Being in love with a woman like her was worth giving up anything.
He remembered clearly the first time he saw her. Clint had brought her to the encampment in a black buggy. Bruce hadn’t paid much attention when they pulled up to the Watson wagon, but when Clint reached up and took Fiona’s hand and helped her down from the buggy Bruce’s heart skipped a beat.
She was wearing a faded blue dress and a big floppy straw hat. As she stepped to the ground, the hat blew back and revealed her lovely oval face with the golden hair framing it. Bruce knew immediately he was in love. So much in love that when Clint introduced her to his parents, he hadn’t been able to say a word. He’d only nodded and grinned. He thought he may have blushed, but if he did nobody said anything. Since their first meeting he’d not said more than a dozen words to her, though his mother had sent him over to their wagon to fetch his half-sister, Susie, several times.
He was trying to get up his courage and speak to her more often, but he had plenty of time. They hadn’t been on the trail long and it would be months before they reached Oregon. Maybe Clint would be too busy or tired one day and he’d offer to gather the wood for her cooking fire or he’d fetch water when they camped near a stream. He might even offer to take Joey fishing with him and Susie. He wondered how it would be to be a step-father to a boy like Joey.
Probably not so hard, he thought. I was seven when Papa married Nina and after I got used to her, I didn’t have a problem. I even call her Mama now and I think of Susie as my whole sister. I bet Joey would get used to brothers and sisters, too.
Before he could fantasize further, he turned over and saw Clint stuffing Joey in the back of their wagon. It wasn’t long until he saw Clint touch Fiona’s cheek. Damn, why couldn’t he touch her like that? Maybe he would hand Joey up to her sometime and see if she’d smile at him the way she was smiling at Clint.
A surge of jealously flew through Bruce’s body. Why does he touch her anyway? He’s got a wife. He’d better keep his hands off Fiona.
He watched as Clint moved away and Fiona disappeared back into the wagon. When Rufus Watson joined Clint, Bruce quit worrying about him and Fiona. It was probably only a friendly touch, he decided.
Easing out from under the wagon, he decided to go see what Rufus and Clint were talking about. He made a little noise so they wouldn’t think he was sneaking up on them, but not enough to wake his mama and papa in the tent beside the wagon.
As he approached the two men, Rufus asked in a whisper, “What you doing up, son?”
“Had to answer a call of nature,” he lied.
“Don’t go too far into the bushes. We thought we saw someone out there earlier.” Clint nodded toward the woods. “Someone who didn’t belong.”
Bruce nodded and walked several feet away. In a matter of minutes, he was back. “Who did you see? Was it Indians?”
“Could’ve been,” Rufus said, “but Clint seems to think it was probably the scoundrel who has been chasing Miss Fiona.”
“Mama said somebody was after her. Why does he keep hounding a nice woman like Fiona?”
“I don’t know, Bruce.” Clint looked at him. “I do know nobody on this train is going to let him do anything to her or her boy.”
“I sure won’t. You let me know if he comes around again and I’ll get my papa’s shotgun and fill him full of lead.”
* * * *
Clint frowned when it dawned on him Bruce Fritz had a crush on Fiona. Not that he blamed the boy. He was a teenager himself when he began to fantasize nightly about the opposite sex. Most any pretty girl or woman would set his imagination working, but Bruce could choose someone more his age for his dreams. He didn’t have to fantasize about Fiona.
Then another thought hit him. Probably the lad was closer to Fiona’s age than he was himself. He’d never asked the woman how old she was, but he knew without a doubt she wasn’t anywhere near his age of twenty-eight.
As he watched Bruce climb back under his wagon, Clint shrugged. He didn’t understand why the kid’s words had made him feel jealous. Surely he wasn’t going to worry about Fiona and a teenager.
Before he could think about it any further Rufus chuckled. “I do believe the Fritz kid has a thing for your sister-in-law.”
“Looks like it.”
“Lord, ain’t young love wonderful. I remember the first woman I fell in love with.”
“Mattie, I presume.”
“You presume wrong, son. My first love was the most glorious woman in the world. She had long red hair and she wore bright shiny dresses up to her knees and she sat on a piano and sang.”
“Sounds like a dance hall whore, Rufus.” Clint eyed him.
“She was. My old man had a liking for the saloons and the women who worked in them and this liking intensified when my ma died. When he couldn’t find anybody to take care of my brother and me, he’d take us with him and we’d set around while he got drunk and played cards. Miss Lilly was the woman’s name and while our pa was losing what little money we had, she’d slip my brother and me a peppermint stick. Then she’d go sit on the piano and sing a song for us. I thought she was the most wonderful creature in the world. I got my comeuppance when my grandma came to visit. I told her all about Miss Lilly and she had a fit. She hit my papa with a broom and told him if he ever took her daughter’s children back to that den of iniquity, she’d use a gun on him instead of a boom. He never had a chance to take us back because we went home with grandma and lived there until we were able to be on our own. Never did see Miss Lilly again and I still sometimes wonder what happened to her. Course I was only ten years old at the time and she was a woman, so I guess she’s probably dead by now.”
Clint shook his head. “For me it was a school teacher. She was quite a lady. Had dark black hair and she kept it up on her head in a fancy twist. She wore little hats with feathers and I often dreamed at night of taking her hat off and pulling the pins out of her beautiful silky hair. I was a little older than you. Thirteen or fourteen, I guess. I was up in school.” He grunted. “Broke my heart when she married a stuffy old lawyer in town who was twice her age, but as far as I know they’re still married.” He didn’t go on to add that the lawyer’s daughter by his first marriage was the reason he’d had to leave Baltimore six years ago.
Rufus chuckled. “I don’t know if the women have their crushes, but I guess all us guys go through a first love with an older woman. Funny thing is, nobody ever knows about the pain and suffering we go through because it can never be revealed.”
Clint smiled to himself. “That’s for sure.” He didn’t add that sometimes grown men got these feelings for a woman they couldn’t have, not because of age, but for a million other reasons. Nor did he say the pain wasn’t any better than it was in a man’s youth.