Ginger’s footsteps slowed with the dread of anticipation as she approached the wagon master’s campsite. Fannie stood over a tub of dishwater, quietly singing to herself. Ginger’s breathing increased as she gave a tentative glance about, preparing to face whatever fate Blake had in store for her.
Fannie flashed a broad smile as she glanced up and spotted her standing there. “Hi, Ginger.” She pushed aside an errant curl from her forehead, then plunged her arms, up to her elbows, back into the sudsy water.
“Evenin’, Fannie. Blake around?”
Fannie shook her red, curly head and blew upward at the curl that just wouldn’t stay put. “He went to meet Sam.”
“Oh, well, I suppose I’ll have to wait, then.”
Fannie nodded and grinned, the freckles on her scrunched up nose making her look much too young to be the wife of the most important man in the wagon train. “Camp business came up. He seemed as relieved to put off talking to you as you do.”
In that smile, Ginger felt she had an ally. Her tension began to ease up.
On the other hand, if Fannie knew she needed an ally to begin with, then Ginger must really be in trouble.
Fannie grabbed a towel and dried her hands. “Want to wait? He shouldn’t be long.”
“I don’t know…” Ginger’s stomach let out a loud grumble reminding her that she hadn’t eaten a morsel since supper the night before. She eyed the half-eaten rabbit still hanging over the fire. The sizzling meat looked a lot more appealing than the thought of beans and cornbread back at her own fire. Fannie’s gaze followed hers. She gave a nod. “You want some? We’ve had our fill. I was planning to give the leftovers to Wolfie, but he can get his own, if you’re hungry.”
As much as she sympathized with the dog, the aroma of roasted rabbit played havoc with Ginger’s empty stomach. She gave Fannie a grateful little nod. “I’d be obliged.”
Fannie tossed the towel across the edge of the tub and headed toward the fire with a tin plate. “Have a seat, then. I’ll dish it up.”
Ginger took her place on the pickle barrel Fannie had indicated. In spite of herself, she heaved a great sigh.
Fannie handed her the plate. “Rough day?”
“It wasn’t too bad.”
“Miss Sadie says you did a right fine job of helping with Yellow Bird.”
Ginger’s eyebrows shot up. “She did?”
“Yep. She said not only did you help with the birth, but you stayed by Yellow Bird’s side all day so that Miss Sadie could rest. She seemed awfully grateful.”
Ginger accepted the praise but shook her head. “That woman,” she said. “She fussed at me every time I turned around.”
Fannie laughed, returning to her work cleaning up around the campsite and washing dishes. “You know Miss Sadie isn’t one to throw a compliment around. Especially not to the person she feels did a good job.”
Ginger bit into her rabbit. She appreciated Fannie’s friendship. Like Toni, the woman had welcomed her into the wagon train and accepted her without too much suspicion.
To be honest, she would like nothing more than to be able to confide in her about Web and the rest of the gang, but as the wagon master’s wife, Fannie would be duty bound to let Blake know there were still outlaws in the area and that Ginger was raised by the ring leader. Even Toni would be forced to share her deception with Two Feathers. That’s what people who were about to be married did—no secrets. So Ginger resigned herself to keeping her life before the wagon train, as well as her reunion with Web and his band of outlaws, firmly in her own memory. As much as she wanted to stay, she knew these people would never believe that she had nothing to do with the attack.
“I went by to see Yellow Bird earlier,” Fannie said. “The baby is beautiful, isn’t he?” Fannie’s voice held a wistful tone that piqued Ginger’s curiosity. Especially since, as far as she was concerned, the creature in Yellow Bird’s arms was about the scrawniest mess of a human being she’d ever seen. “I guess so.”
“You don’t sound convinced,” Fannie said, her lips curved into an amused smile.
Managing a shrug, Ginger swallowed down a bite of the wonderful meat. “Miss Sadie says all babies are odd looking when they first come. He’ll get better, I guess.”
Fannie chuckled. “Well anyway, I look forward to getting back on the trail tomorrow. Don’t you? Just think—in a couple of months, we’ll be in Oregon.”
Ginger didn’t really know how to respond. It was awfully hard to drum up any enthusiasm for Oregon when she most likely wouldn’t be with the wagon train by the time they reached the so-called promised land.
“Okay, listen, Ginger.” Fannie planted her hands on her hips and looked straight into Ginger’s eyes. “I know you probably figure it’s no use tryin’ and that Blake is going to make you leave this time. And I’ll be honest, he’s mulling the idea around in that stubborn brain of his. But you still have a chance, if I know anything about what’s in that man’s head.”
Swallowing, Ginger eyed the woman, almost afraid of the hope lifting her spirits. “You think I have a chance of staying?”
“I do. If you play your cards right. I don’t mean to be vulgar, but neither of us was raised in a lady’s parlor, were we? We understand the notion of playing the hand you’re dealt but playing it smart.”
Ginger might have laughed at the notion of being raised in a lady’s parlor, if she weren’t a bit offended. Not about the reference to gambling, of course—she’d won her fair share of money in one card game or another during her life. Lost her fair share too, truth be told. But why would Fannie assume she hadn’t been raised by a lady? She’d never told one blessed person about her upbringing. Not even Toni and Fannie. “I guess I see your point.”
“The key to managing Blake is to admit you’re wrong and apologize before he starts yelling.”
Ginger stiffened and jerked her chin. “What if I’m not wrong?”
“Depends on how important being right is to you.”
It was just about everything to Ginger. “I’m not apologizing.”
“Don’t let your stubbornness get the better of you, Ginger. Blake’s used to getting his way around this wagon train. And he’s usually right.” Fannie released a laugh that came straight from her belly. “Believe me, it took me a long time to admit it. I don’t expect you to feel the same way about him, of course. As a matter of fact, you’d have a fight on your hands if I thought you’d taken a shine to my husband.”
“Hey, now. I don’t…”
“I was teasing about that, Ginger. I forgot how you take everything so literally.”
Relief shoved her indignation back down.
Fannie obviously wasn’t finished with her lecture. “The fact is, you might try to give in just a little in order to keep your place on the wagon train. I’d miss you something fierce if you had to go.”
“You would?”
“Well, of course. And so would Toni and Miss Sadie.” She sent her a conspiratorial grin. “And Grant Kelley.”
Close to a growl, Ginger sent her a fierce scowl as she swallowed down the last of the rabbit meat from the bone. “Don’t even mention his name to me.”
“Why not? Surely you can’t deny he’s a right handsome man. Even a blind billy goat could see that.”
“Can we please talk about something else?”
“Okay. Let’s talk about how you’re going to be so pleasant and apologetic that Blake feels downright hateful at the very thought of tossing you out on your behind. Oh, and you must promise never to disobey his orders again.”
Ginger scowled. “Why can’t they just leave me be to do what I want?”
All amusement fled Fannie’s expression. “You already know the answer to that.” She poured them each a cup of coffee from the tin pot on the fire grate. Walking back to Ginger, she handed her one of them and settled herself on the tongue of her wagon, facing Ginger. “The wagon train’s success depends on everyone’s cooperation. Surely you’ve seen that by now.”
Ginger’s face warmed under Fannie’s scrutiny. She gathered her dignity and jerked her chin. “I do my part. Whatever chores I’m assigned. I just don’t see why I can’t ride off on my own if I want. Don’t I always come back safe? And usually bagging meat enough for at least two or three families.”
“That’s very true. But you know as well as I do that a lone woman is a target for any number of threats. Animals, Indians. Or what about the attack this morning? Those men could still be in the area, just waiting to pick off the first fool who wanders away from the train.”
Ginger had suddenly lost her appetite. Her defenses rose. “Only someone that can’t take care of themselves is a fool.”
Fannie shrugged, her eyes sparkling, obviously ready for the conflict. “The Bible says someone who doesn’t believe in God is a fool.”
The words hit Ginger like a jolt. Now why would Fannie go and say a thing like that, right in the middle of a completely different conversation? “You saying I don’t believe in God? Because I do. When Yellow Bird’s babe wouldn’t come out, we prayed and God answered.”
“So you’re saying if Yellow Bird and the baby had died, you would still believe there is a God?”
Well, when she put it that way it was hard to know how to answer. “I don’t know. Maybe. But the fact is, He did like I asked.”
Fannie gave her an indulgent smile and took the plate Ginger held out. “Glad to hear it. But you still shouldn’t have ridden off alone. It’s not about whether you can take care of yourself or not. Nor is it even about whether or not God will keep you safe. It’s about the fact that Blake gave orders, and you disobeyed. It disrupted things around here. To tell you the truth, after the attack this morning and Yellow Bird’s baby having trouble getting born, well…Blake didn’t need one more thing to have to worry about.”
Her somber words bit into Ginger, leaving her with remorse working its way from her stomach to her heart. “I guess when you put it that way…”
Fannie’s lips curved into a smile. “Blake has told me more than once that you’re a good tracker and have the potential to be one of the most valuable members of this entire train.”
“Yeah?” Ginger’s grin spread across her face in spite of herself.
Fannie leveled a frank gaze at her. “Yes, but he also says you’re undisciplined and incapable of taking orders, and that’s why he can’t count on you. You’re too unpredictable.”
Ginger’s smile faltered. “Oh.” She stood. “I best go. Thank you for the supper. If Blake gets back, tell him I’m at my tent.”
“All right. Try not to worry too much. You’ll know Blake’s decision soon enough.”
Ginger tried to heed her friend’s words, but it couldn’t stop the tightening of her stomach. And she knew if she had to go, it was her own fault.
When they entered the supply tent, Blake nodded at Sam. “Good, you found Grant,” Blake said, his tone grim.
Unease swept through Grant. “Something wrong, Blake?”
The wagon master motioned them to the back of the tent. They walked around crates and barrels. “Our scouts found this man, unconscious, in the woods.”
A bedroll was stretched out against the back of the tent and on it laid a young man, probably no more than sixteen or seventeen years of age. His eyes were closed, and he shook with what Grant assumed was fever.
“Where was he found?”
Blake shook his head. “In the direction of the attack this morning. And it doesn’t seem like he’s been there all that long. His arm is broken. That’s why we asked for you, Grant. Can you bandage him up? Looks like he fell off his horse and hit his head.”
“I’ll need some water and bandages for his head. And a couple of boards to make into a splint for his arm.” He stopped and leveled a gaze at Blake. “He’s also running a fever. We may be dealing with infection somewhere. I’ll need to examine him thoroughly.”
Blake nodded. “I’ll ask Fannie to boil some water.”
“I’ll go,” Sam spoke up.
Grant barely glanced his way. “Bring back a couple of boards so I can splint that arm, would you?”
Sam left to bring back the necessary items while Grant went to work.
After a brief examination, Grant was pretty sure Blake’s suspicion was correct. The young man had fallen and hit his head. “Probably a rock,” he said to Blake. “He’s lucky he didn’t knock his brains out. But the fever is what concerns me most. I don’t find an infected wound. I can only assume he’s ill.”
A series of groans leaked from the unconscious stranger, as though he were trying to pull himself from the mire of his state and open his eyes.
Grant gripped his shoulder and held him steady on the pallet. “Take it easy. You’re hurt.”
Another groan and the man passed out again.
“He woke up once,” Grant said. “Most likely he’ll wake up again.” At least he hoped so. Now that he was alone with the wagon master, his curiosity got the better of him. “I, uh, spoke with Ginger. She went looking for you.”
“Stubborn female. I’ll have a talk with her in the morning.” He moved a horse blanket from a nearby crate and sat. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his thighs and heaved a sigh. “I just wish she hadn’t forced this decision on me.”
“You thinking of asking her to leave?”
“I’m not asking.” The muscle in Blake’s jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth.
Grant knew the girl deserved discipline, still, they could use every available gun. Besides, she had become a valuable part of the wagon train. Surely Blake could see that. Grant knew it wasn’t his place to question the wagon master, but he couldn’t seem to stuff the words back down his throat fast enough to keep them from flying out. “I guess you’ve thought it through?”
Blake straightened up and looked at Grant, eyes narrowed. “Is there some reason you think I shouldn’t enforce our rules for this girl? She’s been nothing but trouble, and you can’t deny that. If I have my way, we’ll drop her off at the first fort we come to. Of course, one more delay and we’ll likely be forced to hole up at Fort Boise for the winter anyway.”
Alert to the wagon master’s concern, Grant shoved aside the thought of Ginger leaving the train and concentrated on the newly spoken situation. “The snows are already piling up in the mountains, aren’t they?”
Blake scowled. “I don’t know about snows piling up yet, but they most likely will be by the time we get there. We’re more than a month behind. All the delays between women getting kidnapped, the twister, Indians, and now outlaws. This has been the worst trip west I’ve ever made. I’m glad it’s my last.”
“Is Fort Boise equipped to take on a wagon train the size of this one?”
“We’d have to build outside the fort and fortify the walls and roofs with wagon canvases.”
“You mean build houses for folks?” Grant had trouble believing in the possibility.
Blake shook his head. “We’ll have to build barracks, of sorts. Two for the women and girls, two for the men and boys.”
“Splitting up families might not be good.”
“We may not have a choice. Tepees would be more practical and would keep families together, but I know what kind of reaction I’d get if I suggested that sort of thing.”
The man in the corner groaned, drawing their attention. Grant studied his young face.
“Can you hear me?” he asked.
The stranger moaned in reply but didn’t open his eyes.
“Who are you?”
“Buddy…”
“What were you doing this close to the wagon train?”
“Gin-ger…” he whispered just before passing out once more.
“Confound it,” Blake muttered. “I knew that girl was up to no good.”
As much as Grant hated to admit it, there was no denying that Ginger was hiding something. “I guess we’d better send for her, huh?”
Sam entered the tent carrying two boards, water, and bandages.
Blake stood, raking his hand through his hair. “Set those down, Sam, and then will you go find Ginger Freeman? That fellow is asking for her.”
A frown creased Sam’s dark brow. “Asking for Ginger?”
As if on cue, the man stirred and moaned. “Ginger…”
“We’re going to find her,” Grant said. “But first I’m going to fix your broken arm and clean up the wound on your head. You’re running a fever. Can you tell me if you’ve come into contact with influenza or any other infectious diseases lately?”
“Ch–cholera. In an Indian village south of here yesterday.”
Grant turned and met Blake’s gaze. The wagon master stared back gravely.
A wave of dread washed over Grant. Cholera had the capacity to wipe out the entire wagon train. He’d seen its devastating effects before. He looked down at the boy. First things first. He had to set the broken arm. Then he’d try to figure out how to keep the cholera from sweeping through camp.
Ginger’s restlessness led her through camp after she left Fannie, and she found herself pausing outside of Miss Sadie’s tent. “Hello!” she called.
“Come in, Ginger,” Miss Sadie answered from inside.
Ginger rushed forward at the sight of Yellow Bird sitting up at the fire, nursing the baby. She coughed a little from the smoke. Even with a hole in the top of the tent where the stakes came together, almost as much smoke remained inside as escaped. But with the cold weather setting in, there was no choice but to build the fires or freeze. “Why are you up? You should be in bed.” She turned her glare on Miss Sadie. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of her? I knew I shouldn’t have left Yellow Bird alone. I just knew it.”
Outrage flashed in Miss Sadie’s eyes. “Girl, I’ve been bringing babies and taking care of new mothers since before you were born. Do you think you know best?”
Warmth moved up Ginger’s neck, but she refused to back down. Right was right. “I don’t think she should be sitting up like that.”
“The baby is finished now.” A tired little smile tipped Yellow Bird’s lips. She twisted her head and looked up. She patted the ground. “Come and tell me about your evening, Ginger. Where have you been? If you will hold him, I will lie down while you talk to me.”
Well, she wasn’t exactly experienced in baby holding, but she hadn’t dropped him earlier, so she expected it wouldn’t hurt anything to take on the little tyke so Yellow Bird would stretch out on her pallet. Expelling a breath, Ginger sank to the earthen floor across from Yellow Bird and held out her arms.
The first feel of the warm, swaddled babe in her arms touched a spot inside of Ginger, and she swallowed hard against a rush of emotion. His rosebud mouth scrunched up, and he let out a contented sigh as he stared up at her with black eyes. “Would you look at that?” Ginger said, barely able to gather enough breath to push the words from her throat.
“He knows you helped to bring him safely into the world,” Yellow Bird said. Ginger couldn’t summon the strength to look away from the wonder in her arms.
“You reckon?”
“I do. Babies are very wise.”
Miss Sadie gave a snort. “You never answered Yellow Bird’s question. Where ya been? Grant’s been pacing the length of the camp for hours. Making a nuisance of hisself.”
“I went out riding. And Grant knew where I went. He tried to keep me from going.”
Miss Sadie shook her head. “Riding? Didn’t Blake say no one was to leave camp?”
“I didn’t hear it.”
“Well, even if you didn’t. You know the routine by now. Only men are allowed away from camp during times like today. And even then, only in groups of two or more. Never a woman, and definitely never alone. And land sakes, not at night. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I had my reasons, and it was nobody’s business what I do or don’t do. And I hold to that belief.” She glared at Miss Sadie. “You shouldn’t talk that way in front of the baby, anyhow.”
“Talk what way?”
“Land sakes,” Ginger whispered so softly she practically just moved her lips.
“It is all right, Ginger,” Yellow Bird said, “I do not think he understands words yet.”
“Anyway, Fannie says Blake’s just as likely to kick my be—” Glancing at the baby, she frowned. “Ask me to leave at Fort Boise as he is to let me stay.”
Yellow Bird’s eyes shone with sympathy. “You are like water just before it slips over the fall.”
That Yellow Bird was a curiosity. Sometimes she might as well be speaking Sioux, for all the sense she made. “What are you talking about, Yellow Bird?”
The Indian woman cast her an indulgent smile. “Neither can be contained.” Her gaze shifted to the now-sleeping baby. “I will take him now.”
Reluctantly, Ginger settled the baby into his mother’s arms.
“Neither can be contained,” Miss Sadie mimicked Yellow Bird’s words. “That’s what a dam is for.” She handed Ginger a cup of coffee she hadn’t even asked for. Ginger took it gratefully, anticipating the warmth. “Thanks. It’s getting downright cold.”
The widow’s face softened. “Heaven help the person who tries to dam up your energy, my girl.”
Ginger sipped the hot liquid, then swallowed. “Think Blake’s gonna kick me out?”
Miss Sadie’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “He might. You seem to have a knack for getting into trouble.”
Ginger opened her mouth to protest, but Miss Sadie silenced her with an upraised hand. She placed the pot back on the fire. “Hold on. I’m not done. What I was going to say, is that you also have a knack for helping folks around here. More often than not, your hunting and fishing skills keep meat on several fires around camp. I’m sure Blake will take that into consideration before making a decision.”
“I hope so, Miss Sadie.” Ginger shoved the cup back in to the older woman’s hand and headed toward the tent flap. “I’ll stop by in the morning to help get Yellow Bird settled in the back of your wagon. Get some sleep, Yellow Bird. The trail gets rougher tomorrow. You won’t rest in the wagon.”
“Thank you, Ginger I will sleep soon.”
“All right, then.” She gave a nod that included both women. “I’ll say goodnight.”
Ginger walked outside into the chilly air, grateful to be out of the smoky tent. She turned her gaze toward the west. It was almost November. The wagon train should have been in Oregon Territory by now, but one delay after another had slowed their progress. It would be a miracle if they made it through the mountains ahead before the winter set in. Otherwise, she didn’t know if she could hold Web off that long. He was mighty determined she should hurry and get back to him and the rest of the gang. What could he’ve meant about needing a woman for their next scheme? Well, whatever it was, he could forget it. She hadn’t been part of Web’s thieving and such for seven years, and she wasn’t going to go back to it now. Even if it meant that she left her pa forever. Then again, Web had seemed anxious. What if he left her no choice?
When she returned to her campfire, she found Sam waiting. His lips were set in a grim line, his eyes void of humor.
“Hi Sam, what are you doing?”
He nodded. “I was sent to bring you to the supply tent. A young man has been brought in wounded. He called your name.”